Judith Stacy (13 page)

“Sorry,” Brandon said, drawing away from her and sitting up.

Jana lay there for a moment, the unfulfilled moment holding her in its grip. Then she too sat up.

“Sorry,” Brandon said again, glancing sideways at her. “When I get near you I just…”

He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t have to. Jana knew what he meant. She felt it herself.

Brandon pushed himself to his feet. “Let’s go inside.”

She just gazed up at him in the darkness.

“Don’t misunderstand,” he said. “Say the word and we’ll make love right now, right here under the stars. Or upstairs in bed. Or both.”

“Both?”

He looked slightly pained. “It’s been a long time.”

Jana accepted his outstretched hand and got to her feet. They walked into the house together. At the foot of the staircase, Brandon stopped.

“You go on up,” he said. “I’ll stay down here for a while.”

She wondered if he didn’t trust himself to remain outside her bedchamber door tonight, after what had just happened.

She wondered if she trusted herself to leave him out there.

“Good night,” Brandon said, then turned and disappeared through the dimly lit house.

Jana stood on the bottom step, watching him go, her heart tumbling in her chest.

God help her, she was falling in love with her husband. Falling in love with Brandon, all over again.

But she couldn’t. That could never happen. A life together for the two of them was impossible.

She had to leave this place—quickly. She never should have agreed to this arrangement, this trial period together to work on their marriage.

Jana turned and raced up the steps, her heart pounding, tears pushing against her eyes.

She couldn’t stay. Because no matter how hard she tried, no matter what words she chose, or how reasonable she attempted to make it sound, she could never explain to Brandon how she’d kept his baby a secret from him all these months.

“T
his—this is
scandalous
.”

Jana struggled to remain expressionless as she sat across the desk from Oliver Fisk. No easy task, given that his eyes bulged and his cheeks had reddened—not to mention the fact that he was right.

“Unconventional,” she admitted. “But—”

“Mrs. Sayer.”
He glanced over his shoulder, as if to assure himself once more that the door to the office of the women’s refuge was still firmly closed, then turned to Jana once again. “This whole thing is…well, it’s positively shocking! Appalling! Outrageous—”

“And it just might save your newspaper.”

“No…”

Jana picked up the stack of papers Oliver had moments ago read over, then dropped as if they’d suddenly burst into flames beneath his fingers. She’d been up half the night writing them.

After what had happened in the attic, and what had gone on in the garden, Jana knew without a doubt that her feelings for Brandon had turned into love. She’d very nearly given herself to him—twice in two days.

But she couldn’t allow that to happen. So she’d walked the floor nearly all night trying to think, trying to decide what to do. And this is what she’d come up with. After hours of work, then coming to the refuge today and lying in wait for Oliver Fisk to appear for his tutoring session with the women, Jana was determined to make her idea work.

Oliver was less than enthusiastic.

“It’s a good idea,” she insisted, pushing the papers toward him.

“A good idea?” he repeated, his eyes growing even wider. “You want me to run a column in the
Messenger
, a column dealing with women’s issues?”

“Yes.”

“And
you
intend to write it?”

“Yes, Oliver, that’s exactly right. You’ve just read samples of the types of articles I want to write. Topics such as proper etiquette, table settings, writing invitations and thank-you notes. Problems with child-rearing, advice on handling money, how to deal with an uncooperative landlord,” Jana explained. “You’ve seen the women here at the refuge, Oliver, you know they’re interested in that sort of thing, that they need the information to better themselves. So do women all over the city.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“It would be a public service,” Jana told him. “Really.”

Oliver reluctantly took the papers from her hand and shuffled through them.

“But
this
?” he exclaimed. “An advice column titled Ask Mrs. Avery? Questions about how to handle nosy neighbors and problem in-laws, husbands suspected of cheating? It’s scandalous.”

“It will sell newspapers,” Jana insisted. “Look, Oliver, I know how desperately you want to keep the
Messenger
going. I know how hard you’ve tried, how hard you’ve worked. But the truth is, circulation is continuing to spiral downward. You can’t compete with the
Times
. Brandon is going to close the newspaper.”

