The Hired Husband

by Judith Stacy

  Hayden received their bowlers in the foyer, then disappeared. Mitch expected Noah to go upstairs and fall into bed, but he stopped on the lowest step.

  Noah fidgeted for a minute. “Huh, thanks for…well, thanks.”

  “I eat at that little restaurant several times a week. You can come with me next time, if you’d like.”

  Noah glanced away. “I’ve been kind of…sort of—”

  “Afraid to go out?”

  Pride and a little embarrassment caused Noah’s shoulders to stiffen. “I’m missing an arm, in case you didn’t notice. Why wouldn’t I be afraid—hey!”

  Mitch tagged him with quick light punches on his chest, shoulders, chin and jaw, until Noah leaned backward so far that he plopped down on the staircase.

  “Stop it!” He batted Mitch’s hand away and glared up at him. “I’ve only got one arm!”

  Mitch held up his fist. “That’s all I used,” he pointed out.

  Noah glared at him, breathing hard until he realized what Mitch was saying. “You’ve got that punching bag in the attic. I hear you upstairs sometimes, at night.”

  “I could show you how to box,” Mitch offered.

  “With only one arm?”

  “Wouldn’t that be a hell of a surprise for anyone who tried to take advantage?” Mitch asked.

  Noah didn’t answer, but Mitch was sure he could see his mind working.

  “You could go where you wanted, by yourself. You wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore,” Mitch pointed out. When he still didn’t get a response, he added, “You could walk with Madeline and know you could take care of her.”

  Noah’s gaze came up quickly and Mitch knew he’d hit a nerve. What man—even as young as Noah—wouldn’t want that?

  “You could teach me?” he asked softly.

  “I could teach you to be good at it,” Mitch said. “We could start tomorrow.”

  “How about tonight?”

  Mitch smiled. “Sure. Just let me find Rachel and tell her we’re home. She’s worried about you.”

  Noah rolled his eyes, then headed up the staircase.

  Mitch went to find Rachel, knowing she’d be anxious to hear how Noah’s excursion out of the house had gone. He wanted to hear about her luncheon, too. Throughout the afternoon he’d found his thoughts venturing back here to the house, to Rachel and the luncheon she’d put so much time and effort into. Mitch couldn’t imagine how it might be anything less than a complete success.

  For anyone but Rachel, that is. She wanted nothing less than perfection.

  He expected to find her in her favorite sitting room but as he passed the study, her distinctive fragrance floated out. Mitch found her seated behind the desk.

  How commanding she looked in the chair, though it and the desk were a little big for her. It stirred a new feeling in Mitch that he hadn’t experienced before.

  Something about Rachel always stirred him, in one way or the other.

  She didn’t get up when he entered the study. Instead she sat back and folded her hands, and watched his every step as he crossed the room to stand in front of the desk.

  “You fired my detective agency.”

  Her voice was low and even, calm and collected. Yet it put Mitch on edge.

  “The exorbitant fee you were paying them offered no incentive for them to work quickly, so I hired a firm recommended by someone at your uncle’s club,” Mitch explained. “I didn’t think the Edgars Agency was producing the results they should.”

  “Well, your suspicions were true,” Rachel said. “Georgie came home.”

  A cold chill passed through Mitch. “Your brother is here?”

  “He came by earlier, after the luncheon,” Rachel said. “He explained himself.”

  “He had a reason for leaving his family nearly penniless?” Mitch asked, an unreasonable anger building in his chest.

  “He took what he thought was due him. And we weren’t penniless. You said so yourself,” Rachel reminded him. “It was just a matter of moving assets around.”

  “And you’re satisfied with that?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  His anger shifted, taking on the feel of dread and foreboding, an old feeling he could never shake.

  “Georgie told me that he would take over the family business again and run it until he found a competent successor,” Rachel said.

  “And then?”

  “And then I could get a divorce.” She looked up at him. “He said the decision was mine.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Like hell the decision is yours,” Mitch told her, his anger rising. “You and I made a deal. We have an agreement.”

  “Yes, I know,” she said, resentment creeping into her voice. “We even have it in writing.”

  “Not to mention vows sworn before God,” Mitch told her.

  “For which we’ll both probably go to Hell,” Rachel said. “That’s not the issue right now.”

  “This is what you’ve wanted all along, isn’t it?” Mitch heard the accusation in his voice, but couldn’t stop himself. “A chance to go back. To make things the way they were, to some degree, anyway. You can have your brother here running things, just like he used to.”

  Rachel didn’t reply so he figured he’d gotten his answer. His anger grew.

  “I’m on the verge of having everything I want,” Mitch said. “My fee from the Taft job will give me enough money to buy my own business. All I need are your social connections.”

  She still didn’t say anything and that made him angrier.

  “You gave your word! You went along with the marriage! You can’t throw me back just because something better came along!”

  “I didn’t say I—”

  “You can’t pretend I never existed!”

  Rachel got to her feet. He saw her expression shift and knew that he’d said too much. Her thoughts had moved away from her brother…to him, to the meaning behind his words. And Mitch couldn’t bear that.

