Seleste deLaney - [Badlands 02] Read Online Free PDF Page B

betrayal. Something about his bumbling through the gala touched the part of her that had never quite fit society’s mold. She and Carson were nothing alike, but somehow—absurdly—in that moment they were the same.
    Which made it all the more painful to think about the way she’d left things. No explanation. No apology. She needed someone more suitable, and he deserved someone less cowardly.
    Still, she thought of the warmth of the marshal’s fingers on her skin and even that tiny recollection sent a shiver of longing through her as she wished for something good and positive in her life again. Like everything though, it would come at a cost. She had few friends and no family left to lean on. But two things she did have were money and status, and by God she would cling to that until her dying breath.
    Grinding her teeth together and trying to forget the big, blond man, Henrietta let out a slow breath and checked to ensure the last of the research files were secure in her bag. As soon as she had time, she’d sort through them and destroy all trails leading back to the gold in the Badlands. It wasn’t much, but keeping the knowledge from anyone else was the very least she could do to destroy her father’s legacy of greed. Maybe then she’d start being able to sleep at night again. Maybe then she could focus on building her own life.
    She rubbed a weary hand across her eyes as she made her way through the empty lab. Halfway across the room, she froze as the door leading outside opened and a shadow filled the entry. Carson? She’d worked through the night to ensure she’d be gone before he had any opportunity to find her. She squinted. No, this man was far too small to be the marshal.
    “Dr. Mason?”
    So much for keeping her father’s plans and the truth of his death a secret. Someone knew—there was no other reason a stranger would be here after all this time.
    She shifted her eyes from one corner of the space to another. The only other door was at the back, and it led to an alley. While she might make it to the space between the buildings, she’d never outrun him all the way to the street. Henri squared her shoulders and stepped forward, striding purposefully to the door. If she couldn’t run away, she’d get as close to the street as possible instead. Then at least if she screamed, someone might hear.
    “I’m Henrietta Mason. If you’re looking for my father, I’m sorry to tell you he passed away a few months ago.”
    Five paces away from the door, his voice stopped her cold again. “I’m not here for your father, Dr. Mason. I came to speak to you.”
    Henri swallowed hard and raised her voice in hopes the driver waiting outside would hear. “Oh. Well, certainly, Mr....”
    The man stepped inside and gave a genteel bow. “Tobias St. Clair. I was your father’s attorney.”
    Her driver hadn’t shown yet, and the man still stood between her and the door. At least she could see him properly now. Around her own age, black hair slicked off his face to reveal dark, penetrating brown eyes that seemed to see straight through to her tortured soul and not in a kind way. Unlike Carson’s stare, this man seemed intense, almost devious. Henri fought the urge to look away, instead adopting the haughty air pounded into her by the society dinners of her youth.
    “I don’t know who you are, Mr. St. Clair, but I met my father’s lawyer when his will was read. Anson Merriweather is, at the very least, old enough to be your father. If you’ll pardon me, I have a prior engagement I must get to.”
    His hand fell on her arm as she tried to brush past him. Long fingers, nails buffed to a shine—definitely not someone who worked with his hands. “I’m his other lawyer. The one who handled his business dealings.” He let his hand drop to his side. “Before he died, your father spoke to me about creating a foundation with some of his money, and I wondered if you might be interested in carrying through with his plans.