Oliver shifted in his chair, his expression admitting that she was right even if he wouldn’t say the words aloud.

“Your only hope, as I see it, is to do something drastic. Something dynamic. Something to draw in a whole new audience.” Jana tapped her finger against the stack of papers. “Something such as this.”

“Need I remind you,” Oliver pointed out, drawing himself up a little, “that the only time it’s fit for a lady to have her name in print is for her wedding announcement and her charitable work.”

“That’s why we’re going to keep my involvement a secret,” Jana said. “I’ll write the articles under an assumed name, and the advice column under the name Mrs. Avery, and pass them discreetly to you here at the refuge. No one will know I’m behind them.”

“I can’t let you do this,” Oliver insisted, shaking his head.

“Can
you
write articles on etiquette?” she challenged.

“Of course I could,” he insisted, then lifted the papers and admitted, “But I couldn’t do them as well as you have here. Obviously, you’re coming at the subject from the right perspective—a woman’s point of view. I can’t duplicate that.”

“Then why not let me do this?”

“Because if anyone finds out you’re behind this, and that I’ve allowed you to compromise yourself,” Oliver said, his voice rising to near panic, “your husband will
kill me
.”

Jana sat back. She couldn’t argue with that. Brandon would be furious if he found out she was involved in this scheme. It was, truly, a scandal.

Yet that hadn’t been Jana’s concern when she’d come up with the idea last night.

“And my being a party to this thing? Subjecting his wife to a scandal of this magnitude?” Oliver shook his head again. “Mr. Sayer would kill me. I know he would.”

“Then we’ll have to make sure he never finds out,” Jana said. Yet she knew she would tell Brandon herself when the time was right, when it suited her, and she would make sure, of course, that Brandon held no ill will toward Oliver.

Jana let a few minutes pass before she spoke again. “It’s a good idea. You know it is.”

He nodded glumly and ruffled through the corners of the papers. “It’s a perfect idea. I wish I’d thought of it myself. Appeal to a whole new market. An emerging market. If men won’t read the
Messenger
then aim it at women. It’s brilliant, really. And…and it just might save the newspaper.”

“Then we have to try it,” Jana said.

Oliver stared down at the papers for a long while, then looked up at her. He drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Yes, we do.”

Jana heaved a sigh of relief. “Good. You can run these articles tomorrow. I’ll write more tonight and you can pick them up here at the refuge when you come to tutor.”

“What about the questions?” he asked, holding up the Ask Mrs. Avery advice column.

“If women actually write in with questions, I’ll answer them,” Jana said. “In the meantime, I’ll make them up, just as I did for this column.”

“Which brings up the whole issue of journalistic integrity, not to mention professional ethics,” Oliver mused, rising from his chair. “But what difference will that make, after your husband has pounded me to a pulp?”

“That won’t happen,” Jana said, though even to her own ears, her words didn’t sound all that reassuring.

Oliver shoved the papers into his satchel and left the office mumbling under his breath.

Jana sat back in the chair, telling herself she should be pleased with herself. She’d gotten Oliver to go along
with her plan to save the newspaper. The
Messenger
was doomed. Oliver knew it. This idea of hers to write for the women of the city just might be the key to keeping the presses running.

But deep in her heart, Jana knew the truth. She’d used Oliver. Used him to ruin Brandon’s Jennings project.

Used him to force Brandon to let her leave.

She’d tried everything else. Tearing the house apart, driving Brandon out of his study, changing the meals. Twice she’d asked him outright to let her leave and he had refused. Everything she did was ineffective.

And on top of all that, Brandon was now being warm and caring. The perfect husband. Last night under the stars he even told her he loved her.

Jana rose from the chair and walked to the window. It offered little in the way of a view, just the side of the building next door and a glimpse of the street out front.

She curled her hand into a fist and bounced it against the windowsill. Desperate measures were called for. If the
Messenger
pulled out of its slump and began to flourish, Brandon would be forced to keep it in operation. Doing so would necessitate canceling his Jennings project. When she revealed to him that she’d been behind the whole thing, he would send her packing.

