Читать книгу The Tycoon's Baby - Leigh Michaels, Leigh Michaels - Страница 7

CHAPTER TWO

WEBB COPELAND’S EYES were so wide and guileless, his smile so serene, and his voice so cool and deliberate that for a few seconds Janey didn’t realize she was dealing with a man in the midst of a psychotic episode. And just how did one handle this particular variety of nutcase? Humor him? Try to reason things out? Scream and run?

“Engaged?” she managed to say. “You’re certain that’s what you meant to say? Because you surely don’t mean engaged like the step before getting married—do you?”

“Not in this case. I mean, yes, that’s exactly the kind of engagement I have in mind, but there’s no question of marriage. That’s the whole point.”

Janey put the tips of two fingers against her temple and rubbed at a throbbing vein. “I think you’d better take it from the top, Mr. Copeland. And is there such a thing as a coffee machine at this end of the building? I think I’m going to need some.”

He smiled. “Louise can no doubt find you a cup. Cream and sugar?”

“Just black.”

He went to the door and called the secretary’s name.

While his back was turned, Janey took a better look around the office. There was only one door, and Webb Copeland’s body was still blocking it. But one wall was entirely glass, and though most of the windows were set solidly in place the bottom panels obviously opened for ventilation. They were shallow, but surely she could punch out the screen and slither through on her back...

On the other hand, Janey had never been the scream-and-run type. Honesty forced her to admit, however, that wasn’t the reason she was sticking around. The truth was if she didn’t hear all of this story she’d be lying awake every night for the rest of her life trying to figure it out.

Webb came back with two heavy ceramic mugs, which bore the Copeland Products logo. Janey was just a little disappointed to see that the cups were precisely the same as those in the employee break room. Wasn’t that one of the perks of the executive wing—getting to drink out of real china?

The coffee was better, though—obviously fresh, which in her two months of working there had never been the case in the break room.

She held the mug in both hands. “You were saying?”

“Oh, yes, from the top.” Webb sat down again. “Just over a year ago, my wife lost control of her car on an icy road and was killed.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve heard about the accident, of course, but I’d forgotten.” She saw his raised eyebrows and said, “Employees talk, Mr. Copeland.”

“About my wife?”

Janey said dryly, “They talk about everything. If I’d known it was going to affect me personally, I’d have paid more attention to that particular story. At least, I assume you wouldn’t be telling me unless it is going to affect me personally?”

He smiled a little, but he didn’t answer directly. “Our daughter, Madeline, was less than two months old when her mother died.”

“Oh.” Janey hadn’t heard that part of the story. “The poor child.”

“She’s doing quite well. She has a nurse, and my grandmother moved in to provide a guiding hand.” He sipped his coffee. “That’s the problem, actually—my grandmother. She’s convinced I should get married again, for Maddy’s sake, and she’s trying to persuade me.”

Janey’s eyebrows arched. “Come on, Mr. Copeland—you have five hundred employees, and you don’t have any trouble at all bossing them around. Do you expect me to believe you can’t tell your grandmother to mind her own business?”

“I have. And she’s actually stopped talking about it—the last time she brought up the subject directly was almost three weeks ago. But ever since we had that last little chat about how badly Madeline needs a stepmother, my house hasn’t been a safe place for me to go near.”

Janey frowned. “Because you told her off? If she’s so angry—”

“Oh, she’s far from angry. She’s just determined, and she’s turned my house into a social center. That’s fine with me—she has a right to entertain her friends. It’s just that all of her friends suddenly seem to be single, under thirty, and pretty in varying degrees. If I go home in time to play with Maddy before her bedtime, I’m shanghaied into joining Gran and one or another of her young lovelies at dinner.”

“That’s why you were working so late last night?”

He nodded. “I was dodging a blonde. Luckily I spotted her before Gran saw me, so I escaped the dinner routine. But I barely made it out the door, and I expect the blonde stayed the whole evening waiting for me to show up again.”

Thank you for giving me an excuse, he’d said last night outside the infirmary. Janey was beginning to see what he’d meant.

“I can’t set foot inside my own door without being ambushed—but if I stay away, I don’t see my baby girl at all.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve considered shipping your grandmother off to a rest home and telling all her pals to visit her there?”

He laughed, without much humor. “It’s painfully apparent that you’ve never met my grandmother, Janey.”

“All right, so I don’t have an answer for you. You might try dragging her to a counselor, I suppose, but other than that—”

“Oh, there’s a much simpler way. I’m going to give her precisely what she’s asked for.”

