Читать книгу Once Upon A Kiss... - Оливия Гейтс - Страница 12

Her heart pounded with trepidation as she approached Sinclair. He’d been gone for much of the past week, out sailing, fishing or playing tennis. She might suspect he was trying to avoid someone, if she didn’t already know that was true.

But she couldn’t hold her tongue any longer.

I’m crazy about you.

No, she wasn’t going to say that, though the thought almost drove a manic laugh to her lips. She drew in a deep breath as she opened the door to the sitting room. “Sinclair?”

He was reading alone, in front of the big, carved fireplace. No fire burned, since it was downright hot and the house, being ancient, had no air-conditioning. He looked up from his newspaper. “Hello, Annie.”

Her insides melted. Why did he always greet her by name? Did he know that it half killed her to hear her name—boring as it was—fall from his mouth in that deep, warm tone? It would be so much better if he just uttered a curt “What?”

“Um.” She pushed a lock of hair behind her ears. Then glanced behind her. She didn’t want anyone to overhear what she was about to say. “It’s about Vicki. Do you mind if I close the door?”

He frowned slightly, and curiosity appeared in his eyes. “This sounds mysterious.” He glanced at the door. She took that as an invitation and quickly shut it.

“She’s been up in the attic with your mom and me, looking through all the old stuff.” She paused, wondering how to say this next part.

“I know. That’s why she’s here, ostensibly.” He leaned toward her slightly, and she felt the increased closeness almost like a hug. Which was ridiculous, since she was still several feet away.

“It probably isn’t my place to say anything, but I couldn’t keep quiet because I know the house and everything in it is important to you.”

He regarded her with no expression. Probably thought she was nuts. Maybe it would be better if she didn’t say anything. In some ways it was none of her business. On the other hand she was the housekeeper, which, taken literally, could mean she was responsible for keeping the house from being looted. “Vicki’s been taking detailed notes on a lot of the items in the attic, and I’ve seen her researching them on her laptop.”

“She’s an antique dealer.”

“I know. I’ve also seen her looking at auctions on eBay. I think she might be planning to sell some of the items.”

“Perhaps my mom has asked her to. There’s way too much junk up there.”

She shook her head. “I heard her bring the idea up, and your mom said we should put everything back where we found it, to save it for your children.” She didn’t mention her own part in helping Katherine to that decision.

“Typical.” He shook his head. “Why does everyone have to have children? Would it be such a tragedy if this branch of the Drummonds died out with me? Put it all on eBay. That’s what I say.” A wry smile played about his lips. “But I do appreciate you worrying about the fate of our old junk. It’s very thoughtful.”

Was he making fun of her? He certainly didn’t seem to care whether Vicki took everything home in her suitcase. Maybe he really didn’t want children and everything in the house would end up at an auctioneer one day. “You should have children.”

She gasped when she heard her own words on the air. Sinclair sat up slightly in his chair, startled. “I can see you feel strongly about it. May I ask why?” Humor glittered in the depths of his eyes.

She wished she could melt into the Persian carpet. Because you’d be a great father. Strict, but kind. Because children would bring out the child buried inside you. “I don’t know. It would be a waste, that’s all. And your mom would be very disappointed.”

“She’ll survive. I don’t live my life to please other people.”

“Don’t you want children?” Why did she keep digging herself further into this hole? Sheer burning curiosity drove her to ask.

“I used to, once.” He looked up at the window. Then his brow furrowed. “But I don’t intend to be a single father and apparently there isn’t a woman alive who can put up with me.”

“That’s not true.” Her heart squeezed. Did he really feel so totally unlovable? “You just haven’t met the right person yet.” The light played in his dark hair and across his bold cheekbones. If only she could tell him that he had met the right person and she was standing here in front of him.

But he’d told her to forget their magical afternoon ever happened. He wasn’t interested in her. He’d lost control for a short while, and now that his sanity was back he wanted nothing from her. Well, other than freshly laundered sheets and homemade dinners.

His brow had furrowed slightly and an odd expression played across his sensual mouth. “Maybe you’re right.” He looked away sharply. “I don’t know.”

Tension thickened in the air. Her fault. She’d come in here and started this far-too-personal conversation after accusing one of his old friends of fraud. She’d be lucky if they didn’t fire her. “I’d better go make dinner.”

