Yet that hadn’t been Jana’s concern when she’d come up with the idea last night.
“And my being a party to this thing? Subjecting his wife to a scandal of this magnitude?” Oliver shook his head again. “Mr. Sayer would kill me. I know he would.”
“Then we’ll have to make sure he never finds out,” Jana said. Yet she knew she would tell Brandon herself when the time was right, when it suited her, and she would make sure, of course, that Brandon held no ill will toward Oliver.
Jana let a few minutes pass before she spoke again. “It’s a good idea. You know it is.”
He nodded glumly and ruffled through the corners of the papers. “It’s a perfect idea. I wish I’d thought of it myself. Appeal to a whole new market. An emerging market. If men won’t read the Messenger then aim it at women. It’s brilliant, really. And…and it just might save the newspaper.”
“Then we have to try it,” Jana said.
Oliver stared down at the papers for a long while, then looked up at her. He drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Yes, we do.”
Jana heaved a sigh of relief. “Good. You can run these articles tomorrow. I’ll write more tonight and you can pick them up here at the refuge when you come to tutor.”
“What about the questions?” he asked, holding up the Ask Mrs. Avery advice column.
“If women actually write in with questions, I’ll answer them,” Jana said. “In the meantime, I’ll make them up, just as I did for this column.”
“Which brings up the whole issue of journalistic integrity, not to mention professional ethics,” Oliver mused, rising from his chair. “But what difference will that make, after your husband has pounded me to a pulp?”
“That won’t happen,” Jana said, though even to her own ears, her words didn’t sound all that reassuring.
Oliver shoved the papers into his satchel and left the office mumbling under his breath.
Jana sat back in the chair, telling herself she should be pleased with herself. She’d gotten Oliver to go along with her plan to save the newspaper. The Messenger was doomed. Oliver knew it. This idea of hers to write for the women of the city just might be the key to keeping the presses running.
But deep in her heart, Jana knew the truth. She’d used Oliver. Used him to ruin Brandon’s Jennings project.
Used him to force Brandon to let her leave.
She’d tried everything else. Tearing the house apart, driving Brandon out of his study, changing the meals. Twice she’d asked him outright to let her leave and he had refused. Everything she did was ineffective.
And on top of all that, Brandon was now being warm and caring. The perfect husband. Last night under the stars he even told her he loved her.
Jana rose from the chair and walked to the window. It offered little in the way of a view, just the side of the building next door and a glimpse of the street out front.
She curled her hand into a fist and bounced it against the windowsill. Desperate measures were called for. If the Messenger pulled out of its slump and began to flourish, Brandon would be forced to keep it in operation. Doing so would necessitate canceling his Jennings project. When she revealed to him that she’d been behind the whole thing, he would send her packing.
All the effort he’d put into the project would be for naught. Money spent, never to be recovered. His business reputation tarnished. Brandon would be furious with her. Business, above all else, was what mattered to him. Jana had learned that the very first night in his house as his new bride. She’d seen nothing since that changed her mind.
She was certain he would recover from both the economic and personal hardship of the ruined project, in time. But he would never forgive her.
Yes, desperate action was called for. Jana gazed out the window at the passing traffic. She knew about desperation.
A miserable bride, a fearful escape from a cold husband, and a surprise pregnancy. That’s how she’d found herself fourteen months ago. She had thought she was simply seasick from the crossing. But after a week on dry land in London brought no improvement, Jana confided in Aunt Maureen.
Yet when she learned that, indeed, a baby was on the way, Jana had been elated. Her first reaction had been nothing but pure joy. She couldn’t have been happier.
Aunt Maureen wanted to return to America right away, confront Brandon, put the marriage back on track. But Jana wouldn’t hear of it. A transatlantic and transcontinental journey were trying enough under ideal circumstances. She wouldn’t jeopardize her unborn baby with the attempt. She stayed in London, made her aunt promise to keep her secret, and had her baby there.
A wave of longing rose in Jana, sure and strong, and troubling.
