Читать книгу The Marriage Mishap - Judith Stacy, Judith Stacy - Страница 12

It was only a door.

Adam rolled the glass of bourbon between his palms and contemplated the carved wood and the brass knob before him. Not only was it merely a door, it was his door. He’d designed it, he’d selected the wood and hardware, he’d overseen its installation— he’d even paid for the damn thing. He could open it if he wanted to. Right?

Wrong.

He sagged against the door frame of his own bedchamber, staring across the sitting room at Haley’s door. She was in there. A crack of light shone on the carpet. It had been silent in there for a few minutes now. Chrissy had gone, surely. Haley was ready for bed.

His insides flamed; they’d been simmering all evening, even at his father’s house. The woman was driving him crazy with want. Whatever she possessed that had caused him to marry her on the spur of the moment still plagued him. And unless he started doing something about it, he’d be in no condition to be seen in public ever again.

Adam set his glass aside and approached the door. He’d planned to give her a few more nights before he paid a call; he’d thought it the decent thing to do, given that they had skipped the courtship and gone straight to the honeymoon. And once he’d formulated a plan, he didn’t change it. But now he had to deal with extenuating circumstances, which were pressing against his fly. That made a change in plans more than acceptable.

However, the problem of the closed door remained. Adam rubbed his hands together. He was setting a precedent here. If he knocked, he’d be obligated to knock every time. He didn’t like asking permission for anything.

Adam opened the door slowly. “Haley?”

She sat on the bench in front of the vanity, studying her reflection in the large oval mirror as she brushed her hair. Turning, she looked surprised, but not shocked; it pleased him.

Adam gazed around. “All settled?”

She turned back to the mirror and ran the brush through her hair. “Yes, I think so.”

“Good, good.” He eased across the room and stood behind her where he could view both her back and her front reflected in the mirror. She wore a longsleeved dressing gown that covered her ankles and buttoned up to a high collar. It was white, and made her look very pure and innocent.

Adam slid his hands in his pockets, jingling his coins. “Sorry about Aunt Izzy.”

Haley stroked the brush through her hair and glimpsed his reflection in the mirror. He wore the same dark suit he’d worn to dinner, but his jacket was off, the sleeves of his white shirt turned back, exposing his hairy wrists; his collar stood open.

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “I loved your aunt.”

“She’s a crazy old bird.” He chuckled and ran his hand through his hair. “Her and her…readings.”

“I liked her.”

“She travels extensively, knows people from one end of the globe to the other. She’s been married three times that I know of. Martin claims more than that.”

“So many husbands?” Haley’s gaze met his in the mirror. “How does she get rid of them all?”

The gleam in her eye unsettled him. “Never mind.”

A moment passed while Adam studied the vanity. An assortment of delicate porcelain bottles, decanters and jars sat there, pale blue, pink. There was a green atomizer with a feather sticking out, and a huge powder puff. A jeweled hand mirror and comb lay to one side. Mysterious woman things. It smelled good here. He liked it.

“Who is Amelia?”

Adam’s heart rose in his throat. His gaze dropped to the carpet, and he studied the tips of his shoes for a moment. “No one special,” he finally said, and lifted his gaze to meet Haley’s in the mirror. “She left a long time ago. Aunt Izzy is a bit out of touch.”

Her woman’s heart swelled, and Haley knew there was more, but she let it go. “I thought I’d invite your sister for luncheon this week.”

Startled, he looked in the mirror and met her gaze. “Gwen? You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s the proper thing to do. That is one of the reasons I’m here, isn’t it? To insure you maintain the proper social position?”

Yes, it was, but it sounded cold, hearing her say it. He shrugged. “No need to be proper with family.”

“I’d like to get to know her better. I had no sisters of my own, you know. She must be only a few years younger than you.”

He thought for a moment. “Thirty, this year.”

“Married? Children?”

“Gwen never married.”

“That’s odd. Is she one of those career women?” Scandalous as it was, the idea of a job excited Haley, but she couldn’t imagine Martin Harrington allowing it.

Adam frowned distastefully. “No, of course not.”

Haley shrugged. “Then I wonder why she never married?”