“Yes, you’d better.” That glint of amusement twinkled in his eyes again. “Before you make any more rash and unsettling statements.”

Something hovered between them. Unspoken words. Feelings that weren’t supposed to be felt. At least she felt them. Maybe he just wished she’d leave him in peace.

She turned and hurried for the door before she could make things worse.

During dinner, conversation turned to an upcoming dance to be held by a music mogul celebrating his twentieth wedding anniversary.

“We ran into his wife, Jess, at the nursery today.” Katherine almost shone with excitement. “She was looking at floral arrangements for the centerpieces. Apparently everyone up this end of Long Island is invited, and when I told her Vicki was staying she insisted that she come with Sinclair. Oh, it will be sensational. I wish I was feeling strong enough to come. I remember the party they gave to celebrate their son’s graduation—an entire Russian ballet company performed and there were a hundred black swans swimming on that big lake behind their conservatory. Vicki will need something fabulous to wear.”

Annie disappeared back into the kitchen, carrying the dishes from the main course of swordfish steaks with spinach sautéed in sesame oil. She did feel a little like Cinderella right now. Everyone would be going to the ball, and it wouldn’t even cross their minds that she might be sad about not being invited.

She returned with freshly made peach pie and a jug of thick cream.

“We’ll have to go into the city. A trip to Madison Avenue is definitely in order.” Katherine looked like she was ready to leap out of her chair and hail a cab right now.

“I’m not so sure.” Vicki looked oddly hesitant. “I probably have something I can wear.”

“But darling, this is the perfect occasion for a big splurge. I saw this amazing purple dress at Fendi when I was in visiting my doctor. It would look so striking with your complexion.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Sinclair, are you going to buy yourself a shiny new dinner jacket?”

“God, no.” Katherine spoke for him. “He’d wear antiques from his father’s closet if I let him. I’ll make sure he looks presentable.” She flashed him an indulgent smile, which he ignored.

“You’ve given me an idea.” Vicki paused, cream jug in her hand. “Well, maybe it’s crazy.”

“What?” Katherine leaned forward.

“Those dresses you found up in the attic, before I arrived. Maybe I could wear one of those.”

Annie froze in the doorway where she stood with a tray of brandy snaps. Her heart crumpled at the thought of Vicki swanning through the house wearing that peacock-blue dress that had totally deprived Sinclair of his sanity.

“What a marvelous idea. If they don’t fit we could always get one altered. But you’re so slim you could wear anything and look good. They’re all hanging in the spare bedroom downstairs, for reasons beyond my comprehension. There’s a blue one in there that’s stunning. It looks like Thai silk, with a glorious shimmer.”

Annie glanced at Sinclair, who picked up his wineglass and took a gulp of the white wine.

She slunk back into the kitchen. This must be some kind of lesson in humility. Now she’d have to see Vicki wearing the dress to a party the way its maker must have intended. Her donning it, even for a few minutes, was a foolish mistake that continued to have humiliating repercussions.

“Let’s go look at them now, before dessert.” Katherine rose from her chair. “It’ll be fun. Annie, do come with us. You can help us move them somewhere more sensible.”

She wanted to make some excuse about needing to decant the ice cream but her brain wasn’t fast enough. “Okay.” She followed mutely as they walked down the hallway to the spare bedroom with its big walnut wardrobe.

“What a lovely shade of lavender.” Katherine pulled a hanger from the rack. A pale, almost snowy, lavender dress billowed on the hanger. The wrinkles from years of packing seemed to have fallen out of it, leaving it ready to wear. Delicate black beading around the neckline and sleeves added a touch of drama. “Who were these made for, I wonder? The quality is so exquisite.”

Sinclair stood in the doorway, almost filling the frame. His dark blue polo shirt stretched across his broad chest as he leaned against the doorjamb. He looked indulgently at his mother. “Probably someone who died before she had a chance to wear them. It was a different world back then. People died almost overnight from things that barely warrant a doctor’s visit today.”

Annie was touched by how much he obviously cared about his mom. He’d all but abandoned his work and thrown himself into keeping her happy and entertained since her illness began. If she didn’t already admire Sinclair, she would now.

“You’re so right. Still, it might be interesting to find out. I wonder if she was a Drummond by birth, or someone who married into the family.” She pulled out a gray-green dress with a dramatic dark red trim. “It was obviously someone rather fashionable.”

