The Kincaids: Southern Seduction. Kathie DeNosky
to know would be to open the envelope. Taking a deep breath, she turned it over and, using her fingernail, lifted the sealed flap. When she pulled out the letter and unfolded it, her breath caught on a sob when she noticed the date. It was only a few days before he died.
My dearest Lily,
One of the greatest joys in my life has always been that you thought of me as your knight in shining armor. Whether it was chasing away the monsters from your closet when you were three, kissing a skinned elbow to make the hurt go away when you were eight or listening to your hopes and dreams as you got ready to go off to college, every second of the time we spent together has been very special and I never wanted you to see me as anything but your hero. Unfortunately, Lily-girl, I’m just a man with a man’s faults.
By now you’ve discovered that your dear old dad had feet of clay and wasn’t quite the champion you thought me to be. I never meant to disappoint you and I hope one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me for my weaknesses. No matter what you hear about me and my transgressions, please know that the bond between us was not only real, but very precious to me.
One of the many things that you and I shared together was a love of the historic district of Charleston. That’s why I’m leaving you the Colonel Samuel Beauchamp House in the Battery. It’s one of the city’s finest examples of Southern architecture and I know from the Saturday afternoons we spent in White Point Gardens when you were a child that it’s your favorite. You may meet with a bit of resistance from the former owner, Charlotte Addison, but stand your ground, Lily. You’re a strong, capable young woman and whatever decision you make concerning the property, I know it will be the right one for you.
I love you, Lily, and I have no doubt that without me you’ll find the strength to weather whatever challenges life brings your way. From the moment you were born, you have been my little princess—the ray of sunshine that brightened my life and I feel very blessed that you are my daughter.
With love,
Daddy
Tears streamed down Lily’s face as she slowly folded the letter and returned it to the envelope. Deep down she had known that the closeness between her and her father couldn’t have been a lie, but the hurt and disillusionment of the past few days had overshadowed their relationship and caused her to question what she knew in her heart to be true. No matter what he had done, her father had loved her.
Unfortunately, it was going to take her some time to get past his handing over controlling interest in TKG to Jack Sinclair, while more or less cutting his legitimate children out of the picture. Lily sighed heavily. Then there was his betrayal of her mother, even though Elizabeth Kincaid didn’t seem to be nearly as upset about the disturbing revelations as Lily would have thought.
“What were you thinking, Daddy?” she murmured aloud.
As she sat there wondering what her father could have possibly thought to accomplish by what she could only describe as inexcusable choices, something she had read in the letter caused her to catch her breath.
Quickly removing the letter from the envelope, she reread what her father had left her and the name of the Beauchamp mansion’s former owner—Daniel’s unpleasant, ill-tempered mother. Dear heavens, what had he gotten her into?
Three
After a miserable couple of hours waiting for her morning sickness to subside, Lily sat with her elbow propped on her art table, her chin cupped in her palm. She wasn’t accomplishing anything by staring off into space, but she couldn’t seem to settle down to work. All she had been able to think about since reading her father’s letter the night before was what she was going to do with the Beauchamp property.
She had never been inside the structure, but from the outside the beautiful four-story antebellum mansion had always captured her eye. With three levels of piazzas overlooking White Point Gardens and Charleston Harbor beyond, she was almost certain that the Sullivan’s Island Lighthouse and Fort Sumter could be seen in the distance.
She smiled wistfully. As a child, whenever she had passed by the stately double house, she had imagined how wonderful it would be to stand in the cupola on top of the tall roof and pretend to be a princess, surveying her kingdom below. And now the home she had thought to be as grand as any castle was actually hers.
What on earth was she going to do with it? It was such a big house and she didn’t need all that space. Of course, when the baby came there would be the two of them, but it was still going to be much more room than they would need.
As she pondered what to do with the mansion, she was reminded of her father’s warning. What had he meant when he told her that she would meet with opposition from Charlotte Addison? What was that all about?
Deciding she wasn’t getting anything done anyway, Lily left her art table and walked over to the laptop on her desk. With everything being accessible online these days, she should be able to find out some of the mansion’s history and the connection that Daniel’s mother had with the place. A few of the homes in the Battery had been passed from one generation to the next, never being occupied by anyone outside of the family who built them. A sense of dread began to settle in the pit of Lily’s stomach.
Her suspicions were confirmed when the first link she clicked on was a twenty-year-old article on homes in the Battery. According to the reporter from the Post and Courier, Charleston’s newspaper, the mansion had been in Colonel Samuel Beauchamp’s family since it was built in the late 1700s. It went on to read that the home had been passed down to his descendants and, at the time the article was written, belonged to Mrs. Charlotte Beauchamp-Addison, who anticipated keeping it in the family when she eventually passed it on to her son, Daniel.
A chill traveled the length of Lily’s spine. No wonder Charlotte Addison had treated her so poorly when she had shown up with Daniel at the dinner party. She obviously resented the fact that Reginald Kincaid, one of the nouveau riche, as the woman had called him, had purchased her ancestral home. Lily had been condemned simply because she was his daughter. If the mansion had meant so much to her, what could have possibly caused Charlotte to sell it to him?
Lily suddenly caught her breath. Did Daniel know about all this? Was he aware that her father had bought the home he was supposed to own one day and could that be the reason he had become interested in her to begin with? Had he hoped to somehow use his association with her to get the Beauchamp mansion back into his family?
Frowning, she nibbled on her lower lip. She didn’t think that was the case. He had told her on more than one occasion that he loved the new condo he’d bought after his divorce. It was close to the Addison Industries office building and within walking distance of Charleston’s French Quarter.
Trying to unravel her tangled thoughts, Lily jumped when the phone rang. “Hello Matt,” she said, recognizing her brother’s office number on the caller ID.
“Lily, could you do me a favor and watch Flynn one night a week for the next several weeks?” Her brother sounded rushed and she could only imagine the tremendous amount of stress he was under after hearing that Jack Sinclair was going to be in control of The Kincaid Group.
“Of course,” she said, smiling. “You know how much I love my nephew.”
“Great. RJ and I are going to be working late for who knows how long and I’m trying to line up babysitters,” Matt explained.
“What nights do you need me?” Lily asked. She loved spending time with Flynn and found that playing with him had inspired some of her best illustrations.
“Are you free Thursday evenings?” he asked. “Laurel is watching him Mondays and Kara has Tuesdays and Wednesdays covered.”
“That’s fine. What about the weekends?”
“He’s going to spend Friday nights and all day on Saturdays with Mom.” Lily heard him shuffle papers and realized Matt was trying to work and arrange child care at the same time. “I’ve already told RJ that Jack Sinclair can wait on the reports he wants until hell freezes over if need be, but Sundays