“Perhaps I’ve missed something,” Janey mused. “But I think you just said you’re going to get married to keep her from pushing you to get married, and somehow that just doesn’t—”

“Not exactly. I’m going to introduce her to the woman I’ve chosen to be Maddy’s stepmother—and, incidentally, my wife.”

Janey crossed her legs and let her foot swing free. “I still don’t see why I come into this.”

“You’re perfect,” he said calmly. “She’ll hate you.”

Janey’s foot stopped in midswing. She stared at the oversized, rounded toe of her reinforced shoes. “Because I’m so different from the ladies on her list?”

“Exactly. She’ll be horrified, in fact.”

She could almost see his grandmother now—eagle-eyed, upright, impatient to pounce on the slightest gaffe, ready to judge anyone who didn’t precisely meet her specifications. He was no doubt right, Janey thought—the woman would hate her. Of course, that fact didn’t make his assessment of Janey any more flattering... “And then, after a while, you’ll break it off.”

He nodded. “And Gran will be so relieved—”

Janey finished his sentence. “—that she’ll start right in again. I don’t know what you think you’re going to gain in the long run.”

“Oh, no, she won’t. Because, you see, once she realizes the lengths I’ll go to, she won’t dare push me, ever again.”

“You mean you’re going to tell her the whole thing? Confess that it was a scam?”

“Of course not. She has to believe that I’d have gone through with it, or the whole operation’s a waste.” His eyebrows drew together. “It means, of course, that you’ll have to be the one to break it all off—or at least it’ll have to look as if you’re the one.”

“Leaving you with a broken heart,” Janey mused. “Which in itself would buy you a little time, I suppose.” She nibbled her thumbnail as she thought it over. She could see all kinds of flaws in this scheme—but then he hadn’t asked her to critique his plan, only to pretend for a while to be his fiancée. She folded her arms across her chest, looked him straight in the eye and said bluntly, “So what’s in it for me?”

He looked just a little shocked, and she wondered if it was her implied agreement or the brusque question that had startled him. Or was he just surprised that she needed to ask?

“If you say my job’s hanging on whether I cooperate—” she began suspiciously.

“Of course not. That would be sexual harassment.”

“Well, it’s good to know somebody in this company knows the definition,” Janey muttered. “So what are you offering?”

He countered, “What do you have in mind?”

She slowly finished her coffee while she thought it over, and then she set her cup down and said, “Money, of course.”

Suddenly his eyes were as chilly as storm clouds.

What on earth did he expect? Janey thought, half-amused. He’d already classified her as ignorant, uneducated and socially inept—so why shouldn’t she be a fortune hunter, too?

“And rather a lot of it.” She told him exactly how much.

He swallowed hard. “Well, you’re right about it being a lot.”

Janey relented. Being paid for her work was one thing, but the figure she’d quoted was closer to blackmail—and she’d never intended for him to give it to her outright, anyway. She might not be able to borrow money from standard sources, but with her cooperation as collateral...why not? He could afford it. “We’ll call it an interest-free loan, and—let me think—in about three years I can start paying it back.”

“Of course you will.” There was only a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but it rasped on her like tree bark against tender skin. “And why are we waiting three years? What’s this loan intended for?”

Janey shrugged. “I don’t see that it’s any of your business how I spend it. If you’re worried about me paying it off, you’ll just have to rely on my character.” She smiled sweetly and added, “Of course, if you’re not happy with the arrangements, we don’t have to continue this discussion at all.”

He let the subject hang in the silent office until Janey concluded that she’d pushed him too far. Oh, well, she thought. It was a great opportunity while it lasted. She’d gambled and lost, and there was no sense in feeling disappointed. She wasn’t any worse off than she’d been before she walked into his office.

He said, “It’s a deal.”

Janey could hardly believe she’d heard him right. Relief and satisfaction—and a bit of fear at the job she’d taken on—surged through her.

His voice was brisk. “I want to get started right away. I’ll break the news to Gran tonight, and you can come for dinner tomorrow to meet her. Seven-thirty—”

Janey shook her head. “Can’t. Remember? I work the swing shift.”

He lifted one dark eyebrow. “I assumed, with all that cash coming in, you’d be quitting your job.”

She could, of course. With the assurance of that money—enough, she’d carefully calculated, to pay her tuition and support her adequately, though not luxuriously, through the rest of her education—she didn’t need to work another day. She didn’t need to face her fellow employees again, or crush her skull with those horrible electronic earmuffs, or ride the bus across town in the middle of the night...

