Heaven Sent (21 page)

As if he sensed that something odd had
crept in the atmosphere, Mark glanced at Aubrey with some
confusion. “Well, I know it’s difficult to travel with a child if
you’re not used to it. At least, that’s what my sister Margaret
tells me.” He laughed uneasily. “She’s got three, you know, and
likes to take me along on trips to keep the kiddies
entertained.”

“
Ah. No. I didn’t know
that.”

“
Well, she does. Er, when
did you say this party is planned?”

Eager to wrench his thoughts away from
the problem of Mark Henderson and Callie Prophet, Aubrey said,
“Weekend after next.”

“
I can plan my visit out
here on Friday instead of Wednesday that week, if it will help you
out,” Mark said hopefully.

Knowing he was being completely
irrational and disliking himself for it, Aubrey gave himself a
fierce inner shake and said, “Thank you. That would be
great.”

“
Good.”

Dash it, the man didn’t have to sound
so cheerful about it. Aubrey shot Mark a glare from under his
lowered eyebrows, but Mark didn’t see it. He was too busy gazing
wistfully at Miss Prophet.

*****

Both Callie and Becky were excited
about their trip to San Francisco. “Papa says I’ve been there
before,” confided Becky, “but I don’t ‘member it much.” She paused,
and Callie thought she could see the gears in her little brain
grinding. “I ‘member fireworks, though.”

“
Fireworks?” Callie smiled
at Mark Henderson as he took a suitcase from her and handed it to
the coachman.

“
I think you’re remembering
the Chinese New Year’s celebration we saw a couple of years ago,
Becky,” Aubrey said.

Callie was startled when he thrust
Mark out of the way and lifted a second suitcase from the ground
near Callie. “That must have been fun,” she said as she watched
Aubrey brusquely gesture Mark to the back of the
carriage.

“
It was,” Aubrey said
curtly. “Here, Mark, why don’t you help John strap these suitcases
on the back of the coach so they won’t fall off.” He frowned,
“Don’t see why we have to take so dashed much baggage with
us.”

“
It’s because we have to
bring day wear and party wear, Mr. Lockhart.” Callie pitched her
tone to sound cool and neutral.

“
Hmm.” Aubrey all but hurled
a bandbox at Mark.

Eventually they settled into Aubrey’s
comfortable traveling coach, and John, the head groom at the
Lockhart stables and today’s coachman, clicked to the horses to let
them know they could start on the journey. Callie and Becky sat on
one side of the commodious coach, while Aubrey and Mark took their
seats across from them. Becky’s cheeks were pink with
excitement.

“
I can’t wait to see San
‘Frisco,” she announced, settling back and folding her hand in her
lap, in blatant imitation of Callie, who’d only sat thus because
she was trying to look prim. She didn’t feel prim. She felt as
exuberant as Becky looked, actually. As much as she adored Santa
Angelica, she also occasionally loved visiting the city.

“
It should be fun,” she
said, keeping her tone sober. “And I’m sure you’ll enjoy seeing
your San Francisco relations again, too.”

“
I s’pose so.” Becky sounded
as if her San Francisco relations were the least of her concerns.
•

Callie tried to hide her grin. Mark
didn’t go that far, He laughed outright. “What gives me the feeling
you’re more interested in revisiting Chinatown than in revisiting
your San Francisco relatives, Miss Becky?”

Becky laughed, too. “Oh, it’s ‘cause I
am! I ‘member the fireworks. They were so pretty. But
loud.”

“
They were very
loud.”

This, from Aubrey, who had joined the
fray, Callie noticed, after shooting Mark another malignant glare.
She didn’t know what the man had against his secretary. Mark
Henderson seemed to be a very nice person, and he must be a good
secretary or Aubrey Lockhart wouldn’t keep him on his staff. Callie
had learned by this time that Mr. Lockhart, the businessman, did
not suffer fools gladly.

“
I don’t suppose we’ll see
any fireworks this time, Becky,” Aubrey went on to say. “The
Chinese celebrate their new year in late January or early February,
I think. This is September.”

“
Oh.” Becky looked
disappointed, but she perked up almost immediately. “But can we go
to Chinatown, Papa? I want to see the pretty lanterns Miss Prophet
told me about.”

