The Mistaken Widow. Cheryl St.John
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she done? Doubt and shame clawed their way to the surface, and she was forced to admit to her part in this deception. She hadn’t told Nicholas the truth. She hadn’t told his mother the truth. Too much time had passed for them to understand now.
And she had just let Nicholas’s mother name the baby after her grandfather. A Halliday!
Sarah bit her lip, hating the self-reproach lying on her heart like a lead weight, and knew she had just passed the point of no return.
Sarah met with a problem in choosing a dress for dinner. Claire’s trunks had been delivered, and Leda’s personal maid told her she’d pressed the dresses and hung them in the armoires.
She opened the double-doored cabinet and stared at the collection of clothing. Satins and silks, vivid colors with plunging necklines and daringly visible underskirts lined the rod. What outlandish taste Claire had! Sarah rifled through her belongings, finding nothing suitable for mourning. Nothing suitable, period! Finally, she discovered a black silk gown with a lace insert from the bodice to a collar piece, and asked Mrs. Trent to help her with it. Thank goodness the bust was roomy enough for Sarah’s new full figure.
She was supposed to be a widow, after all, so black was an appropriate choice. The color washed her out, however, so she pinched her cheeks and applied a dab of lip rouge she found in her dressing table drawer. Claire had possessed an astonishing assortment of face tints and decanters. Sarah sniffed one of the perfumes and replaced the stopper with a grimace, feeling funny about using Claire’s personal items.
Nicholas appeared on schedule. Mrs. Trent stayed with William while Nicholas scooped up Sarah and carried her downstairs.
“My chair,” she questioned, looking back over his shoulder.
“You won’t have need for it,” he replied, his voice vibrating against her breast. He wore a linen shirt and lightweight jacket, and Sarah felt every sinewy muscle pressed against her body. “You won’t need to go anywhere that I can’t take you.”
His words and his voice spawned a quavery shiver along her spine, and her reaction to his nearness abashed her.
She concentrated on the house he carried her through. The furnishings and decor were as lovely as—no, lovelier than—her Boston home had been, more costly, yet more understated. The dining room they arrived in was paneled in rich walnut, with two sideboards and built-in china cabinets. Gilt-framed paintings of hunting scenes and meandering rivers lined the walls.
Leda waited impatiently for them. “Good evening, darlings!”
Nicholas placed Sarah in a chair at the corner of the table, across from Leda, and seated himself at the head. The older woman’s glance took in the dress.
“I have nothing appropriate for mourning,” Sarah said softly.
“Of course you don’t, and we didn’t think of it, did we, Nicholas?”
He shook his head and paused with a raised brow as he poured wine. “Claire?”
“None for me, thank you.”
He placed a stemmed crystal glass in front of his mother.
“I’ll send for the dressmaker tomorrow,” she said.
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Sarah objected.
“Of course it’s necessary. You’re a widow, after all. And a Halliday. You mustn’t be seen in public without proper dress.”
It was true, she couldn’t possibly wear any of those dresses that had been Claire’s. Whatever had the woman been thinking of to buy them? What kind of person had Claire been?
Nicholas had been looking at her oddly for several minutes. “Your accent sounds more like Boston than New York,” he said finally.
“Does it?” She took a sip from her water glass and tried to appear unconcerned. “I think we tend to imitate the people we’re around, and many of my friends are from Boston.”
“Are they now?”
She nodded.
He appeared unconvinced, and she knew she’d have to be more careful of her speech. She was getting in deep now.
“You had an announcement?” Nicholas queried his mother over the top of his wineglass.
“Yes,” Leda replied with a broad smile. “We wanted to surprise you tonight, darling. Claire has chosen a name for the baby.”
His expression revealed neither surprise nor curiosity. Calmly, he took a sip.
“William Stephen Halliday,” Leda declared proudly. “Isn’t that a fine name?”
Nicholas’s knuckles tensed on the glass. “William was—”
“My grandfather’s name,” his mother finished for him.
Looking as if he knew he was expected to say something, he cleared his throat. “It’s fine.”
“And he’ll carry on Stephen’s name,” Leda added softly.
A maid came through the doorway, platter in hand, and served dinner. Nicholas watched Sarah select her portions and pick up her fork. They ate in silence for a few minutes.
“Did Stephen have any plans for work?” he asked.
Sarah’s bite of braised beef paused on its way to her mouth. “Work?”
“Taking a position here? Going back to the coast? All his wire said was that he was bringing you home to meet us. He failed to mention whether or not he intended to stay this time. Perhaps he only meant to leave you off to have the baby while he continued his pursuit of folly in the East.”
“Nicholas!” his mother admonished.
“Well, it’s true he never took any interest in our family’s business affairs. And very little interest in our family, for that matter.”
“Nicholas, please,” his mother scolded. “Your brother is dead. Can’t you let this rest? You’ve spoiled Claire’s dinner.”
“No,” Sarah denied. He was testing her. And Lord, save her from herself, she resented it. That was crazy. “He hasn’t spoiled my dinner,” she said to Leda, then turned her gaze on Nicholas. “I’m quite aware that you and Stephen differed on many subjects. I don’t know if he had any plans for involving himself in the business. I do know he wouldn’t have left his wife here to have the baby and have gone on his own way.”
“How can you be so sure?” Nicholas asked. “You only knew him a few months.”
Sarah remembered the loving way Stephen spoke to Claire, the way he touched her as though he needed that contact for his very sustenance. “I may not have known him a long time, but I recognize love when I see it.”
“Of course you do, darling. My son is just too old and stuffy for his years, and he thinks everyone should be just like him. Don’t you dare upset our Claire, Nicholas. I’ll not accept your rude behavior.”
“I’m sorry, Mother. I’m sorry, Claire,” he included her in the apology with a curt nod. “Why don’t you tell us all about your whirlwind courtship with my brother? So we’ll better understand, of course.”
A sarcastic undercurrent ran close to the surface, but Leda seemed not to notice.
Sarah placed her fork on the edge of her plate and nervously wrapped her fingers in her napkin. “I will tell you this. Your brother was one of the kindest, most generous people I’ve ever met in my life. He was accepting and caring and considerate. He laughed out loud and he loved deeply. And I can tell you he probably has a lot fewer regrets now than most people will when their lives are over.”
Nicholas chewed slowly and swallowed before meeting her unyielding gaze. “Have you finished putting me properly in my place?” he asked.
Her