Make Love Not War (17 page)

Chapter Twelve

It was nearly six o’clock by the time Bryce arrived at his club. He couldn’t get a parking spot and had to park out in the street. How come every other club member had decided to come here tonight, he fumed. It was a dead-set certai
nty no one else’s need was as great as his.

He stalked into the club lounge. Might as well have dinner here, too, although he felt sure he couldn’t eat a bite.

A couple of business acquaintances were dining here, also. Their wives were at some hen meeting, seafood and champagne, dinner to follow, just the kind of social affair that appealed to his mother.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Caroline. What would he say to her?  This was one confrontation he dreaded. Morosely he chewed on a piece of veal steak. It had been marinated in wine but, for all the enjoyment he got out of it, he might as well have ordered stale bread.

He answered his companions in a distracted manner. They kept staring at him, but he didn’t care as he gulped down a couple of glasses of wine. Alcohol wasn’t going to help. It had gotten him into this terrible mess.

“You okay, Bryce?” one of his companions asked.

“Yes. Of course I’m all right.” It took all his control to answer without snarling. “I’ve just had a trying day.”  What an understatement. It had been a real shocker. “I’ve got an appointment.” He glanced at his watch. “See you later.”

He strode out of the club, wishing he hadn’t bothered to call in. He still felt absolutely wretched.

He drove to Caroline’s apartment and parked outside in the street, making sure all his doors were locked. That’s all he needed, for some deadbeat to steal his car.

He knocked on the door and it was swung open by Kerry, who eyed him with dislike.

“Is Caroline here?”

“What if she is?”

“I want to see her.”

“Well, she mightn’t want to see you, you arrogant, egotistical brute. Did you ever think of that?  She’s learnt the hard way, what kind of man you are.”

“Meaning what?” He pushed past Kerry and strode into the sitting room.

“Where is she?”

“She’s lying down, gets tired easily these days.”

“I’ve got the message. Her brother gave it to me loud and clear,” he ground out before striding into the bedroom.

The blinds had been drawn, plunging the room into semi-darkness, but that didn’t do much to hide the shabbiness. Caroline lay on the bed in her bra and panties. Her head was turned away from him, so he didn’t know whether she was asleep or not.

He couldn’t stop himself from staring at her white breasts as they peeped out over her lacy bra. His scrutiny continued. Her stomach looked smooth and flat. Maybe she wasn’t pregnant, after all. The oldest trick in the book. How many men had been trapped that way over the years? What on earth was he thinking about? He shook himself mentally. She’d hardly be two months gone.

What he knew about pregnancy would fit on a postage stamp, but even he knew she wouldn’t be showing yet. Besides, that was no act her brother had put on. He’d stormed into the office with murder in his eye.

He moved towards the bed and hovered there. Maybe she was asleep. Perhaps he shouldn’t wake her. But that was only an excuse, and he knew it, to delay the confrontation. What am I, a man or a mouse?

“Caroline.” He hadn’t meant to use that tone, but it automatically came out that way.

She turned her head, and he watched bemusement in her eyes give way to shock. She had obviously been asleep.

“What do you want?” Her voice came out in a throaty whisper.

“I want to talk to you. Er, could you put some clothes on?” He couldn’t stop staring at her almost naked body. It mesmerized him.

“Where’s my brunch coat?” She glanced around.

“This do?” He reached out and flicked a cotton dressing gown off the door handle and gave it to her.

“I don’t think we’ve got anything to talk about. I won’t come back to work for you.”

“You know damn well I haven’t come to talk about that. I got a visit from your big brother, the army captain, uniform and all,” he went on sarcastically. “I thought he was going to challenge me to meet him at daybreak with pistols drawn.”

“What do you mean?” Her voice was low and he sensed she fought back tears. At any other time he would have felt sorry for her, but the only sorry feeling he had at the moment was for himself.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were pregnant? Up and leaving like that. What kind of man do you think I am?”

“Not much of one,” Kerry said, as she entered the room.

“Get out. This is a private conversation.”

“You happen to be sitting on my bed.”

Caroline started crying.

“You’ve upset her, you callous beast. Leave before I call the police,” Kerry attacked him.

“You listen to me. I’ve taken enough abuse for one day. I’ve come over prepared to be reasonable and sort out this mess.” It sounded pompous and he knew it. “I haven’t got all night. I want to get everything cleared up now.”

“Another date?  The full seduction routine, I suppose,” Kerry sneered.

“Get out. I’m warning you, or so help me…” His hand fisted in his pocket.

“Could I offer you coffee, laced with arsenic, of course?” she said as a parting shot.

The breath hissed from between his clenched teeth. “Why didn’t you tell me, Caroline, for God’s sake?”

“Why should I? You didn’t care about me after you got what you wanted,” she answered bitterly.

That shook him. He’d never known her to be bitter before.

“I want to help.”

“Do you? Really? It’s a wonder you don’t accuse me of lying about being pregnant and trying to put the blame on you.”

“I admit the responsibility is mine, and I’m prepared to help. I’ve just said that.”

“Think you’ll buy me off, do you? A few hundred dollars to pay for an abortion and your conscience will be clear.”

“Abortion!” That shocked him. He didn’t like the thought one little bit.

“What’s it to you?”

“Don’t be bitter.” He put his finger under her chin and lifted her face up so he could stare straight into her eyes.

“Do you want an abortion? Honestly, do you?”  He watched her eyes fill with tears.

“No, I’m not having an abortion. It’s my baby and I’m keeping it.”

He wondered why that pleased him. Then he felt as if she had kicked him in the stomach when she went on passionately.