On the other hand, there was as yet no guarantee that she’d actually be laying her hands on Webb Copeland’s cash. That would depend on the success of this con, so she didn’t dare let go of the security her paycheck offered quite yet—and with the hope that the end was near, she could put up with it for a while longer, anyway.

“I think I’ll keep working for now,” she said.

He took a deep breath, but he didn’t argue the point. “All right. Lunch, then.”

Janey consulted her internal calendar. Tomorrow was Wednesday, the day before the Thanksgiving holiday, so all afternoon classes had been canceled. “It’ll have to be on the late side—like one o’clock.”

“That’ll work. I’ll pick you up.” He stood, obviously dismissing her.

Janey stayed firmly in her chair. “How does one dress to meet your grandmother?”

His gaze drifted slowly down the length of her body. “How about your work clothes, and after lunch I’ll drop you off here in time for your shift?”

“Don’t you think that would be just a little obvious? I thought I’d settle for painting my face like a clown and stuffing all the tissue I can find down the front of a strapless sequined dress.”

Webb smiled. It was, Janey thought, the first time she’d seen him display honest humor, and it looked good on him. The tiny lines around his eyes crinkled and his eyes glowed...

And that’s enough of that, she told herself. He was the boss, he had hired her to do a job and she wasn’t getting paid in smiles.

* * *

AFTER SHE WAS GONE, Webb called his secretary in. “You can send this back to personnel,” he said, pushing Janey’s file across the desk. “And call my grandmother, please, and tell her I want to talk to her alone tonight, so she’d better kick all the wannabe brides out of my house.”

Louise’s lips twitched. “I’ll rephrase that, if I may?” she murmured, and left without waiting for an answer.

Webb pushed his chair back, put his feet up on the corner of his desk and stared out the window. The whole thing had gone very well, he thought. If he’d constructed her himself, he couldn’t have come up with a more delightful combination for this job than Janey Griffin. Not only was she smart-mouthed, hard-edged, and entirely lacking in tact—qualities guaranteed to send Camilla Copeland straight up the nearest wall—but she was very nicely packaged as well. Janey was not beautiful, of course; in that department she couldn’t begin to compete with the women Camilla had been throwing at him. But even in her work clothes Janey was attractive enough—tall, slender, straight-backed, with curves in the right places and huge hazel eyes and well-shaped little ears and a firm if stubborn small chin and pleasant, ordinary brown hair—that his grandmother wouldn’t have to ponder the question of how she’d initially captured Webb’s attention.

There were some women, he told himself, that Gran simply wouldn’t believe he could fall for, no matter how convincing a story she heard. Janey Griffin wasn’t one of them. And yet, as soon as Camilla ran up against the smart mouth, the hard edges and the complete lack of tact...

And Janey was going to keep her job, too—just as he’d hoped she would. The idea of a prospective granddaughter-in-law who worked the swing shift on a manufacturing line—moving, carving and bending steel—was guaranteed to make Camilla turn purple. He’d been right. Janey couldn’t be more perfect.

He took his feet off his desk and got his trench coat from the closet. Louise would have made that call by now—so he might as well go home, play with his baby daughter and shock the hell out of his grandmother.

He was looking forward to it.

* * *

NOT ONLY THE supervisor but every worker on the line knew that Janey was late because she’d been summoned by the boss. And since Janey could hardly tell them what that conversation had been about, she could only pretend not to hear the comments that rippled across the factory floor.

Eventually, when she didn’t respond, the remarks settled back into a more normal pattern—still suggestive and annoying, but at least not actively cruel. And she’d been right in thinking that with an end in sight it would be easier to ignore the tasteless talk. Instead of two more years of this nonsense, she only had...weeks, perhaps?

She’d forgotten to ask how long he expected this masquerade to run, but she knew it wouldn’t be two years; the fairy tale Webb Copeland intended to spin for his grandmother couldn’t possibly hold up that long.

And when the farce was played out, she’d be sitting pretty. With cash on hand to pay her expenses, there’d be no need for her to work. She could enjoy the rest of her education, instead of enduring it. She could soak up every drop of knowledge instead of skimming the surface.

She’d have to pay all that money back, of course—and she’d do it, no matter what it took. It was obvious that Webb Copeland hadn’t believed for an instant that she intended to, but Janey regarded this loan exactly the same as if she’d gone to a bank. Apart from the matter of interest.

