A Home for Her Heart. Janet Barton LeeЧитать онлайн книгу.
light out and I’ll be fine.”
She still looked a little bemused and he felt responsible. “Do you need me to come get you later?”
Elizabeth pulled away from his grasp. “No. I’ll be staying the night with her.”
Obviously she didn’t want his help. He nodded and took a step back. “Have a good evening.”
“Thank you. You have a good evening, too.” Elizabeth hurried down the steps and headed toward the trolley stop.
John watched until she boarded the trolley that pulled up just as she arrived at the corner, trying to figure out if there was a way to follow her and find out once and for all where this aunt of hers lived.
All he knew was that the trolley she took would take her to Fifth Avenue where some of the luxury apartment buildings were. And that opened up more questions than it gave answers to. Elizabeth lived at Heaton House and was employed at a women’s magazine called the Delineator, but why would she need to work if she had relatives who could afford to live in that kind of luxury? If her aunt did live on Fifth Avenue, why wasn’t Elizabeth living with her? And this was the first time he’d ever heard her mention her father. Why didn’t she live at home?
A sudden clap on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts and he turned to find Benjamin Roth, another of Mrs. Heaton’s boarders, grinning at him. “What are you standing here woolgathering about, my friend?”
John gave a small shake of his head and shrugged. “This and that.”
“Hmm. Woman problems?”
“Now why would you say that? There’s no woman in my life to be a problem and that’s the way I want it. I’ve been down that road before and I have no intention of putting myself in that position again.” After the debacle that’d cost him his job, John had decided his instincts where women were concerned were pretty much nonexistent and he’d never trust one with his heart again.
“I see. That was Elizabeth I saw hurrying away, wasn’t it? Didn’t make her mad, did you? You always seem to be trying to get a rise out of her.”
“No, Ben. I didn’t make her mad. She’s going to see that aunt of hers again.”
“Ahh, I see,” Ben said.
“No, you don’t.”
Ben threw back his head and laughed. “Whatever you say, John. But I think you protest too much. You care about that woman. It’s plain as the nose on your face.”
“Of course I care about her. Just like I do everyone at Heaton House. But you have to admit, she keeps part of her life separate.”
“We all have lives outside of Heaton House, John.”
“I suppose.” Others did, he knew that. But John’s life seemed to revolve around his work and living at Heaton House. His mother had passed away when he was only five and his father had died when John was around seventeen. He’d been on his own since then.
“However, I will concede that I’ve wondered about where Elizabeth’s aunt lives, too,” Ben said. “Michael probably knows, but I’ve never asked him. He’d think I was being nosy or that I was interested in Elizabeth in a more than friendly way, and I’m not.”
“I know. That’s why I haven’t asked, either. He’d probably say it was none of my business or tell me to ask her myself and I can just picture how that would go over.”
“Yes, but you—”
“No buts, Ben.” He slapped his friend on the back. “We seem to have come to a dead end with this conversation. Let’s go see what’s for dinner.”
* * *
Elizabeth stepped on the trolley, paid her money and took a seat that’d just been vacated near the driver, all the while trying to calm her pounding heart. She’d never been quite so close to John before and her response to his touch frustrated her almost as much as the telephone call from her aunt had.
She and John clashed more often than not. He worked for the Tribune and she worked for the Delineator, and over the years they’d often sparred about the similar stories they sometimes found themselves covering. It was always clear to her that he thought her writing was inferior to his—the Delineator was a woman’s magazine, after all—and he’d even referred to her writing as fluff in the past.
Somehow he thought his articles on the same social scene she wrote about were much more worthwhile. And now that his editor had asked him to do more serious pieces, following his article about the Ladies’ Aide Society and the child-care homes they were starting, he’d be even harder to be around. Everyone knew that John Talbot wouldn’t rest until he broke a story that would put his byline on the front page and promote him to a lead reporter for the Tribune. It seemed to be all he cared about.
Elizabeth let out a deep breath and tried to put John to the back of her mind as had become her custom. She was already upset that her father had demanded she visit her aunt’s on such short notice. Thinking about John’s attitude toward her work wasn’t going to calm her any.
Leaning her head back against the seat, she looked out the window at the passing scenery. The quietness of Gramercy Park gave way to more and more traffic noise as they reached Fifth Avenue and turned amid all manner of vehicles—hacks, omnibuses, landaus and carriages of all sizes going in all different directions. It was especially busy this time of day.
She tried to tell herself to calm down. She wasn’t upset at her aunt, loved spending time with her, in fact. But to be summoned to her home because her father, Charles Edward Reynolds, had come into the city and wanted her there for dinner on such short notice was just...irritating.
There was so much going on at Heaton House right now, she hated to miss out on anything. But she’d promised to be available whenever her father came to town—it was the price she paid to have her independence. She shouldn’t really be upset at him, either. But she was. All he seemed to be interested in was getting her married off—but only to a man of his choosing.
Well, catching his first choice in a very compromising position with another woman—at their engagement party, no less—had ended with a broken engagement, her heart shattered and had soured Elizabeth on men in general. She had no intention of letting her father choose a mate for her again, not even if she wanted one—which she didn’t. She released a huge sigh loud enough to capture the driver’s ear.
“You have a bad day, miss?”
She really hadn’t had a bad day until she’d found out she’d been ordered to have dinner with her aunt and her father. Her father wanted to see her. Was that really so bad? She did love him. And besides, it was just for the evening, not the whole weekend. “Not so much a bad day... Perhaps it’s my own attitude making me so—”
“Downcast?”
She should be ashamed for giving that impression to anyone. There were much worse things in life than having to change her plans to spend time with family. “Maybe a little, but not anymore.”
When she got off the trolley at its stop just a block from her aunt’s apartment, she turned to the driver and smiled. “Thanks for making me realize I have absolutely nothing to be downcast about.”
His face fairly beamed. “You’re welcome, miss. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Thank you. So am I.”
By the time she knocked on her aunt’s door, she was looking forward to telling her all about the happenings at Heaton House.
The door opened and her aunt’s maid, Amanda, smiled. “Miss Elizabeth, it’s wonderful to see you. Mrs. Watson and your father are waiting for you in her study.”
Her heart sank. She’d hoped for some time alone with her aunt. “Thank you, Amanda. It’s good to see you, too. Will you let them know I’ll join them as soon as I freshen up?”
“Certainly.”