“I’d sell myself in the street, if I have to. I’ll do anything to keep my baby. You hear me? Anything! Now please go away and leave me alone.” She started crying again.

“Don’t upset yourself.”  God, he needed a drink, several drinks, in fact. “I’m prepared to help you. Give up your job. I’ll pay you an allowance and be responsible for all your expenses.”

“Don’t bother. I don’t want your charity.”

He ground his teeth. “It’s not charity.”

“What would you call it? Your Christian duty? Conscience money? Tell me, Bryce, what would you call it?”

“I’m going,” he ground the words out. “I’ll come back when you’re prepared to listen to reason.”  He strode out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. Those two girls would drive him into the lunatic asylum in next to no time.

Caroline was upset. Hadn’t he read somewhere how easily pregnant women got upset, hormonal changes or some such rubbish?  He’d leave it for a day or two before coming to see her again. He would buy her a house, something with a garden. Yes, she’d like that. He’d make her a generous allowance, and one for the child, also, he mused as he drove along.

The thought popped into his head that he’d like it to be a boy. He cursed under his breath. What in the name of hell was he thinking of? Why should he care?  He wouldn’t be having anything to do with either of them. Everything would be arranged through his lawyer. It was the only sensible course of action. He couldn’t explain the vague feeling of disquiet he felt at this thought. His nerves were shot to pieces. It had been one hell of a shock.

He drew savagely on his cigarette, wondering whether he should call in and see his father, who had taken another slight heart turn the other day. This would have to be the most traumatic day of his life. Maybe he should stop and see the old boy. He was fond of his father. His mother he wasn’t so sure of, though.

He should have some affection for her; she was his mother, after all. Not that he could remember her ever being maternal. A nanny brought him up until he went to school, and servants minded him once he started school.

He could remember not seeing his mother for two or three days on end sometimes, if she got caught up with her committees or social gatherings. His father had been busy expanding the business. The old man always made the effort to spend part of each day with him, even if it was only a quick bedtime story when he was working to a deadline.

He recalled one particular birthday when he turned seven. His mother bought him a new bicycle. She hadn’t even bothered to find out if he could ride it or not. The old man taught him how to ride, watched and applauded as he gained expertise. He couldn’t remember his mother ever even seeing him on it.

He slowed down at the gates, and they opened automatically for him. As usual, he admired his parents’ house. Ridiculous having such a large place for just the two of them. Of course, it would be his in due course, but for a bachelor pad it was laughable.

Pulling up outside the house, he made his way to the verandah and banged the brass knocker rather than use his own keys. The housekeeper opened the door, all smiles.

“Good evening, Mr. Harrington.”

“Good evening. Nice to see you again, Mrs. Ferguson. How’s my father?”  He followed her inside.

“He’s not too bad. He’s taking coffee in the drawing room.”

“Good.” He
strode
into the drawing room, where his father reclined in his favorite Louis XV armchair.

“How are you?” He smiled at his father, untypically dressed in pajamas and matching brown dressing gown. “Where’s mother?” He glanced around.

“She’s on the phone, but she’ll be back in a minute.”

“You’re looking pale. Why don’t you and mother take a holiday? Get away from it all. Brampton Island would be nice, if you don’t feel up to traveling overseas.”

“Oh, Bryce, darling.”  His mother swept in. “I hope you haven’t been upsetting your father with business problems.  No stress, complete rest, that’s what the doctor ordered. Of course, he’s worried about you.”

“Me! Why?”

“Your father is anxious about what’s going to happen to the company, this house, everything. If only you’d be reasonable and get married, produce the grandchild he’s been longing for,   I’m sure everything would be all right.”

“For God’s sake, don’t start harping on that again, I couldn’t stand it. That’s not worrying you, is it, Dad? I’ve told you before I’ll marry eventually and present you with an heir.” 

God, it struck him like a bolt of lightning. He wasn’t married, but the heir was already on its way. Why hadn’t he thought of that before?  Shock must have caused a mental block.

“It would ease my mind. I don’t like to push you,” his father’s voice trailed off wistfully.

“Yes, darling, you must do something. Ashley is such an adorable girl, or even Amanda is suitable. Her parents hoped for a match. Very embarrassing for me when I found out you’d broken off with her.”

Bryce ground his teeth. They would be worn down to the gums if he went through much more today. “She’s a selfish, demanding bimbo,” he said savagely, “and Ashley’s an empty-headed one.”

He clamped his teeth together as he watched his father’s face pale. Scenes were no good for him. “I don’t wish to discuss it, do you understand? I’ll choose my own wife when I’m ready and the time is right.”  What an idiotic thing to say. He wasn’t ready, but the time was more than right.

Caroline claimed to love him once, maybe she still did. He’d ask her to marry him. All his problems would be solved at once. He laughed, and his mother jumped on him straight away.

“What’s so funny? You’ve a weird sense of humor. Your father is worrying himself into an early grave because you’re too selfish to give him the one thing he craves.” Her voice rose until it became shrill.

“All right, I’ll get married. I’ll produce an heir. Will that satisfy you?”

“Yes, yes.” His mother sounded ecstatic. “Amanda or Ashley?”

“Neither.”

“Who?”

“I know who I’m going to ask. I just have to get her to accept, that’s all.”

“Who is it?” his mother demanded. “Why wouldn’t she accept you?  You’ve been nominated for Bachelor of the Year several times. You’re an excellent catch. How dare any woman think she’s too superior to marry a Harrington?”

“You’ll stop worrying, Dad, if I get married and produce an heir, right?”

“Yes, it would be a load off my mind.”

“I’ll be married and give you a grandchild before the end of the year. Satisfied?”