Judith Stacy

by The One Month Marriage

  But she couldn’t remember a conversation with her own husband?

  Oliver Fisk flashed into her mind, and it vexed Jana to recall that the quite proper newspaper editor had known the location of Brandon’s office, but she didn’t.

  Had she simply forced it all from her mind these last fourteen months?

  Another sort of longing suddenly filled Jana’s heart. Brandon had hardly been the biggest thing on her mind once she’d arrived in London.

  A brief knock sounded on her door before it swung open and Abbie came inside.

  “Morning, Mrs. Sayer,” she said in greeting.

  “Good morning, Abbie,” Jana said, rising from the bed.

  “How was your night?” Abbie glanced at the barely disturbed coverlet. “Uneventful, as usual, I see.”

  Jana smiled, finding Abbie’s frankness refreshing. “And they will remain uneventful.”

  “It’s not hardly my place to say, but if certain things go unattended for too long, well, they might go wandering off.”

  “Yes, I know….” Jana slipped her arms into the sleeves of her robe, troubled by the thought that Brandon would take his affections elsewhere, as any man would do, if she spurned him long enough. Even though she didn’t intend to stay. Even though he’d certainly sought comfort from someone while she was gone.

  “I suppose Brandon had…company…here while I was away,” Jana said.

  “Oh, no, ma’am.”

  She swung around to face Abbie as the maid opened the closet doors. “But surely—I mean he must have—”

  “Mr. Sayer never brought a woman into this house,” Abbie told her with such conviction that Jana believed her.

  “I suppose he went elsewhere,” Jana said.

  “I suppose he would, being a man, and all,” Abbie said. She shook her head. “But I’ve got my doubts. The way he pined after you…”

  “What do you mean?”

  Abbie hesitated a moment, then said, “After you left, I came in to clean, keep things looking nice, you know, just in case. And several times I found Mr. Sayer here, in your room…all alone.”

  Jana frowned. “Doing what?”

  Abbie shrugged. “Just lying on the bed, sometimes. Or touching your things left on the bureau. I saw him standing at the window once, looking out, holding your pillow.”

  Jana reeled back, the vision filling her head, making it spin. Sorrow and guilt clutched her heart. She’d had no idea….

  “Good morning.”

  Jana whirled toward the sound of Brandon’s voice. He stood in the hallway, his head tilted to see around the partially opened door.

  “Good—good morning,” she said.

  He stepped through the doorway as if he weren’t sure he should, and his gaze bounced around the room.

  Was he remembering their nights spent together here? Jana wondered. Or the hours he’d wandered alone through her room in the wake of her departure.

  “I thought you’d want to see this,” Brandon said and held out a newspaper.

  Jana glanced at the mantel clock and saw that it was past time for Brandon to have left for the office. Her dreams had caused her to oversleep.

  “The advertisement,” Brandon said, holding the newspaper out farther. “I thought you might want to see it.”

  Jana crossed the room and took the paper. Her fingers brushed his, making her keenly aware that she wore only her nightgown and robe—a fact not lost on Brandon, given the way his gaze traveled over her.

  When she didn’t answer, he stepped back. “I’m going to bed—” Brandon stopped, looked pained and said, “Downstairs. I’m going downstairs now.”

  She couldn’t help but grin. He gave her one last lingering look, then strode away.

  Jana leaned out the door, watching as he disappeared down the stairs, a part of her wishing that he’d stop, come back.

  Then she admonished herself for having the thought and reminded herself to be on guard against him. So far, Brandon had respected her wishes about not sharing a bed. He’d held back.

  She had to do the same…somehow.

  “Dammit…”

  Brandon cursed as he cradled the elbow he’d just banged into the wall behind him. The storage room Jana had converted into his study barely held the makeshift desk, the spindly chair and a side table laden with a teetering stack of papers and ledgers. He’d hit his knee and banged his elbow twice as he tried to get some work done in the small, airless room.

  He should have gone downtown to his office where he could be comfortable and actually get something accomplished. But after seeing Jana in her nightgown and robe this morning, he couldn’t bring himself to leave the house. So here he was, crammed into this tiny room, waiting what he judged to be sufficient time for his wife to dress and come downstairs so he could see her again.

  “Fine thing…” Brandon grumbled as he shifted in the tight space. Business—important business—awaited him, yet when Jana hadn’t appeared at the breakfast table he had decided to delay leaving for the office. Then he’d come up with a silly notion of bringing her the newspaper just as an excuse to go to her room and see her—his own wife.

  Of course, that hadn’t turned out badly at all.

  A warmth curled through Brandon at the memory of seeing Jana in her nightclothes. Nothing on underneath. The light streaming in the window behind her had provided him with an enticing glimpse of the curve of her hip through the thin fabric.

  The craving that had plagued him for so long worsened. He remembered those hips. The way they curved gently, fitting the palm of his hand. Her long silken legs, sliding up and down his thighs. And her breasts. Without a doubt Jana had the most beautiful breasts he’d ever seen—or imagined. If he’d caught sight of them in her room just now, he’d have—

  “Hellfire.”