All the effort he’d put into the project would be for naught. Money spent, never to be recovered. His business reputation tarnished. Brandon would be furious with her. Business, above all else, was what mattered to him. Jana had learned that the very first night in his
house as his new bride. She’d seen nothing since that changed her mind.

She was certain he would recover from both the economic and personal hardship of the ruined project, in time. But he would never forgive her.

Yes, desperate action was called for. Jana gazed out the window at the passing traffic. She knew about desperation.

A miserable bride, a fearful escape from a cold husband, and a surprise pregnancy. That’s how she’d found herself fourteen months ago. She had thought she was simply seasick from the crossing. But after a week on dry land in London brought no improvement, Jana confided in Aunt Maureen.

Yet when she learned that, indeed, a baby was on the way, Jana had been elated. Her first reaction had been nothing but pure joy. She couldn’t have been happier.

Aunt Maureen wanted to return to America right away, confront Brandon, put the marriage back on track. But Jana wouldn’t hear of it. A transatlantic and transcontinental journey were trying enough under ideal circumstances. She wouldn’t jeopardize her unborn baby with the attempt. She stayed in London, made her aunt promise to keep her secret, and had her baby there.

A wave of longing rose in Jana, sure and strong, and troubling.

Why should she have to choose between her baby and her husband? Why couldn’t she have both?

She walked the floor of their London town house
many nights contemplating that very question. But she knew the answer.

Marriage to Brandon had been an absolute nightmare during the first three months they were together. He’d been withdrawn and distant, uncaring and cold much of the time. He’d been so dreadful, she herself couldn’t live with him.

What chance would an innocent baby have?

When she’d taken her first look at her child, after all those hours of labor, and held the tiny, defenseless thing in her arms, Jana knew right then she would never subject the baby to Brandon. At that moment, she’d fallen in love with her child. It was as if her own heart had somehow attached itself to the newly beating one. She’d protect this baby with her life. She’d kill for this baby. All she cared about was what was best for her child. Nothing else mattered. Certainly not Brandon.

A divorce was the only option. Jana made that decision shortly after giving birth. She’d get a divorce and not tell Brandon about the baby. If he knew, he’d refuse to grant her the divorce and insist that she and the child remain with him. Jana simply wouldn’t hear of it. The baby deserved so much more from a father, from a home. It was her duty, her responsibility to ensure a safe, happy future for her child. At that, Jana wouldn’t fail.

She turned away from the window. It had seemed simple enough in London. But now she was back and Brandon was different. Warm, caring, kind. Attentive and even a romantic.

Handsome as ever, too.

The thought crept into Jana’s mind, but she determinedly pushed it away.

Was Brandon different this time? He
seemed
different. But was he? Really? Perhaps this was all an act to get her to stay with him. Would he go to that trouble? That extreme? Jana didn’t know.

Not that it mattered. Even if she threw caution to the wind and decided to stay with Brandon, give their marriage another chance, it was doomed now. Once Brandon found out how she’d kept his child from him, he’d be furious. Any love he felt for Jana would be dashed. He’d send her away. Their marriage would be over. For good, this time.

And what if he wanted to keep her baby?

Revulsion rose in Jana, a wave of anger and terror. Lose her baby? Not see her child again?

Never.

So that left her with no choice but to attempt to ruin Brandon’s dearest venture, the Jennings project. He would end their attempted reconciliation. She would leave, taking her baby with her. Brandon would never be the wiser.

Because nothing was more important than her baby.

H
aving breakfast with Brandon, seeing him first thing in the morning across the table had become part of their new routine that Jana liked. There was something about him at this early hour. Crisp shirt, freshly shaved, smelling faintly of soap and cotton. More than once Jana had caught herself wanting to reach out and touch his smooth jaw, lean close and get a good whiff.

Yet today, she wished he would revert back to his old ways, just this once. She was dying to learn whether or not Oliver had actually run her women’s article and her Ask Mrs. Avery column in the
Messenger
. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d lost his nerve. Nor would she have blamed him. Brandon would be a formidable enemy.

“Are you going to the refuge this afternoon?” Brandon asked, sipping his coffee.

