Gilded Secrets

“Right.” She turned and walked out of the luscious display of jewels that were the stuff of dreams. Taking the elevator up two floors, she eagerly left behind dreams for a chance to see her reality.

“I’m not going to dignify these unfounded rumors with a response,” Ann Richardson said softly, her gaze sweeping the board members gathered around the long, cherrywood conference table. “And I hope I can count on all of you for your support.”

People shifted uncomfortably in their seats, but Vance held perfectly still, his gaze fixed on the woman facing them down with the air of a young queen. Tall and willowy, Ann had her ice-blond hair styled into a perfect, curled-under style that ended at her jawline. Her blue eyes were sharp as she met the stares of the other board members. She wore one of her elegantly tailored business suits—this one black with gray pinstripes—and her chin was lifted at a defiant angle. She looked proud and strong as she silently dared anyone to contradict her.

Vance had always admired Ann Richardson, but never more so than right now. With the article in the newspaper, the entire city would be whispering about her, speculating about her. But it seemed that she had chosen a path to take—steely indifference—and he had to applaud it. If she fought the charges with a vehement argument, it would only spur on the talk. She couldn’t admit they were true—even if they were. The only road she could take was the “no comment” route. By doing it here first, with the board, she would be able to gauge how well it would go over elsewhere.

The board members looked shaken and worried and he knew they were all thinking about the possible ramifications of this situation. If it wasn’t cleared up soon, rumor would become suspicion and suspicion would become fact. Whether or not she was guilty of anything, Ann’s career and reputation could very well be destroyed—along with Waverly’s.

Seconds ticked past and the quiet in the room was deafening. Here on the seventh floor, the boardroom was a study in understated elegance. The walls were a pale beige, the crown molding a stark white. Old masters hung on the walls and a twisted brass sculpture of Atlas balancing the world on his shoulders stood in one corner.

Vance held his peace, since he wanted to hear everyone else’s reactions before he spoke. He knew he wouldn’t have to wait long. It took about ten seconds.

“It’s outrageous is what it is,” George Cromwell sputtered first.

“These innuendoes are baseless,” Ann insisted, her voice calm. “I would never put Waverly’s at risk, and I hope you all know that.”

“Yes, Ann,” George Cromwell said from his seat at the end of the table. “I’m sure we all appreciate your devotion to the company, but this article clearly states that we have a problem.”

Vance saw the flinch Ann couldn’t quite disguise. But since he was the youngest member of the board, he was betting no one else noticed.

“The article is nothing more than rumor and supposition.”

“But it’s smoke,” George insisted. “And people will assume that where there is smoke, there is fire.”

Vance rolled his eyes and shook his head. If there was a cliché, George would find it. At seventy-five, he was long past the age of retiring, but the old fox had no intention of giving up his seat on the board. He liked the power. Liked being able to have a say in things. And right now, it looked as though he was enjoying putting Ann through the wringer.

“How can we take your word for this, when there was clearly enough evidence for this reporter to write his story?”

“Since when does a reporter need to back up a story?” she asked haughtily. “There’s more fiction in the daily papers than you’ll find at the nearest bookstore and you all know it.”

Good point, Vance thought, still regarding their CEO warily. He wished he knew Ann better, but he didn’t. She seemed like a warm, congenial enough person, but she’d made a point of keeping people at a distance, refusing to make friends—and now that strategy just might bite her in the ass.

“People believe what they read,” George intoned darkly.

“George, do hush up.” Edwina Burrows spoke up from the end of the table.

“You know I’m right about this,” the man countered hotly.

As the two older people shot verbal darts at each other, Vance watched Ann. Her mouth worked as if she were grinding her teeth and Vance couldn’t really blame her. It had to be hard, standing in front of this bunch, defending yourself against what was at this point merely rumor.

Finally, she turned to him and asked, “Vance? What about you? As the last remaining Waverly on the board, I value your opinion. Do you believe me?”

He studied her for a long minute. Vance knew that now the others were waiting to hear what he had to say. And he knew that whatever he said would swing sentiment either for or against Ann. His first responsibility was to the company and the thousands of people both here and abroad who depended on Waverly’s for their very livelihoods.

But he also owed Ann his support. She’d stepped into the role of CEO and done a hell of a job. She was smart and capable and had never given him any reason to doubt her motives or her loyalties to the house.

