Читать книгу Married By Midnight - Judith Stacy, Judith Stacy - Страница 8

Los Angeles, 1896

Another wedding. Her third in as many months. Could she really be expected to show excitement about yet another trip down the aisle?

At least none of the weddings had been her own.

Trying to look interested in the chatter of the three other young women in the bedchamber, Amanda Van Patton eased onto the foot of her friend’s bed and gripped the carved post. Trousseaus, invitations, china patterns. Amanda feared she might scream if she heard those words one more time.

“ Oh, and look at this.” Cecilia Hastings, the bride-to-be, pulled another trousseau gown from her massive redwood closet and held it in front of her.

It was a promenade dress, pale teal with a matching parasol and hat that Amanda admitted would look wonderful on Cecilia, with her dark hair and green eyes. Another round of “ oohs” and “ aahs” rippled from the other women. Amanda managed an “ oh, lovely.”

Perhaps if she weren’t so tired she might enjoy this impromptu fashion show, she decided, as Cecilia emerged from her closet with a lavender-and-ivory afternoon dress. Amanda had just arrived at the Hastings mansion in the West Adams district of Los Angeles, making the trip from her home in San Francisco in her uncle’s private railroad car. She had already had a busy day before she’d set out on this journey.

“ Oh, it’s darling,” she murmured as Cecilia presented another promenade dress. While the other two women in the room—friends of Cecilia’s whose names Amanda had already forgotten—fawned over the pink creation and its wide-brimmed, white hat with matching flowers, Amanda kept her seat.

No, she wasn’t tired, she admitted to herself. Only bored.

She glanced out the window at the moonlight illuminating the darkness and wondered how much longer she’d have to sit here before she could tactfully retire for the evening.

And why shouldn’t she be bored? She’d just gone through this with her cousins—twice.

Since she was thirteen, Amanda had lived with her aunt and uncle and their four daughters in their Nob Hill mansion. Uncle Philip’s wealth had given the family the best of everything—culminating in her cousins’ weddings.

The twins, a few years younger than Amanda, had married within weeks of each other. Prior to that the Van Patton household had been in chaos for an entire year. Flower selection, dressmakers, menus, musicians and the endless stream of tedious details required to stage a wedding had been the topic of conversation morning, noon and night.

As a bridesmaid for both of her cousins, Amanda had been dragged through each facet of the planning. She’d managed to keep a smile on her face—in public, anyway—through the whole ordeal. She wasn’t sure she could do it much longer.

She drew in a fortifying breath as Cecilia whirled around the bedchamber holding a pale yellow ball gown in front of her, and the other young women broke into applause.

“Radiant…” Amanda said, calling upon her considerable store of bridal compliments.

Luckily, Cecilia’s wedding ceremony was only two days away. Amanda straightened her shoulders. Somehow, she’d get through it. She had to.

After all, she was the sole representative of the Van Patton family present at the Hastings-St. John wedding. Both of her cousins were still off on their own honeymoons, and Aunt Veronica had come down with a case of the hives at the last minute. Uncle Philip was too busy—or too smart—to attend weddings.

That left only Amanda to put in an appearance on behalf of the Van Pattons at what one Los Angeles newspaper’s society column had already proclaimed “the wedding of the season.” The prominence and wealth of the Hastings family allowed for no less.

Amanda pulled her lips upward, forcing a smile as Cecilia headed into the closet once more.

If it hadn’t been a wedding that brought Amanda to Los Angeles she probably would have enjoyed the trip. The Hastings and Van Patton families had been friends for years. They visited back and forth, hosted each other on holidays and occasionally vacationed together. The time they spent together had diminished in the past few years, since Cecilia’s father had died, and everyone had grown older and moved on with life.

But the families stayed in touch. They had, in fact, known each other for more years than Amanda had been part of the San Francisco branch of the Van Patton family. She’d only been sent to live with them eleven years ago when, at age thirteen, her father had passed away and her mother had fallen on hard times.

Amanda had been accepted into the family, even if she hadn’t fit in very well.

“Breathtaking,” she muttered now as Cecilia displayed her going-away dress, a cream-colored ensemble trimmed with green flowers and lace.

While the other women circled the gown, commenting on the fabric and cut, Amanda cast a furtive glance toward the clock on the marble mantel above the fireplace. After eleven already. Surely this would end soon—even Cecilia Hastings couldn’t have that many more dresses to display.

As if her thoughts had somehow conjured up a tangible excuse for escape, the bedchamber door burst open and a stout woman with well-coiffed gray hair steamed in. She planted herself in the center of the room, silencing all the young women abruptly, and turned to Cecilia.

“What did you dream last night?” she demanded.

Cecilia paused, holding her black-and-white lace riding habit before her. “Aunt Winnie, where have you been all day?”

“Busy. Very busy,” she declared, waving her hands. “Now, what did you dream last night?”

Cecilia gestured toward Amanda, who rose to her feet. This was a member of the Hastings family she’d never met.

“Aunt Winnie, this is Amanda Van Patton,” Cecilia said. “My aunt, Winnifred Dubois from New York.”

