Read Online Thurston House by Danielle Steel - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Danielle Steel
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little fireball to keep you warm and happy and amused.
Sounds like a great deal of trouble to me. But he had to admit, in some ways, the idea appealed to him. And where does one find such a girl?
Wherever she is. And one looks hard, if one has to. Or perhaps she'll just walk right into your arms.
She hasn't yet, or at least not until this trip. He eyed her knowingly again and she laughed. She had almost allowed herself to fall head over heels in love with him. But she couldn't do that. She had too much left to do on her own, and he deserved more than that.
Don't forget what I said! she told him in the last moments of the trip. The train was already pulling into the Atlanta station and his bags were packed. They were standing in his private car, and he had left instructions to leave it on for her and her maid. The journey to Savannah would take them only a few more hours, but she wasn't thinking of Savannah now. She was only thinking of him, and he of her.
Damn you, why won't you marry me? He looked down at her tenderly, with grief and passion mixed in his eyes. You're a fool.
I know I am tears suddenly welled up in her eyes but I want something better for you.
You're the best there is.
She shook her head, and the tears rolled slowly down her face as she smiled. I love you, dearest friend. She took him in her arms in a hug that enveloped him and he held her close until the train stopped and then he pulled away to look at her again.
I love you too. Take care of yourself, my dear. I'll see you in New York sometime soon.
She nodded, and waved at him as he left the train, and he stood and waved at her as the train pulled away, and he wondered at the fate that had brought her to him and then let her slide away. There had never been anyone like her before ' and probably never would be again ' and the damnedest thing was that if she would have let him, he would have married her in a moment. It was strange. He had fallen head over heels for Amelia in a matter of days, moments ' hours ' and with Mary Ellen Browne, he would have been content with a lifetime of Sundays. It was something to think about as he rode to his hotel, watching the sights slide by him.
THERE was a wonderful quality of elegance about the Kimball House, which dominated the skyline of Atlanta. A fleet of men rushed forward to help Jeremiah alight and enter the richly decorated lobby, where armies of servants seemed to be hovering about. The decor was more that of a grand ballroom than a hotel lobby. It made the grandeur of the Palace Hotel in San Francisco pale by comparison, although Jeremiah still preferred the familiar comforts of the Palace. It was his favorite hotel in the world. But the Kimball was an excellent second. Jeremiah regained his bag in his suite, looked around, had a drink, and it seemed only moments later when he heard a knock on the door to his room, and Mr. Beauchamp's footman appeared. He stood impressively tall, and black, in formal livery, and handed him an envelope of rich creamy paper, the envelope closed with a very grand gold seal. Having ascertained who Jeremiah was, the envelope was extended in one powerful black hand.
From Mrs. Beauchamp, suh.
Thank you.
Jeremiah swiftly pulled out the card and discovered that he was expected for dinner at eight o'clock that evening. French hours, he thought as he thanked the footman, and asked him to reassure the Beauchamps that he'd be there. With a stern nod, the man, resplendent in his livery, disappeared. Jeremiah wandered around the room, thinking of that night. The room was handsomely decorated, with fine fabrics and French antiques, but to Jeremiah it looked all too empty now. There was a soft knock on the door, and a black maid appeared with a silver tray, bringing him another tall mint julep and a plate of cookies that smelled freshly baked. Normally, after the long ride on the train, he would have liked nothing better, but now all he could think of was Amelia. In a few hours she
Sounds like a great deal of trouble to me. But he had to admit, in some ways, the idea appealed to him. And where does one find such a girl?
Wherever she is. And one looks hard, if one has to. Or perhaps she'll just walk right into your arms.
She hasn't yet, or at least not until this trip. He eyed her knowingly again and she laughed. She had almost allowed herself to fall head over heels in love with him. But she couldn't do that. She had too much left to do on her own, and he deserved more than that.
Don't forget what I said! she told him in the last moments of the trip. The train was already pulling into the Atlanta station and his bags were packed. They were standing in his private car, and he had left instructions to leave it on for her and her maid. The journey to Savannah would take them only a few more hours, but she wasn't thinking of Savannah now. She was only thinking of him, and he of her.
Damn you, why won't you marry me? He looked down at her tenderly, with grief and passion mixed in his eyes. You're a fool.
I know I am tears suddenly welled up in her eyes but I want something better for you.
You're the best there is.
She shook her head, and the tears rolled slowly down her face as she smiled. I love you, dearest friend. She took him in her arms in a hug that enveloped him and he held her close until the train stopped and then he pulled away to look at her again.
I love you too. Take care of yourself, my dear. I'll see you in New York sometime soon.
She nodded, and waved at him as he left the train, and he stood and waved at her as the train pulled away, and he wondered at the fate that had brought her to him and then let her slide away. There had never been anyone like her before ' and probably never would be again ' and the damnedest thing was that if she would have let him, he would have married her in a moment. It was strange. He had fallen head over heels for Amelia in a matter of days, moments ' hours ' and with Mary Ellen Browne, he would have been content with a lifetime of Sundays. It was something to think about as he rode to his hotel, watching the sights slide by him.
THERE was a wonderful quality of elegance about the Kimball House, which dominated the skyline of Atlanta. A fleet of men rushed forward to help Jeremiah alight and enter the richly decorated lobby, where armies of servants seemed to be hovering about. The decor was more that of a grand ballroom than a hotel lobby. It made the grandeur of the Palace Hotel in San Francisco pale by comparison, although Jeremiah still preferred the familiar comforts of the Palace. It was his favorite hotel in the world. But the Kimball was an excellent second. Jeremiah regained his bag in his suite, looked around, had a drink, and it seemed only moments later when he heard a knock on the door to his room, and Mr. Beauchamp's footman appeared. He stood impressively tall, and black, in formal livery, and handed him an envelope of rich creamy paper, the envelope closed with a very grand gold seal. Having ascertained who Jeremiah was, the envelope was extended in one powerful black hand.
From Mrs. Beauchamp, suh.
Thank you.
Jeremiah swiftly pulled out the card and discovered that he was expected for dinner at eight o'clock that evening. French hours, he thought as he thanked the footman, and asked him to reassure the Beauchamps that he'd be there. With a stern nod, the man, resplendent in his livery, disappeared. Jeremiah wandered around the room, thinking of that night. The room was handsomely decorated, with fine fabrics and French antiques, but to Jeremiah it looked all too empty now. There was a soft knock on the door, and a black maid appeared with a silver tray, bringing him another tall mint julep and a plate of cookies that smelled freshly baked. Normally, after the long ride on the train, he would have liked nothing better, but now all he could think of was Amelia. In a few hours she
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