Callie fielded one of Aubrey’s grumpy
looks, and gave it back to him with interest. “We’ll have time for
a little sightseeing, won’t we Mr. Lockhart?” she said, knowing as
she did so that she was courting a rebuff from Aubrey. He, after
all, was the one in charge of this trek.

After seeing Callie’s black look and
raising her one, he said, “We’ll see. We might have time, provided
the Harriotts don’t have plans for us all day tomorrow.”

“
I really do want to see
Auntie Amalie,” Becky said. “She’s nice, and she writes me letters
and sends me things.”

Becky’s aunt Amalie was the youngest
of Anne’s sisters, and the one whose engagement they were on their
way to celebrate. “She seems to be a very nice lady,” Callie put in
before Aubrey could say anything.

“
She is.” Aubrey frowned out
the window for a moment and added, “I’m glad she’s found a husband.
I think the family was beginning to worry about her ever settling
down.”

Instantly, if not sooner, Callie took
umbrage. “Do you believe the only successful life a woman can have
is that of being a wife to some man, Mr. Lockhart?”

His head whipped around, and he
scowled at her. Out of the corner of her eye, Callie noticed Mark
Henderson giving the both of them a puzzled stare. She stuck to her
ground, unwilling to give an inch in the issue of women’s
careers.

“
I don’t believe I said
that, Miss Prophet.” Aubrey sounded like he’d iced his words before
flinging them at her.

She sniffed. “It sounded to me as if
you thought there might be something wrong with Miss Harriott that
she hadn’t snared a husband before this time.”

“
Nonsense. I said the family
had begun to worry, not I.”

Callie gave him a “Hmm,” and didn’t
elaborate.

“
My word, Miss Prophet, you
sound quite ferocious. Are you an adherent of Mrs. Anthony’s cause,
by any chance?”

Callie had almost forgotten Mark was
in the carriage with them, but she glanced at him now, trying to
soften her expression for his sake. “I believe women deserve the
opportunity to make their ways in the world, Mr. Henderson, So many
of us are obliged to seek employment and I think it’s a shame there
aren’t more avenues open to women.”

Mark nodded judiciously. Callie got
the impression he was afraid to open his mouth for fear she’d slap
it shut, and she silently chided herself. Just because Aubrey got
her goat every living moment—and she feared she allowed him to do
so for reasons unworthy of her—that didn’t mean all men were beasts
who wanted to hold women captive to their power.

She said gently, “I didn’t mean to
snap, Mr. Henderson.”

Aubrey huffed, “He’s not the one you
snapped at. It’s I to whom you ought to be apologizing.”

Callie sniffed. “Nonsense. I didn’t
snap at you.”

“
Could have fooled me,”
Aubrey muttered.

“
Fiddlesticks.” She noticed
Mark Henderson watching them with interest, and so swallowed the
rest of her retort.

The remainder of the trip continued
along the same lines. Callie was glad when, several hours later,
the carriage pulled up in front of a grand house on Nob Hill in San
Francisco. She stared at the edifice, which looked even more like a
castle than the Lockhart mansion in Santa Angelica did.

“
My goodness. Is this where
the Harriotts live?” Anne’s family must be monumentally
wealthy.

The coachman opened the door and
flipped the stairs down. Without glancing at her, Aubrey lifted
Becky, who had fallen asleep a couple of hours earlier. “This is my
house, actually. We’re stopping here while we remain in San
Francisco.”

“
Your house?” Carnes eyes
widened as she took in the full glory of the Lockhart’s San
Francisco abode.

“
Imposing edifice, isn’t
it?” asked an amused voice at her back.

Callie jumped when Mark took her elbow
to assist her out of the coach. “Er, yes. Yes, it’s quite
imposing.” Since Aubrey didn’t seem inclined to speak to her, she
decided to talk to Mark, who was much more kindly disposed. “Is the
house empty? I mean, do any of the Lockharts live in it? If there
are any other Lockharts, I mean.”

“
No. Mr. Lockhart’s
grandfather built it with the money he dug out of the gold fields.
Mr. Lockhart keeps it in case he ever decides to move back to San
Francisco. I guess the place is of sentimental value to
him.”

