Читать книгу Married By Midnight - Judith Stacy, Judith Stacy - Страница 12

Amanda dashed into her bedchamber. “I need a hat!”

“What’s got you all fired up?” Dolly asked.

“I’m going out,” Amanda said, crossing to the closet. “With Nick.”

“Oh, my word. I knew it,” Dolly declared, pushing ahead of her and opening the closet door.

Amanda stilled. “It’s nothing like that. He’s simply taking me out to see the city. That’s all.”

Dolly nodded wisely as she pulled down a hatbox from the shelf. “That’s all? Uh-huh. Sure it is.”

Amanda pried off the top and lifted out the wide-brimmed hat, decorated with flowers and bows. She hurried to the mirror over the dresser and pinned it in place.

“Is this the same Mr. Nick that you intended to keep your distance from not an hour ago?” Dolly asked.

Amanda glanced at the maid’s reflection in the mirror. “He’s just being a kind host, that’s all.”

Dolly studied her for a minute, then nodded slowly. “All right. I reckon you know what you’re doing. Besides, can’t say that I blame you, good-looking as he is.”

Amanda checked herself in the mirror one last time, then scooped up her handbag and headed for the door.

“You just watch yourself,” Dolly called.

The sobering words rang in Amanda’s head as she stepped into the hallway. Dolly was right. Nick had hurt her once before. Hurt her deeply, so deeply that some of the pain still lived with her today, all these years later.

“You sure you want to do this?” Dolly asked, walking to the doorway.

Amanda considered the question. Perhaps she should tell Nick that she’d changed her mind and didn’t want to go with him today.

Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

“I’ll be fine,” she declared.

Still, the idea caused her stomach to knot as she walked down the hallway. But the alternative meant spending the day with Cecilia and Constance, discussing the wedding. Amanda couldn’t bear that.

Nor could she bear standing at the window watching Nick drive away without her.

“Be cautious,” Amanda mumbled aloud as she reached the top of the staircase. She could do this, she told herself. She could spend the day with Nick without letting her feelings run away with her. She’d keep herself in check.

Somehow.

Amanda heard footsteps behind her in the hallway and, fearing it was Cecilia or Constance with a dire wedding crisis, hurried down the steps. At the bottom, she stopped. Nick wasn’t there.

Had he already gone? What if he’d changed his mind and left without her?

A cold shiver passed through her. Old memories popped into her mind. Feelings of being young, newly arrived at her aunt and uncle’s mansion. Not fitting in. Not being as worthy as everyone around her. Not being good enough…for Nick.

Amanda gave herself a shake, pushed her chin up and crossed the foyer. Of course she was good enough. Now. She hadn’t been back then, when she was little more than a child, uncomfortable in her new life. But she’d learned how to conduct herself, and she did, in fact, fit in quite nicely.

She opened the front door and stepped out into the bright morning sunlight. The Hastingses’ carriage waited at the foot of the steps and Nick stood beside it. Amanda felt her heart lurch, seeing him there waiting for her.

And because he looked so tall and handsome, Amanda’s own words of warning sped through her mind again. Be cautious.

“All set?” Nick asked.

She stopped beside him. “Thank you for masterminding my escape today.”

He smiled. “What are best friends for?”

Warmth rushed up Amanda’s arm as she lay her fingers in his palm and accepted his assistance into the carriage. He climbed in after her and took the opposite seat.

When the carriage swung out of the driveway and onto West Adams Boulevard, Amanda sat back and tried to relax. It wasn’t easy with Nick so close and her heart beating faster than normal.

“It’s quite lovely here,” Amanda said, peering at the passing neighborhood from beneath her wide-brimmed hat.

The West Adams district had become as famous as New York’s Fifth Avenue, and Nob Hill, where Amanda’s uncle made their home. Wide, tree-lined boulevards, wrought-iron and stone fences fronted the magnificent homes of some of the finest families in the city. Here, standards were set by people of affluence and wealth.

“My parents selected the site and designed the house,” Nick said. “Father died shortly after construction began.”

“He never got to live here?”

“No.” Nick smiled gently. “But the house makes us all think of him.”

Amanda turned back for a last glance at the Hastingses’ home. A three-story structure with scrollwork and gingerbread, a witch’s cap and onion dome, the house was painted ivory with deep blue and maroon trim. It was a grand home, and a fine legacy left by Nick’s father.

“Don’t you want to know where we’re going?” Nick asked.

“Not really,” Amanda said, and smiled. “I trust you.”

“Now you’ve really put me on the spot,” Nick replied, and gave her the same devilish smile she’d seen earlier.

That smile wound its way through Amanda and settled around her heart. If Nick got much more handsome, or smiled at her again, she didn’t know how she’d bear it.

Maybe she shouldn’t have come with him today, she thought again. Regardless of how dreadful another day of wedding preparations sounded, perhaps she should have stayed at the house and endured it, somehow. She’d come to Los Angeles with the intention of keeping her distance from Nick, knowing it was best for her. Dolly had been right to remind her of that. Now here she sat, facing a day alone with him.

Once more, Amanda cautioned herself to stay on guard, lest she lose herself completely in Nick’s green eyes.

