Again, Jana pushed aside the memory and replied, “You’re looking well also.”
Her tone matched his, so they both sounded as if they’d just encountered a casual acquaintance whose name neither could remember.
“How was your crossing?” Brandon asked.
“Calm.”
“And the rail journey?”
“Uneventful.”
“Is your aunt well?”
“In excellent health, thank you,” Jana replied.
Conversation stalled, but the awkward moment continued. Jana hadn’t really expected her husband to sweep her into his arms, profess his love, pour out his regret and apology, but she’d seen Brandon give warmer receptions to business acquaintances.
“Perhaps we should go into my office?” he asked, gesturing behind him.
There was no reason not to. After all, they could hardly discuss their situation standing in the foyer. Charles had disappeared, as butlers always do, but she was certain he and some of the other staff were well within earshot. Yet going deeper into the house—with Brandon—caused Jana’s palms to dampen and set her nerves on end.
The heat of his body wafted over her as she crossed the foyer and he fell in step beside her. His scent came with the heat, stirring her memories once more.
As they passed the parlor doorway, Jana glanced inside, then stopped and gasped aloud. The room that she’d begun decorating—along with the entire rest of the house—stood just as she’d left it fourteen months ago. One wall half papered, cans of paint in the corner, shrouded furniture pushed to the center of the room.
“You never finished the work?” she asked, unable to keep the surprise from her voice.
“No, of course not,” Brandon replied, as if he didn’t really understand why she would ask such a question.
He continued down the hallway leaving her to follow. When she stepped into Brandon’s office, another wave of emotion struck her. The room, with its heavy walnut furniture, deep green carpet and drapes, had been the first completed in the new house. The decorator—that dreadful Mr. McDowell—had seen to it. No one had asked Jana’s opinion of the color scheme or the furnishings. Or anything else, for that matter.
But it suited Brandon. The office was his refuge. He spent most of his time there, when he was home. Jana had seldom entered the room.
How odd that she’d be there today, when she intended to end their marriage.
Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to sit on the dark leather sofa. She stood, with the oil painting of cornered foxes, snarling bears and mountain lions glaring down at her.
“I see you’ve kept everything here the same,” she couldn’t help but say.
Brandon’s gaze bounced from wall to wall, then fell on her again as she stood a few yards in front of him.
“Why would I change it?” he asked, frowning slightly.
Why, indeed? Brandon preferred—demanded—things stay the same. Jana knew that all too well.
A long silence passed, and finally Brandon spoke again.
“So,” he said briskly. “You’re home now. That’s the important thing. We can put all this nonsense behind us and—”
“Nonsense?”
“Yes,” he went on, rubbing his palms together. “We can forget about what you did, and get on with our lives.”
Stunned, Jana just stared, unable to speak.
Brandon moved to his desk and began sorting through papers. “You’ll want to continue with decorating the house and pick up where you left off with the women’s organizations in town. The servants have done an adequate job, but you’ll need to supervise them more closely this time. There are invitations and correspondence that you will need to attend to before—”
“You…you expect me to take over all my old duties?” Jana asked, shaking her head slowly. “Is that why you think I came back?”
Brandon’s hands stilled on the papers and his gaze came up quickly. “Well, yes.”
“That’s not why I came here,” Jana said. “I’m only here to tell you I want a divorce.”
Breath left Brandon in a huff as color drained from his face. Jana rushed on, anxious to get this ordeal over with, to leave and never return.
“My aunt’s attorneys will arrange everything,” she said.
Brandon didn’t respond.
“You needn’t worry. I won’t ask for anything.” Jana gestured around the room. “You can keep it all.”
“No…”
“I’ll be certain everything is handled quickly. Goodbye, Brandon,” she said, and hurried toward the door.
“No!”
The wrath, the raw anger in Brandon’s voice brought Jana up short. She whirled. Fists clenched, shoulders rigid, jaw set, Brandon glared at her.
She hadn’t expected him to say nothing at all. But she hadn’t expected him to disagree, either. After all, it had been fourteen months, fourteen long months, with no communication whatsoever. Certainly, Jana hadn’t anticipated the fury she saw now on her husband’s face.
He came around the desk. “You want a—a—a divorce?”
Jana drew up her courage. “Yes.”
Brandon didn’t speak, just glared. She rushed on, feeling pressured to explain. “I’ve been gone too long. We’re practically strangers.”
“No…”
Jana drew in a breath. “Our marriage is dead.”
“No!”
She dug deep, finding the calm she’d struggled to develop these last fourteen months. “Brandon, you have to face the truth. It’s over.”
“We’re married,” Brandon told her, his anger growing. “Whether you like it or not. Legally and in the eyes of God. We’re married.”
Her anger flared. “I hardly need you to remind me of the vows I took.”
“Somebody needs to.” Brandon flung the words at her. “Before you go running off again.”
“I don’t deserve to be spoken to as if—”
“And fourteen months ago I deserved to hear you tell me to my face that you were leaving!”
“I was gone two days before you realized I’d left!”