“Of course. The Van Pattons of San Francisco.” Winnifred crossed the room to Amanda. “What did you dream last night?” she repeated.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I interpret dreams,” Winnifred declared. She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Not professionally, of course.”

“No, of course not,” Amanda said, and couldn’t help smiling.

“Never mind.” Winnifred turned back to Cecilia. “The bride-to-be should go first.”

“Let me think.” Cecilia pressed her lips together. “I don’t believe I dreamed anything last night.”

“Nonsense. Of course you dreamed something. Everyone dreams, every night,” Winnifred said. “Your brother is an excellent example.”

Cecilia exchanged a look with the other women. “I’m not sure Nick’s dreams could be the best example of anything.”

Giggles muted by hands pressed to lips rippled through the room as Winnifred took exception to Cecilia’s comment.

But Amanda heard none of the conversation, only the thudding of her own heart as it suddenly beat double time in her chest. Her breathing quickened as it always did when Nick was mentioned.

Tall, handsome Nick. Black hair. Green eyes.

Was he in the house somewhere? Amanda wondered. Here, under the same room with her? Steps away? At this very moment?

She let her heart run wild, her mind fill with memories of Nick.

The first time she’d laid eyes on him.

Their moonlit encounter in the snow-covered forest. The night he’d ruined her for all other men.

Amanda drew in a breath and stilled her runaway thoughts. If Nick was, in fact, here in the house tonight, it wouldn’t matter. He may as well be miles away.

Really, Nick had always been miles away.

Amanda sank onto the bed and pressed her lips together. She couldn’t wait to get this wedding over with and go back home.

Nick Hastings sank lower in his leather chair and stretched his long legs up, propping his heels on the corner of his desk. At the end of this tiring day the house was finally quiet—and it hadn’t been quiet for weeks. Thanks to the wedding.

A short time ago he’d heard the doorbell chime and feminine voices drift down the hallway to the study, where he’d closed himself in after supper. More of Cecilia’s friends stopping by, or yet another guest arriving for the big day.

Across the desk from Nick sat his two oldest friends, Ethan Carmichael and Aaron St. John. Both were dark-haired, neither quite as tall as Nick; all of them had just passed their thirtieth birthday. Between them sat the bottle of Scotch they’d been working on for the past hour or so.

Occasions such as this were a rarity for the three of them. With large companies to run, they seldom had time for an evening of cigars, open collars and conversation.

Which was probably a good thing, Nick decided as he took another sip of Scotch. His head had started to buzz three drinks ago.

“Thank God this wedding nonsense is almost over with,” Ethan declared, puffing his cigar. He elbowed Aaron, who was sitting next to him. “Now you can get on with the honeymoon.”

Ethan fell into a fit of laughter, and Aaron grinned stupidly. Nick dropped his feet to the floor and thumped his fist on the desk.

“That’s my sister you’re talking about.”

Ethan gulped down his laughter with a swig of Scotch.

“Yes, your sister. A woman for whom I have the utmost respect, and whom I love more than life itself,” Aaron said. “But after so long a time, you can understand how I’m…anxious to have this whole thing over with.”

“A hard-fought battle,” Ethan agreed, saluting him with his glass. “How long have you and Cecilia been engaged now?”

“Fourteen months, two weeks and five days,” Aaron said.

Ethan shook his head. “This wedding business…damn lot of nonsense, if you ask me.”

“How many parties and the like?” Nick asked.

Aaron rolled his eyes. “Dinners, receptions, engagement parties and celebrations—hell, I’ve lost count. Not to mention the hours spent with the florist, the clergy, looking at china patterns, talking about honeymoon plans.”

Ethan grinned and sipped his drink. “But well worth it after you walk down the aisle.”

Nick rapped his knuckles against the desk and pointed at Ethan. “None of that kind of talk.”

A light knock sounded and the door opened. Cecilia stepped inside the study, smiling at the three of them.

“I see you boys are behaving yourselves,” she said.

They clattered to their feet. Aaron, the first to rise, crossed the room to stand beside her.

Cecilia glowed. Nick had seen that happiness on her face for months, growing more luminous as the weeks passed. Now, with the wedding two days away, she was positively radiant.

She smiled up at Aaron and he down at her. They moved close, as if drawn to each other instinctively, but were careful not to touch.

They were in love. Any fool could see it. Nick wasn’t sure why it made his chest ache a little.

Must be the Scotch, he decided, and took another gulp.

“Can I steal you away for a few minutes?” Cecilia asked, gazing up at her intended.

Aaron followed her out the door without a backward look.

Nick watched the two of them disappear and the door close. He and Ethan dropped into their chairs again.

“Seems it’s worth it,” Ethan said. “The wedding hoopla, I mean. Worth it to be married, from the looks of those two. Lately, I’ve found myself thinking that I wouldn’t mind being married.”

Nick’s gaze came up quickly. “You’re joking.”

His friend shrugged. “No, not at all. I guess I’ve come to the point in my life where having a wife, looking toward the future, producing children, seems, well…it seems—”

“Appropriate.” Nick sat back in his chair. “Actually, I’ve been thinking the same.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Really.”