  Brandon shoved back his chair and surged to his feet, cracking his elbow against the wall once more. His head banged against the low-hanging light fixture.

  “Dammit…” He stomped from the room, rubbing the spot on his head. “Jana! Jana!”

  Charles scurried down the hallway toward him looking as concerned as the butler ever looked.

  “Where’s Jana?” Brandon demanded. “Is she still upstairs?”

  “The kitchen, sir. I saw her go in the kitchen a moment ago,” Charles said, and quickly stepped aside.

  The kitchen? She’d dressed and come downstairs already? For some reason, that didn’t suit Brandon either. He straight-armed the kitchen door and planted himself beside one of the worktables, prepared for the flurry of activity his unusual presence in the room always brought to the kitchen staff.

  But no one noticed him. The attention of everyone—the cook’s assistants, the grocer delivering at the back door and two maids—was riveted to Jana and Mrs. Boone who appeared to be in a standoff of sorts across the room. Neither woman looked happy.

  “If you’ll pardon me for saying so again, Mrs. Sayer,” Mrs. Boone said, “I’ve been Mr. Sayer’s cook for a very long time now.”

  “I’m well aware of that,” Jana told her.

  “I was here, you know, cooking for him the whole time you were gone. To wherever it was you ran off to,” Mrs. Boone said. “And I can tell you that Mr. Sayer won’t like any of those new recipes you want me to prepare.”

  Brandon bristled at the cook’s tone. Mrs. Boone had been a loyal servant for a long time. He’d never heard her speak so disrespectfully to anyone before.

  Then it occurred to him the reason for the confrontation. Jana was attempting to change the menus.

  “You needn’t concern yourself with my travel schedule. You should concern yourself with doing as you’re instructed,” Jana informed the cook. She dropped the small book on the sideboard with a thud. “These are the recipes I want you to use, and here is the menu I’ve written for this week. I expect meals to be prepared accordingly, beginning this evening.”

  With a crisp nod, Jana sailed past the cook and their audience of servants. Her footsteps
faltered when she caught sight of Brandon, yet she didn’t stop.

  He followed her into the hallway.

  “What the hell was that all about?” he asked, striding after her. “You’re changing the menus?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “But I like the meals the way they are,” Brandon insisted.

  Jana stopped abruptly and swung around to face him. “The meals are my responsibility now, aren’t they?”

  “Yes. But you know I’m particular about the food—”

  “The recipes needed updating. And what are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I’m going to the office later,” Brandon said, feeling a little odd that he was required to give an explanation.

  “Fine. While you’re here you can speak with the gardeners,” Jana said and started walking again.

  “Jana?” Brandon hurried after her. “Jana, wait. I want to talk to you.”

  She stopped, and he couldn’t help but notice the most appealing flush to her cheeks. His body warmed anew at the recollection of Jana in her thin nightgown earlier this morning.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I, uh…” Brandon gaped at her, trying to remember.

  “You wanted to talk with me?”

  Brandon rubbed his forehead. “Yes. Yes, I did.” He cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. “How much longer before my study will be finished? That little room by the kitchen is intolerable.”

  “Let’s go have a look,” Jana said, and took off down the hallway again, leaving Brandon to trail after her.

  The sound of hammers and saws greeted them as they drew closer to the study, this wing of the house in even more disarray than before, it seemed to Brandon.

  He stopped at the entrance to the parlor. Inside, a dozen workmen balanced on scaffolds and ladders went about their jobs. But to Brandon, something was amiss.

  “Weren’t these men farther along on this job yesterday?” he asked.

  At his elbow, Jana nodded. “Yes. But I changed my mind. I decided I didn’t want the walls removed. I told the workers to put them up again.”

  “Put them up again?”

  “And I don’t want the floor lowered either,” Jana said. “I decided to raise the ceiling instead.”

  “Raise the ceiling?” Brandon’s eyes widened. “But there’s another story over it. You can’t just—”

  “I’ve changed my mind about your study, too.”

  A thread of hope flickered in Brandon’s chest. “Does that mean you’re not making it pink?”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking,” Jana mused, waving her hand to dismiss the entire idea.

  “Thank God,” Brandon mumbled.

  “I’ve decided now to make it yellow.”

  “Yellow?”

  “Yes. Pale yellow. A shade somewhere between sunflower and goldenrod,” she said, touching her chin thoughtfully. “With a mural depicting bunnies with fluffy tails amid a field of pansies.”

  Brandon’s shoulders sagged. “Let me guess. The workmen had to start—”

  “—over. Yes.” Jana gazed up at him. “I don’t want to ask them to rush. I want your study to be just perfect for you, Brandon. No matter how long it takes.”

  “But, Jana—”

  “Do talk with the gardeners before you leave,” Jana said. “I’ll see you tonight at supper.”

  “We’re not having guests again, are we?”

  “Of course,” Jana announced. “You needn’t worry, Brandon, I’m committed to establishing our rightful presence in the city’s social scene.”

  He watched as she walked away, her bustle bobbing down the hallway. “Where are you going?” he called.

  She paused and glanced back. “I have a full day of luncheons, teas and social calls.”