“I’ve done some research, actually.” Vicki moved forward. “The trunk the dresses were stored in had the maker’s name on it, from Lyme, Connecticut.”

Annie snuck a glance at Sinclair while everyone listened to Vicki. His eyes looked slightly shadowed, tired—or haunted. How she’d love to get him to relax for a while. He never seemed to be able to relax when there were other people in the house. He was quite a different person on the rare weekends he came out here by himself.

When it was just him and her.

Though of course he didn’t think of it like that. He probably thought of it as being there alone, since she served a similar function as the anonymous mailman, or the gardener who pruned the bushes and trimmed the lawn.

“Ran away with the groom! You’re joking.” Katherine’s shriek dragged Annie back to the present. “I didn’t think anyone did that outside of mournful ballads. I bet she lived to regret it.”

“Well.” Vicki rearranged her artfully casual bun. “The man she was supposed to marry, Temperance Drummond, tried to have the groom arrested for theft.”

“Of his fiancée?” Sinclair raised a brow.

“Of his horse and cart. The groom was part of her personal staff from Connecticut, but he absconded with the master’s soon-to-be lady in the Drummonds’ carriage.”

“Did they find her?” Katherine looked fascinated.

“Nope. At least there’s no record of it that I could find. They disappeared into thin air in 1863 and were never seen again. Or at least not around here.” She turned to Sinclair with a raised brow. “What do you think happened to them? Did they travel out west, join a wagon train and get rich in the gold rush in California?”

“Who knows? Maybe they did.” Sinclair looked thoughtful. “Though I doubt it.”

“What about you, Annie? Do you think they enjoyed decades of happy marriage?”

She shrugged. Vicki’s attention was always uncomfortable. She was too much of a loose cannon.

“Do you think people from different social circles can live happily ever after?”

Annie shrank. Worse yet, her gaze darted involuntarily toward Sinclair, and met his. A jolt of energy shocked her. She groped for a response in the hope that no one would see how flustered she was. “I don’t see why not. If they have the right things in common.”

“I’m not so sure.” Sinclair’s mother fingered the black trim on the lavender dress. “I think one tends to have more shared interests with someone from one’s own circles. Sinclair’s father has been gone a long time and I’ve never had the slightest interest in dating the gardener.” She laughed as if the very idea was comical. Which it was. The gardener was a taut and muscular woman of about twenty-five. “Though I do admire her abs when she wears those cutoff tops.”

They all laughed. Annie was glad that the moment of tension had been defused. “They’re lovely dresses. It’s a shame she didn’t take them with her.”

“I know. Odd, really. They were part of her trousseau. It was all up there in the attic, packed for her honeymoon. They were going to be married three days later. I found the whole story online in the transcribed memoir of the old biddy who lived next door.” Vicki turned to Sinclair. “You should read it. She has a lot to say about your ancestors. Temperance married five times and his wives kept disappearing.”

Katherine shuddered slightly. “The curse. Or whatever it is. The Drummonds can never find happiness. But we’re going to change all that, so Sinclair can find happiness.” She beamed a smile at him.

Sinclair grimaced, now resting his elbows above his head on either side of the door frame, which provided an eye-popping view of his powerful muscles against the sleeves of his shirt. Annie dragged her tormented gaze in the other direction.

“I’ll make sure he finds happiness at the dance, at least.” Vicki fingered another dress, a frothy pink taffeta with seed pearls encrusting the bodice. “I won’t try these on now, though. Another time. I’m pretty sure at least one will fit fine with no alteration.”

“Let’s go have coffee,” said Sinclair gruffly.

Annie was glad to get away from the spectacle of Vicki handling the dresses. She shouldn’t think of them as her dresses, because they weren’t, but she’d felt proprietary about them ever since she’d tried that one on and been so entranced by it. It was even less encouraging to learn they’d belonged to some long-ago woman whose life had gone off the rails. How likely was a woman to find happiness by running away in a stolen carriage?

She’d never find out. She wasn’t nearly daring enough for that kind of high-risk endeavor. That’s why she’d be watching other people’s exploits over the rim of her teacup rather than living on the edge.

“You’re going to that party, Annie.” Vicki’s whisper sliced into her ear as the taller woman slid past her in the hallway.

“What?” Annie froze. But Vicki had already disappeared into the living room with Katherine and was talking about something else.