The idea had come as a surprise to Nick, too. He’d had no time or energy for such thoughts until lately.

Since his father’s death six years ago, Nick had focused his efforts first on maintaining, then increasing the wealth his father had left him to manage. Nick had the welfare of his mother, his sister and a parade of relatives on his shoulders. The house, still under construction at the time, had had to be to finished—and paid for, of course. So that they could feed their own families, the workers in his father’s businesses had depended on him to keep those businesses going, keep them profitable. All of them had depended on Nick.

It had consumed him, driven him, nearly beaten him at times. He’d been but twenty-five years old when his father had died, out of college only a short time and not quite ready to take life so seriously.

But he’d persevered. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—fail the many people who relied on him. He wouldn’t fail the memory of his father. Or fail himself.

With mentoring from some of his father’s friends, and an uncanny instinct for business he hadn’t known he possessed, Nick had doubled the family fortune. Now, on his own, he was about to triple it.

He sat back in his chair again. “I have everything else in life. A successful business, a good home, financial security. What the hell am I going to do with it?”

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Think you’ll hold on to all that money? Even with that Whitney project you’ve started?”

Nick shifted in his chair. “It will make me a fortune.”

“If it doesn’t bankrupt you first,” Ethan said. He nodded. “Gutsy move on your part, I’ll give you that. Going it alone on such a huge undertaking is risky.”

This wasn’t the first time someone had expressed concern about his latest business venture. It was a massive project, already months in development, with thousands spent, and they’d not even broken ground yet.

But he’d investigated it thoroughly, looked at it from every angle, consulted with experts in the field. Nick was confident he could pull it off without additional partners or financial backers. In fact, that was the only way he wanted to complete this project.

Somewhere in the middle of a sleepless night a few months ago, the thought had come to Nick that he had no one to leave his fortune to. The notion had been floating in the back of his mind ever since.

“I suppose,” Ethan said, “having a wife, then a family, is the next logical step.”

Nick sipped his Scotch and nodded. “It makes sense.”

Ethan snorted a laugh. “Just who the hell do you think is going to marry you?”

“I could ask you the same,” Nick said. “You’ve got a list of faults a mile long.”

“Me?” Ethan rocked forward in his chair. “I can’t even think where to start naming all your shortcomings. You’d never find a woman willing to marry you.”

“Like hell.”

“I could find a wife quicker than you,” Ethan told him.

Nick grunted. “In your dreams, maybe.”

“Want to bet?”

Nick gazed across the desk at his friend. Over the years the two of them had wagered on most everything imaginable. Neither man liked to lose.

“You’re not serious,” Nick said.

“Why not? We both want to get married. Why not make the whole process a little more interesting?”

Nick stroked his chin. “What did you have in mind?”

Ethan thought for a moment. “We’ll both go wife hunting, and whichever of us is married first will be the winner.”

Nick frowned. “I don’t know that I’ve got time to court a woman right now, with this Whitney project going.”

“Then we’ll set a time limit,” Ethan said. “We’ll give it, say, thirty days.”

“A month?” Nick shook his head. “Aaron’s engagement lasted over a year.”

“But he made a slow study of it,” Ethan said. “You and I will handle it differently. We’ll select the woman we want and make an all-out marital assault. Sweep her off her feet. Then insist on an elopement.”

Nick shook his head. “I don’t know…”

“Look at the benefits. No long courtship. No long engagement. None of the parties, receptions or wedding preparations Aaron had to suffer through. Thirty days of concerted effort to land a wife, then it’s back to business as usual.”

Nick considered the notion for a moment and found himself warming to the idea. “It makes sense. But…”

“What’s the matter? Don’t think you can charm a woman into marriage in thirty days?”

Nick sat up straighter. “I’ve got plenty of charm.”

“Can’t maintain it for a month?”

“I can maintain.”

Ethan laced his fingers together and placed them behind his head, sinking deeper into the chair. “I’m not seeing a problem, myself. I’m quite certain I can find a wife in that time. If you don’t think you can handle it—”

“I can handle it,” Nick insisted.

“Well then?”

Nick considered his friend for a moment. “So what does the winner get?”

“Besides a wife in his bed, at his beck and call, every single night?” Ethan nodded toward the whiskey bottle on the desk. “How about a case of the finest Scotch in the city?”

Nick contemplated the bottle, then his friend and the idea he’d suggested. He’d thought about his future for a while now, and having a wife was certainly a part of that. Nick hadn’t envied Aaron and all the wedding rituals he’d gone through, so the quicker the whole thing was over and done with, the better.

And a case of Scotch was always good.

“All right, you’re on,” Nick said, and came to his feet.

Ethan rose from his chair. “So here’s the wager. The first one of us to be married—”

“Legally married,” Nick interrupted.

“—to a woman—”

“A living, breathing woman.”

“—shall be declared the winner.” Ethan glanced at the clock on the mantel. “We’ll give ourselves until midnight, thirty days from today. Deal?”

Excitement stirred in Nick’s belly as he shook his friend’s hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

After all, what could go wrong?