Big Bad Neighbor: A Single Dad Next Door Romance

by Tia Siren

  Chapter Three

  Eve suffered through the dance. It made her dizzy, and she felt slimy after Lord Halley’s hands had pawed all over her. She wanted to throw the dress away and never see it again, but she didn’t even know where her room was in this huge house to change and was worried if she did anything to the dress, she might not be able to return home. She wanted to return home.

  She nodded to her cousin and Virginia upon returning to the table. “I…I am feeling out of sorts.”

  “I am not surprised by that after having to dance with that man. I told you to say you were tired, Helen. You should have listened.”

  Eve nodded at Richard. “I agree. I should have listened to you. What an obnoxious man!”

  “You knew that already, my dear,” Virginia said, standing up. “You do look a bit off color. Shall I walk you to your room?”

  “Oh, that would be lovely, Virginia, thank you.”

  Virginia nodded and turned to Richard. “All right, I will be back in a few minutes, Richard. You behave yourself.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  The three laughed, and Virginia took her arm. “Your father is a dear for throwing this ball for you tonight, Helen,” she said as she led Eve away from the table and toward the doors. “He’s so generous to you and your sisters and your brother. You are truly lucky.”

  “Oh? I’m glad to hear that.”

  Virginia giggled. “What does that mean? You are acting so strange tonight, Helen. You don’t seem to be yourself.”

  “And how exactly am I acting differently?” She asked.

  “You are normally so quiet and not outgoing at all. What on earth made you think to play that game, naming off all your previous suitors and what you thought of them, looking for newcomers. Who are you, my dear?” Again Virginia laughed and Eve knew she wasn’t being serious.

  “Perhaps I am tired of being quiet and spending time all by myself.”

  “Oh? You have decided to join the rest of us in this world and really create a family for yourself? Leave your heartache behind?”

  “I’m not sure. So far, I am not impressed with my life.”

  “Well, I must say you haven’t made much of it so far.”

  I just want to see Helen’s room, Eve thought to herself. Then I will go home. She can have this life. It’s not for me.

  She’d come to the conclusion that reality was not quite like the books she had read. She was actually quite disappointed by it. She had hoped for chivalry, respect and all the delightful things she read about in her Jane Austin books. Right now, she just wanted to go back home and break up with her boyfriend and find someone new.

  But first, she wanted to see more of the home she remembered so differently. She wanted to see her ancestor’s room, see her brushes, her hair barrettes, her pens and inks and writing papers. She let Virginia lead her, feigning exhaustion and a headache. Virginia stopped in front of the door to the room that was across from what Eve remembered as her grandmother’s room. She couldn’t help glancing back at the door and wondering what it was like on the other side. Virginia mistook her glance and said, “Do you want me to go find your father or mother? They aren’t in their room right now, you know. They are down there with the guests.”

  Eve looked down at the shorter woman. She hadn’t looked directly at Virginia before and noticed that her face was long and narrow, and she had a thin straight nose that pointed like an arrow on the end. It actually fit her other features quite nicely. She smiled.

  “I know. Yes, if you want to get my father for me, I would love to talk to him for a moment.”

  “I will do that, Helen! Now you get some rest. I’ll send him right down.”

  “Thank you, Virginia, you are really sweet.”

  Virginia laughed, giving her a peculiar look. “You are so strange tonight, Helen! When did you start calling me Virginia? Even your dear cousin calls me Ginny. Why did you stop?”

  Eve giggled. “I am not myself when I am this tired, Ginny. There. Is that better?”

  Virginia laughed again. “Yes, quite! All right, honey, I’ll go fetch your father.”

  Eve nodded and turned the knob on the door as her friend hurried back down the hallway in the direction they had just come from. She bit her lips together as the door swung open, moving her eyes slowly over the contents of the room.

  As soon as she stepped across the threshold, she felt better. She recognized the dressing table where Helen put her makeup on and brushed her hair. In her time, it was in the attic with a thick blanket over it to protect it. She walked around the room very slowly, touching the items she saw around her. They were so new. Dust free. She ran her fingers over a soft sweater laying over the back of a chair.

  She stopped at the double doors to the closet. She bit her bottom lip and opened them. She pulled in a deep breath, her eyes opening wide. The closet was filled with beautiful gowns. She fingered through them, feeling the fabric, lace and silk. They were so pretty.

  “Someone has good taste,” she whispered.

  A few minutes later, she sat on the bed and waited for her father. Helen’s father. She smiled. She was comfortable. The bed was soft. The pillows were fluffy. She laid back on it and spread her arms out wide.

  A knock on the door drew her attention away, and she sat up abruptly.

  “Come in.”

  The door opened, and an older man stuck his head in. “Helen?”

  “Hello…father.” She said hesitantly.

  He came in with a smile, and she immediately felt comfortable with him. His face was warm and welcoming, his love for his daughter apparent. He came directly to her and sat next to her on the bed.

  “Are you all right, dear? Ginny said you were acting strange, and I must say, it’s been some time since you’ve called me ‘father’.”