  “But—”

  “Do be on time tonight,” she said, then turned and walked away.

  A little groan slipped through Brandon’s lips as the sight of Jana’s bobbing bustle disappeared around the corner. Unwanted supper guests. New meals. The house under construction. And a yellow study—with bunnies. The massive disruption of his schedule, his solitude, his accustomed surroundings. Jana was making his life miserable.

  And still, he wanted her.

  Chapter Nine

  Another woman. Just what he needed today.

  Brandon entered his office and spotted Leona Albright, resplendent in ivory and gold, languishing on the settee across the room.

  At least this woman didn’t torment him, unlike the one he’d left at home this morning.

  “Brandon, dear, is this some sort of ruse you’re attempting?” Leona asked. “Coming in late? Trying to make people think all sorts of delicious things about your morning activities at home?”

  He pushed the door closed and dropped his satchel on his desk. “How is it that the most intimate details of my life have become public knowledge?”

  “One only has to look at the scowl on your face, dear, to see what is—or isn’t—going on.”

  Brandon turned to her. “Is that why you’re here? To spread more rumors?”

  The playful grin disappeared from Leona’s face. “Brandon, you know that I—of all people—would never do that.”

  A pang of guilt twisted his gut. Yes, he knew that. And he was ashamed of himself for suggesting it.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “You’ve kept…things…to yourself for over twenty—”

  “No reason to count years,” Leona said quickly.

  Brandon grinned at her vanity. Like many women, Leona considered the subject of age taboo. But it had, in fact, been over twenty years since Brandon had come to know Leona. He, a child. She, a new bride. It seemed so long ago now. And Europe so far away.

  “Come. Sit.” She patted the arm of the chair beside the settee. “We’ll talk.”

  Brandon hesitated. Did he need to hear from another woman? Perhaps this one might actually help to make things better. He sat down.

  “All right, then,” Leona said, shifting on the settee as if settling in for a long stay. “As I recall, your wife returned only to announce that she wanted a divorce. You convinced her to stay, give the marriage another try.”

  Brandon nodded. “That’s correct.”

  “So what’s wrong? Isn’t she genuinely trying?”

  “No, actually, Jana is trying very hard,” Brandon said. “She’s taken over her duties and responsibilities at the house, just as I’d instructed.”

  One of Leona’s eyebrows crept upward. “You instructed her?”

  “Of course. That’s why she left. I was remiss in my duty as her husband in providing direction.”

  “Oh, Brandon, dear…” Leona exhaled heavily and rolled her eyes. “So what is she doing now?”

  “Everything I asked. Decorating the house, taking over with the servants, handling our social calendar.”

  “And you’re happy with this?”

  Brandon’s expression soured. “I’m miserable. She’s turned the whole house, my whole life, upside down.”

  A quiet moment passed before Leona spoke again. “It sounds as if your wife is planning to leave again.”

  An old familiar pain cut through Brandon causing a little groan to slip through his lips. Then he shook his head.

  “No. No, Jana wouldn’t do that,” he insisted. “She has no reason to leave again.”

  “Have you given her a reason to stay?”

  Brandon rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Have you told her that you’re glad she’s home?”

  “Well, no…”

  “That you love her?”

  “She knows I love her,” Brandon said. “I married her, didn’t I?”

  “Have you told her you missed her?”

  Brandon turned away, the question causing his belly to ache more.

  Leona softened her voice. “Did you tell her that you stood by the window and watched for her? That you—”

  “No.” Brand
on pushed himself out of the chair and strode to the other side of the room, his back to Leona. She didn’t say anything else. She knew she’d hit her mark.

  “Your wife can go anywhere and perform the duties and responsibilities that are expected of her,” Leona said. “Have you given her a reason to stay with you?”

  “Damn…” Brandon turned away, pressing his lips together, struggling to hold in his stormy emotions.

  “You really want her to stay, don’t you?” Leona asked.

  “Of course I do,” Brandon said, a little too harshly.

  “Why?”

  “Because.” He drew in a breath, struggling for words. “Because I want a—a—”

  “A normal life?”

  “Yes.”

  “A home?”

  Brandon turned to face Leona once more. “Yes. A home,” he said, getting the words out with some effort. “That’s why I married her. Jana was the most loving creature I’d ever seen in my entire life. Full of caring and goodness, optimism and happiness. She made me believe love was possible. She embodied everything I’d ever hoped for, ever dreamed of.”

  “So why aren’t you trying harder to make things work?” Leona asked.

  “I am,” Brandon insisted. “I told you, I’ve given her direction. Explained her duties—”

  “Have you forgotten that the sweet, innocent young wife you remember has crossed the Atlantic and the continent twice? She’s lived abroad, made her own decisions, fended for herself and done so quite capably?”

  “Her aunt was there also, helping her.”

  “At first, perhaps. But do you think your wife didn’t learn to handle things alone?” Leona proposed. “Has she seemed meek and mild-mannered since her return? Lost and unsure of herself?”

  “No,” Brandon said. “Not at all. In fact, she’s rather surprised me by the way she’s grabbed hold of things at home, taken charge.”