That shut him up. Brandon’s anger subsided, but only a little. He drew in a breath and tilted his head left, then right, easing the tension in his neck, as she’d seen him do so many times before.
“At the time, I was heavily involved in a crucial business deal that was teetering on collapse, if you recall,” Brandon explained, his voice softer but just as tense. “I had early-morning meetings, meetings that stretched into the night. It didn’t occur to me to look into my wife’s bedroom each evening to see whether or not she’d run off.”
Jana met his gaze but didn’t answer. His explanation was reasonable, yet didn’t erase the pain she’d gone through at the time.
After another long moment, Brandon spoke again, his voice straining for calm.
“As I said, we are married. You and I are bound together by law and in the sight of God. Our marriage isn’t over simply because you declare it to be.”
A thread of panic whipped through Jana. “We haven’t seen each other in months. We hardly knew each other to begin with—”
“Then how can you know that our marriage is over?” Brandon demanded, his eyes boring into her. “How can you declare it dead when we haven’t even given it a fair chance?”
Jana determinedly held herself rigid, refusing to let him see the chaos his words—his logic—stirred in her.
“What makes you think, after all this time and all that’s happened, that we can make it work?” Jana demanded.
“Nothing’s happened that can’t be undone,” Brandon insisted.
Jana gulped, guilt replacing her panic. “That’s not true. Things—”
He put up his hand, silencing her. “Perhaps we can’t work out these problems you believe we have. But we won’t know unless we try.”
Her resolve crumbled further. “Brandon, it’s not that simple.”
“Yes, it is,” he said. “And if our marriage dies, a
t least it will die with us trying to do the right thing.”
Jana’s knees weakened, but for a different reason now. Never—ever—had she imagined Brandon would be so adamant about keeping their marriage together. She had no idea their union meant so much, or anything at all, to him.
“Just say you’ll try,” Brandon said.
Did she hear a plea in his voice? She wasn’t sure.
Jana shook her head. “I can’t live here forever, waiting, wondering how things will turn out.”
“Then give it a month,” Brandon said quickly. “Four weeks. Our vows are worth that much, aren’t they?”
Jana didn’t reply. How could she disagree?
“I’ll think it over,” she finally said.
That didn’t seem to suit him, but he nodded. “Tomorrow? You’ll give me your answer?”
“Yes, I’ll come back tomorrow. Before six,” Jana said, the old habit returning without her even realizing it. Six o’clock. He had always wanted her home before six o’clock.
“Promise?”
An odd wave of vulnerability sounded in his voice, and for an instant, he looked hurt and lost, touching Jana’s heart unexpectedly, making her want to rush to him, touch her palm to his cheek, soothe him.
But in the next instant, Brandon’s expression hardened again and so did Jana’s heart.
“I’ll be here before six o’clock,” she told him. “I promise.”
Brandon just nodded. He stood there looking at her for a while, and Jana didn’t know what to do or say. Nothing seemed appropriate, so she simply turned and left. To her surprise, Brandon walked alongside her through the house and out into the driveway. He waved off the driver up top and opened the hansom door for her himself.
“I’ll send my carriage for you tomorrow,” Brandon said.
“It’s not necessary.”
He gestured to the cab. “You needn’t ride around in public transportation. I’ll send my carriage—”
Jana touched his arm, even though she hadn’t meant to.
“I said I’ll be here tomorrow, and I will,” she told him.
His jaw tightened, but finally he nodded. “Fine, then.”
Jana climbed into the cab, pointedly ignoring his proffered hand. Brandon closed the door and held on to the handle.
He gazed at her though the open window. “There must have been something…something you liked about our marriage.”
“No.”
“Something you liked about…us.”
Jana gazed steadily at him. “Nothing.”
Brandon stepped back and signaled the driver who turned the cab into the street. Jana watched out the window at Brandon standing on the steps, following the cab with his gaze.
She turned away, slumping deeper into the seat.
How could she live here, in the house, for four weeks? How could she manage it…when her heart was somewhere else?
Chapter Three
Raised voices in the outer office took Brandon’s attention from the ledger that lay open on his desk. Glad for the distraction, he closed the book. He couldn’t concentrate on the figures anyway.
How could he after last night?
The commotion beyond his closed office door continued. Brandon heard the voice of his secretary, Mr. Perkins, raised in protest. Still, Brandon remained in his chair, confident the white-haired, wiry secretary could handle whatever situation presented itself.
Brandon had no energy for confrontation today. Since receiving the telegram from Jana advising him of her return, he’d slept little. All he could think was that, at last, the ordeal would be over. His wife was returning. He’d thought everything would be back to normal.
Brandon sank lower in his chair, tuning out the disturbance in the outer office, preferring thoughts of his wife.
Their fourteen-month separation had changed her in subtle ways. He noticed each and every one of them yesterday when they’d stood across the foyer from each other and he’d been trying to put together a cohesive sentence.