  He dug deep, finding more anger, glad that it came so easily to him now.

  “You are in my life for one reason, and one reason only,” he told her. “I am not going to lose this opportunity. You are going to keep your word and abide by our agreement. And I don’t give a damn about anything else!”

  He stalked out of the study.

  Mitch was still hurt by his past. He never spoke of it, had done more than most to overcome it. He’d built himself into something bigger than his beginnings.

  But it still haunted him.

  His anger, the ferocity of his words in the study a few hours ago left no doubt. Rachel had seen it easily. She’d seen, too, that Mitch hadn’t wanted her to know.

  Standing on the balcony outside her bedchamber gazing at the twilight, Rachel’s heart ached anew, even worse than it had the night in the attic when Mitch had told her about his past. He’d not mentioned it since and she thought she’d done the right thing by not bringing it up. She wasn’t sure what to do.

  Nor did she have any idea how someone could take a child, abandon him in an orphanage and walk away. Never come back. Never check on him.

  What sort of family had he come from? What kind of people would do such a thing to a helpless little boy?

  Maybe if she knew the answers, Rachel thought, if she knew the truth it would help her understand her husband better. If, of course, she decided to stay in the marriage for the coming year.

  Rachel drew in a breath of the cool evening air, then went back into her bedchamber.

  Mitch had made it clear he didn’t intend to give her any choice in the matter of continuing with their marriage. He’d worked most of his life to get to this point. He wouldn’t abandon his goal. She understood that.

  Rachel’s heart warmed a little. She admired Mitch for his commitment, his strong will. It was one of the things she liked most about him.

  The irony of the situation didn’t escape her, though. So often the men in her life had abandoned her.

  Now she couldn�
�t get rid of this one.

  And since she couldn’t, she intended to set him straight on one matter in particular.

  Rachel waited until she saw the light seep beneath the connecting door to Mitch’s bedchamber. He was in his room now, finished in the attic. She’d heard the thudding of his fists against the punching bag; she thought she’d heard muffled voices, too, but couldn’t imagine who would be up there with him. She went out into the hallway and knocked on his door.

  Almost immediately Mitch jerked the door open. He towered over her, tall, wide, muscular, still dressed in his worn trousers and white undershirt. Sweat trickled from his forehead and dampened his shirt.

  When she saw him like this, Rachel instinctively stood straighter and pushed up her chin a little. She did that now, looking him straight in the eye.

  “Don’t ever raise your voice at me again,” she told him.

  He didn’t respond but she didn’t expect him to. It wasn’t a request. Mitch seemed to know that, too.

  Rachel went back to her room and let her mind settle on her conversation with her older brother. As she readied for bed, the notion of Georgie returning to the house knotted in her stomach. He would resume his duties in the family business, handle the problems and find a competent successor to take over when things settled down. Life would be—somewhat—back to normal, back to the way it used to be. She could have that. The decision was hers.

  That’s what she’d wanted for weeks now.

  Wasn’t it?

  “Rachel? Rachel, are you listening?”

  Claudia’s words intruded on her thoughts, embarrassing her a little because she really hadn’t been listening.

  “I’m sorry,” Rachel said to her friend seated at the other end of the settee. “I guess I have too many things on my mind today.”

  “But earlier you said all was going well,” Claudia said.

  When her friend had arrived an hour ago and they’d settled into the sitting room with the tea Hayden brought, Claudia had asked about Rachel’s family, as she always did. It had been an odd feeling to report that her father was holding his own under the care of the staff at the convalescent hospital; Chelsey had returned to school after the luncheon and had written to say she’d passed all her tests; and even Noah was looking stronger and taking more of an interest in things.

  Their conversation had moved on to the preparations for Claudia’s engagement party and wedding. Rachel usually loved this sort of talk, but today she couldn’t seem to keep her mind on it.

  How could she with so many other things floating around in her head?

  “So, everything is set for the engagement party?” Rachel asked, focusing on her friend.

  “Mostly.” Claudia cleared her throat. “Graham told me he thought we should have better musicians…the ones his mother used at her last party.”

  “His mother?” Rachel cringed mentally. She’d met Graham Bixby’s mother. She hadn’t enjoyed the woman’s company, to say the least.

  “And he’s right, of course,” Claudia said, forcing a little smile. “His mother has excellent taste and she knows how things should be done.”

  “But it’s your decision,” Rachel pointed out. “And I’m sure the musicians you selected were excellent.”

  Claudia shook her head quickly. “It doesn’t matter which musicians we have. Not really. And it was wrong of me to question Graham. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “But Claudia—”

  “No, no, really. Everything is fine…now.” She smiled. “You must be relieved that everyone in town has been so accepting of your marriage.”

  The notion stunned Rachel. “Actually, I haven’t given it much thought.”

  Claudia giggled. “Rachel, you can tell me the truth.”

  She’d just done so and apparently it surprised Claudia as much as it did Rachel. The idea that her marriage to Mitch would be speculated over and gossiped about had rarely crossed her mind lately.

