Love, Come to Me(81)

“Heath will be down here in just a minute,” she said as Damon settled into a chair across from hers. “As soon as he’s finished washing up and dressing . . .” Her voice trailed off into silence as she noticed that his dark eyes had flickered to the bodice of her dress. Looking down at herself, Lucy realized that one of Heath’s wet handprints was still clearly visible, right underneath her breast. She could feel her cheeks turning crimson. “He required a little assistance with his bath,” she said lamely.

“Of course,” Damon replied, unfailingly polite, though she saw a dark twinkle in his eyes.

“He’s in remarkably good temper, considering . . . everything.” She would not make any further revelations until she found out if Damon was there to decide on a compromise or abandon ship.

Damon sobered instantly. “I couldn’t just meet him at the paper. I thought if we talked here beforehand—”

“I think that’s a very good idea.”

“I would like to believe that there’s a good chance of reconciling our differences.”

“He is a very reasonable person, Mr. Redmond. I know for a fact that he would like to find a suitable compromise between your position and his.”

“With all due respect, Mrs. Rayne,” Damon said stiffly, “I didn’t have that impression yesterday.”

“I am certain that many people think of him as being very . . . progressive—”

“Very tactfully put—”

“Perhaps too progressive. But he believes very strongly in what he is doing, and he feels a great sense of responsibility to his people. Surely you can understand that.”

“I didn’t come here to debate with you—”

“What I’m trying to tell you,” Lucy insisted softly, “is that if he feels you are approaching him with some understanding of his position, he will be much more inclined to listen to what you have to say. And, as you already know, if you try to best him in an outright confrontation, he will dig his heels in even deeper.”

“Thank you for the advice,” Damon murmured. “I’ll try to remember it.”

Tacitly they decided to change the subject as Bess came in with extra dishes and silverware. The maid fumbled slightly as she arranged a place setting before Damon, glancing at his dark, attractive face so often that Lucy nearly admonished her for being so clumsy about her work. Damon didn’t appear to notice the maid’s interest; his attention was completely focused on Lucy in a manner that was both flattering and disconcerting. Lucy passed him a basket of freshly baked muffins, admonishing him to take one of the larger ones. She smiled with pleasure as he put two of them on his plate. “I’m glad someone besides me has an appetite this morning,” she said.

“Just because I’m in the midst of a personal crisis and potential financial disaster doesn’t mean I should starve to death as well.” Damon broke open a steaming muffin and spread it with butter.

“How very practical.”

“Of course. Nothing else is to be expected from a Redmond. The Cabots are blunt, the Forbeses are perverse, the Lawrences are tightfisted, the Lowells are cold. The Redmonds are practical.”

How ridiculous. Lucy smiled at him while thinking privately that most of the first family traditions were pure nonsense. How could any one person belonging to a first family ever have a life of his own? Everything had been mapped out for Damon from the day he was born until the day he died, including his education, his friends, his business, his future wife—even his personality. She knew that many people had been shocked by his decision to buy a newspaper instead of following his older brothers’ footsteps in the world of banking. Lucy hoped he would continue to break away from the Redmond mold, for she had a feeling that quite a different Damon Redmond existed inside the somber young man his family had intended him to be.

“I was also brought up to be practical,” she confided, pouring a generous splash of cream into her coffee and stirring it slowly. “For me, everything was always very organized and predictable. Decisions were easy to make. Problems were easily solved.” She shook her head reminiscently and chuckled. “And then I met Heath, and nothing has been the same since then. Nothing is simple anymore. It’s difficult to be practical around someone who can make the most sensible things seem absurd.”

“He does like to approach things on a different level than the rest of us,” Damon admitted wryly. “A very complicated level. By now I should have figured out a way to avoid problems like this one. But so far I haven’t had much success at coming to understand him.”

Lucy was saved from having to reply by Bess’s reappearance with a tray of food. Thoughtfully she lifted the coffee cup to her lips. It was so hot that she could only let a few drops of the dark liquid graze the tip of her tongue. She found it interesting that she and Damon would both have the same difficulties in dealing with Heath. Overly practical people would always think of him as someone beyond comprehension. There was a time when she, also, had considered it important to try to understand him. But there was no category Heath would fit in. There were too many pieces to the puzzle. It was better just to accept him as he was, ambiguities and all, and to be content with the knowledge that he needed someone like her, constant and unchanging, in order to keep his world in balance.

Heath entered the room just then, stopping in the doorway as he laid eyes on the unexpected visitor. Lucy looked from his face to Damon’s, unconsciously holding her breath.