Free Forever in My Heart by Jo Goodman

daughter."
     
A muscle worked in Connor's jaw. He had to force himself to relax.
     
"Don't ruin this for me, Beryl."
     
"What if she turns out to be mud-fence ugly? Or worse, a shrew?
     
What do you really know about that family except that scandal touches almost everything they do. I've heard stories since I came to New York. John MacKenzie Worth's money quiets rumor but doesn't silence it. Have you thought of that, Connor?"
     
"Shut up, Beryl," he said with menace.
     
"Are ten thousand acres of Colorado so damned critical that you have to marry a bastard to keep it?"
     
Connor let a moment tick by. Into the expectant silence he said quietly, "I'd still marry you if I thought it would help me keep that land, and God knows how much I despise you. So you see, Beryl, it doesn't matter who or what she is or isn't. My mind's made up."
     
He started walking toward the door.
     
"You must regret losing that twelve thousand dollars," she said as he opened the door to leave.
     
He glanced at her over his shoulder. "You can't imagine how much."
     
Connor had no time to dwell on the stolen money and opportunities lost.
     
He met his father in the hallway.
     
"Have you seen Beryl?" Rushton Holiday asked.
     
People often remarked on the striking resemblance between father and son. Separated by only twenty years, they had finally reached that age where it was not unreasonable or surprising for strangers to mistake them for brothers. It could have been a flattering observation to both men but neither Connor nor Rushton saw it that way. Of course, there were the obvious similarities that they could accept:
     
thick, ink-black hair that was only just graying at the temples in Rushton; shoulders that were set at an equal breadth; height that favored Connor by a mere half-inch; and a jaw line squared off aggressively. It ended there. Connor thought his father had a cold, intolerant manner. Rushton saw cynicism in his son's expression.
     
The patrician features of the father appeared aloof to the son, and the same handsomely molded lines on the face of the son appeared arrogant to the father. Their dark eyes were mirrors, yielding little of any thought or emotion they did not intend to be known.
     
They were so much alike they could barely be civil.
     
"She's in my bedchamber," Connor said. "I just left her."
     
Rushton searched his son's face with a hard, penetrating stare.
     
"She has no business being in your room."
     
"Have this conversation with Beryl, Father. I didn't invite her in.
     
My conscience is clear."
     
"Damn you, Connor," he said under his breath. "I want you to stay away from her."
     
"That's awkward, don't you think? We're both living under your roof.
     
Granted, it's an enormous roof, but there are limits to what I can do."
     
He looked at his father expectantly, a half-smile playing on his mouth, his eyebrows raised slightly.
     
Rushton sucked in his breath. It was Edie staring back at him.
     
The impression came and went with startling speed and equal clarity and then Rushton was left staring into a face that was a younger reflection of his own. In spite of the resemblance Rushton thought of Connor as Edie's son, not his own. "I'll get Beryl," he said tightly.
     
"And then we'll leave. Hickes is out front with the carriage."
     
Connor wondered what had given his father that briefly haunted expression. "Very well," he said. "I'll be waiting."
     
The atmosphere inside the carriage was tense. Connor had one of the upholstered bench seats to himself while Rushton and Beryl sat opposite him. Gaslight from the street filtered in the window at regular intervals as the carriage skirted the edge of Central Park.
     
Rushton's countenance was brooding, Connor's resigned, and Beryl's anxious.
     
She drew her cape more securely about her shoulders, warding off the chill seeping under the door and under her skin. "Rushton, can't you talk some sense into him?"
     
It was Connor who responded. "Be serious,