Why should she have to choose between her baby and her husband? Why couldn’t she have both?
She walked the floor of their London town house many nights contemplating that very question. But she knew the answer.
Marriage to Brandon had been an absolute nightmare during the first three months they were together. He’d been withdrawn and distant, uncaring and cold much of the time. He’d been so dreadful, she herself couldn’t live with him.
What chance would an innocent baby have?
When she’d taken her first look at her child, after all those hours of labor, and held the tiny, defenseless thing in her arms, Jana knew right then she would never subject the baby to Brandon. At that moment, she’d fallen in love with her child. It was as if her own heart had somehow attached itself to the newly beating one. She’d protect this baby with her life. She’d kill for this baby. All she cared about was what was best for her child. Nothing else mattered. Certainly not Brandon.
A divorce was the only option. Jana made that decision shortly after giving birth. She’d get a divorce and not tell Brandon about the baby. If he knew, he’d refuse to grant her the divorce and insist that she and the child remain with him. Jana simply wouldn’t hear of it. The baby deserved so much more from a father, from a home. It was her duty, her responsibility to ensure a safe, happy future for her child. At that, Jana wouldn’t fail.
She turned away from the window. It had seemed simple enough in London. But now she was back and Brandon was different. Warm, caring, kind. Attentive and even a romantic.
Handsome as ever, too.
The thought crept into Jana’s mind, but she determinedly pushed it away.
Was Brandon different this time? He seemed different. But was he? Really? Perhaps this was all an act to get her to stay with him. Would he go to that trouble? That extreme? Jana didn’t know.
Not that it mattered. Even if she threw caution to the wind and decided to stay with Brandon, give their marriage another chance, it was doomed now. Once Brandon found out how she’d kept his child from him, he’d be furious. Any love he felt for Jana would be dashed. He’d send her away. Their marriage would be over. For good, this time.
And what if he wanted to keep her baby?
Revulsion rose in Jana, a wave of anger and terror. Lose her baby? Not see her child again?
Never.
So that left her with no choice but to attempt to ruin Brandon’s dearest venture, the Jennings project. He would end their attempted reconciliation. She would leave, taking her baby with her. Brandon would never be the wiser.
Because nothing was more important than her baby.
Chapter Nineteen
Having breakfast with Brandon, seeing him first thing in the morning across the table had become part of their new routine that Jana liked. There was something about him at this early hour. Crisp shirt, freshly shaved, smelling faintly of soap and cotton. More than once Jana had caught herself wanting to reach out and touch his smooth jaw, lean close and get a good whiff.
Yet today, she wished he would revert back to his old ways, just this once. She was dying to learn whether or not Oliver had actually run her women’s article and her Ask Mrs. Avery column in the Messenger. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d lost his nerve. Nor would she have blamed h
im. Brandon would be a formidable enemy.
“Are you going to the refuge this afternoon?” Brandon asked, sipping his coffee.
Jana jumped, visions of today’s planned clandestine rendezvous with Oliver at the refuge jarring her. “Yes, for a little while.”
“How is the volunteer list coming along?” he asked.
Was that some hidden meaning in the seemingly innocent question? Jana suddenly thought. Had Brandon somehow learned what she and Oliver were up to?
No, no, of course he couldn’t know. She cautioned herself to calm down, lest she give away their plan herself.
“Filling up quickly. Almost everyone I’ve approached has agreed to volunteer,” Jana said. She rushed ahead, anxious to steer the conversation to another topic. “What are you doing today?”
“I’m just about to close the deal on the warehouse purchase,” Brandon said. “Once that’s handled, I can move on with—”
“Excuse me,” Charles intoned from the doorway.
Jana and Brandon both stopped eating and looked up at him. The butler almost never interrupted them at mealtime.
“Your aunt has arrived,” he said.
Jana gasped and shot to her feet so quickly the chair almost tipped over. Aunt Maureen was here? Her presence could mean only one thing: something had happened with the baby. A hundred different possibilities raced through Jana’s mind. She felt the color drain from her face.
