The Determined Virgin. Elizabeth August
side,” she said stiffly. “I simply prefer not to expose it too publicly.”
He’d nearly convinced himself that the real Hesper O’Grady was a hard, calculating woman with no soul. This apartment proved him wrong. “Your softer side is very appealing.”
A glow of pleasure brought a flush to Hesper’s cheeks and her legs felt suddenly weak—the kind of weakness she’d experienced with her first teenage crush. Those adolescent years had proved to be treacherous. But she’d survived them unscathed. Once past them, she was certain she had her emotions completely under control. Now, suddenly those hormones she’d ordered to remain dormant were vibrantly alive. Reminding herself of the hell Peter had put her mother through, she quelled them. “Do you want the bedroom or the couch?” she repeated tersely, her tone letting him know that she had no intention of exposing her softer side to him.
Garth studied her with interest. “You remind me of an armadillo. The moment he senses his soft underbelly is in danger, he curls up into a ball, using his hard shell to protect him.”
She met his gaze with defiance. “I have my reasons, Mr. Lawton. Tobias said you could be trusted. I do hope you don’t try to prove him wrong.”
Garth had seen that same cold purpose in the eyes of people willing to die rather than surrender their ideals. He knew he’d be smart never to cross the line she’d drawn between them and he prided himself on being, at least, that smart.
“The couch or the bed?” she repeated.
“The couch,” he replied.
The next morning, Hesper took care of a few business matters, then they left for her grandmother’s estate outside of Wilmington, Delaware, arriving in time for tea.
“Impressive place,” Garth said as they neared the end of the tree-lined private driveway and the huge gray stone manor house came into view.
“My grandfather was old money. It was dwindling when he married my grandmother. He never had a head for business and was happy to turn the reins over to her and concentrate on his horses and his golf game.”
“A smart man knows his limitations.”
She glanced at him dryly. “You’re an Eastwood fan. I should have guessed.”
He smiled and shrugged. “We all have our heroes. Dirty Harry is one of mine.”
His smile caused her breath to momentarily lock in her lungs. She’d seen men smile before, she chided herself. For his to have such a strong effect on her wasn’t reasonable. She ordered herself to forget it. Instead she said, “You have a nice smile.”
He’d been told that by women before, but this time the words seemed to carry a more important weight. It was as if he really cared if she liked him or not. She’s made it clear that she doesn’t want me getting close to her, he reminded himself. Still, she’d been the one to make the friendly overture and he couldn’t resist seeing how far it would go. “Thanks. I like to think I can be likable.”
Mentally Hesper kicked herself. She’d opened the door and she’d better close it quickly. Her reactions to this man made being friendly with him much too much like walking on quicksand. Her tone becoming businesslike, she said, “Let’s just hope my grandmother likes your smile as well.”
The armadillo had rolled into its ball again, Garth noted. No doubt that was for the best, he added and concentrated on his driving.
Alfred greeted them at the door. In his early sixties, dressed in black tails, the remaining circle of fringe on his now nearly bald head cut short and crisp, tall, slender and with his usual staid expression on his face, her grandmother’s butler never seemed to change, Hesper thought as she introduced Garth.
After a slight but deferential bow toward Garth, Alfred returned his attention to Hesper. “Your grandmother has had the white room prepared for you. I’ll have Charles bring your bags up.”
Hesper was not surprised to discover that her grandmother had noticed her preference for that particular room. Most people thought the elderly woman was too engrossed in herself to pay any heed to the likes and dislikes of others. But Hesper knew her grandmother’s eyes were much sharper and her interest in others much keener than she led people to believe. “Thank you, Alfred.”
His expression never changing, he added, “You have fifteen minutes to freshen up. Then Mrs. DuPree expects you to join her and your stepfather in the rose garden.”
“Pleasant fellow,” Garth muttered under his breath as he accompanied Hesper up the wide winding staircase.
“Beneath that frosty exterior is an honest, trustworthy man with a very kind streak,” she replied, keeping her voice low. “When I was nine, I stayed with my grandmother while my parents went to Paris. One night I was late for supper and my grandmother sent me up to my room without allowing me anything to eat. A little while later there was a knock on the door and when I opened it, there was Alfred with a tray. No one else in the house would have had the courage to go against my grandmother’s wishes. But I have discovered through the years that Alfred has a very strong sense of what is right and wrong and when he believes my grandmother has acted wrongly, he lets her know.”
“Your grandmother, obviously, values him.”
They reached the landing and Hesper turned down the hall to their right. “I’ve always thought she put up with him because good help is hard to find, but I think you’re right. I think she does value him more than she wants people to know.” She recalled feeling certain Alfred had enjoyed throwing Eloise’s third husband out of the house. Had he been influential in her grandmother’s decision? she wondered. Mentally she shrugged. No one had liked Homer. Even Eloise had divorced him after barely six months. And while her grandmother might ask someone else’s opinion, she always made up her own mind. Still, Hesper found herself trying to recall any hint of what Garth’s first impression on Alfred had been.
Entering a door on the left, she glanced over her shoulder as Garth followed her inside. He’d been polite but cool when she’d introduced him to the butler. Alfred, she was fairly certain, liked silent, authoritative men. So far, so good, she assured herself.
Garth could easily see why this was called the white room. The walls were white with a decorative white molding along the top. The quilted bedspread on the queen-size four-poster bed was white as were the arched lace canopy overhead and the matching lace curtains at the windows. Touches of blue and pink added a softness to the stark whiteness of the room. Mixed in with the assortment of lace-covered pillows at the head of the bed were some smaller white throw pillows with tiny blue and pink flowers embroidered on them. And the white rug covering the major portion of the hardwood floor also had tiny blue and pink flowers worked into its design. The wooden furnishings were of the highest quality, all of the same dark cherry in a Queen Anne design. Through a door to his right, he could see a private bath. It, too, was basically white with pink and blue accents. “Nice room.”
“I like it. It reminds me of spring. It has a spacious, airy feel to it.” At least it used to feel that way, Hesper amended as her gaze came to rest on the bed. Suddenly that piece of furniture seemed a great deal smaller than she remembered. At her apartment, they’d had different rooms. And while the scent of his aftershave had lingered in the bathroom, arousing a few unwanted embers to threaten to spark into life, for the most part, she’d been able to control her unwanted reactions to the man. In these close quarters, ignoring him was going to be more difficult. Her jaw hardened. However, she could do it.
Noticing he’d followed her line of vision to the bed and was now watching her with an eyebrow raised in a questioning expression, she said coolly, “My grandmother will expect us to sleep together. By not sharing the same bed, we’ll run the risk of discovery. But as long as you stay on your side and I stay on mine, we’ll get along just fine.”
“Yes, ma am,” he replied.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” she said, beginning a quick inventory of the clothing he was wearing.