Adam eased closer, drawn by the delicate scent wafting up from her. “Maybe she just never drank the punch at a wedding.”

Haley froze as she felt his hand in the back of her hair. Soft, gentle, exploring fingers. Her body tingled, urging her to lean back, just enough to feel him against her. His hand plowed deeper, and she felt the warmth of his fingertips against her neck. Delightful. She wanted to melt against him. She wanted to encourage him. She wanted to—

Be anything but a lady?

Aunt Harriet flashed in her mind like a demon nightmare, cooling her runaway desire. Well-bred gentlemen like Adam Harrington expected a lady for a wife, she’d said. And Haley must be a lady—at all times.

Surely this was one of those times Aunt Harriet had alluded to. Haley forced herself to lean away from him and lay her hairbrush on the vanity. She didn’t dare look in the mirror, fearing she’d see wanton desire in her face. What would Adam think of her if he saw it, too?

She looked embarrassed, but he’d expected she’d need some coaxing. Since she wasn’t out of her head with drink this time, it would be different. But did she have to look so damn virginal? It was bad enough she had on that white dressing gown; did she have to lower those long lashes of hers so demurely? And this room. He’d like to kick the decorator in the butt right now for convincing him to do it in powder blue and white. Why hadn’t he insisted on red with black lace?

Adam touched her shoulders and squeezed them gently. “Well, good night.” He bent and planted a kiss atop her hair, drinking in the sweet smell of her hair.

Haley cleared her throat. “Good night.”

He left her room. Next time, he’d bring a punch bowl with him.

They ate breakfast facing each other from opposite ends of the long dining room table, but spoke little. Adam kept his nose buried in Engineering News and sipped his usual Bloody Mary. The fact that after he’d come to her bedchamber last night he still considered her a lady brought Haley little comfort.

In the foyer, he and Bernard went through their usual morning ritual, and he left.

“Bernard? Did you get Kip his birthday present?”

“It will be delivered today, madam, the thirteenth.”

“What did you get him?”

“A poetry collection bound in Moroccan leather. Quite valuable.”

Just what every thirteen-year-old boy wanted. Haley forced a smile. “Thank you, Bernard.”

“Yes, madam.”

The butler was halfway across the foyer before she realized he was gone. “Bernard? When Edward returns with the carriage, have him wait out front for me, please.”

The instructions seemed to throw him. “But, madam—”

“It’s all right, Bernard. I’m not part of Mr. Harrington’s schedule.”

“Yes, madam.” He slipped silently from the foyer.

An hour later, Haley made sure to notice the driver when he jumped down from the carriage in front of the house. Chrissy seemed quite taken with the young man, and had even asked to come along today, just to see him again. Not particularly tall, but very muscular, Edward handed Haley up into the carriage with a confident air and a pleasant smile.

The house needed a woman’s touch, Adam had said, and Haley agreed. She jotted down a few notes as the carriage made its way into the city—places she wanted to shop, things she intended to purchase. The pieces Adam had furnished the house with were all good, but it needed some things to warm it up. Haley couldn’t bear the thought of her home looking as stark and cold as her father-in-law’s house.

She made Edward wait in the carriage, refusing his offer to follow along and handle the packages for her. It was just as well, since she found little that pleased her in the shops. Shortly after noon, she had him drive her to I Street and told him to have his own lunch and come back in an hour or so. Reluctantly, he drove away, leaving her alone on the busy street.

Haley craned her neck and looked up at a building that had seen better times. Holding her parasol securely in her hand, she went inside and climbed the stairs to the second floor. Faded gold lettering on the plate-glass door read Sacramento Building Company. She let herself in.

Vague recollections came to her, memories of being here as a child. Her father and uncle staring at charts and diagrams, her and Jay playing in the stairwell and in the alley out back.

The reception area needed a good cleaning now, and decent furniture; books, papers, folders, were littered everywhere.

“Hello? Jay? Are you here?”

A chair scraped the floor in one of the adjoining offices, and her cousin stuck his head out the door. His collar was open and his shirtsleeves were turned back.

“Haley? What on earth—” He waved a half-eaten chicken leg at her.

“I was going to invite you out to lunch, but I see I’m too late.”