Brandon saw her expression and leaped to his feet. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Aunt Maureen—something terrible must have happened—”
“What would your aunt be doing here in Los Angeles?” Brandon asked.
“Excuse me,” Charles said, raising his voice slightly. “Not your aunt, Mrs. Sayer. Mr. Sayer’s aunt.”
“My aunt?”
Stunned, Jana looked up at Brandon. He looked as surprised as she felt. She didn’t even know he had an aunt. He seemed completely at a loss, as well.
“Who is she?” Jana asked him.
But Brandon had already pushed past her, headed out of the room. Jana followed, her mind flashing to the bundles of correspondence she’d gone through since returning home. Had there been a letter from an aunt advising them of her visit? Had Jana overlooked it?
At the edge of the foyer Jana paused, a little surprised to see Brandon greeting his gray-haired aunt. He looked even taller, more robust standing next to her as they spoke. Around them, two servants carried in trunks, satchels and hat boxes, piling them in the foyer at Charles’s direction. A young woman, who appeared to be the aunt’s maid, flitted between them.
After a moment, Brandon looked back, saw Jana and waved her over.
“Aunt Rosa, my wife Jana,” he said. “Jana, my aunt, Rosa Delaney.”
Aunt Rosa, small and a little frail-looking, was impeccably dressed in a gray gown. She seemed a bit befuddled amid the confusion.
“I’m so pleased to meet you,” Jana said, putting on her best hostess smile.
“At long last,” Rosa said. “Long overdue, Hannah.”
“Jana,” she said, gently correcting the older woman.
“Charlotte!” Aunt Rosa turned her head left and right. “Charlotte! Where is that girl?”
“Who are you looking for?” Jana asked.
“Why, Charlotte, of course. Where is she? Charlotte!”
A tall, slender young woman walked through the door. She was nicely dressed, her clothing that of the working class.
“Where have you been?” Aunt Rosa demanded.
“Seeing to the luggage, Miss Delaney,” she replied and gestured out the front door.
“What? Oh yes, of course. Charlotte is my secretary,” Aunt Rosa explained. “Come in here, Charlotte. Meet my nephew Brandon and his wife Hannah.”
“Good morning,” Charlotte said. She nodded, offering nothing resembling a smile.
“This is quite a surprise,” Jana said.
“Nonsense!” Aunt Rosa insisted, then paused. “Charlotte, didn’t you send my letter to Brandon?”
“No, Miss Delaney.” Charlotte failed miserably at hiding an exasperated sigh, then went on. “As I said both last evening and this morning, you made no plans to visit anyone in Los Angeles.”
“Well, of course I did,” Aunt Rosa said, dismissing Charlotte’s words with a wave of her hand and turning once again to Brandon and Jana. “I’m touring the West. On my way to San Diego. Meeting friends there, you know.”
“At any rate, I’m glad you decided to stop here and see us,” Jana said. “How long will we have the pleasure of your company?”
“A few days,” Aunt Rosa said. She drew in a breath and looked around, as if taking in her new surroundings. “So good to be off of that train. Private car, and all.”
“Please come in,” Jana said, gesturing down the hallway, “and have some refreshment.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Aunt Rosa said. “Charlotte? Charlotte!”
“I’m right here, Miss Delaney,” she replied.
Aunt Rosa twisted her head, finally spotting her secretary amid the clutter of trunks. “Where are we going after this?”
“San Diego, ma’am.”
Aunt Rosa eyed her sharply. “San Diego?”
“Yes, ma’am. You’re visiting friends there.”
The older woman pursed her lips and scrunched her brow for a few seconds, then shook off her thoughts. “I could do with some refreshment,” she announced.
Jana exchanged a look with Brandon. He stepped forward and offered his arm to his aunt.
“This way, Aunt Rosa,” he said.
She took hold with both hands and gazed up at him. “Good gracious, dear, but I believe you’ve grown since I last saw you.”