  “Everyone understands that you’ve been under duress for a long time now, so a quiet wedding isn’t unexpected,” Claudia said. She leaned a little closer. “And Mitch is so well thought of. All the businessmen who’ve met him are singing his praises. And as if that weren’t enough, I overheard some whispered chatter at your luncheon. It seems some of the ladies were disappointed they didn’t get to meet him that day. They’d heard how handsome—”

  A commotion in the hallway took their attention. Rachel and Claudia turned to find Graham striding into the room. Both of them came to their feet.

  After a brief nod acknowledging Rachel, he turned on Claudia.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  Claudia’s face paled. “I—I’m just—”

  “I told you we were going out for supper tonight with an important business associate.”

  She glanced at the mantel clock. “Well, yes. But that’s hours from now so I thought—”

  “The supper was moved up. I went to your house to tell you and you weren’t there. I had to come all the way over here looking for you.”

  Claudia threaded her fingers together. “I’m sorry, Graham, I didn’t think—”

  “You didn’t think.” He shook his head in disgust. “How many times have I heard that from you?”

  “I didn’t—I mean, I—”

  “I can’t waste any more time here,” Graham told her. “From now on, I want you to tell me where you intend to go so that I don’t—”

  Mitch strode into the room, cutting off Graham’s tirade. Rachel almost cheered at the sight of him.

  He pinned Graham with his gaze. “What’s the problem in here?”

  Graham smiled easily and shrugged. “No problem. I just came for my wayward fiancée. No brains. Good thing she’s pretty, huh?”

  “Claudia’s plenty smart,” Mitch told him. “Which makes me wonder why she’s marrying you.”

  A stunned silence jolted the room. Claudia recovered first and mumbled a goodbye to Rachel before Graham clasped her elbow and hurried her out of the room.

  Mitch stared after them, then mumbled. “Bastard…I’d like to beat the—” He stopped and turned to Rachel, as if remembering she was in the room with him.

  “Beat the feathers out of him?” She smiled gently. “You’ve looked as if you’d like to beat the feathers out of someone for a few days now.”

  Mitch grunted and jerked his chin. The gesture reminded Rachel that the two of them had avoided each other for most of the past several days.

  “Or is there something else you want to do with all that pent-up energy of yours?” she asked.

  On the few occasions when she’d seen Mitch, he’d seethed with a force of some sort. She didn’t know what it was.

  But he turned to her now and his smoldering expression seemed to see straight through her, warm her, as if he were holding her in his arms, kissing her, touching—

  “What the hell does your friend see in him?” Mitch asked.

  His question brought her back to reality. “He’s from one of the best families in the city, he’s a highly successful businessman, he’s a—”

  “—jackass,” Mitch said.

  Rachel couldn’t disagree. “I’ve gotten to know Graham better since their engagement. I’m not particularly fond of him, I admit. But their wedding isn’t for a year.”

  “A year, huh? A lot can change in a year.”

  Rachel nodded. “I’ve been thinking about the future.”

  “About your brother’s offer?” he asked quickly.

  This was the first time either of them had mentioned Georgie’s offer to return to the family if, in fact, Rachel wanted him to. She supposed Mitch hadn’t brought it up since that night because in his mind the issue was already settled: Rachel would keep her word; he was staying; Georgie was leaving and that was that.

  But it wasn’t an easy decision to make, though logically, it should be. For some reason, Rachel couldn’t see the situation clearly just now.

  “The future I w
as thinking of concerned Mr. Prescott’s ceramic factory,” Rachel said. “I wonder if it’s still for sale?”

  “I hadn’t seen you painting in a while,” Mitch said. “I thought you’d given up on the idea.”

  “For a while, I did,” Rachel admitted. “But no matter what happens with Georgie, in a year he’ll be gone and so will you. You’ve made it clear what you want from me. You’ve made your own plans. Why shouldn’t I?”

  “So in a year’s time, when the family can afford it, you’re going to buy the ceramic factory and design and sell your china?”

  “Yes. And I’m going to run it myself,” Rachel said, warming to the idea that had come to her days ago. “I learned that from you. I’ll manage the entire operation. That way, I won’t look up one day and realize I’m nearly penniless.”

  “And how are you going to manage that?” he asked, tilting his head a little.

  Rachel had seen this expression on his face, this angle of his head many times. It meant that he was listening intently, thinking about what was being said, processing the information. Despite her differences with him, Mitch was still very business savvy, so it pleased her to no end that he was taking her seriously.

  “I’m going to hire that nice Mr. Cabell who was in charge of the ceramic factory I visited in New York,” Rachel explained. “He ran a highly successful operation.”

  “New York, huh?” Mitch stroked his chin. “California is a long way from New York. Do you think he’ll move here?”

  “Everyone has a price. You and I are certainly proof of that,” Rachel said. “So for the right price, why wouldn’t Mr. Cabell come here?”

  Mitch considered what she’d said for a moment, then nodded. “Sounds reasonable. But running your own business? Aren’t you concerned about what people will say?”

  “There are worse reasons to be gossiped about,” she pointed out.

  “Running a business alone makes for a hard life. A solitary life,” Mitch said. “Won’t you get lonely?”