22

On Monday morning, Darius burst into Mr. Walcott’s office without knocking. The time for reckoning had arrived, and Darius was more than happy to be the one to provide it.

He came to a halt in front of Walcott’s desk, where a curl of cigar smoke hovered in the air. “I hope you’re happy with the damage you’ve caused,” Darius snapped. “That newspaper article was so inflammatory it got an innocent woman seriously injured.” Just remembering Olivia’s wound sent his pent-up anger spewing forth like an uncorked bottle of champagne. “Miss Rosetti could have been killed by those fanatics.”

Walcott lowered his coffee cup. “Good morning to you too,” he said wryly.

Darius ignored the warning tone. “This harassment has to stop. I looked the other way when I found out you’d bribed the inspector, but inciting violence against vulnerable women is unacceptable. I want to know how you intend to fix the situation.”

“Fix it? This public outcry is exactly what I was hoping for. With this kind of turmoil, the maternity home will soon have to shut down.”

Darius clenched his fists. “Did you not hear me? Miss Rosetti ended up in the hospital when someone threw a rock at her. It took seventeen stitches to close the gash on her head.”

Walcott frowned. “I never intended for anyone to get hurt.”

“Well, she did. What if she’d been carrying an infant? Or if the rock had hit her temple? Someone could have died. Are you really willing to live with that on the slim chance of obtaining the property? Because I can pretty much guarantee that Ruth Bennington would rather sell to the devil himself than let you have her home.” Darius’s chest heaved with the labor of his breathing.

Walcott slowly rose from his chair. “It’s becoming apparent that your loyalties have shifted, Reed. And that does not bode well for your future here.”

Recognizing the not-so-subtle threat, Darius took a moment to center himself. “I don’t think loyalty is the issue. It’s a matter of common decency. And this time you’re the one breaking a cardinal rule of business, sir. The Bennington property has become far too personal for you, and I believe it’s clouding your judgment.”

Walcott crossed his arms over his chest.

“We made a proposal,” Darius continued, “and the customer turned it down. If it were any other property, you’d have moved on by now.” He narrowed his eyes. “What is it about this place that matters so much to you?”

Walcott let out a low growl and turned away. “That’s none of your concern.”

“It is if it’s causing you to make bad decisions.”

Walcott’s head whipped around, his features flushed. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m in charge here. You’re getting dangerously close to crossing a line you can’t come back from.” He strode around the desk to stand inches from Darius. “I’d suggest you cool down and think carefully about your future.”

A ripple of alarm raced down Darius’s spine. “What does that mean?”

Walcott tilted his head. “I heard you called off your engagement to Meredith Cheeseman.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It affects one of our top clients.” Walcott scowled. “What if Horace Cheeseman pulls his account because of this and finds someone else to manage his properties? You’ve already cost us the Peterson contract. We can’t afford to lose Cheeseman as well.”

With effort, Darius held on to his temper. How had Walcott turned this back on him? “Mr. Cheeseman is a professional. I’m sure he’s able to keep his personal life separate from business matters.”

“We can’t take that for granted.” Walcott jabbed a finger at him. “I’m leaving on a business trip in a few hours. While I’m gone, you need to smooth things over with Cheeseman. Arrange a meeting. Better yet, take him out for dinner and drinks on our dime.”

Darius’s shoulders tightened. He would not stoop to bribery to appease the man. “I’ll call Mr. Cheeseman and make sure everything is satisfactory.”

“Do whatever is necessary to make sure he’s happy. And get your priorities straight, once and for all. This is the last chance you’ll get, Reed.” On that ominous note, Walcott pointed to the door.

With no other option except to quit his job on the spot—an action too rash to make in the heat of anger—Darius blew out a breath and left the office. The encounter had left a decidedly unpleasant taste in his mouth.

But Walcott was right about one thing.

Darius needed to decide where his priorities lay and determine whether or not to continue on his current career path.

By midday, Darius had scheduled a meeting with Mr. Cheeseman and had lined up two potential properties to view. Both locations would be ideal sites for Walcott Towers, if only his boss would take off his blinders and consider a different option. Darius hoped when Mr. Walcott returned from his trip, he might have gained a new perspective and be willing to forget about Bennington Place.

Unable to stop thinking about Olivia, Darius decided to use his lunch hour to go and see how she was doing and make sure that the protestors hadn’t returned. If they had, he would find a way to disperse them.