He wasn’t convinced that she was telling the complete truth, though. Like it or not, George had a point. That reporter had picked up on some tidbit of gossip as the basis for the story. But even if there was something between Ann and Dalton, Vance still didn’t believe she would sell out Waverly’s.

He’d like to have all the information before he took a stand one way or the other, but that wasn’t going to happen. What it came down to for Vance was this: Did he trust his gut instincts or not? Bottom line? He always went with his instincts. So he took a chance.

“I believe you,” he said loudly enough that no one could miss it.

He saw her shoulders relax just a bit in silent relief and he knew he’d done the right thing to support her publicly. But he wasn’t finished.

“That said,” Vance continued, looking directly into Ann’s blue eyes, “if this reporter continues to throw mud at Waverly’s, we’ll all need to be prepared.”

His silent message to her was, If I’m wrong about you, you had better have a good backup plan—because if it means saving Waverly’s, you’re gone.

She gave him a small, tight nod and Vance was pretty sure she understood.

“You’re right,” Ann said aloud. Shifting her gaze back to the rest of the board, she continued by saying, “Dalton Rothschild is not to be trusted. If he thinks there’s a chink in our armor, he will make a move.”

“Such as?” Edwina asked.

Ann gritted her teeth. “A hostile takeover wouldn’t be out of the question.”

Vance listened to the outraged shouts and furious whispers that rolled through the room and wondered why none of them had considered that possibility before. He certainly had. The implications of what this might mean were staggering. Rothschild knew that if he tried to simply buy out Waverly’s he would hit a stone wall. But if he thought to take it over by means of destroying the auction house first, then scooping up what was left, that was something else.

Ruin the house’s reputation, and then buy them out when the business was trashed.

Not a bad plan, Vance thought with icy calm. But one that would fail. He’d see to it himself. Gaze fixed on Ann, he watched as she waited for the tumult around the table to die down. When it didn’t happen fast enough, she rapped her knuckles against the cherrywood table as if she were a teacher trying to restrain a room full of kids. But it worked. When it was quiet, she spoke up again, cool and collected.

“I need you all to be on guard at all times. Keep an eye on our employees. If Dalton means business, he could be wooing an insider into spilling our secrets. We can’t take anything for granted right now. Waverly’s needs us—all of us—to be on our toes.”

Vance scowled at the thought. He didn’t like the idea that there might be a spy among them at Waverly’s. He’d known most of the people he worked with for years. A lot of them had watched him grow up. Looking at them now with suspicious eyes went against the grain. Besides, he couldn’t help asking himself why someone would betray Waverly’s. The house had always been a good place to work. The company took care of the employees. Hell, there was even a day-care center on the fourth floor so that mothers didn’t have to worry about their children while they were at work.

Children.

An image popped into his mind. The framed photo on Charlie’s desk. That of a small boy, grinning up at the camera, displaying two impossibly tiny teeth. Unease washed through him as the board meeting went on around him.

For a brief moment, he wondered if he should be suspicious of Charlie.

Ordinarily, he wouldn’t even have to listen to the voices rising and falling in the room to know what they were saying. The only two female board members, Veronica Jameson and Edwina Burrows—grande dames of society, each well into her seventies—were extremely protective of Ann. Maybe it was the whole “woman power” thing, but those two were always Ann’s most vociferous supporters.

“I’m sure you’ll know best how to handle this, Ann,” Veronica said, her thin voice chirping like a hungry bird’s.

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“I’m sure you do,” Simon West carped in apparent frustration.

“I realize what a difficult situation this is,” Ann said, her voice briefly carrying over the rest. “But if we band together, I’m sure we’ll—”

“Band together? Against what? Some ephemeral danger? Or against you?” Simon, a shrunken, wizened man of about a hundred, slammed the tip of his cane against the tabletop to get everyone’s attention. Even Vance let go of his thoughts long enough to stare at the older man.

Simon had been at Waverly’s for as long as anyone could remember. There were some who insisted he was there at the dedication of the building 150 years ago. Vance smiled to himself at the thought.

Simon was furious and looked as if he were about to have a stroke. His eyes bugged out, his cheeks were splotches of red and spittle gathered at the corners of his mouth as he shouted, “Nothing like this happened before we allowed a woman to be in charge!”