The One Month Marriage. Judith Stacy

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СКАЧАТЬ Maureen’s concern had been for naught. Brandon Sayer, the grandson of one of the East’s wealthiest, most highly regarded industrialists, had come West to expand the family fortune in California. His parents long dead, no siblings, Brandon had forged a name in his own right and built an enviable empire for himself in Los Angeles. When he had asked for Jana’s hand in marriage after a whirlwind courtship, Maureen had readily agreed.

      Even now, Jana could hardly remember the details, it had all happened so quickly. Brandon had returned to Los Angeles to run his business, but had visited San Francisco as often as possible. Their long-distance courtship had continued as wedding preparations were underway. Aunt Maureen had staged the grand wedding she always dreamed of for Jana. Jana had felt as if she were a princess as she’d walked down the aisle and become Brandon’s wife.

      From fairy-tale bride to crying alone in her bed at night.

      The hansom cab swung into the driveway and pulled to a stop, yet Jana made no move to exit. She leaned closer to the window and eyed the magnificent house that had once been her home.

      Three stories tall, built entirely of redwood with brownstone trim, the mansion featured a steep roof, a grand entryway and a tower room on the front corner, all snuggled comfortably amid two lavish acres of palms, shrubs, manicured lawns and refreshing fountains. Swedish wood sculptors had hand-carved the home’s woodwork, both inside and out. Italian marble and French stained glass graced the floors and windows, along with bronze hardware in all the fixtures. Brandon had spared no expense.

      A lump of emotion rose in Jana’s throat. How could a life that had begun with such promise have turned into…this?

      For an instant, she considered shouting to the driver to take her back to the Morgan Hotel. Perhaps Aunt Maureen would come back with her when she faced Brandon? Maybe she could simply send him a letter advising him of her intentions? Or leave the whole ugly mess in the hands of her aunt’s attorneys to sort through and resolve?

      Jana reined in her runaway thoughts. No, she’d do none of those things. She’d face Brandon. After all, she was hardly the same woman she’d been when she married him. Many things had changed these past fourteen months—none more than Jana herself.

      With a quick, determined breath, she allowed the driver to assist her from the cab.

      “Please wait,” she said, passing him the fare and a generous tip. “I won’t be long.”

      After all, how long could it take to advise one’s husband of an impending divorce?

      “Thank you, ma’am,” the driver said, tipping his hat and stepping out of her way.

      Jana squared her shoulders and climbed the steps to the double front doors. She stopped, unsure of what to do. Knock, or simply walk inside? Neither seemed quite right.

      But she was saved from the dilemma when the door opened in front of her.

      Brandon?

      Jana’s heart slammed against her chest and rose into her throat. Did she look all right? She’d chosen to wear for the occasion a dark blue skirt, drawn across her front and gathered high in a bustle, a matching jacket with leg-o-mutton sleeves, an ivory blouse closed at the throat with a large bow. Her wide-brimmed hat dipped fashionably over one eye.

      Had the ride over crushed her skirt? Was her hat on straight? Would Brandon like the dress she’d selected, notice the darker color or the—?

      “Ah, Mrs. Sayer.” Charles, the white-haired butler stood in the open doorway, giving Jana the closest thing to a smile she’d ever seen on the man’s face.

      “Hello, Charles,” she replied, chastising herself for her runaway thoughts a moment ago.

      “Welcome home,” he said, stepping back and gesturing her into the house.

      For a moment she hesitated. Home? This wasn’t her home. It had never been her home. Her home was in San Francisco with her aunt, not here—

      Jana pushed the thought aside, gathered her skirt and stepped into the vestibule.

      The red marble foyer, the sweeping staircase, the woodwork, the stained glass, the sights, the smells…the memories. The assault on her senses stopped Jana still in her tracks.

      Over the past fourteen months, she’d occasionally wondered if the three months of her marriage had really happened. Had it instead been just a dream—a bad dream?

      No. It had been real. Every moment of it. The memories twisted Jana’s stomach, as painful and strong as the actual experiences had been all those months ago.

      She steeled herself, pushing away the hurtful thoughts. She had to be strong. She would be strong. After all, she wasn’t in this alone.

      A warm shudder swept over her, prickling her skin and standing the hair at her nape on end.

      Brandon.

      She turned and saw him striding toward her. Her knees weakened and her heart thumped wildly beneath her breast.

      Good gracious, he was handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, brown hair highlighted with the gold of the California sun, piercing blue eyes.

      He’d grown even more good-looking these past fourteen months. How could that be possible?

      And how could she still sense his presence after all this time?

      For an instant, the need to run to him overwhelmed Jana. She wanted to snuggle against his hard chest, feel his arms pull her close.

      But Brandon stopped at the edge of the foyer, as if some unseen line had been drawn between them and he wouldn’t step over it. His face was set in hard, cautious lines, a look Jana had seen far too many times already.

      Her surge of emotion—or whatever it was—ebbed. Jana reminded herself why she was here…and why she’d left in the first place.

      A long, tense moment dragged by with them eyeing each other from opposite ends of the foyer. What do a husband and wife say after so much time apart? Jana decided to leave that up to Brandon. It was he, after all, who’d asked her to come home.

      “You’re looking well,” Brandon said.

      His voice sent a tremor down her spine, bringing with it the memory of the first time she’d heard his voice. Standing in a friend’s parlor she’d been swathed in pale pink. Brandon, tall and sturdy among the delicate furnishings, had looked so handsome she hadn’t thought she could manage to speak a single word, and then—

      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.

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