Ten minutes later, he parked across the street from the house, relieved to note that no demonstrators were visible at the moment. Ruth’s calling the authorities must’ve had a lot to do with that.

A ladder leaned against the exterior of Ruth’s house, and the sound of hammering indicated that a repairman was likely at work. Hopefully the company he’d recommended had given the women a good price. A twinge of guilt flared. He wondered if the repairs were even necessary or if they were invented by the inspector to satisfy Walcott. Unfortunately, there was nothing Darius could do about it now, so he consoled himself with the fact that at least they would be spared any potential leaks in the attic.

As he entered the gate, Darius paused to admire the majesty of the residence, with its tall gables, redbrick exterior, and shuttered windows. The ivy climbing the sides of the house added to its charm, softening its lines and giving the place a welcoming air. It would be a travesty to destroy such a beautiful home solely to satisfy Mr. Walcott’s desire for an office tower.

He knocked on the door. Moments later, Olivia appeared with Abigail in her arms.

His cheery greeting died on his lips at the tragic look that haunted her features. “Good afternoon, Olivia. Is this a bad time?”

Her lips lifted in a hint of a smile. “It’s fine. Come in.”

He stepped inside, noting she wore a hat that matched her navy skirt and that a baby carriage took up most of the entryway.

“I was just about to take Abigail for a walk. Would you care to join me, or are you here to see Ruth?”

“I’d love a walk if you don’t mind the company. Allow me to lift the carriage down.”

“That would be helpful. Thank you.”

Soon they were headed down the sidewalk. He waited for Olivia to begin the conversation, but today she seemed unusually subdued.

At last, she released a long breath and glanced over at him. “We received some bad news after you left the other day.”

“Oh?” His muscles tensed. Had his boss tried some new trick to discredit the home?

“Dr. Henshaw telephoned to say that Mary passed away that morning.” Her voice quavered.

Immediate visions of the woman’s battered face leapt to mind. The way she’d grasped his arm before collapsing at his feet. Darius ground his back teeth together. Whoever had beaten Mary was responsible for her death as surely as if they’d plunged a knife into her. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

The first birth that had occurred at the maternity home had ended in a mother’s demise. Olivia and Ruth certainly didn’t deserve this added strife.

“I feel so bad for Abigail. Left all alone without a mother’s love.” Olivia lifted tear-filled eyes shimmering with sorrow.

He laid a hand on the carriage handle to stop it, then gently pulled her against his chest, the need to offer comfort too strong to ignore. Her breath hitched, and her frame trembled before she relaxed against him. Her warmth, combined with the beat of her heart beneath his, sent streaks of electricity through his system. After several seconds, she released a breath and tilted her head to look up at him, her expressive brown eyes filled with longing.

When his gaze fell to her full lips, heat seared across his chest. This courageous woman, who cared for others so deeply, so selflessly, had no one to lean on to give her strength. His head dipped toward her. She needed—no, deserved— someone to comfort her.

Someone to love her.

Love? He froze, every muscle tensing. Where had that thought come from?

Surely he couldn’t be in love with her. This woman, though highly admirable, was not at all right for him and Sofia. The controversial mission Olivia was committed to would never give his daughter the respectability she needed. His thoughts flew to the angry mob protesting the maternity home, throwing rotting food and rocks, their hatred too reminiscent of the crowds that had killed Selene.

And because of that, Darius had no business holding Olivia in his arms.

With an apologetic smile, he reluctantly stepped away from her and resumed walking.

Olivia’s pulse wouldn’t stop racing. For a moment, while Darius held her, she thought he’d been about to kiss her. Her whole being had yearned for the touch of his lips on hers, to feel loved once more, even if only for a few minutes.

But he’d stiffened suddenly and pulled away. Now he walked beside her with his hands clasped behind him, as though resisting the temptation to touch her again.

She pressed her lips together. Foolish daydreams, Olivia. He was just being kind, offering her comfort as a friend would do.

She steered the carriage around the corner and continued on in silence, trying to forget being sheltered in his arms.

Finally, he turned to her. “Does the doctor know the cause of Mary’s death? Was it the beating or complications from childbirth?”

“He’s not sure. He’s ordered a coroner’s report to find out.”