Jana jumped, visions of today’s planned clandestine
rendezvous with Oliver at the refuge jarring her. “Yes, for a little while.”

“How is the volunteer list coming along?” he asked.

Was that some hidden meaning in the seemingly innocent question? Jana suddenly thought. Had Brandon somehow learned what she and Oliver were up to?

No, no, of course he couldn’t know. She cautioned herself to calm down, lest she give away their plan herself.

“Filling up quickly. Almost everyone I’ve approached has agreed to volunteer,” Jana said. She rushed ahead, anxious to steer the conversation to another topic. “What are you doing today?”

“I’m just about to close the deal on the warehouse purchase,” Brandon said. “Once that’s handled, I can move on with—”

“Excuse me,” Charles intoned from the doorway.

Jana and Brandon both stopped eating and looked up at him. The butler almost never interrupted them at mealtime.

“Your aunt has arrived,” he said.

Jana gasped and shot to her feet so quickly the chair almost tipped over. Aunt Maureen was here? Her presence could mean only one thing: something had happened with the baby. A hundred different possibilities raced through Jana’s mind. She felt the color drain from her face.

Brandon saw her expression and leaped to his feet. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Aunt Maureen—something terrible must have happened—”

“What would your aunt be doing here in Los Angeles?” Brandon asked.

“Excuse me,” Charles said, raising his voice slightly. “Not
your
aunt, Mrs. Sayer. Mr. Sayer’s aunt.”

“
My
aunt?”

Stunned, Jana looked up at Brandon. He looked as surprised as she felt. She didn’t even know he
had
an aunt. He seemed completely at a loss, as well.

“Who is she?” Jana asked him.

But Brandon had already pushed past her, headed out of the room. Jana followed, her mind flashing to the bundles of correspondence she’d gone through since returning home. Had there been a letter from an aunt advising them of her visit? Had Jana overlooked it?

At the edge of the foyer Jana paused, a little surprised to see Brandon greeting his gray-haired aunt. He looked even taller, more robust standing next to her as they spoke. Around them, two servants carried in trunks, satchels and hat boxes, piling them in the foyer at Charles’s direction. A young woman, who appeared to be the aunt’s maid, flitted between them.

After a moment, Brandon looked back, saw Jana and waved her over.

“Aunt Rosa, my wife Jana,” he said. “Jana, my aunt, Rosa Delaney.”

Aunt Rosa, small and a little frail-looking, was impeccably dressed in a gray gown. She seemed a bit befuddled amid the confusion.

“I’m so pleased to meet you,” Jana said, putting on her best hostess smile.

“At long last,” Rosa said. “Long overdue, Hannah.”

“Jana,” she said, gently correcting the older woman.

“Charlotte!” Aunt Rosa turned her head left and right. “Charlotte! Where is that girl?”

“Who are you looking for?” Jana asked.

“Why, Charlotte, of course. Where is she? Charlotte!”

A tall, slender young woman walked through the door. She was nicely dressed, her clothing that of the working class.

“Where have you been?” Aunt Rosa demanded.

“Seeing to the luggage, Miss Delaney,” she replied and gestured out the front door.

“What? Oh yes, of course. Charlotte is my secretary,” Aunt Rosa explained. “Come in here, Charlotte. Meet my nephew Brandon and his wife Hannah.”

“Good morning,” Charlotte said. She nodded, offering nothing resembling a smile.

“This is quite a surprise,” Jana said.

“Nonsense!” Aunt Rosa insisted, then paused. “Charlotte, didn’t you send my letter to Brandon?”

“No, Miss Delaney.” Charlotte failed miserably at hiding an exasperated sigh, then went on. “As I said both last evening and this morning, you made no plans to visit anyone in Los Angeles.”

“Well, of course I did,” Aunt Rosa said, dismissing Charlotte’s words with a wave of her hand and turning once again to Brandon and Jana. “I’m touring the
West. On my way to San Diego. Meeting friends there, you know.”

“At any rate, I’m glad you decided to stop here and see us,” Jana said. “How long will we have the pleasure of your company?”

“A few days,” Aunt Rosa said. She drew in a breath and looked around, as if taking in her new surroundings. “So good to be off of that train. Private car, and all.”