They rode in silence for a while, and that seemed to suit Amanda, Nick noted. He studied her face, turned toward the window so she could watch the passing scenery. Unlike so many other women, she didn’t chatter about this or that, or feel the necessity to fill every moment with conversation.

Usually, that would have pleased Nick. Having lived with females his whole life, he thought that, in general, they talked too much. But now, with Amanda, it made him wonder what she was thinking.

Certainly, it wasn’t anything remotely related to what he was thinking.

“Amanda, you’re really very—”

Pretty, he’d intended to say. But when she turned to him and he saw that look of tired expectation on her face, it occurred to him that people probably told her she was pretty all the time—because she was. Nick didn’t want to be like everyone else.

“Smart,” Nick said. “You’re really very smart.”

She smiled then, a genuine, heartfelt smile that Nick was sure she seldom shared with anyone. He was inordinately pleased that he’d elicited it from her.

“The way you took care of that problem with Cecilia this morning,” he continued. “You were the only one who seemed to have a handle on the situation.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “All my wedding experience came in handy for something.”

“What do you do with your time when you’re not being dragged into everyone else’s weddings?” Nick asked.

“Volunteer work, mostly.”

Any other woman would have rattled off a list of clubs she belonged to and decorating projects she’d completed. But Amanda wasn’t just any woman, Nick was fast learning.

“What sort of volunteer work?”

She seemed surprised that he’d asked. “Three days a week I work at churches, preparing meals and serving indigents. Twice a week I visit the orphanage.”

“You enjoy doing that?” he asked.

“It breaks my heart, seeing the children.” Amanda looked at him, tears instantly welling in her eyes.

Nick nearly bolted across the carriage to hold her, comfort her. He’d never felt a desire so strong in his entire life.

Amanda blinked her tears away. “But I can’t stay away.”

“Has this got something to do with that women’s refuge you mentioned earlier?”

“Yes, it does,” Amanda said. “So often women don’t have the skill or knowledge to support themselves and their children when their husband leaves them or passes away. I want to provide a place where they can live while they get on their feet and learn how to provide for their children.”

Nick just stared at her. Good Lord, who was this woman—this Amanda Van Patton? Where had she been all his life?

“That’s an incredible idea,” he finally managed to say.

“Thank you.” She smiled softly, and Nick’s heart melted a little.

For the first time, he wondered what would have happened to his own family if things had been different when his father died. What if he’d been a boy, unable to take over the family business? Would his mother have known what to do? Where would she have gotten the help and guidance she needed to provide for their family?

“So, when are you starting this project?” Nick asked.

“As soon as I raise the money.”

“What about your uncle Philip? He’d support your cause.”

“I don’t want to ask him,” Amanda said. “It’s a losing proposition, never intended to show a dime of profit. I can’t expect him to spend his own money on it. Besides, I’d like the community to get involved, to realize what’s happening and take part in solving the problem.”

“That’s a tall order.”

She sat a little straighter on the seat and gave him a brisk nod. “I have a plan.”

He grinned. “Really?”

“I plan to stage a number of events for San Francisco’s wealthy families to raise awareness of the situation and drum up support. Once I’ve secured the funds, I’ll start on the refuge,” Amanda said. “I need a building large enough to accommodate women and their children. It will require a kitchen, sitting rooms, a playroom for the children, and a place where they can receive medical care. I’ll also require space so the women can receive training for the jobs they’ll need to eventually become self-reliant. I want a safe location near schools, parks and churches.”

She paused and blushed slightly. “Well, that’s my plan.”

“It sounds more like your passion,” Nick said.

She considered his words. “You could be right.”

“Any other passions?” Nick inquired, not sure why he’d asked such a leading question, yet anxious to hear her answer.

“Of course,” she said simply. “But you’ll have to figure those out for yourself.”

“I warn you, I do love a challenge.”

Amanda smiled and gestured out the window. “So, Mr. Tour Guide, what’s that building over there?”

Nick had instructed the driver to take them through Los Angeles and give Amanda a look at the city. He pointed out the building where he had an office, then the shops along Wilshire Boulevard, which were bustling with people, delivery wagons, trolley cars and carriages. Gradually, the driver headed east, also on Nick’s instructions, until the city faded into farmland.

Amanda leaned closer to the window, gazing at the open fields dotted with an occasional farmhouse. “Perhaps now is a good time to ask where you’re taking me.”

“I want to show you my passion. My latest project,” he explained, waving his hand toward the window. “The Whitney project, I’m calling it, named after the man who owned the majority of the land.”

The carriage drew to a stop. Nick exited first, then helped Amanda to the ground.

Miles of farmland spread out around them, rimmed by a range of rugged mountains. Nearby was a dilapidated farmhouse—its roof blown off, windows smashed—shaded by a towering oak.

The driver handed a wicker hamper and blanket to Nick, then flicked the reins.

“Where is he going?” Amanda asked, watching the carriage drive away.

“Taking the team down to the creek for water.”

Amanda glanced around at the vast openness, the isolation. “So we’re out here alone?”

Nick nodded. “Just the two of us…and our passions.”