“I can’t help feeling somewhat responsible. Perhaps I should have brought her straight to the hospital.” Lines etched his forehead.

“No, you did the right thing. If she had needed the hospital, Dr. Henshaw would have insisted she go.”

He gave her a warm look. “Thank you for saying that. I only wish I could have done more for her.”

“Me too.”

A couple walked toward them on the sidewalk. The man tipped his hat as they passed, and the woman smiled. It occurred to Olivia that she and Darius must seem like a young couple taking their child for an outing.

If only they knew the truth.

“How is Mrs. Bennington holding up?” Darius asked.

Olivia let out a small sigh. “She’s heartbroken, of course. It’s devastating to have one of the first women we tried to help perish that way. It goes against everything we’re trying to do.”

Darius gave her a pensive look. “I’ve often wondered why she chose to start a venture like this at her age.”

Olivia gripped the handle of the carriage tighter. “Ever since her husband’s death, she’d been floundering with no real direction to her days. I think she was looking for something to give her purpose.”

“What about you, Olivia? How did you get involved?”

Her foot caught the edge of a stone and she almost stumbled. Panicked thoughts pinged around in her head. What story had she and Ruth told everyone at the gala? Something about Olivia being at a low point in her life. Oh, why couldn’t she remember?

What would Darius say if she revealed the ugly truth? That she’d been in jail and given birth to an illegitimate child? She shuddered, picturing the disgust on his face if she did. No, she could not allow that to happen.

She licked her lips and attempted a nonchalant shrug. “I’m sure I told you. Ruth took me in when I was in need of a job and homeless.” Her throat cinched closed until she swallowed hard against the lump forming there. “I was grateful for her help and more than happy to join her endeavor.” Olivia could barely breathe. Would he accept her rather sketchy explanation? She could feel the weight of his stare on her face. Heat crawled up her neck into her cheeks.

“I’m sorry you’ve endured such difficulties,” he said at last. “It sounds like God brought you and Ruth together right at a time when you needed each other.”

“That’s true. Ruth has helped me turn my misfortune into something positive. There’s no greater gift than that.”

They walked on in silence, and when he didn’t pursue the topic any further, she allowed her shoulders to relax. “You never really said why you came by. I assume it wasn’t to take a walk with us.” The clicking of her heels on the sidewalk seemed overly loud on the quiet street.

He shifted slightly away from her. “I wanted to make sure the protestors weren’t still harassing you.” He hesitated. “And I wanted to see how you were doing, of course.”

Warm tingles spread through her chest. Had he really come just to find out how she was? “As you can see, I’m much better.” She touched a finger to the smaller bandage at her hairline. “The stitches are beginning to feel itchy, which is a sign of healing, according to Dr. Henshaw.”

“That’s a good thing, then.” He cast a quick sideways glance at her. “Is Dr. Henshaw treating you now?”

“Unofficially.” She gave a self-conscious laugh. “When he heard about my accident, he insisted on seeing the injury for himself. He agreed that the physician did an excellent job with the stitches. Most of the scar will be hidden by my hair.” She smiled, yet Darius did not smile in return.

Instead, he frowned, staring straight ahead. “Are you . . . that is . . .” He pressed his lips into a tight line as though to keep from blurting something out.

“Am I what?”

“Are you interested in Dr. Henshaw?”

“You mean romantically?”

He shrugged one shoulder, his complexion reddening.

“Heavens no. What gave you that idea?”

He turned the full force of his blue eyes on her. “Surely you must’ve noticed the man has feelings for you?”

“Dr. Henshaw?” Olivia slowed to a halt.

“It’s not so hard to believe. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

She gripped the carriage handle tighter. “I’m sure you’re mistaken. He’s always acted in a professional manner.”

“So you wouldn’t go out with him if he asked?”

Olivia’s pulse skittered. Why did Darius seem so interested in her answer? “I don’t think that would be prudent.”

A storm of emotion rose in his eyes. “Olivia, I—”

Just then Abigail let out a squawk, apparently protesting the fact that the carriage had stopped moving.

Olivia tore her gaze from his. “We’d better head back before she gets fussy.”

He blinked. “Right. I have to get back to work as well.”

Relieved, yet a little disappointed, she swung the carriage into motion and marched forward at a fast clip. Whatever he’d been about to say, it was probably wiser to avoid the whole conversation.

For both their sakes.