The Mistaken Widow

“All right. I was thinking to make things easier for you.”

“That’s taking him away from me. That would not be easier for me.”

“You obviously have strong feelings about this.”

“He’s my son. I have strong feelings for him, certainly.”

“Certainly. He’s all you have left of Stephen. Besides a fortune in stock and investments Stephen left you in his will.”

She met his eyes, and the anguish he thought he read there almost made him sorry he’d said it.

Mrs. Trent returned with a tray, and placed it on the nightstand with a clatter that rattled the cups in their saucers.

“That will be all,” he said to her. “You may retire.”

Censure brought her brows together and she pursed her lips in a line.

“Good night,” Nicholas said deliberately, then poured. “Cream or sugar?”

“Honey, please,” Claire replied softly, with a sideways glance at Mrs. Trent.

The woman slipped into the dressing room where she slept on a narrow bed so she could hear William.

Nicholas stirred a spoonful of sweetener into Claire’s tea, handed her the cup and saucer and poured himself one.

“Call me if you need me, Mrs. Halliday.”

Mrs. Trent stood in the doorway in her robe, the front clenched tightly in her fist.

“Mrs. Halliday will call if she needs you,” he affirmed. Did the senseless woman think he was going to ravish his sister-in-law right here with her son a few feet away and his busybody nursemaid straining to hear?

She disappeared again, and he turned his gaze back to Claire. “You must have learned to favor honey in your tea from Stephen,” he said.

“I’ve always taken my tea with honey.” Noncommittal. Safe. Neither admitting or denying she knew of Stephen’s preferences.

“What were the qualities you appreciated most about Stephen?” he asked, leaving the side of her bed and carrying his cup to the nearby chair, where he sat and balanced it on the arm. He didn’t quite understand his need to press her about her relationship with his brother, but the desire to persist burned in him like a well-stoked fire.

She stared into her tea. “His concern for others. He was a warm, generous man.”

“Generous with Halliday money,” he agreed.

Her lips flattened into a line of displeasure, and she looked up. “When we met, I had no idea that Stephen had resources.”

“No idea, Claire?”

“You didn’t have much respect for your brother, did you?” she asked, taking him by surprise.

“Why do you ask?”

“You thought him foolish enough to marry a woman who was out for his fortune.”

“Are you?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I denied it.”

Nicholas held his cup by the rim, and considered the truth of her words. “Let’s just say my brother didn’t always make the wisest decisions.”

“The decisions you wanted him to make, in other words.”

He set the cup down, glanced at the waning fire and got up to add a log that should burn most of the night. He was deliberately inciting her. He was grieving for his brother and her presence irritated him, so he baited her.

“How does this new life compare to the one you had in New York?” he asked.

“My life is nothing like it was before. Nor is it anything like I anticipated it being.”

“In what way?”

“In the obvious way. Stephen is gone.”

“He took you to Europe before bringing you to meet his family. Didn’t you think that was odd?”

“Not at all. If you treated him with as much disdain as you treat me, he wouldn’t have had a pleasant start for his honeymoon. Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Treat him with disdain.”

He didn’t like anyone turning the tables on him. “Didn’t he tell you all about his family?” he asked.

“No. He didn’t. I didn’t know anything about you until I was almost here.”

“So you just fell head over heels in love with my brother and married him without knowing his background or even whether or not he was capable of taking care of you. Didn’t you wonder how he earned a living? Or if he did?”

“I knew about his plays. They were successful productions in the East.”

“So you thought you were marrying a struggling playwright. Then lo and behold, it turns out his family has made a fortune in the iron industry.”

“I never asked for a cent of your money,” she said, blue eyes flashing. “You’re the one who came for me—who carried me out of that hospital. You’re the one who brought me here. Leda insisted I have the clothing. I’ve accepted everything because she wanted me to have it.”

And as Stephen’s wife, all that was due her. And more. Being rude to Claire wasn’t going to bring Stephen back, and holding her responsible was only a small comfort.

At odds with his resentment was his appreciation of someone to keep his mother’s spirits up and to give her days purpose and pleasure. Claire had been nothing but a comfort and companion for Leda. A fact that ate at him.

“You’re a Halliday now,” he said, turning back to her, “no matter what you were before. No matter why Stephen married you. And that makes you my responsibility. It also gives you responsibilities.”

“And what would those responsibilities be?”

“We’ll discuss that tomorrow. I have a few papers to go over tonight.”