  He put one arm around her shoulders and squeezed, giving her a kiss on the side of her head. She giggled. “I’m sorry, papa,” she said, hoping that was the right thing to say.

  “There you go. Now what’s wrong, dear? What are you worried about?”

  “I’m not worried, papa. Just a little tired.”

  “Well, you need to get some rest then.” She loved the deep resonance of his voice. “Ginny is right, you look different.”

  “I do?” She felt a bit of fear run through her chest.

  “Yes. You look…happier. Your voice has a lift to it that wasn’t there before.”

  “I’ve only said a few words to you, papa.” She enjoyed calling him her father. Back home, she had only her grandmother and siblings. Her parents had already passed. She missed them every day. It was nice to have a father again.

  When he didn’t respond, she looked up at him. The look on his face was so kind, she wanted to cry. “It’s more than you’ve said to me for a long time, honey.”

  “Why?” The question slipped out before she could stop it.

  He smiled softly, but the look of confusion on his face was obvious. “That would be something I would have to ask you, dear. Are you done being mad at me?”

  “I don’t remember being mad at you, papa,” she replied, honestly.

  He stared at her. “You don’t remember why?”

  She bowed her head and lowered her eyes. He touched her chin to lift her face back up so he could look at her. “Helen, you know I would never want to hurt you.”

  “I know, papa.”

  “You must learn to trust me when I say that someone is not good enough to be with you.”

  It was about a man. She thought, forcing herself not to roll her eyes. Probably the one her grandmother had told her about. “I’m over it.” She wondered if they said things like that in the time she was in and quickly went on as if she didn’t say it in the first place. “I am happy with your decision, papa. I am not thinking about that anymore.”

  She could see why Helen was miserable. From what she’d seen of the men at the ball, she wasn’t highly impressed. Their behavior had not been chivalrous and kind. It had been
wild and unruly. The only man she’d truly been impressed with was her cousin.

  “I’m so glad to hear that, Helen. I am glad you want to talk to me again. I am glad you are happier now.”

  “Thank you, papa.”

  He grabbed her and pulled her into another hug. “I want you to be happy, my girl. I really do. But you must find a man who is worthy of your love. You know I will not force you to marry an Earl or a Duke. We don’t need the money. You aren’t desperate for love. You will find the right man.”

  “Yes, papa.”

  “Now you get some rest, and we’ll talk in the morning.” He stood up and moved toward the door.

  “Papa?” She stopped him.

  “Yes?” He looked back at her.

  “I…I love you.” She was actually speaking to her own father, whom she had loved dearly. She just wanted to say it again, knowing it was all right.

  He smiled a genuine smile that reached up and into his eyes. He sighed. She instantly knew that was where she had eventually gotten her own habit of sighing heavily. “I love you, too, Helen. I really do. Talk to you in the morning.”

  “Okay, papa.” She replied, thinking that she would not be seeing him again. It weighed heavily on her heart. She watched him walk out the door. He waved slightly before pulling the door closed behind him.

  She looked back at the bed and couldn’t resist crawling up onto the top quilt, laying her head down on the pillow and relaxing for a moment. Seconds later, she was fast asleep.

  When she woke up the house was quiet. She didn’t remember where she was at first and sat up abruptly, staring around her. When she remembered, she relaxed and tried to focus her eyes in the dim light. There must have been a gas lamp left on outside the house, because some kind of light was coming through her window. She slid out of the bed and opened the thin curtains to peer out over the lands surrounding the house. Back home, there were neighbors all around. Here, there was nothing but green grass and rolling hills as far as she could see.

  She could see well enough to pick up a candleholder and matches on her bedside table. She lit the candle, picked the holder up by its handle and moved to the door. She wanted to go back to the attic and take off the dress, hoping that would send her back home. As long as she had the dress and the painting, she was sure it would work.

  She moved through the quiet house on silent stocking feet. She hadn’t come in the shoes, so she figured she didn’t need them to get back home.

  Back in the attic, she went directly to the spot where she had put on the dress, stood in front of the trunk where it had been stored and reached up behind her to unfasten the ties. Before she could pull one string, she stopped.

  There was no painting here.

  Chapter Four

  Eve’s heart sank. Maybe it was hanging in the house somewhere. Could she possibly find it in the dark? She thought about how big the house was. It would probably take longer than she had even if she ran all around the house.

  “What am I going to do?” She whispered in a panic. “Oh, what am I going to do?”

  She picked up the candle and went back to the stairwell in a hurry. She was going to go through as many rooms as she could tonight. But what if it was hanging in her parents’ room? How would she even know?

  She hurried through the hallways, stopping at each portrait long enough to lift the candle and take a good look. After an hour, she had still not seen the painting, and there were many other rooms left to go through. She tried not to cry. She wanted to go home. She missed her grandmother.

  She had no choice. She went back to her room, collapsed on the big bed and cried herself back to sleep.