By the time she started making payments, she thought dreamily, she’d be working at a job she liked, and she wouldn’t be trying to balance school along with it. And she’d positively enjoy making sure he got every last cent back, if only to see the look on his face when he had to admit that she’d meant her promise all along.

Suddenly Janey realized that, though the machines still roared, the human noise on the factory floor had dropped to almost nothing. The effect was positively spooky, for it was nearly midnight—and people usually made more noise, not less, as the shift ended and they were free to go home.

She glanced around the floor, trying to spot the reason for the sudden quiet, and had to stifle a groan when she saw Webb coming straight toward her, hands in the pockets of his trench coat. She turned back to her machine and didn’t even look at him when he stopped beside her.

“Not you again,” she said. “Do you have any idea how much trouble it’s causing me to have you hanging around?”

He shrugged. “I just came to drive you home. Oh, and to give you this.” He pulled a tiny box from his pocket, snapped it open and held it out, balanced on his open palm.

Inside the velvet box, against a bed of black satin, a ring sparkled. Its brilliant center stone—nearly the size of Janey’s thumbnail—caught the overhead light and shattered it into rainbows, which danced across the factory floor. Half the employees on the line craned their necks to get a better look. The other half, Janey expected, would be along in a minute or two.

“Please tell me this is a zircon and not a diamond,” she muttered.

“Telling you that wouldn’t make it one. And the jeweler who just sold it to me wouldn’t be at all flattered.”

“Where did you find a jeweler at almost midnight? On second thought, I don’t want to know.”

“At home, watching the sports channel—but when I told him what I wanted, he was quite happy to meet me at the store. Don’t you like it? I’d have let you choose, but I thought Gran would ask questions if you weren’t wearing a ring tomorrow.”

Janey considered braining him with the nearest piece of steel. “Whether I like it is not the point. It’s bad enough you bought a rock the size of a lighthouse beacon—”

“Gran would really think something’s fishy if I didn’t.”

Of course he was thinking of his grandmother. But then it hadn’t even crossed Janey’s mind that he might consider her tastes. “But why you brought the thing here—”

“You don’t really believe our engagement is going to remain secret, do you?”

Janey looked around the factory floor at a hundred interested faces. “Not anymore,” she said dryly.

“Now that I’ve broken the news to my grandmother, it’ll spread like wildfire.”

Too late to back out now. The thought was automatic, and puzzling. Why would she even think of backing out? “I wouldn’t bet on her being eager to announce it. Was telling her as much fun as you expected it to be?”

He gave her a long, speculative look. “As a matter of fact, it was. Come on, let’s get out of here, and I’ll tell you about it.”

She’d have loved to tell him to go sit in the car and wait for her, but the night worker who was taking over from her was already standing beside the machine with his mouth hanging open, taking in every nuance. So Janey put away her safety equipment and got her coat.

Webb had left his car in the no-parking zone right by the door. “She was absolutely speechless,” he said as he opened the door for Janey. “I told her over dinner that I’d found the woman of my dreams—and once she recovered from choking on her soup she took it quite well.”

“That’s good. I’d hate for you to have a heart attack on your conscience.” She frowned. “If you have a conscience?”

He didn’t seem to have heard. “Gran wanted to go to Coq Au Vin tomorrow—she says it’s the only restaurant in town that can produce a lunch fit to celebrate an engagement.”

“Look, Mr. Copeland, I really don’t want to go on stage at some fancy restaurant without so much as a dress rehearsal, so—”

“Don’t you think you should get in the habit of calling me Webb? It’s no problem, anyway—I told her you’d rather come to the house, so you could spend some time with Madeline. And since Gran’s a bit concerned because you don’t know Maddy very well—”

“Very well? I’ve never laid eyes on the child.”

“I’ve brought her to the office to show her off a few times. You could have seen her then.”

“I’ll try to remember that. I do hope there’s only going to be one child present, because I’d hate to pick out the wrong one to go gaga over.”

“If there’s any doubt, look for brown eyes the size of Lake Michigan and you won’t go wrong. That takes care of Maddy and the lunch date. Is there anything else we need to talk about?”

“Yes. How long do you expect this to take?”

“Anxious to get your money? It’s almost the end of November now... I’d say by Christmas.”

“That’s charming,” Janey said. “Your grandmother’s going to love her Christmas present this year—not getting me in her stocking.”