Even more beautiful. The notion had hit him square in the chest yesterday. Her face a little more mature, after so short a time, her dress more sophisticated, her figure a trifle fuller. He had wanted her right there in the foyer.
He had wanted her even when she asked for a divorce.
Brandon grumbled aloud. A divorce. What nonsense. True, Jana had been young, pampered and spoiled when they married. She’d run back home to her aunt who, with the best of intentions, had taken her in and allowed Jana to accompany her on a long-planned extended trip to Europe. Brandon understood how impetuous his young wife had been, and how her aunt couldn’t say no. He’d indulged them both.
But now—
His office door burst open and Mr. Perkins rushed into the room on the heels of the woman who had, surely, been the cause of the commotion.
“Now see here, madam,” Mr. Perkins barked, his face red. “You can’t come pushing your way in here. I told you that Mr. Sayer isn’t seeing anyone today without an appointment, and you haven’t—”
“Since when do I need an appointment?”
Leona Albright directed her question at Brandon, her words a seductive whisper that brought him out of his chair.
Seeing his battle lost, Mr. Perkins turned to Brandon. “I told her, Mr. Sayer, I told her you weren’t seeing anyone today without an appointment. That those were your instructions and I couldn’t allow—”
“It’s all right,” Brandon said.
“I told that young fella from the newspaper the same thing this morning. That Mr. Fisk. I told him you weren’t seeing anyone today without an appointment.” Mr. Perkins threw Leona Albright a scathing look. “Only he had the decency to respect your wishes and go about his business.”
“Thank you, Mr. Perkins,” Brandon said. “I’ll speak with Mrs. Albright.”
Mr. Perkins shot her a final contemptuous glare, then huffed out of the office, closing the door with a little more force than necessary.
Leona, her gaze still on Brandon, gave him a slow, steady smile, one that brought lesser men to their knees.
“You’ve been keeping secrets, Brandon, dear,” she purred and walked closer.
“You like secrets,” he countered.
Leona Albright did indeed like secrets. She liked everything. Tall, ten years older than Brandon, though she’d never admit it to anyone else, Leona wore her dresses cut a fraction lower than was considered decent—especially for her ample figure—and her hair a shade more fiery red than nature alone could provide. Yet her wealth, her social position and political connections on both coasts kept anyone from commenting—in public, anyway. She’d recently lost her fourth, much-older husband and, according to the latest rumor, had already turned down two marriage proposals.
“You know me well,” Leona purred.
“Which of my secrets have you uncovered?” he asked, motioning her toward the seating group at the other end of his office.
Leona took her time settling onto the sofa, arranging her skirt, shifting her shoulders in a way that called attention to her impressive bosom. Brandon took the chair to her immediate left.
“I’m terribly hurt,” Leona declared. “This Jennings deal of yours. You never mentioned a word of it to me.”
“There’s talk?” Brandon asked, a little concerned.
“Whispers,” Leona said, and raised an eyebrow suggestively. “I learned of it from an unnamed, but very satisfied, source.”
The Jennings Building, a five-story structure in a prime location, currently housed the Los Angeles Messenger. Brandon owned both the newspaper and the building. Over the last year he’d refused to renew the leases of tenants until now only the newspaper remained. It, too, would be gone soon. Then his new project would be officially announced, though it had been quietly in the works for some time.
“And is this ‘unnamed source’ of yours interested in the project?” Brandon asked.
“Of course,” Leona said. “Everyone is interested in anythin
g that involves you, Brandon, dear. Your name attached to any project guarantees success.”
Brandon smiled, not unhappy to hear a compliment.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll give you the details before the public announcement.”
“Of course you will,” Leona said, favoring him with another smile. “Now, on to your next secret.”
Brandon frowned, trying to imagine what she referred to this time.
“The return of your wife,” Leona said. “I admit, I’m surprised you’re even here at your office today.”
Brandon shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. He was certain everyone who’d heard of Jana’s return was curious to find him at work today, rather than at home rolling around in bed with her, making up for their fourteen-month separation.
The playfulness left Leona’s face. “Not a joyful reunion?”
“Not exactly,” Brandon said. He didn’t hesitate to explain further, knowing Leona would keep his confidence, even to unnamed—but satisfied—sources.
It wasn’t the first time she’d kept silent on his behalf.
“She wants a divorce,” Brandon explained. “I told her no, of course. She agreed to work on our marriage.”
“So you have everything under control,” Leona said.
Brandon nodded. He’d thought about it all last night, all morning, all afternoon. He knew what to do.
“Jana is my wife. She must live up to her responsibilities. It’s her duty.”
“You romantic devil, you,” Leona said.
Brandon sat forward. “I have duties in our marriage. She does too. Everyone has duties. We all must live up to them.”
“Duties?”
“Of course,” Brandon said. “Jana needed a firm hand. It was my fault she left, really. I was too easy on her. I’ll be sure she understands her responsibilities this time.”
“Well, as long as you have everything under control…” Leona rose from the sofa, bringing Brandon up with her. She gave him a long, sultry look. “You should have married me.”
Judith Stacy Page 2