  She had a lot of trouble getting dressed the next morning. She had no idea what type of dress was meant for a ball and what was meant for casual day to day. She finally chose a small gown that she thought had to be for every day. She dressed and hoped she had chosen correctly. The dress that had gotten her into all the trouble lay safe over the back of the chair that still held the sweater. She used Helen’s brush for her hair, pulling it back and away from her face with barrettes. She only blotted her face with a bit of powder and put a small amount of color on her lips. She’d never worn much makeup in the first place, happy with the way she looked naturally.

  She could smell coffee floating through the air, which surprised her, considering how big the place was. She went through the hallway, following her nose to find the kitchen. When she went in, the cook stared at her as if she was completely out of her mind. She smiled weakly.

  “H…Hello.”

  “Can I help you, lady Helen? Did you not receive the breakfast you wanted this morning?” The older woman looked at her sympathetically.

  “Um… no… I just… wanted to see how you were doing. How have you been?”

  The cook blinked at her, her face revealing her confusion. “I’m well, madam. I hope that you were able to sleep.”

  “Yes, I…I certainly did. I… am famished so I will just… get going now.” She grinned and backed out the way she’d come in.

  She berated herself for going into the kitchen without thinking that it would not be where this family would eat. There was a great dining hall across from the vast living room. She pulled open the double doors and slipped through, pulling them closed behind her. Her father was seated at the head of a long table, holding a newspaper in front of him while he ate from a plate of eggs, biscuits and bacon strips.

  She eyed the bacon hungrily. It had been a very long time since she’d eaten. She felt like it had been days. She hurried to the seat on his right and sat down. He gazed at her.

  “You are still feeling happier?” He asked.

  “I am, papa.”

  “That’s wonderful. Have you chosen to change your seat then? You will sit next to me now?”

  She moved her eyes down the table and saw that a plate had been set in front of a seat further down the table. She looked back at him. “I don’t want to sit far away from you, papa.”

  He gestured to one of the girls standing on the other side of the room. She came over to him, holding her hands clasped in front of her.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Bring Helen’s plate and utensils down here, Anna. She will sit here from now on.”

  Anna grinned wide at Eve. “I’m so glad. Would you like me to take your plate and get your breakfast for you, madam?”

  “Yes, please.” Eve nodded. “And may I please have a few extra pieces of bacon?”

  Anna’s eyes widened. “More than usual, madam?”

  Eve hesitated. It sounded like that might be quite a lot of bacon from the tone of Anna’s voice. She nodded. No matter how much bacon came on her plate, she felt strongly she would eat it.

  When Anna left, she turned back to her father. “Papa, do you have a painting of me with the dress that I was wearing last night to the ball?”

  Mr. Downing put the paper down and looked at her, lifting a large glass of water and taking a sip. “I don’t believe so, Helen.”

  “Will you commission one to be painted for me? I love that dress, and I never ever want to forget it.”

  “I would be happy to do that.” He smiled with that warm smile again, and she loved him for it. She could see some resemblance to her own father, though the hundred plus years between them had made many changes to the family appearance. She was amazed she looked so much like her ancestor that it fooled them all into thinking she was her.

  But it was time to return home. And she couldn’t do that without the painting.

  “How long do you think it will take for the painting to be complete?”

  “That depends on the artist, dear. And are you in a hurry? Is this going to be…some kind of gift?” He was teasing her.

  She grinned. “Yes, it’s for your birthday. It’s going to be a surprise!”

  He laughed. “Not now, it isn’t.”

  “That’s okay. It was a surprise when I just told you!”

  They laughed together.
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br />   The first time she saw the painter her father had chosen, whose name was Eric Anthony, she was enthralled with him. He was not like the men at the ball or even the men in her Jane Austin novels. He seemed so down to earth, almost as though he had come from a more relaxed period in time, like she did. He shied away from pomp and circumstance.

  She admired his looks, as well as his calm and relaxed demeanor. He was tall, with short brown hair and a trim beard and mustache. When he saw her in her green dress, his face lit up.

  “Good morning, Lady Helen,” he said when he entered the room, his hands full with an easel, a bag filled with paints and brushes, a paint palate and an untouched canvas. She rushed to him, holding out her hands.

  “May I carry something for you, Sir Anthony?” She offered.

  He took a step back at first, gazing at her in wonder. Then he held out the hand holding the canvas. “You could take this canvas before it falls from my fingers, if you’d like.”

  “Certainly.” She took the canvas and followed him to the area he was using to paint. He took it from her without a word after he set up the easel. He was still giving her a strange look. She just smiled at him.

  “You may go over there and stand while I paint. Do you have a tall stool to sit on or will you be standing for this portrait?”

  “I will stand.”

  “This could take some time. Several weeks, in fact.”

  Her heart thumped, and she held in a gasp. “Several weeks?”

  “Yes, my lady. I hope that is not going to inconvenience you.”

  “Can we put a rush on it?”

  “Put a rush on it?” He repeated. It was a strange phrase he hadn’t heard before.