“Please come in,” Jana said, gesturing down the hallway, “and have some refreshment.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Aunt Rosa said. “Charlotte? Charlotte!”

“I’m right here, Miss Delaney,” she replied.

Aunt Rosa twisted her head, finally spotting her secretary amid the clutter of trunks. “Where are we going after this?”

“San Diego, ma’am.”

Aunt Rosa eyed her sharply. “San Diego?”

“Yes, ma’am. You’re visiting friends there.”

The older woman pursed her lips and scrunched her brow for a few seconds, then shook off her thoughts. “I could do with some refreshment,” she announced.

Jana exchanged a look with Brandon. He stepped forward and offered his arm to his aunt.

“This way, Aunt Rosa,” he said.

She took hold with both hands and gazed up at him. “Good gracious, dear, but I believe you’ve grown since I last saw you.”

Brandon grinned down at the little woman clinging
to his arm. “Probably so, Aunt Rosa,” he said as he led her away.

“Charlotte!” she called, not looking back. “See to our things, Charlotte. Hannah will help you.”

Charlotte didn’t respond, just watched down the hallway as the two of them disappeared into the sitting room.

She turned to Jana. “Please accept my apology for this intrusion, Mrs. Sayer. Our train arrived in the city last evening, as scheduled, and Miss Delaney suddenly insisted that she would visit her nephew. I explained to her that no arrangements had been made and it was unthinkable to simply drop by. She gets confused. As with your name. I’ve told her it isn’t Hannah, but—”

“It’s all right,” Jana said and truly meant it. She could see Charlotte had her hands full with Brandon’s aunt.

“I doubt we’ll be here longer than a few days,” Charlotte said. “She’s meeting friends in San Diego. They’re expecting her.”

“Fine,” Jana said. “Let’s get all of you settled.”

She spoke with Charles and instructed him to have the maids freshen rooms for Aunt Rosa’s servants, and to prepare a chamber for Aunt Rosa herself. Since redecorating on the second floor was still underway, only one bedchamber was fit for company. She went to the kitchen then and advised Mrs. Boone that unexpected guests had arrived. Thankfully, the cook nodded briskly and put her assistants to work right away.

In the sitting room, Jana found Aunt Rosa seated on
the settee and Brandon standing at the fireplace, his elbow resting on the marble mantel shelf. She paused in the doorway for a moment, studying the two of them. Despite Aunt Rosa’s aged features, the hint of a family resemblance was evident. It caused a little chill to slide up Jana’s spine.

She’d never met any of Brandon’s family. None of them had traveled from New York to San Francisco for their wedding. Jana had thought it odd, but Brandon had explained that his grandfather’s health wasn’t good and he couldn’t make the trip. The dozens of friends and business associates who’d attended more than made up for Brandon’s lack of family.

Now, seeing Brandon looking decidedly uncomfortable with his aunt’s presence, Jana wondered if perhaps something else was going on.

Her heart sank a little. The man was her husband and all she knew of his family was what had been reported to Aunt Maureen by a private detective.

What a terrible wife she’d been to him.

Brandon straightened away from the fireplace when Jana walked into the room, and she wasn’t sure if he was relieved—or troubled—by her presence.

“So, Aunt Rosa, you’re Brandon’s aunt?” Jana asked, settling herself into the wingback chair across from her. She wondered if Rosa was actually a cousin or some other distant relative who’d taken the title of “aunt” simply because of her age.

“Brandon’s grandfather, Winston, is my brother,”
Aunt Rosa said. “So, actually, that makes me Brandon’s great-aunt.”

“You’re the first relative of Brandon’s that I’ve met,” Jana said. “On either side of his family.”

Aunt Rosa pursed her lips. “You certainly wouldn’t have met anyone on the
Sayer
side of the family.”

“How was your journey?” Brandon asked.

Jana glanced at him. Had he noted the distaste in Aunt Rosa’s voice at the mention of his father’s name? Or was it Jana’s imagination?

“Delightful,” she declared. “I’m touring the West. I especially want to see California.”

“This is California,” Jana said gently.

