Johanna Lindsey - A Man to Call My Own

He frowned at her tone, started to answer, but his father beat him to it. "He's right. There could be others here who know what the lawyer did."

"Who?"

Stuart shrugged. "A partner, an accomplice, a bribed official. Maybe even family."

"That's highly unlikely," Marian protested.

"Why?" Chad said. "He had to have bribed someone to get everything transferred to him without a hitch. And are you sure he had no family here? A wife? Parents?"

"Not sure at all," Marian mumbled.

"He mentioned a sister once, but she didn't live here in Haverhill," Amanda put in.

"Fine, I'll go back and hide in my room," Marian huffed. "But I really doubt our presence here is going to remain a secret for very long. I've already run into one hotel maid who started to ask me, Aren't you—?' before I cut her off with a 'No.' As if she'd believe me. Mandy's face is well-known in this town."

Marian marched angrily out of the room, barely managing not to slam the door. She was blushing before she reached her own room down the hall. That had been too rude of her.

She was starting to behave like Amanda, and she couldn't seem to help it. She was so tired of pretending that everything was fine and normal, when she had so much turmoil ripping her up inside. Her patience was gone. Her tolerance was gone. It had been one thing to contain her emotions when she'd thought she would have some respite soon, but she was getting none.

Chad was still around, she was still seeing him daily, and she could no longer deny that all the anger she'd felt over what had happened between him and Amanda was still there, and it hadn't lessened at all.

He'd fooled her so completely. He'd kissed her the night before the incident, making her think she really had a chance with him. Then he'd made love to her, making her think he actually wanted her, while all along he had been sure she was Amanda. She'd been hurt then, but all that was left now was bitterness. And a lot of resentment and jealousy. She couldn't deny that anymore either. Amanda always won. She didn't even have to try, and she won.

She no sooner closed the door to her room than the tears started. She wasn't surprised. Solitude was not her friend these days. The more time she spent alone, the worse she behaved in the company of others, acting short-tempered, snappish. She barely recognized herself these days.

It might have helped if she could discuss her feelings with someone, but there was no one she could talk to. She didn't want Kathleen to know that she was the virgin Chad had deflowered, not Amanda. And besides, her aunt was too happy with her newfound love. Marian wasn't about to put a damper on that.

She could have cried on Ella Mae's shoulder. She should have. The maid was good at offering sympathy. But Marian didn't really want sympathy. Ella Mae was also good at making outlandish suggestions that were always too bold for her tastes. And for once, Marian was upset enough actually to follow them, bold or not, so she chose to not be tempted and kept what was bothering her to herself.

A mistake. She'd held it all in for too long and was turning into someone she didn't like because of it. And this solitude was not helping. Of course, she could go back down the hall to Kathleen's room and make a fool of herself again.

She shuddered at the thought and instead, dug out an old bonnet from her trunks and attached a veil to it. No one would recognize her under it. And she wouldn't approach anyone she knew. But she was not staying cooped up any longer.

MAYBE YOU CAN HAVE a little talk with her?" Stuart suggested.

Stuart and Kathleen were the only two left in her room. Spencer and Amanda had gone back to theirs, and Chad left soon after. Without actually planning it, they found themselves suddenly alone. It was still soon enough after Marian's departure that Kathleen didn't need to ask Stuart of whom he was speaking.

"I probably should. Something is definitely bothering her."

"I don't mean about that, I mean about my boy. He's got some powerful feelings for her, but she's driving him crazy. She treats him like he's invisible."

"Of course she does," Kathleen said in Marian's defense. "I would, too, if a man who'd made love to my sister suddenly started showing interest in me."

Stuart sighed. "You know that was a mistake. Dammit, Red, the boy was tricked. You know it. I know it. It's about time Marian knew it."

"I doubt it will make much difference."

"Or it could make all the difference," he insisted. "So tell her."

Kathleen shook her head. "If she hears it from anyone, it should be him. If he's got powerful feelings for her, why hasn't he told her about them?"

"Because he's thinking the same way you are, that it won't make much difference. You could at least find out if he's got any chance at all."

Kathleen rolled her eyes. "So could he. If they can't get together on their own, then they weren't meant to. I'm no matchmaker. Neither are you, for that matter. So what brought all this on?"

He mumbled, "Young folks make mistakes they end up regretting. You did. Married a man you didn't love just to get out of this town. Chad did, made love to the wrong woman. 'Course he didn't know it, and that's what really stinks about this whole thing. If that ain't enough to regret, I don't want to see him regretting a lost opportunity with the woman he does want."

"So why aren't you pestering him to do something about it already?"

"Already did," Stuart admitted in a grumble. "But you know him well enough by now to guess his answer. He told me to mind my own business."

Kathleen burst out laughing and moved over to sit on Stuarts lap. "Sound advice. And you have some business you can mind right now."

That got a smile out of him as she knew it would. They were so compatible, it seemed like they'd always been together. She pretty much knew what he was going to say before he said it. There were few surprises with Stuart. For all his gruffhess, he had a big heart.

