Unending Devotion (Michigan Brides #1)(71)

“But he’s crossed the line this time. He’s forcing girls into prostitution.”

“I don’t care what he’s doing.” Dad slammed his hands onto the table, rattling the dainty cups and saucers. “As long as he keeps our men happy, that’s all that matters.”

“He shouldn’t prevent his girls from leaving.” Connell slapped his hands against the table. If Dad could rattle the china serving, why couldn’t he? “If they want to get out, they should be free to come and go.”

Dad took a step toward him and clenched his fist. “Where are ye coming up with this? Since when do ye care about what happens in the illicit houses?”

Tierney snorted. “Since he got himself a whore of his own.”

Anger exploded in Connell. The burst propelled him out of his seat to his feet. “She’s not a whore. And I don’t want to hear you call her that ever again.”

“Or what?” Tierney’s grin taunted him.

Connell’s muscles tightened with the urge to put a couple of bruises on Tierney’s pretty face and knock out a few teeth.

“I don’t want to know what ye do in your personal life. Keep it to yerself.” Dad shoved him. “But don’t go messing things up in me business. Do ye hear?”

Connell braced himself. He knew what was coming. A punch in the gut followed by the usual lecture.

Sure enough, Dad swung his fist into his stomach.

The impact would have doubled him over in years past. But all the months working in the camps had hardened his muscles. He let the fist bounce off his solid abdomen and forced himself not to flinch.

“Ye know how hard I’ve worked to get what I’ve got?” Dad grabbed Connell’s chin and pinched it like he had when he was a boy.

Connell yanked away. The trouble was, he wasn’t a boy anymore. “I realize you’ve worked hard—”

“I didn’t have a penny in me pocket when I stepped off the ship.” Dad continued as if Connell hadn’t spoken. “And I was so hungry, I could count every bone in me body.”

He’d heard Dad’s stories a thousand times. And when Dad let go of his chin and returned to his chair, Connell eyed the clock and then the door, wishing he could make a getaway.

“Sit down,” Dad barked. “I’m not done with ye yet.”

“I don’t have time to listen to any more.”

Dad hit the table again. “Sit down.”

Connell’s muscles tightened. Did he dare defy Dad and leave? Could he?

“I had to sweat for every single cent I’ve ever earned.”

“I know, Dad.” Slowly he lowered himself to the edge of his chair.

“I’ve never asked either of me sons to work harder than I work. I only expect of ye what I demand from meself.”

Connell could recite Dad’s words in his sleep. Yet for once he wanted to interrupt Dad’s tirade and ask him if all his success had made him happy. Was he satisfied with life?

Even more than that, didn’t he have the least remorse for the ruthlessness with which they operated? How could they live with themselves if they continued to overlook crime and injustice and evil, just so they could heap up more wealth they didn’t need?

And how could they live with themselves if they didn’t start taking better care of their workers?

Mam had told him about one of Tierney’s sawmill workers who had fallen in the path of a large circular saw and been cut in two. Mam had been taking food to the wife and child left behind. McCormick Lumber didn’t offer any compensation to the mill workers or to the shanty boys, not for injuries or for death.

But he couldn’t help thinking that maybe they wouldn’t have to worry about Carr or other men like him stirring up problems with their workers if they provided an environment where the workers were treated with common decency.

Connell ran his finger around the silver rim of his coffee cup. His mind filled with numbers—the low wages and the long hours—and he blocked out his father’s angry voice. Numbers had always been his escape.

The clearing of a throat from the entryway of the dining room brought his head up.

His gaze landed upon Lily—but not the Lily he’d come to know. Instead, somehow she’d been transformed. She wore a deep red silk dress that was slim fitting, outlining her womanly curves. The skirt was fashionably layered with a mound of ruffles in the back. And the bodice was equally flattering with velvet trim and braided cuffs.

He quickly pushed back his chair and stood, his heart clattering with wild admiration.

She gave him a shy smile. “What do you think? Your mother insisted I wear one of her gowns today while mine is laundered.”

The dark red of the dress brought out the rich walnut of her eyes and the creamy honey of her skin. Even her curls had been brushed into submission and coiled up onto her head with short ringlets dangling by her ears, as if to entice him to kiss her there—again.

“You look lovely.” His words came out more breathless than he’d intended.

Her thick lashes fell against flushed cheeks. “Your mother fixed my hair too.”

“She did a fine job.”

When her lashes lifted, they knocked him off his feet and swept him into the air. There was no doubt about it, she’d captured his heart and stolen his affection.