Written In The Heart. Judith Stacy
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over the sea of guests. “Oh, do you think so?”
“I’m certain.”
“But you?” Delfina looked up at him, fresh worry lines creasing her forehead. “Why aren’t you dancing? I invited several young women for you—”
“I’m enjoying myself.” Stephen managed to smile. “Having a fantastic time.”
He eased her toward the crowd. “You should see to the guests, Aunt Delfi.”
“Oh, of course. Oh dear, oh dear…” Delfina blended into the swarm of guests again.
Stephen made his way to an empty corner, watching the dancers but thinking about the work that waited on his desk downstairs. A suite of offices had been built into the house, from which the business was run. His uncle had liked being at home. Though never married, he’d pulled together an assortment of relatives—Stephen included—and made them his family.
Uncle Colin had taught Stephen everything he knew, and Stephen had taken over the operation of their vast holdings long before his uncle had become sick. Since his death, Stephen had stepped in to fill his uncle’s role in every aspect of the household they all shared.
Leaning against the wall, Stephen slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a folded note card. So far, it was the only interesting thing about the evening.
It was from Richard Paxton, his assistant, his friend. Richard wasn’t at the party but was expected shortly.
According to the note, Richard’s birthday gift to Stephen would arrive sometime during the party. And it was just what Stephen needed.
Stephen smiled and slipped the note in his pocket again. Just what he needed. What could that mean?
He thought back over the conversations he and Richard had shared recently. Business. They always discussed business. Stephen didn’t remember mentioning anything he needed, because he didn’t need anything.
Leave it to Richard to liven up his birthday party with this cryptic message. He’d known Stephen wasn’t looking forward to the party his aunt had insisted upon; she’d been concerned about the family’s social position since Uncle Colin’s death.
Stephen pressed his lips together, thinking harder. The only conversation they’d had recently that stood out in his mind and didn’t involve business was when Richard came late to work one morning a few weeks ago. Richard was never late. But he’d been at the wharf at San Pedro the night before, checking on a cargo shipment, and had met a beautiful young woman who turned out to be a prostitute.
According to Richard, being late for work that day was well worth it. He’d been so dazed by the woman that he’d bumped into furniture all morning long. Richard had raved about her and said that Stephen should—
Heat ignited low in his belly, fanning through him like wildfire. He tensed.
Was that Richard’s gift? The woman?
Stephen looked around at his guests. These were wealthy, dignified people, as close as Los Angeles came to aristocracy. Surely Richard wouldn’t send him a whore for his birthday, right under the noses of his guests—and his aunt.
Even if it was just what he needed.
No, Richard must have something else in mind. But what? He knew Stephen didn’t need anything, didn’t want anything.
Still, Stephen couldn’t let go of the idea. His imagination started to roam. A slow heat built inside him. He bit into his lower lip to keep from smiling. Would Richard do such a thing?
Richard wasn’t like his other friends, these people in the ballroom. He’d give Stephen something he really wanted—really needed.
A smile bloomed on Stephen’s face. Yes, he just might do it.
“Excuse me, sir.”
Jarred from his thoughts, Stephen found Charles, their balding butler, standing at his elbow.
“A visitor has arrived, sir.”
Another guest. The last thing he needed.
“Send him up, Charles.”
The butler shook his head. “Not an invited guest, sir. A personal visitor, she says.”
“She?”
“Yes, sir. Sent by Mr. Paxton.”
“Paxton?”
“Yes, sir.” Charles frowned distastefully. “I explained to the young woman that you were occupied, but she insisted—”
“No, that’s fine, Charles. I’ll see to her myself.”
Stephen hurried out of the ballroom, anticipation humming in his veins. Could this be his present from Richard? Would he have actually done such a thing?
At the top of the steps, Stephen stopped. The grand, central staircase led straight down to the marble foyer and the carved, double front doors. Off to the right he glimpsed a woman wandering through the sitting room. Was this she? His gift?
The woman turned and Stephen’s knees weakened. Oh, yes. Beautiful. Shapely. A woman meant for rolling around in bed with, if ever he’d seen one.
Just what he needed.
Stephen trotted down the stairs and across the foyer. He forced himself to stop at the entrance to the sitting room.
“Good evening,” he said.
She swirled. “Mr. Monterey?”
Heavens, she was pretty. Not gorgeous, but touchable. Wholesome and natural-looking. With big blue eyes framed by dark lashes, soft skin, full pink lips, brown hair.
She had on one of those shirtwaist dresses that Aunt Delfi thought so scandalous, with a bell-shaped skirt pulled across the front and gathered high in back, emphasizing her small waist. High buttoned shoes peeked out from under the hem. Her bosom filled out the pleated blouse; a big soft bow was at her throat. Large leg-of-mutton sleeves on her short jacket made her wrists look small.
And that hat. Stephen loved the wide brim, all done up with ribbons and flowers, dipping over her face at a provocative angle.
Not what he expected to see in a whore. She looked more like one of the ladies Aunt Delfi invited to tea. But he hadn’t seen a whore in a while, and Richard had said he’d mistaken the woman himself, at first.
Stephen stepped farther into the room. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
She heaved a little sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness. You were expecting my arrival.”
“Anticipating is more the word.”
“I’m Caroline Sommerfield. Mr. Paxton asked me to come here tonight.”
“So Richard did send you?”
“Yes, he did.”
“For me?”
She frowned slightly and clutched the handle of her satchel tighter. “He said I was to speak to you specifically. But when I saw that you’re entertaining guests, I thought that maybe—”
“Oh, no, that’s fine.” Stephen couldn’t hold back his grin. “Actually, it’s perfect.”
“Well, then.” Caroline cleared her throat. “I suppose we should…proceed.”
A full smile broke over his face. “Let’s not waste a minute.”
“Mr. Paxton said you have an office here in your home. Should we go there, or did you have some other place in mind?”
His office. Oh, heavens. Right there on the desk. Stephen thought his knees would give out completely.
He gestured grandly toward the foyer. “My office, by all means.”
Caroline hesitated a moment. “Mr. Paxton said