Granny pushed to her feet, the lines in her face deep and tired. “I would like to go up and lie down. You all carry on dinner without me.”

“Are you certain, Mother?” Uncle Thomas came forward and took Granny’s arm. “Why don’t I help you upstairs?”

“I am not infirm, Tom. You may stay here. I’ll see myself upstairs.” Lifting her skirts, she glided across the floor and over the threshold, where she disappeared into the corridor.

Florence’s heart ached for her grandmother. For her family. Not to mention for herself, as this was the loss of a piece of her future. She’d been so quick to dismiss marriage because this house would give her a home, husband or not. If her father couldn’t prevent the construction, her plans were even riskier.

“Duncan, what are we going to do?” Mama asked. “Your mother loves this home.”

“Our father built this home for her,” Thomas said. “We were all raised here. We cannot let anyone take it away from her.”

Duncan held up his hand in that way of his that Florence knew meant stop talking. “I am aware. I will handle it.”

“I almost feel sorry for whoever is behind this development plan,” Mamie said under her breath.

Florence couldn’t agree more. “Indeed. Whoever he is, he has no idea of the hell he’s just unleashed.”

Chapter Seventeen

Much later that night Florence lounged against Clay in the bath. Clay’s apartments in the Bronze House were humble, clearly a functional space in which he spent little time. His bathroom, however, was decadent in comparison. Designed with white-and-blue tile, the space had gold accents and Italian marble. The rain shower was in a corner of the room, while a huge marble bathtub filled out the center. Florence couldn’t imagine the amount of water it took to fill a tub this size, but who was she to complain? It was like floating in a heated clear lake, with a large naked man at her back.

In other words, heaven.

He’d summoned champagne and two glasses from downstairs, as well as some food from the kitchen. At some point she would return home, but at the moment she had everything she needed.

“What were you like as a boy?” she asked. He was such a fascinating man, yet she had no idea about his upbringing. “Other than working in your uncle’s saloon.”

“There’s not much to know. I wasn’t that interesting.”

“I beg to differ. I bet you were fascinating.” She stroked his calf with her bare toes. “For example, do you have siblings? Parents still alive? There’s so much about you I don’t know.”

Muscles shifted as he took a drink of champagne. “No living siblings. My younger brother died of cholera when I was twelve.”

“Oh, Clay. I’m sorry.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Me, too.”