“And I won’t even have to wrap it,” Webb agreed cheerfully. “Oh, now I remember the other thing. We haven’t coordinated our stories.”

“And she’s going to want details, isn’t she?”

“Well, she’s not actually nosy, so I think we can gloss over a lot of it. All I’ve told her so far is that you work at Copeland Products, and we met there.”

“How’d she take it? My job, I mean.”

“I didn’t tell her exactly where you worked. I figured tomorrow was time enough for that.”

“How about if I just leave all the oil on my hands till then and you won’t have to tell her anything at all?”

He looked at her almost sadly. “And you thought I was overdoing it with the work clothes? Anyway, I thought I should leave you as much leeway as possible. Stick to the truth as much as you can, though—I’ve found it’s always safest. I’ll just follow your lead.”

“And pick up the pieces?” Janey said dryly. As Webb stopped the car in front of her apartment, she added, “Thanks for the ride home. It gives me just enough extra time to bleach my hair and paint my fingernails lime green.”

* * *

THE APARTMENT HAD no doorbell, so Webb rapped on the door and watched in fascination as several chunks of paint vibrated loose and floated to the ground.

When she opened the door, Janey was already wearing a coat, and Webb felt a tiny tinge of anxiety. She had been joking about wearing a strapless sequined dress, hadn’t she? But she hadn’t bleached her hair, though it seemed more gold today than the plain brown he’d thought it was. And even though it was once more pulled back in a French braid, it looked softer somehow than it had at the factory.

“I’d have been waiting outside,” she said, “but I’m afraid this ring and this neighborhood are not a good combination.” She waved her left hand; even in the shadowed basement stairway the diamond stood out like a searchlight.

“No lime green polish?” he asked, and was ashamed of himself for feeling relieved.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but my roommate used the last of the bottle just before I got home last night. She loaned me a dress to make up for it, though.”

The tinge of anxiety grew stronger, but before he could say anything, Janey stepped outside and pulled the door shut.

“I’m surprised,” she said as he slid behind the wheel, “that you didn’t bring your grandmother along just so she could see the neighborhood. Or are you reserving that in case you need a knockout punch for later?”

She sounded a little testy, Webb thought. But of course she’d be nervous; even someone who knew what to expect would no doubt feel edgy about meeting Camilla Copeland for the first time. “Why do you live here, anyway? I know I’m not paying you a fortune—not yet, at any rate—but you make decent money.”

She didn’t look at him. “Because both Lakeshore Towers and the Marina were full when I was looking for a place to live.”

Which meant she didn’t want to tell him. Well, she obviously wasn’t proud of the place—so maybe it just meant she’d gotten over her head in debt somehow and was ashamed of it. Of course, that didn’t bode well for her promise to repay the phenomenal amount of money he’d agreed to give her when this was over. Not that he’d taken her seriously in the first place.

Considering the differences in the neighborhoods, it seemed an incredibly short distance from Janey’s basement apartment to the Greek Revival mansion which the Copelands had handed down from generation to generation for more than a hundred years. Webb parked the car directly in front of the main door, in the elegant curve of the driveway, and turned to see Janey’s reaction to his house.

All he could see was the back of her French braid. She was staring out the window, and he thought he heard her gulp.

He followed her gaze, wondering which feature had made the strongest impression on her. The half-dozen thirty-foot-tall Doric columns that framed the front portico? The classic egg-and-dart cornice just under the roof line? More likely it was the sheer size of the place that had awed her so.

He walked around the car to open her door. “It is a bit overwhelming, isn’t it? I forget that myself sometimes, until I’ve been away from it awhile.”

For a long moment he thought she hadn’t heard him, and even when she pulled her gaze away from the house she seemed to have trouble focusing on his face. “This is incredible,” she said. Her voice was shaky and little more than a breath.

He was beginning to feel a bit nervous himself, not so much over facing his grandmother as for fear of what Janey might do. The last thing he’d expected was that the impertinent and brazen young woman he’d hired for this job would fall apart at the first challenge.

He took her arm and shook her just a little—gently, in case his grandmother might happen to be looking out a window. “Don’t go to pieces on me now. You don’t have to put on a show, after all. Just be yourself.”

Janey stood her ground. “I wish I thought you meant that as a compliment.” Her voice had once more taken on the acid edge he’d already come to expect from her.

Webb grinned. It’d be all right—she was back.