Brandon grinned down at the little woman clinging to his arm. “Probably so, Aunt Rosa,” he said as he led her away.
“Charlotte!” she called, not looking back. “See to our things, Charlotte. Hannah will help you.”
Charlotte didn’t respond, just watched down the hallway as the two of them disappeared into the sitting room.
She turned to Jana. “Please accept my apology for this intrusion, Mrs. Sayer. Our train arrived in the city last evening, as scheduled, and Miss Delaney suddenly insisted that she would visit her nephew. I explained to her that no arrangements had been made and it was unthinkable to simply drop by. She gets confused. As with your name. I’ve told her it isn’t Hannah, but—”
“It’s all right,” Jana said and truly meant it. She could see Charlotte had her hands full with Brandon’s aunt.
“I doubt we’ll be here longer than a few days,” Charlotte said. “She’s meeting friends in San Diego. They’re expecting her.”
“Fine,” Jana said. “Let’s get all of you settled.”
She spoke with Charles and instructed him to have the maids freshen rooms for Aunt Rosa’s servants, and to prepare a chamber for Aunt Rosa herself. Since redecorating on the second floor was still underway, only one bedchamber was fit for company. She went to the kitchen then and advised Mrs. Boone that unexpected guests had arrived. Thankfully, the cook nodded briskly and put her assistants to work right away.
In the sitting room, Jana found Aunt Rosa seated on the settee and Brandon standing at the fireplace, his elbow resting on the marble mantel shelf. She paused in the doorway for a moment, studying the two of them. Despite Aunt Rosa’s aged features, the hint of a family resemblance was evident. It caused a little chill to slide up Jana’s spine.
She’d never met any of Brandon’s family. None of them had traveled from New York to San Francisco for their wedding. Jana had thought it odd, but Brandon had explained that his grandfather’s health wasn’t good and he couldn’t make the trip. The dozens of friends and business associates who’d attended more than made up for Brandon’s lack of family.
Now, seeing Brandon looking decidedly uncomfortable with his aunt’s presence, Jana wondered if perhaps something else was going on.
Her heart sank a little
. The man was her husband and all she knew of his family was what had been reported to Aunt Maureen by a private detective.
What a terrible wife she’d been to him.
Brandon straightened away from the fireplace when Jana walked into the room, and she wasn’t sure if he was relieved—or troubled—by her presence.
“So, Aunt Rosa, you’re Brandon’s aunt?” Jana asked, settling herself into the wingback chair across from her. She wondered if Rosa was actually a cousin or some other distant relative who’d taken the title of “aunt” simply because of her age.
“Brandon’s grandfather, Winston, is my brother,” Aunt Rosa said. “So, actually, that makes me Brandon’s great-aunt.”
“You’re the first relative of Brandon’s that I’ve met,” Jana said. “On either side of his family.”
Aunt Rosa pursed her lips. “You certainly wouldn’t have met anyone on the Sayer side of the family.”
“How was your journey?” Brandon asked.
Jana glanced at him. Had he noted the distaste in Aunt Rosa’s voice at the mention of his father’s name? Or was it Jana’s imagination?
“Delightful,” she declared. “I’m touring the West. I especially want to see California.”
“This is California,” Jana said gently.
“Good, then. I want to see it.” Aunt Rosa turned to Brandon. “Your grandfather sends his best.”
“Too bad he couldn’t make the trip with you,” Jana said. “I’d really enjoy meeting him.”
“Winston is much too busy, much too busy,” Aunt Rosa said.
“At least he’s well enough to travel,” Jana said.
“Well enough?” Aunt Rosa’s brows rose. “That man has never had an ill day in his life.”
Jana glanced at Brandon. “But I thought—”
“How’s the rest of the family?” Brandon asked.
“Quite well, of course…I suppose…actually, I haven’t really seen them in a while.” Aunt Rosa frowned, as if trying to remember. Then she shook off the effort. “I’m sure they’re all just fine.”
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