“I’m sure,” Mac began cautiously, “that Li—your guardian appreciates that.”
“Liam?” Caroline pleated the material of her skirt. “He has the same… exacting tastes that my papa had. He paid for my finishing school after Papa died, when I was fourteen.”
“He seems to be a man of very… strong opinions,” Mac prodded.
Now Caroline was all airy indifference. “Sometimes he can be quite trying. But Liam is very strong. He’s traveled all over the world.” She gave Mac a patronizing smile. “You needn’t be afraid of him, Rose—he will come to like you. I’m sure he will.”
Thanks for the reassurance. “I’m grateful. But I’m… rather curious about Mr. O’Shea. What kind of background does he come from?”
Caroline stared at her folded hands. “Mr. O’Shea’s people came from Ireland,” she said. She paused awkwardly and hurried on. “He was in the mining business, and the railroads, just like Papa. He’s very rich and admired by everyone in San Francisco.”
Mac remembered Homer saying that Gresham had worked his way up to wealth as Liam had, but from much more prosperous beginnings. Liam had been dirt poor. Either Caroline didn’t know that, or chose not to mention it. Maybe she was the kind who wanted to pretend that she, and everyone she knew, had always been rich and respectable.
Could Caroline be ashamed of Liam’s past, or her own?
“So,” Mac said, “Mr. O’Shea enjoys his place in society? He seems—I don’t know him well, but it almost seems as if he wouldn’t quite fit in with the… elegance of your world.”
“You’re quite mistaken,” Caroline said quickly. “He may be… rough at times, but that is the way with strong men. My papa was often like that. Of course my papa gave me everything I wanted. There was nothing he would not do for me.”
“While Mr. O’Shea is less accommodating.”
“He is always protective. A woman feels safe with him.” Caroline stood, brushing her skirts with her hands. “You haven’t yet told me about your journey here,” she said brightly. “You must have seen some very uncivilized places in your travels. How did you get on? Perry’s stories can make them sound almost fascinating.”
Perry’s stories. Not Liam’s. “They can be,” Mac said. “Hasn’t… Mr. O’Shea ever suggested that you accompany him on one of his adventures?”
“Certainly not.” Caroline took an agitated turn about the room. “He would never take a lady into such peril.”
“No,” Mac said dryly, “I can’t imagine Mr. O’Shea sharing that willingly with any woman.”
Caroline came to a sudden stop. “Only see what happened to you. You were deprived of every refinement and advantage. Think what might have become of you if not for Perry! And in any case, Liam has no more need to leave San Francisco. Everything he wants is here.”
“And what do you want, Caroline?”
“I want—” she began, biting her lip. “I want—”
But if she were tempted to confide in Mac, the incentive was obviously not strong enough. “I want to help you, Rose,” she said abruptly. “You must be guided by me, and by Perry, if you wish to get on here.”
“Mr. Sinclair is a real gentleman,” Mac said, scooting off the bed. “He’s the son of a lord, isn’t he?” She sighed. “If he weren’t my cousin—”
“Mr. Sinclair is everything a gentleman should be,” Caroline interrupted. “He is quite the favorite of our society.”
“I can’t imagine a man more different from Mr. O’Shea.”
“No,” Caroline murmured. “Completely different…” She shook her head. “Do you like the ocean?”
“You’ll see it when we go to Cliff House.” She smiled. “And tomorrow we shall shop all day. I have great hopes for you, Rose. With luck we may even find you a husband.”
Mac had no chance to comment on that peculiar notion. The door swung open and Liam walked into the room.
“A word with you, Caroline,” he said. He barely glanced at Mac before taking his ward’s arm and escorting her out. Through the half-closed door Mac heard most of the conversation that followed.
“I hope you remember to carry yourself with decorum this afternoon, Caroline,” Liam said, his words stiffly formal. “Your new… friend will ride with her cousin, and you with me.”