Widow - Anne Stuart [56]
But he wasn’t ready to leave, not just yet. Too much unfinished business.
In particular, Charlie Thomas.
“You have a most interesting expression on your face, Mr. Maguire,” Olivia observed. “What were you thinking of just then?”
“Your daughter’s fiancé,” he answered with complete truthfulness.
“Don’t let it get you down. I’d back you ten to one.”
“I don’t want her,” he said flatly.
“Don’t you?” Olivia said sweetly. “But then, I already knew you were a liar.”
“I don’t trust that man,” Henry said as they climbed the front staircase.
“Hush,” Charlie whispered. “He’ll hear you.”
“I don’t give a damn if he does,” Henry said in an even louder voice. “There’s something about him that I don’t like.”
As far as Charlie could remember Henry liked just about everyone. “Well,” she said after a moment, “I don’t think he liked you much, either.” They reached the hallway, and she pushed open the door to the bedroom. “I put you in my room,” she said.
“I thought you said we weren’t going to share?”
He looked pathetically hopeful, and Charlie felt the familiar guilt wash over her, compounded by the feel of Maguire’s mouth on her skin. “You’re sleeping in my old room, I’m sleeping in Pompasse’s,” she said gently.
“Of course,” he said, ever the gentleman. “You know I’d never put pressure on you.”
“Henry, I’m not sure if this is going to work…” she began, but he caught her hand and drew her into the room, closing the door behind them, shutting them in. She took slow, deep breaths, willing her panic not to show, and she looked up at him.
“Of course it’s going to work, my darling girl,” Henry said gently. “I’m a patient man, mature enough to know how to wait for things. Sooner or later you’ll be ready to try again. You yourself said that Dr. Rogerson thought you were making progress.”
“Henry, I really don’t want to discuss it,” she said with a trace of desperation. “Not here, not now.”
“Of course not, my love. Not with that Neanderthal downstairs. I don’t wonder you’re unsettled, coming back to this place and then being subjected to his brutish company. I’m surprised at Honore, sending someone like him. He’s not the right sort at all to handle a delicate situation like this one.”
“Not the right sort?” Charlie echoed.
“You know what I mean, darling. Not ‘our’ sort. A little rough around the edges, don’t you think? A little too working-class?”
“I suppose so,” Charlie murmured uneasily.
“You go away now and let me unpack. I think I need a short lie-down before I face the rest of Pompasse’s menagerie. Spending the last twenty-four hours with your mother has been an exhausting experience. I don’t know how you survived her.”
“She’s not so bad,” Charlie said, wondering vaguely why she was defending Olivia. For some reason everything Henry said rubbed her the wrong way. She wasn’t used to arguing—she tended to let disagreements wash over her. But for some reason she felt like contradicting him.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Charlie, your mother’s a monster,” Henry said indulgently. “But I promise, we won’t have to see her once we’re married. Once you’re settled again she won’t be interfering anymore.”
“How has she been interfering?” Charlie asked, astonished.
“Never you mind, darling,” Henry said. “We’ll talk later.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d dismissed her when she’d asked uncomfortable questions. Henry was a man who preferred the appearance of calm over every other consideration. It had been one of the things that had most attracted her to him.
It was now one of the things that annoyed her.
“All right,” she said, letting a touch of coolness creep into her voice. “We’ll talk later. In the meantime I’d appreciate it if you’d at least be polite to Maguire. He may not be your kind of person but he’s here to do a job, and the sooner