The Tycoon's Baby by Leigh Michaels

Author:Leigh Michaels
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2016-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

JANEY WAS STILL reeling in shock when Camilla went on. In fact, there’d been only a momentary pause, just long enough to let the statement sink in and her meaning become clear. “I meant, of course, that you’re very different—and perhaps the contrast is part of the reason Webb finds you so attractive.”

That cut uncomfortably close to the bone. Even if Janey had wanted to pursue the subject, she knew it was a great deal safer to get on to something else before Camilla had a chance to contemplate the possibility that the clashing differences between Janey and Sibyl had been the entire reason for Webb’s choice, not just part of it.

She almost tiptoed across the deep carpet. In the fireplace, logs were laid and kindling was in place for a romantic fire that had never been lit. Flanking the mantel were two huge armoires, matching pieces that had been painted peach. “I hope these weren’t antiques,” she said under her breath, running her fingertips over the smooth surface.

Under her hand, a pressure latch released and the door popped open. Inside the armoire was a television set almost as large as the one downstairs.

“So much for his not being able to watch the game anywhere but downstairs,” Janey said.

“Did he tell you that?” Camilla sounded intrigued. “I imagine he didn’t feel like being alone.”

And any company would be better than none. Camilla might as well come straight out and say it, Janey thought.

“Though I’m not certain whether he’s had this one fixed yet,” Camilla went on thoughtfully. “At one time it was—shall we say?—the object of some frustration.”

And just how long ago was that? Janey wanted to ask. But it wasn’t any concern of hers. No doubt Webb still, from time to time, felt like beating on something. In fact, as Maddy grew, his frustration and sense of loss might get even worse in some ways—not only for his own sake but for the child who would never know her mother.

She closed the armoire door and moved on across the room.

“The dressing room and bath are through there,” Camilla said pointedly.

“Both peach, no doubt?” It was a throwaway question—but at least, Janey was happy to see, the fixtures Henry Bellows had chosen remained in place. The claw-foot tub was now wearing a ruffled peach skirt so frivolous she wanted to rip it to shreds, but there had been no structural changes—nothing at all that couldn’t be reversed.

Not that it was likely to be changed anytime soon, Janey reminded herself. And she didn’t have any great desire for the job, anyway. But if Webb ever did give in to his grandmother’s persuasion and marry one of her parade of sensible beauties, the new Mrs. Copeland would certainly want to put her own spin on that bedroom. On the other hand, without a strong romantic attachment to his new bride, Webb would likely feel equally strongly about maintaining the shrine.

And I, Janey thought, would positively enjoy listening in on that fight! “You’ve given me some things to think about.

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