Galloway had jumped or fallen into the river after her errant trunk, then ripped up her clothes on driftwood, hitting her head in the process, leaving her memory full of holes.
He wondered how long she'd worked on that story. He wondered
why
she'd felt it necessary.
She frustrated him even as he felt amazement at her ability to spin such tales. While he'd told his own share of lies, he'd constructed his much more carefully. He hadn't spoken the first words that came into his head. The real story of her odd clothing and manners would be even more interesting than the concocted version she clung to.
At times, he'd wanted to smile at her tale. Fortunately, he'd stopped himself in time. He didn't want his guest to believe that he found her amusing, not when he was determined to find the truth.
Persistence was a trait he'd always possessed. Patience was a virtue he'd developed over the years. And he could still tell the difference between someone who held four aces and someone who tried to bluff with a single pair.
Chapter Five
Randi nearly missed breakfast the next morning, but fortunately, Melody woke her in time to get dressed in the various undergarments and fastened with hooks and eyes into a bell-skirted, low-waisted lavender dress. The bodice fit tight, right up to her neck. The upper sleeves were also snug, but flared out at the elbows--a truly ridiculous feature. How could anyone tolerate all that material bunching up around their forearms when they could barely move their shoulders?
Casting a covetous glance to where she'd hidden her tennis shoes, she forced her feet into the too-tight leather slippers. Then, still fuming over the fashions of the 1800's, Randi carefully descended the stairs, following the smell of savory meat and yeasty bread. Her stomach growled in response, making her aware that she hadn't eaten a meal in a long time.
She wanted to linger over the rooms of beautiful, ornate furniture and heavy, lush fabrics, but she figured she should get to breakfast while it was still being served. The "master" might be a little peeved if she ignored his directive to meet this morning. Perhaps later she'd have time to look around the house.
She found the dining room, the long table set with one place at the end, another setting halfway down the side. Jackson Durant presided, looking up at her over the edge of his newspaper.
"I'm glad you decided to join me, Miss Galloway. I was afraid you'd decided to take breakfast in your room."
Based on his comment last night, she assumed sleeping in, then snacking on a half-dozen Hostess mini-donuts wasn't an option, but she wasn't about to argue with him this early in the day. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting."
"Not at all. I've already eaten. However, I'll have coffee while we talk."
She cast a covetous glance at the sideboard's steaming content.
"My intention is not to starve you," he said with amusement in his voice as he nodded toward the chafing dishes.
Deciding not to wait for him to change his mind, she took a plate from the sideboard and reached for a silver serving dish cover.
Before she could lift the lid, he rang a bell. Immediately a servant--little more than a boy--entered, went toward her, and served.
"I can get this," Randi said quietly, hoping not to alert "the master" to what was bound to be unorthodox behavior.
"Since Miss Galloway is intent on serving herself, please fetch her coffee."
"Coffee would be great." Anything to help get her through another interrogation by the man who held her fate in his hands--even if he didn't realize it.
As soon as she took her seat, their conversation began. "Tell me about your relationship with Miss Agnes Delacey."
Randi popped a bite of sausage into her mouth before answering, taking her time chewing the unfamiliar taste. Not unpleasant, just different than the Jimmy Dean patties her mother cooked. She watched Mr. Durant out of the corner of her eye, but he seemed patient.
"This is very good," she
He wondered how long she'd worked on that story. He wondered
why
she'd felt it necessary.
She frustrated him even as he felt amazement at her ability to spin such tales. While he'd told his own share of lies, he'd constructed his much more carefully. He hadn't spoken the first words that came into his head. The real story of her odd clothing and manners would be even more interesting than the concocted version she clung to.
At times, he'd wanted to smile at her tale. Fortunately, he'd stopped himself in time. He didn't want his guest to believe that he found her amusing, not when he was determined to find the truth.
Persistence was a trait he'd always possessed. Patience was a virtue he'd developed over the years. And he could still tell the difference between someone who held four aces and someone who tried to bluff with a single pair.
Chapter Five
Randi nearly missed breakfast the next morning, but fortunately, Melody woke her in time to get dressed in the various undergarments and fastened with hooks and eyes into a bell-skirted, low-waisted lavender dress. The bodice fit tight, right up to her neck. The upper sleeves were also snug, but flared out at the elbows--a truly ridiculous feature. How could anyone tolerate all that material bunching up around their forearms when they could barely move their shoulders?
Casting a covetous glance to where she'd hidden her tennis shoes, she forced her feet into the too-tight leather slippers. Then, still fuming over the fashions of the 1800's, Randi carefully descended the stairs, following the smell of savory meat and yeasty bread. Her stomach growled in response, making her aware that she hadn't eaten a meal in a long time.
She wanted to linger over the rooms of beautiful, ornate furniture and heavy, lush fabrics, but she figured she should get to breakfast while it was still being served. The "master" might be a little peeved if she ignored his directive to meet this morning. Perhaps later she'd have time to look around the house.
She found the dining room, the long table set with one place at the end, another setting halfway down the side. Jackson Durant presided, looking up at her over the edge of his newspaper.
"I'm glad you decided to join me, Miss Galloway. I was afraid you'd decided to take breakfast in your room."
Based on his comment last night, she assumed sleeping in, then snacking on a half-dozen Hostess mini-donuts wasn't an option, but she wasn't about to argue with him this early in the day. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting."
"Not at all. I've already eaten. However, I'll have coffee while we talk."
She cast a covetous glance at the sideboard's steaming content.
"My intention is not to starve you," he said with amusement in his voice as he nodded toward the chafing dishes.
Deciding not to wait for him to change his mind, she took a plate from the sideboard and reached for a silver serving dish cover.
Before she could lift the lid, he rang a bell. Immediately a servant--little more than a boy--entered, went toward her, and served.
"I can get this," Randi said quietly, hoping not to alert "the master" to what was bound to be unorthodox behavior.
"Since Miss Galloway is intent on serving herself, please fetch her coffee."
"Coffee would be great." Anything to help get her through another interrogation by the man who held her fate in his hands--even if he didn't realize it.
As soon as she took her seat, their conversation began. "Tell me about your relationship with Miss Agnes Delacey."
Randi popped a bite of sausage into her mouth before answering, taking her time chewing the unfamiliar taste. Not unpleasant, just different than the Jimmy Dean patties her mother cooked. She watched Mr. Durant out of the corner of her eye, but he seemed patient.
"This is very good," she
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