“Good, then. I want to see it.” Aunt Rosa turned to Brandon. “Your grandfather sends his best.”

“Too bad he couldn’t make the trip with you,” Jana said. “I’d really enjoy meeting him.”

“Winston is much too busy, much too busy,” Aunt Rosa said.

“At least he’s well enough to travel,” Jana said.

“Well enough?” Aunt Rosa’s brows rose. “That man has never had an ill day in his life.”

Jana glanced at Brandon. “But I thought—”

“How’s the rest of the family?” Brandon asked.

“Quite well, of course…I suppose…actually, I haven’t really seen them in a while.” Aunt Rosa frowned, as if trying to remember. Then she shook off the effort. “I’m sure they’re all just fine.”

Charles appeared in the doorway and nodded dis
creetly to Jana, signaling that the guest room had been prepared.

“After you’re settled,” Jana said, getting to her feet, “I’ll be happy to show you around the city.”

“Excellent,” Aunt Rosa declared, rising from the settee with a little effort.

“We’ll spend the day together and get acquainted,” Jana said. “I know a perfect spot for luncheon. We can—”

“I’ll go with you,” Brandon offered.

Jana’s brows bobbed upward. “You want to go along?” she asked, hearing the surprise in her own voice.

“Sure,” he said.

She’d thought her offer to escort Aunt Rosa around the city today would be a favor to Brandon. He hardly had the patience for sitting in a carriage all day, rolling past sights he’d seen hundreds of times—even if their guest was a family member he surely hadn’t seen in years.

“But what about your work?” she asked. “You mentioned your warehouse purchase at breakfast. Don’t you have to conclude the deal today?”

He shrugged. “It can wait.”

It can wait?
Jana’s eyes widened and her jaw fell open. Brandon actually intended to put off a business transaction? Could he really be that desperate to see his aunt?

Jana doubted it. Something else was going on. She was almost certain she saw his mind working, mulling over something.

“I plan to take Aunt Rosa to the tearoom for luncheon,” Jana warned him.

“That bird tearoom?” He cringed slightly. “Quail? Pheasant? Turkey?”

“The Peacock Tea Room,” Jana said. “I know it’s not exactly one of your favorite spots, but—”

“No, it’s fine. We’ll go there.”

Now she knew something was up.

But Brandon gave her no chance to ask anything further. He turned to his aunt.

“We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready,” he said.

“Well, then, let’s get on with it,” Aunt Rosa declared. “Charlotte? Charlotte!”

A few minutes later, the secretary entered the sitting room. Jana explained their plans for the day and Charlotte did an admirable job of not looking relieved at hearing that Rosa would be occupied elsewhere for hours.

“We’ll leave as soon as you’ve freshened up,” Jana said.

“We won’t be long,” Charlotte answered as she escorted Rosa out of the sitting room.

“You really don’t have to go, Brandon,” Jana said. “I know how important that warehouse purchase is to you.”

He shook his head. “I want to go. I’ll place a telephone call to the office and tell Perkins that I won’t be in today. He’ll handle everything.”

“All right. If you’re sure.”

Brandon didn’t answer, but he did move closer, so
close they nearly touched. He glanced at the doorway, then leaned down a little and lowered his voice.

“There is something I’d like to talk to you about.”

An odd feeling crept over Jana. She wasn’t certain if Brandon’s words brought it on—or his closeness.

“Could we go someplace…private?” he whispered.

His breath puffed against her ear. Jana fought off a shiver.

“Well, all right,” she said, wondering if that was a wise idea.

Brandon nodded and left the room, leaving her to follow. They wound through the house, past the crew already at work this morning in the parlor and his study. Most of the major construction had been completed, cutting down on the noise of the hammers and saws. Now they busied themselves with the detail work.

When they reached the little storage room near the kitchen that Jana had designated Brandon’s new study, he motioned her inside, then followed. With the desk, chair and sidetable already wedged inside, hardly any room was left for the two of them. Brandon pulled the door closed, throwing them into near darkness. Jana gasped as he suddenly pressed his full body against hers. She leaned back, bracing her hands against the desktop. His arm circled her waist, holding her steady.