Funny thing about being happy. It made you want everyone else around you to be happy, too. So of course he'd be concerned about his son's dilemma. She was just as concerned about what was bothering Marian, but she figured it was related to where they were. Marian had a lot of unpleasant memories associated with this town. Kathleen did, too, but she'd been away long enough for it not to affect her. Not so for Marian.

What she didn't think, was that Marian's sudden bad temper had anything to do with Chad. She'd done too good a job of ignoring him. She was afraid Chad was going to be flat out of luck where she was concerned, that any feelings involved were completely one sided. Which was too bad.

He should have told her how he felt about her sooner. He should have at least let her know what really happened in that stable, that he'd thought it was she with him that day. But he'd let too much time go by without telling her about his feelings. Just like a man, to prevaricate too long.

Kathleen blushed with the thought. She'd done the exact same thing by not letting Stuart know about her love for him. He'd scolded her thoroughly for that. If he hadn't tried to distract her from worrying about Marian the night of the barbecue, they might never have realized that their feelings were mutual.

She hugged him, tightly, for what she might have missed out on. Her present happiness still dazed her. And she was enjoying this trip back to Haverhill immensely—because Stuart was with her.

"You getting emotional on me again, Red?" Stuart guessed, chuckling.

Kathleen leaned back, grinning at him. "It's a good thing you don't mind."

His arms gathered her closer. Their lips met, gently at first, then with a great deal of passion. Soon, they were oblivious to their surroundings, aware of nothing but each other. Making love with Stuart was like making love for the first time. Kathleen would never have guessed just how wonderful it could be—with the right man.

* * *

Marian wasn't a bit surprised to find she'd wandered toward home without paying attention. Her old home.

She stood in front of the large three-story house for the longest time, just staring at it. It wasn't vacant. New drapes adorned the front windows. Someone had redecorated, and was living in it. Albert? She could at least hope so. That would mean it hadn't been sold, and they might be able to recover it.

"Excuse me," a female voice said. And then a bit more harshly, "Excuse me, you're blocking the gate."

Marian finally heard the woman next to her and blushed, quickly stepping out of the way. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I was lost in thought."

"An odd place to stop and think," the woman huffed, and moved the baby stroller she was pushing forward so she could open the short gate at the pathway that led up to Marian's house—her old house.

Marian frowned when it was obvious the woman and child were going to enter the house. "A moment, please," she said, quickly following her up the path to the door. "Do you know who lives here?"

"I do," the woman said impatiently.

"Oh," Marian returned in disappointment.

So much for thinking the house might be recovered. The woman wasn't a servant. She was dressed in the height of fashion. While some servants could afford fashionable clothes, they couldn't afford fashionable clothes made out of such rich materials as this woman was wearing. Besides, she was much too snippy to be a servant.

Marian turned to leave, but then thought to ask, "Do you know Albert Bridges?"

"Certainly. He's my brother."

Marian caught back the gasp before it escaped. So she had been right. Albert was living there and had apparently moved in his whole family—sisters, brothers-in-law, nephews, and who knew who else.

The woman was tapping her foot. The baby was starting to fuss.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you," Marian offered, and turned to leave again.

"Just a minute," the woman demanded. "What do you want with Albert?"

Marian decided a fabrication was in order, so as not to cause any suspicion. She quickly offered one.

"My husband wishes to retain Mr. Bridges's legal services. He went by his office, but was told he was presently out of town."

"And so he is. He's not due back until the end of the week."

"I'm not sure we can wait that long. The matter is rather urgent."

"Hardly my concern," Albert's sister said tersely. "Either have your husband get an appointment at Albert's office or find another lawyer. But in either case, stop bothering me. Good day."

The door was slammed shut on Marian. What a rude, unpleasant woman. She wondered if she'd always been that way, or maybe guilt over what Albert had done had turned her into a shrew.

But Marian didn't tarry any longer. She walked back to the hotel, passing through the busier areas of town, lost in thought again. She had to decide whether to confess to the others that she'd gone out, when she'd been warned not to. She'd have to if she was going to tell them what she'd found out. Or she could just say nothing.

It wasn't really pertinent, after all, that Albert was living in their old house. Only Amanda would be glad —or enraged—to hear it. And she was sure that before Friday one of the men would find out where he lived, since they would want to cover his office, his home, and the train station on the day he was due back, to make sure they didn't miss him.

And she'd already done the most that she could do to help to apprehend him. She'd painted each of the men a small portrait of Albert from memory, so they'd know who they were looking for. Albert really didn't stand a chance of eluding them—if he returned to town.

CHAD KNOCKED BRISKLY ON the door. The moment of truth was at hand, and he couldn't remember ever being quite so nervous. But, then, his future happiness was at stake.

He was going to lay his cards on the table and tell Marian everything. The delay in confronting Bridges had decided him. Three more days at loose ends with nothing to occupy him except his regrets. No thank you. So he knocked on her door. She'd either tell him to go to hell or—or make him a very happy man.

It finally broke through his nervousness that he'd been knocking for a very long time with no answer. He tried opening the door. It wasn't locked. And the room was empty. Well, what the hell?