The Mistaken Widow. Cheryl St.John

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      She could find her baby and leave on her own before morning. Sarah glanced at the bulky outline of her leg beneath the covers. And what? Become a cripple? She really doubted she could put any weight on it, anyway. And what would she do if she ran off? Where would she go? She would be unable to work for weeks—months maybe, let alone care for herself or her baby.

      She thought of her father and her comfortable childhood home, and squeezed her eyes shut. It hurt unbearably to know she hadn’t meant enough to him for him to forgive her. He hated her now. She had to wonder if he’d ever really loved her, or if she’d merely been a convenience as long as she kept the house running and entertained his clients. Going back was out of the question.

      When this Halliday fellow showed up, she would explain to him what had happened. He would be easier to reason with than the doctors and nurses had been.

      Sarah spent a fitful night, waking often, dreaming of twisting metal, cold dark alleyways and crying, hungry babies. Finally, morning arrived, and with it, nurses to assist her. One washed her hair and helped her bathe while the other laid out unfamiliar black clothing.

      “I tried to find something—appropriate—for your trip, Mrs. Halliday,” the nurse said hesitantly. “Your trunks were sent ahead, and Mr. Halliday asked us to shop for you.” Not her trunks, Sarah thought. She’d only had one. Apparently Claire’s trunks had been sent ahead. Obviously, the Halliday name carried much weight, and they were treating Sarah as though she were one of them.

      She looked at the black wool skirt, handkerchief linen blouse and short velvet jacket with eyelet embroidery, all purchased with Mr. Halliday’s money.

      The nurse gave her a hesitant look. “Don’t you like the suit? Buying it ready-made, I didn’t have much to choose from.”

      “It’s lovely—it’s not that, it’s just that…”

      “What, dear?”

      She could hardly leave in the cotton hospital robe she had been wearing. She would have to accept this traveling suit and somehow repay Mr. Halliday. “Nothing. Thank you.”

      The nurses helped her dress, then situated her awkwardly in a wooden chair with wheels and brought the baby to her. He’d been outfitted as well, and was accompanied by an enormous valise. Sarah stared at the flannels and changes of clothing with a growing sense of unease. “Where did all this come from?”

      “Mr. Halliday had them sent for the baby, ma’am.” The nurse opened a round box and presented Sarah with a smart hat made of the same velvet as the skirt and jacket. One side of the brim curled upward, trimmed with black silk ribbon and ostrich feathers. “Do you like it?”

      Sarah stared at the hat, apprehension roiling in her stomach. Where was the man? He’d gone to all this expense without even laying eyes on her, without giving her a chance to explain!

      “You don’t like it.” The nurse’s voice held disappointment.

      “I’ve never worn anything so—mature.” She was, in their opinion, a married woman with a child, she remembered, and she wished she hadn’t said anything.

      “You are in mourning,” the nurse reminded her.

      “Of course.” She accepted the hat and turned to the mirror the nurse held. She would throw herself on the man’s mercy when he arrived.

      Sarah sensed the atmosphere in the room change. Slowly, she turned and found a tall, elegantly dressed man just inside the doorway. Eyes as dark as black coffee, full of questions and uncertainty, swept the length of her skirt and jacket, touched on her fair hair beneath the hat she held in place with one hand, and then met her gaze. She recognized his pain at once. Grief had etched lines beside his firm mouth and shadows beneath his unsmiling eyes.

      “I’m Stephen’s brother, Nicholas.” His voice was low and resonant, a rumbling sound a woman heard in her soul as well as with her ears. He was darkly handsome, like Stephen, with the same chin and hairline, but there the resemblance ended. Where Stephen’s face had been open and candid, with just a touch of laughter behind his eyes, this man’s was closed and unfriendly, without a sign of humor.

      But then, he’d been handling painful details. He’d undoubtedly had to identify his brother’s body. Had he buried him? Sent his body home? Stephen had been a charming and generous man, cut down in the prime of his life. Grief wedged its way into Sarah’s chest.

      And Claire. The lovely young woman had not deserved her fate. She’d had her entire life ahead of her, a life with her husband and baby. Sarah blinked back stinging tears.

      And what of Claire’s body? If they thought Sarah was Claire, what had happened to the real Claire? Dread pooled in her queasy stomach. Guilt swept over her in a torrent: She’d been spared and his family had died! She couldn’t manage to voice a coherent thought. The words she needed to say lodged in her throat.

      His intent gaze slid to her baby on the bed, and he moved to stand over him. A protective instinct rose in her chest, and then abated when he turned back.

      “Mother wants me to tell you she’s eagerly anticipating the arrival of you and your son, and to assure you that you will have a home with us for as long as you want to stay.”

      Sarah tried to coax words from her throat.

      “I’ve taken care of the debt and purchased this chair for you.”

      “The debt?”

      “The hospital and doctor’s fees. Are you prepared?”

      He’d paid her bill already? Of course. The man was efficient, as well as decisive. She should have looked into it herself. “H-how much?”

      “You needn’t worry over that. It’s taken care of.”

      A panicky little sob rose in her throat, and she clenched her teeth against the desire to rail at her heartless father. If only she could have wired him, could have had someone to come to her aid. Alone. She’d never been so alone.

      “I asked, are you prepared? I have a driver waiting. It will take a couple of days to get there, and I’ve business waiting for me.”

      There was no talking to this man. Sarah realized that with a cold, hard certainty. He would never understand. What would happen to her son if Nicholas Halliday demanded she repay him then and there or be thrown in jail?

      “Yes. I’m ready.” She turned back to the mirror and stabbed the long pin through fabric and hair until the hat was secured. She would have to take her chances with him until she could talk to his mother. Surely a woman would be more understanding and responsive. She would understand and let Sarah settle up with them when she was able.

      The nurse moved Sarah’s chair closer to the man.

      “I claimed your things,” he said. “They’ve been sent ahead.” He paused, and with no small amount of dismay Sarah discovered she’d been watching his mobile lips as he spoke.

      She raised her attention to his dark eyes.

      “I didn’t want to go through your personal belongings without your permission,” he said, by way of explanation. “I asked the nurses СКАЧАТЬ