was her. She wasn’t smiling at him, like her aunt had, but staring at him with wide blue eyes. Eyes that recognized him as the man—Reyes—she’d met on the train who’d been chasing a man with a gun. Eyes that now knew him as Castillo Jameson.
Mierda. She knew who he was. Aside from the gang and Emmy, no one else here knew about his double identity as leader of the Reyes Brothers. Her knowledge could ruin everything. Hell, not only could it ruin everything, it could get them all thrown in jail or killed. His skin tightened as though he was about to spring out of his own body as his heart tried to pound its way out of his chest.
Her lips trembled, and she parted them twice before finally speaking. His next moments, hell, his entire future hinged on the words she would say. Her voice was clear and strong. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jameson.” She watched him carefully, her gaze holding fast to his, and he couldn’t look away.
At least she hadn’t called him Reyes. He took her offered hand, and that same jolt he’d experienced on the train moved up his arm to settle in his belly. She was wearing her spectacles this time, the thin gold rims perched high on her nose, making her look more prim and ordered than she had then. Her eyes weren’t wild from excitement, her cheeks weren’t flushed and her lips weren’t parted and gasping for air as they had been when he’d held her in his arms.
As if she was remembering the same thing, her lips did part and she took in a shaky breath. His gaze honed in on those perfectly formed lips the same way he stared a man down when looking for weakness. Only he wasn’t looking for weakness in her. He breathed in deep through his nose, breathing in the lavender scent he remembered from the train. His gaze dropped to the pulse fluttering beneath the pale skin of her neck.
She appeared off balance, just like she had then. Real. He didn’t like prim and proper on her, though she wore it well. She was elegant, with her hair tied up intricately, shining gold in the candlelight. The gown she wore fell just off her shoulders, the tastefully low cut of her neckline revealing just enough pale skin and shadows to draw his gaze to the hint of her breasts. She breathed in and they swelled beneath the pale pink silk. Elegant suited her, but he preferred her real and flushed, like on the train. The strange mix of emotions from that day came flooding back.
He forced himself to blink, hoping to break her spell. Now was not the time to notice her as a woman, as she could easily become an adversary. The silence had begun to drag out noticeably, so he brought her fingers to his lips. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Hartford.”
She took in a sharp breath and stared down at her fingers as if she was afraid she might not get them back. Good. She should be afraid of him. That edge of fear was the only certainty he had that she’d keep quiet for now. It was a fine line. Too much fear could make her reckless. He’d have to play her carefully.
Castillo dropped her hand because Emmy had come around the table to embrace him.
“Welcome back,” she said. “How was your trip? Did you get to see any sights?”
He gave the standard answers: the trip was fine, the food on the train was awful, and yes, he’d gone to a play at the Bijou Theater. The whole time he spoke, he was taking in the reactions around him. He’d had too much practice having to be constantly aware of the mood in the room.
Hunter had noticed that something transpired between him and Caroline Hartford. His shoulders straightened and the smile fell from his lips as he put a hand at Emmy’s waist and pulled her close.
Prudence had noticed, too, though her response was very different. She didn’t know about his other identity and their constant need to be vigilant of danger. She only knew that her niece had reacted to him, and she watched them both now with a gleam in her eye, looking back and forth between them as if she’d had the thought to play matchmaker. He’d have to figure out a way to get Caroline alone before she could talk to anyone. She needed to know what was at risk before she inadvertently revealed the Jamesons were the Reyes Brothers.
Tanner indicated that they needed another place set at the table. A maid who’d been standing at attention along the wall sprang into action, taking a place setting from the glass-faced cabinet at the end of the room. Hunter led Emmy back around to their side of the table.
“Put him there, next to Caroline.” Prudence smiled, already meddling. “I’d love to hear more of what you thought about Boston, Castillo. Caroline loves the theater. We’ll take you next time you visit.”
The woman wasn’t subtle. “That was my first and only visit, senora.” Castillo waited for the women to sit, before daring a glance at his father and taking his own seat. Tanner didn’t seem to notice that Caroline had had a reaction to him. His brow was furrowed, but his thoughts seemed to be turned inward. Castillo wasn’t looking forward to the after-dinner confrontation they were certain to have. He hadn’t seen Tanner in years. The man would certainly want to speak to him.
“Welcome home, Mr. Jameson.” The maid murmured near his ear as she leaned forward to place a glass of wine on the table for him.
He nearly smiled but only inclined his head. “Mary.” Most of the time the household ran with a skeleton staff, but she must’ve been brought from town due to the extra guests. She usually worked for Glory at Victoria House, not in the brothel upstairs, but serving drinks and beefsteaks downstairs in the various dining rooms. Though she’d made it clear to him several times that she’d be willing to make herself available for more. What would the uptight guests from Boston think if they knew a serving girl from a brothel was serving them their dinner?
She stepped back and a bowl of pea soup was placed in front of him. He’d been starving, but now he felt too damned tired and anxious to eat. His shoulders were tight, and he was on edge, so attuned to Caroline Hartford at his side that he was aware of every breath she took. Every time she gathered one in, he tensed, knowing that this time she’d tell everyone at the table what she knew. It wasn’t until she resumed eating her half-finished bowl of soup that he relaxed enough to pick up his own spoon.
Caroline. The name didn’t suit the woman he’d held on the train. She’d been bold and only barely fazed by the ordeal. This woman was a little afraid, but not subdued. Her brow was furrowed and her shoulders tense. She was quiet because she was plotting. He could practically hear her thoughts churning. It was an unpredictable combination that kept him worried.
“May I ask what took you to Boston?” Prudence asked.
“I escorted my younger brother, Miguel. He starts university there in autumn.” Castillo inwardly cringed at the explanation. There was no way to adequately explain Miguel’s existence without labeling either Hunter or Castillo a bastard and Tanner a man with two wives. This was one reason he avoided social interactions with the Jamesons.
Tanner had grown up in Texas and married Castillo’s mother shortly after being injured in the war. It had been a simple ceremony in a chapel on Castillo’s grandfather’s property. But after Castillo had been born, Tanner had been lured to Montana Territory by the promise of wealth in the mines, and he’d forgotten about his first family. He’d soon married Isabelle Hartford, daughter of the wealthy Hartford family from Boston. Unlike with Tanner’s first wedding, however, all the appropriate papers had been filed to prove the marriage was legal and binding. Castillo’s mother had been heartbroken at the abandonment, but she’d eventually moved on and Miguel had been born from a new marriage.
The only hint Prudence gave that she thought the fact he had a younger brother named Miguel odd was when she paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth. She was so poised, with her back ramrod straight, that she didn’t spill a drop. “How wonderful. You’ll have a Harvard boy at your table before long,”