“
Sentimental value. I see.”
Callie could appreciate sentiment as much as the next person, but
to maintain such a huge mansion in an expensive city for the sake
of sentiment was going a bit far. She gazed at the huge house as
she stepped from the coach, holding Mark’s hand for
balance.

“
Does he keep the place
staffed when he’s not here?”

“
Oh, yes, of course. You’ve
got to keep places like this occupied, at least by a skeleton
staff, or they go to rack and ruin in no time flat.”

“
Ah. Of course.” Mercy.
Callie couldn’t imagine having the good fortune to be able to
afford a single maid to help her keep up her own family’s home in
Santa Angelica. Staffing an empty house in the metropolis was
beyond her comprehension.

“
Of course, I expect he
wants to keep it for Becky’s sake, too. And in case he ever
remarries.”

Callie, whose feet had barely touched
the ground, spun around and gaped at Mark. “Remarries? Remarries?”
The possibility of Aubrey remarrying had never occurred to her. It
made her insides crunch up painfully. “But—but— Well, his wife. I
mean, he’s so brokenhearted.”

Mark shrugged. “You never know about
these things.”

Every feeling inside her rebelled. The
notion of Aubrey Lockhart with a woman other than Anne—or
herself—made Callie feel positively ill. Restoring her composure
with some difficulty, Callie supposed Mark was right. She swallowed
around a big lump in her throat. “Yes, of course.”

“
Besides, it would probably
be good for Becky if he did Marry one of these days. A little girl
needs a mother.”

“
Of course. Yes. Of course,
you’re right.”

That being the case, Callie
knew she shouldn’t entertain the urge to scratch out the eyes of
the mythical future Mrs. Aubrey Lockhart. It took some willpower to
force her fingers to relax from the claw-like spasm Mark’s words
had precipitated in them. Unless the future Mrs. Aubrey Lockhart
was Callie Prophet, Callie didn’t want even to
think
about it.

She did, however, rather enjoy her
stay in the Lockhart residence that night. She allowed herself to
pretend, even though she knew she shouldn’t, that the house was
hers. Hers and Aubrey’s. After they’d wed.

Oh, God. When had she fallen in love
with him? And why? At first she hadn’t even liked him. How had this
happened? Was it because of the letters? Was it because her mind
had begun to reconcile the Aubrey of the letters with the Aubrey of
today?

“
You’re an idiot, Callie
Prophet,” she told herself right before she climbed into bed. She
feared she’d hit the nail square on the head, too.

*****

Aubrey and Anne had visited San
Francisco quite often after they moved to Santa Angelica. He used
to love the city and all the hustle and bustle abounding there.
Anne had loved visiting her family and showing off Becky to them.
However, since Anne’s illness, Aubrey had only wanted to bury
himself in the country.

He assuredly wasn’t looking forward to
spending this weekend in San Francisco, although he was willing to
endure it for the sake of Anne’s favorite sister, Amalie. And
Becky. Becky deserved to know her Harriott relations, most of whom
weren’t at all akin to the bulldozer Bilgewater, and they deserved
to know her.

Nevertheless, he wasn’t feeling
awfully chipper when Becky bounced down the massive stairs of the
old mansion on Saturday morning, full of energy and glee,
chattering away like a magpie about visiting Chinatown. Miss
Prophet, he noticed, was busily abetting her in this desire. And,
unsurprisingly, so was Mark Henderson, who had eyes only for Miss
Prophet, except when he was forced by courtesy to pay attention to
someone else.

Suppressing the irrational compulsion
to kick his, secretary down the front steps of his lavish
townhouse, Aubrey forced a smile for Becky. “Ready to see the
sites, sweetheart?”

“
Oh, yes, Papa! Miss Prophet
says we can have lunch in Chinatown!”

“
Does she?” Aubrey eyed
Callie with disfavor.

Dash it, he didn’t understand why the
woman should look so blasted appealing all the time. Nannies were
supposed to be elderly, gray-haired ladies with canes and hearing
trumpets. Aubrey’s sense of ill-usage grew each day that he was
faced with the young, pretty, bubbly, and—worst of all—competent
Miss Callida Prophet.