Inner Harbor. Lois Richer
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So this was R.J. She wished she’d been prepared. But then, wasn’t that why Wharton Willoughby had written her, to prepare her?
As she watched him, a mask slid into place, shielding his expressive eyes from her. How much did he know, she wondered. Was he aware of the relationship she’d shared with his grandfather?
“What did you say your name was?”
He frowned. “Russell James Mitchard. Most people call me Russ. My gramps used to call me R.J. Why?”
All hope that this was a case of mistaken identity flew away. Annie swallowed.
R.J. This was the beloved grandson, the man her dearest friend had chosen as her husband. A husband she didn’t want.
Ignorance was bliss. And it was worth a try if it deflated this crazy idea before it got airborne. She’d pretend his proposal came as a shock.
“Proposing marriage to someone you’ve only just met is preposterous. I’m afraid I’ll have to turn down your proposal, Mr. Mitchard. I’m not interested in getting married.”
“Now?” he asked, one eyebrow quirked.
“Ever.”
The mask dissolved. His eyes narrowed, intensifying their scrutiny of her, probing for answers. He wouldn’t give up easily. Annie felt her heart sink to her shoes. She’d liked Wharton Willoughby a lot, but marriage? No way.
She’d tread her life path alone, and keep her heart safe.
Chapter Two
“You have to marry me!”
Several minutes elapsed while the world regained its balance. Russ watched Annie Simmons’s face darken, blue eyes frost over. He winced at the smothered fury in her voice, wondering why the possibility she’d refuse had never occurred to him. Gramps had given the impression he’d spoken with her, but if not—
“I don’t have to do anything.” Annie Simmons shook her head, but her stare never left his face. “You said your grandfather was leaving you something, didn’t you? I didn’t mishear that part?”
“You heard correctly, Annie. He left me a substantial amount of money so I could move up my plans to expand my business. I’d been telling him about some new equipment and—never mind.” He looked away from that stare, felt slightly abashed at his temerity in blurting it all out. He should have found an easier way. But what easier way was there to explain Gramps?
“But—” She stopped. Her lips worked, but no sound emerged.
“Trust me, I know how you feel. I felt the same way when I found out his conditions—stunned. But it’s true. My mother is an excellent lawyer. She inherited his law firm and his house. She assures me it’s all legal. My grandfather specifically worded his last wishes—in order to collect my inheritance I have to marry you within six months of his death.”
He saw her swallow, hesitate, look away, then back at him.
“No offense, but is there a history of mental illness in your family?” Annie’s fingers folded and refolded in her lap.
Nervous energy, he decided, though she didn’t sound as surprised as he’d expected. Why was that? What was she hiding?
“Not that I know of.” He grinned. “Though you might think so if you’d known my grandfather. Normal wasn’t in his vocabulary.”
“I’m beginning to realize that.” Her blue gaze remained wide and fixed—on him.
Russ took another sip of coffee, sorting through his words carefully.
“Grandad was a character.” He stared into the black brew, remembering the old man’s penchant for running things. Then he chuckled. “But no one ever suggested Wharton Willoughby didn’t have what it took in the courtroom.”
“There’s something you should know.”
He watched Annie swallow, take a deep breath.
“Your grandfather was my mother’s lawyer,” she whispered.
Russ Mitchard met her frown with a shrug. He hadn’t known that, but then there was a lot about his grandfather he was just beginning to uncover. “I didn’t realize he actually knew you.” His brain began processing. “Though if he did, that explains his insistence on you as the chosen one.”
“But—” She frowned at him, her eyes intently scrutinizing his features. “So he was your grandfather. Hmm.”
She was holding back. Russ watched her puzzle something out in her mind and wondered what was going on.
“My mother’s papa,” he confirmed with a nod. “Died a little before Thanksgiving. If you met him, you must understand about the will. Eccentric was his middle name.”
“He wasn’t eccentric when I knew him. He was kind and gentle, comforting. A father figure who also happened to be my mother’s lawyer.”
He saw genuine tenderness fill her eyes.
“He helped me settle her estate. He’s the one who suggested I use the money she left me to buy this place. He helped me negotiate the sale, then came back to check on my renovations several times. But I hadn’t seen him since winter arrived.”
“He didn’t like snow very much. He caught pneumonia before he died.”
She glanced at him, chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, then blurted out the duty phrase he’d heard so often.
“I’m sorry. I would have gone to the funeral if I’d known. But with this place, and Drew to think of, I wasn’t paying much attention to the news.”
“I understand.” Russ could see how tightly she controlled the words. She was definitely hiding something. His senses perked up.
“Why me, do you think?” Annie faltered over that question as if she weren’t sure how he’d take it.
“I haven’t figured that out yet,” he confessed, watching the swirl of conflicting emotions darken her eyes. Should he tell her? “My hunch is that, while he was ill, he dreamed the whole thing up.”
“Was he ill a long time?” she whispered.
“Several weeks. He couldn’t shake that cold.” Russ closed his eyes, thought it out. “My guess is he concocted one of his ideas, then purposely brought us together. He certainly knew I was doing studies on the area as a potential business site. In fact, he’s the one who originally pointed it out as a possible location, then told me not to bother. He knew very well how much I’d loved my time here as a child.”
She blinked innocently, but Russ saw a shadow flicker through her eyes. Something about this whole thing bothered him. Annie Simmons didn’t seem nearly as flabbergasted by his proposal as he’d expected.
“If I knew Gramps, and I did, he manipulated my whole situation for his personal convenience. He’d been after me to move closer to home for ages.” More flickers. Russ frowned.
“Manipulated? He didn’t seem conniving to me. Just very kind.” She avoided his stare, studied her fingers.
“Gramps was kind. He was also very big on marriage. Maybe because his own was so great.” He paused, then decided to tell the whole story. “He and my grandmother were married after her parents died. It was a marriage of convenience that provided a home for her baby sister and gave him the society wife he wanted. But they fell in love, and everything worked out for them. They had a great marriage, the envy of everyone who saw them together. I guess that’s why he thought it would work if he forced the two of us together.”
If Russ closed his eyes, he could see his grandparents, hands clasped, eyes shining with a rich, deep joy he’d never known. Maybe if he could feel that kind of emotion, be so confident that nothing he did would disappoint, he would be more interested in the institution of marriage.