The Mistaken Widow. Cheryl St.John
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me, please,” she asked in a strained voice.
He draped the counterpane over her legs, leaving only the foot he was treating exposed. “Do you have something to take for pain?”
“I don’t want to take it. William wakes during the night.”
He sat near her feet. “Mrs. Trent sleeps nearby. She can get him.”
“Yes, but I must feed him.”
“Perhaps we could find William a wet nurse.”
“No!”
Surprise brought his head up.
She looked away quickly.
“All right. I was thinking to make things easier for you.”
“That’s taking him away from me. That would not be easier for me.”
“You obviously have strong feelings about this.”
“He’s my son. I have strong feelings for him, certainly.”
“Certainly. He’s all you have left of Stephen. Besides a fortune in stock and investments Stephen left you in his will.”
She met his eyes, and the anguish he thought he read there almost made him sorry he’d said it.
Mrs. Trent returned with a tray, and placed it on the nightstand with a clatter that rattled the cups in their saucers.
“That will be all,” he said to her. “You may retire.”
Censure brought her brows together and she pursed her lips in a line.
“Good night,” Nicholas said deliberately, then poured. “Cream or sugar?”
“Honey, please,” Claire replied softly, with a sideways glance at Mrs. Trent.
The woman slipped into the dressing room where she slept on a narrow bed so she could hear William.
Nicholas stirred a spoonful of sweetener into Claire’s tea, handed her the cup and saucer and poured himself one.
“Call me if you need me, Mrs. Halliday.”
Mrs. Trent stood in the doorway in her robe, the front clenched tightly in her fist.
“Mrs. Halliday will call if she needs you,” he affirmed. Did the senseless woman think he was going to ravish his sister-in-law right here with her son a few feet away and his busybody nursemaid straining to hear?
She disappeared again, and he turned his gaze back to Claire. “You must have learned to favor honey in your tea from Stephen,” he said.
“I’ve always taken my tea with honey.” Noncommittal. Safe. Neither admitting or denying she knew of Stephen’s preferences.
“What were the qualities you appreciated most about Stephen?” he asked, leaving the side of her bed and carrying his cup to the nearby chair, where he sat and balanced it on the arm. He didn’t quite understand his need to press her about her relationship with his brother, but the desire to persist burned in him like a well-stoked fire.
She stared into her tea. “His concern for others. He was a warm, generous man.”
“Generous with Halliday money,” he agreed.
Her lips flattened into a line of displeasure, and she looked up. “When we met, I had no idea that Stephen had resources.”
“No idea, Claire?”
“You didn’t have much respect for your brother, did you?” she asked, taking him by surprise.
“Why do you ask?”
“You thought him foolish enough to marry a woman who was out for his fortune.”
“Are you?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I denied it.”
Nicholas held his cup by the rim, and considered the truth of her words. “Let’s just say my brother didn’t always make the wisest decisions.”
“The decisions you wanted him to make, in other words.”
He set the cup down, glanced at the waning fire and got up to add a log that should burn most of the night. He was deliberately inciting her. He was grieving for his brother and her presence irritated him, so he baited her.
“How does this new life compare to the one you had in New York?” he asked.
“My life is nothing like it was before. Nor is it anything like I anticipated it being.”
“In what way?”
“In the obvious way. Stephen is gone.”
“He took you to Europe before bringing you to meet his family. Didn’t you think that was odd?”
“Not at all. If you treated him with as much disdain as you treat me, he wouldn’t have had a pleasant start for his honeymoon. Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Treat him with disdain.”
He didn’t like anyone turning the tables on him. “Didn’t he tell you all about his family?” he asked.
“No. He didn’t. I didn’t know anything about you until I was almost here.”
“So you just fell head over heels in love with my brother and married him without knowing his background or even whether or not he was capable of taking care of you. Didn’t you wonder how he earned a living? Or if he did?”
“I knew about his plays. They were successful productions in the East.”
“So you thought you were marrying a struggling playwright. Then lo and behold, it turns out his family has made a fortune in the iron industry.”
“I never asked for a cent of your money,” she said, blue eyes flashing. “You’re the one who came for me—who carried me out of that hospital. You’re the one who brought me here. Leda insisted I have the clothing. I’ve accepted everything because she wanted me to have it.”
And as Stephen’s wife, all that was due her. And more. Being rude to Claire wasn’t going to bring Stephen back, and holding her responsible was only a small comfort.
At odds with his resentment was his appreciation of someone to keep his mother’s spirits up and to give her days purpose and pleasure. Claire had been nothing but a comfort and companion for Leda. A fact that ate at him.
“You’re a Halliday now,” he said, turning back to her, “no matter what you were before. No matter why Stephen married you. And that makes you my responsibility. It also gives you responsibilities.”
“And what would those responsibilities be?”
“We’ll discuss that tomorrow. I have a few papers to go over tonight.”
“And a bottle of brandy to finish.”
“If I see fit.”
“I’m sure you’ll see fit.”
“Good night.” He left and closed the door, admiring her for holding her own while at the same he congratulated himself for being right. At last her true colors were bleeding through. She wasn’t the demure little flower she pretended.
Weariness caught up to him. The days had to get easier after this one. He’d thought giving his mother the news of the train crash had been hard. He’d thought identifying Stephen’s body and shipping it home had been difficult. He thought finding Claire alive and making the arrangements for her and the baby had been tiring.
Appearing today before friends and family had taken every last ounce of reserve he had left. Nothing could ever be this difficult again.
Unless of course, it was fighting this sordid attraction to his sister-in-law and sorting through the feelings of betrayal that had