She glanced across the room at the elegant furnishings and Oriental rug that she and Ross had acquired in their first year as partners. “You never ran a hotel before this one, did you?”
“No,” he admitted, “but I think we did a fine job managing this one together.”
She couldn’t disagree, but she didn’t need his assistance in running the hotel any longer. “How much is your nugget worth?”
“Not enough to buy back my partnership in the hotel.”
She brushed her hands over the curtain. “It’s better that way.”
“I suppose it is.”
That nugget of his wouldn’t last long at California prices, but she hoped he would use it wisely, much more wisely than he’d treated the women in his life. “Perhaps you and Fanny could invest in another establishment?”
His eyebrows climbed. “And compete against you?”
“There’s plenty of business to go around.”
Ross stood up. “I never meant for you to find out about Fanny.”
“I would have found out at some point,” she said. “Much better to do so now than after we married.”
“I wish—” he started, but she stopped him.
“Fanny wants to make you happy.”
He shook his head. “She wants to make herself happy.”
Isabelle moved toward the top of the stairs. “I suppose, in one way or another, we all want happiness.”
Ross stepped toward her, his gaze intense. Her stomach fluttered the way it did when he first told her that he loved her—and she hated herself for it. He had deceived her, wronged her, and yet she still felt her resolve flitting away.
“You’re right, Isabelle,” he said quietly. “We both deserve to be happy too.”
She reached for the polished newel post, willing herself to be strong.
“I’ll divorce her,” Ross declared. “Then we can marry.”
Stunned, she tried to process his words. “You would put her out?”
“No. I’d buy her passage to New York,” he said. “She’ll find a wealthy man to marry there.”
Fanny had come to California like so many, with great expectations about the happiness they thought gold could buy. She’d envisioned an affluent husband and a lavish hotel to call her own. A life of riches and grandeur without the hard work.
But even if Fanny agreed to return east—and even if Ross truly loved Isabelle—she would never again consider marrying him, not even to fill the vacancy left in her heart.
She longed to be with someone who would cherish love and integrity more than money, who would choose to do right, even if it cost him a dream. Someone who would guard her secret with his life and would love her for who she was, not who she pretended to be.
“I need someone who will be faithful,” she told him. Like Uncle William had been to Aunt Emeline.
“I’ll be faithful to you,” he said, trying to reassure her, but she shook her head.
He searched her face one more time, as if he might find a way to influence her otherwise, but she’d made up her mind.
“Can Fanny and I spend the night here?” Ross asked as he followed her down the steps.
It would be hard to find a decent place to stay in a city already bursting at the seams, but she didn’t want to prolong this disaster any longer.
“Just until tomorrow.”