The butler opened the front door as they approached, and with a tiny bow he offered to take their coats. Janey didn’t seem to notice; she stopped three steps inside the foyer, tipped her head back and stared up two full stories at the ceiling. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said. “But I’d never in my life have expected to see this.”

Webb wasn’t quite sure if she was talking to him or the butler, and he wasn’t about to ask. He took hold of her coat collar and whispered, “Don’t overdo it, all right?”

She let him slip her coat off, but Webb wasn’t sure she’d heard him; she was gawking at the winding staircase when Camilla Copeland appeared in the door of the big parlor.

“Come on, darling,” he said in a deliberate stage whisper.

Finally Janey blinked and seemed to return to earth.

Camilla had come forward with a hand outstretched. “I’m so pleased to meet you, Janey.”

Webb thought her voice sounded a little strained, and he felt a momentary pang of conscience. But it was only momentary; after all, if it hadn’t been for Camilla’s less-than-subtle matchmaking efforts he’d never have dreamed of bringing Janey Griffin home to meet her. And it wasn’t as if this state of affairs was going to last forever, anyway—just long enough for Camilla to get the message that if she tried to manipulate him, she wasn’t going to like the results.

For the moment, he was simply pleased that they were off to a good beginning. Now if Janey carried through with her part...

“What a beautiful suit,” Camilla said, and for the first time Webb dared to take a good look at what Janey was wearing.

It wasn’t strapless, and it wasn’t covered with sequins. In fact, her gray tweed skirt and jacket could have passed muster almost anywhere.

And yet it wasn’t quite right, somehow. The skirt was shorter than fashion dictated, which probably meant that it was at least two years old. Camilla would notice that in a flash. And he was sure his grandmother hadn’t missed the white camisole that peeked out from under the jacket, any more than he had. Lots of women were wearing them—but this one stood out from the crowd. Not only wasn’t there much of it, but the silky fabric draped and the lace trim teased, and the combination made it quite obvious that it hadn’t taken tissue paper to fill out Janey’s figure. It was a wonder Camilla hadn’t had apoplexy.

As far as the skirt was concerned, though, he had to admit that any woman with legs like Janey’s would be foolish to keep them hidden—whether or not it was fashionable.

Janey smoothed a hand down over her skirt. “Thank you. I’ll tell my roommate. I borrowed the whole outfit from her, because I didn’t have anything nearly like it of my own.”

Camilla’s smile froze.

Webb wanted to applaud. Instead he decided to capitalize on the situation. “I’ll bet you don’t even own a dress, do you, Janey? I’ve never seen you wearing one. And you should have watched her practicing how to walk in heels, Gran. I haven’t seen anything so funny in years. After wearing those heavy work shoes with the steel toes all the time—” He paused, as if he was startled by Camilla’s expression. “Oh, did I forget to tell you, Gran, that Janey works in the factory at Copeland Products?”

Camilla looked as if she was trying to fight off a cramp. Webb turned to Janey to see if she was savoring the moment and was startled to catch a spark of irritation in her eyes.

“How very interesting.” Camilla took a deep breath. “Do come into the parlor, Janey. It’ll be a few minutes until lunch is served, so let’s take advantage of the chance to chat and get to know each other.” She led the way.

Janey started to follow Camilla, but within three feet she’d stopped once more to look around. “It’s amazing, isn’t it, that with the size of this space, voices don’t echo.”

“It’s an engineering feat,” Webb said. “Even though the walls look straight, they’re actually curved just enough to push the sound on, not bounce it back. Believe me, you don’t want the details. It’s far too complicated.”

She looked straight at him, and though he didn’t understand why, Webb felt icy tingles slither down his spine. He was glad Camilla was already in the parlor, settling herself in her favorite chair by the fireplace, too far away to get a good view of the face-off in the foyer.

Janey’s voice was very low, and it was so sweet it could induce a diabetic coma all by itself. “Too complicated for me to understand? Is that what you meant?”

“Not exactly. I just thought it was hardly your sort of—”

“And you probably also think I couldn’t possibly comprehend that though this house is an extremely late example of the Greek revival style, it’s architecturally significant not only because of the acoustical engineering techniques that Henry Bellows employed when he designed it but because it’s one of the first residences he built with steel framing and not just timber and masonry. You’re right—it’s completely beyond me.”

She spun on her heel and swept into the parlor.

There wasn’t an echo in the hall, he reminded himself. There never had been, for Henry Bellows’s engineering skills had prevented it.

But Webb’s ears were ringing nevertheless.