“I said—” Looking up, she studied his eyes for a moment before shrugging. “Never mind.”
He reached for her arm. “Tell me what you just said.”
“Let me go,” she said, shaking her arm to break free.
But he wouldn’t let go until she told him the truth. “What about Miss Labrie?”
“I—I just wondered why you had a portrait of her.”
He squeezed her arm as he mulled over her words. Then he let go.
After all these years—was it possible that Mallie was right here in Sacramento, hiding behind the title of Miss Labrie? Her skin was almost as light as any white person’s, and her beauty would enchant all the men in this city. Add to it a cultured accent and perhaps an education, and she would be free to move in circles that would have rejected her back in Virginia.
He clasped his hands together, the reality of it pouring over him.
Not only was he close to retrieving Isaac, but he would be able to regain Mallie as well—a refined, beautiful woman who must do as he pleased.
His family was all right here, waiting for him.
Was that the reason Alden brought Isaac to Sacramento? Had Mallie somehow orchestrated this to reunite with her son? Oh, it was perfect. There would be a reunion all right, just not what Alden or Mallie were expecting.
He pulled the white shirt back over his head and quickly rebuttoned it.
She sat up straighter, rubbing her arm. “Where are you going?”
“I’m finished playing games, Fanny.”
“I wasn’t playing a game.”
“You’ve been distracted.” He stood, taking the portfolio from the drawer and then reaching for his frock coat and wallet. “But I’ve heard that Miss Labrie is more than accommodating.”
When she swore at him, the pieces seemed to fall into place: Mr.Kirtland’s recognition when he saw Isaac’s face, and then his denial. Victor knew the proprietor had been lying, but he hadn’t seen Isaac after all. He’d seen Mallie.
It was impossible for any man to forget her eyes.
He stopped by the door. “Perhaps I will find your husband with Miss Labrie as well.”
He heard the glass shatter, felt the heat of the lantern’s flames, but they didn’t burn him.
A steady coolness flooded over him as he asked someone outside for directions to the Golden Hotel. Finally, after all these years, he would recover what was rightfully his.
Chapter 33
Sacramento City
July 1854
They found the Webbs residing on the second floor of a boardinghouse built of rotting wood and covered with rusted tin. In the corridor outside their door, Alden and Stephan listened as Mr.and Mrs.Webb yelled at each other about their money, their future, their only slave.
Alden’s mind flashed back to his former nursemaid, cowering in his father’s room, and he wondered where Persila was in the midst of the fighting.
If he heard Persila cry out, he’d break down the door.
In the past weeks, he’d inquired after the Webbs at all of Sacramento’s hotels and most of the boardinghouses. There was no sign hanging at the front of this house, but even if there had been, he never would have suspected the Webbs would rent a room in such a run-down place. But perhaps they flaunted their power over Persila for this very reason. Perhaps because they owned little else.
When they heard feet stomping toward the door, Alden and Stephan backed farther down the corridor.
“You best be done with that mending when I return,” a man shouted before slamming the door. Then he hurried down the front steps.
