Into the Bright Unknown (The Gold Seer Trilogy #3)(74)

I smile, but I’m sure it looks sickly. The dice are undoubtedly weighted to favor his call. There’s not a man in the crowd that would admit to it, though.

Hardwick tosses the dice. Perfectly this time.

I close my eyes as they bounce off the back of the table.

They thump along the felt, rumbling to a stop.

Half the crowd cheers. Half the crowd groans in disappointment.

When I open my eyes again, the banker is pushing the stack of coins towards Hardwick. He picks up the deed for the Charlotte, snapping the corners.

“Oh,” Becky breathes. “This is not good at all.”

“You win some, you lose some,” Hardwick says, waving the makeshift deed, taunting me with my own signature. “Let me give this to the source of all my good fortune this year, the woman who deserves it most.”

With a flourish, he hands it to Helena. She smiles with gratitude, but there’s a tremor at the corner of her mouth, and after she folds the sheet of paper and tucks it into her bodice, she lets her hand linger over her heart for a moment, as if assuring herself the deed is actually there.

“That’s all for me here,” Hardwick says, with a wave of his hand. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I need to be a good host and visit with the other guests at my party. I return you all to your previous amusements.”

As he turns to go, the governor at his heels, I push through the crowd to follow them. Becky grabs my arm and pulls me back. “Let him go,” she says.

“He played me. He played me perfectly.”

“He knew exactly what you were going to do,” she says.

“Because of his Irish woman,” I growl.

“No,” Becky says, circling around to stand in front of me and block my view. “No, he knew because the two of you were dancing, and you followed his every lead. You let him dictate the tempo and the steps, every step of the way, right up to the end when . . . why are you grinning like a cat that caught the cream?”

“I . . . I can’t say. Or even think it. Not yet.”

Becky’s eyes narrow. “I see.”

Quickly she guides me away from the crowds at the gaming tables to a quieter spot beneath a tree hung with lanterns. From here we have a perfect view through the double door of the proposed seal of California, and Becky stares at it, rocking the baby back and forth.

She says, “In that case, you have to calm down, control your thoughts, keep your eye on the horizon.” The baby yawns, which is the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. “We still have a ways to go.”

“I know.” I glance around the garden, trying to reorient myself. Hardwick is giving another speech to a different crowd. Henry is still seated at one of the card tables, laughing like he’s winning, or at least having a good time. I see glimpses of Olive and Andy—or rather their hats—in the crowd around the band and dance floor. Maybe Becky should pretend to be more concerned about them.

But Jefferson and the Major are nowhere to be seen. When I turn toward the house looking for them, Helena is walking toward us.

Becky sees her at the same time. Taking hold of my arm, she steers me the other direction. “Let’s go. I prefer to be in polite company.”

“Wait,” Helena says. “I just want a quick word.”

I hesitate. Becky gives me a stern look, then hugs the baby closer as the other woman approaches. “Be careful,” forms on Becky’s lips as she hurries away. “Mind your mind.”

I think hard about grief. Over losing the Charlotte, Jim getting shot, the loss of my parents, now a year gone. Even the empty space at my chest where my locket used to be. Grief is an easy thing to think about. It fills me up, leaving room for nothing else.

Helena stops a few feet away, near yet wary. An infuriating half smile plays about her lips, as if she’s pondering hidden knowledge. Her gown and jewelry sparkle, her red hair stuns. You almost can’t tell she’s a hardworking mountain girl, just like me.

That’s what centers me.

I don’t want to be anything like her. I don’t want to be the special associate of some man. A trophy to be shown off at all the balls and parties. I just want Jefferson, a few friends, and work that makes me happy.

That’s the difference between me and Hardwick, I suppose, and people like him, too. No matter how much they have, it’ll never be enough. They’ll never be satisfied. I don’t want to always want.

“Thank you for the ship,” she says for an opening sally.

I open my mouth to say something possibly rude and insulting, but Mary catches my eye from across the courtyard. She holds up two fingers. The signal that all is ready.

I laugh.

Helena’s eyes—mere blue—flare slightly, the only indication of her shaken confidence. I nod toward her bosom, where she slipped the hastily scrawled deed. “Enjoy your slip of paper.”

Her next words are cold as ice. “What are you talking about?”

I can’t stop my grin, and I don’t want to. “I don’t legally own that ship. I never did. It’s in a man’s name. Even if I did own the ship, I couldn’t sign away the deed.” I bat my eyelashes. “I’m just a little lady. You see, it’s a matter of coverture—”

“Hardwick will testify,” she snaps.

“No, he’s leaving for New York tomorrow. Going to take his millions and buy his way into a political career. The businessman-become-president. He doesn’t care about the Charlotte. Or you. Unless he’s taking you with him?”