Read Online When Harriet Came Home by Coleen Kwan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Coleen Kwan
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house?”
“Now?”
“If you’re not busy.”
“Uh, sure. I’ve always wanted to see Blackstone Hall.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. It’s not what it used to be.”
He slipped a pair of runners on to his bare feet, and they strolled down the driveway. The afternoon was quiet and pleasant, the poplar trees a rustling mass of gold against a deep blue sky, the surrounding hills slowly turning flaxen under the autumn sun. Their feet crunched on the gravel as they skirted the main house and approached it from the front.
The peeling paint, broken windows and missing tiles stung him afresh, but Harriet still seemed impressed. They went inside, and she stared around her in awe, taking in the soaring ceilings and grand proportions.
“This room is amazing.” She wandered around the drawing room and ran her fingers over the carved mantelpiece. Two sagging armchairs crouched in front of the fireplace, with springs and stuffing leaking from their torn upholstery. Their shoes echoed on the bare floorboards as they moved to the adjoining dining room. Here everything had been removed, only the marks on the dingy walls indicating where paintings had once hung. “But why are these rooms so bare?” she asked. “What happened to all the furniture and the paintings?”
The muscles between his shoulder blades tensed. Did she really not know what had happened? “My father sold off all the valuable pieces. If you recall, he had debts to pay.”
She nodded, looking uncomfortable. “I didn’t realise. I thought he…”
His gut clenched as her voice trailed off. “You thought he’d try to hide behind bankruptcy to salvage his assets?” His voice rumbled with suppressed anger. “My father might have run up some huge debts, but when the truth came out he didn’t try to dodge behind the law. He tried to do the right thing. He sold everything of value—the farmlands, the horse stud, the vineyards, all the furniture and paintings we had here, even the books. Unfortunately it didn’t come anywhere close to what he owed.”
Motionless, she stood in the centre of the room, her hands twisted together. She drew in a slow breath. “Your father never struck me as an extravagant person. I’ve always wondered how he managed to run up such huge debts.”
Her question scraped across his nerves, as she must have anticipated. His first instinct was to turn away, give her the cold shoulder, but something made him pause. He grazed his fingers through his hair and leaned his taut shoulder against a window frame.
“A combination of lousy business decisions and gambling,” he said roughly.
“Gambling?”
He’d been shocked when he’d found out the size of his father’s debts. When confronted, his father had broken down and confessed that, after Adam’s mother had died, he’d been unable to concentrate on his various business concerns. He’d let things slide and had started betting on the horses. The gambling had become an addiction, easing the pain of his loneliness, if only temporarily. Adam could understand that. His mother had been the heart of their family; without her, he and his dad had fallen apart, each nursing their own private grief.
“Yeah.” He jutted out his chin. “Gambling. And girlfriends. A sure-fire combination to empty a man’s wallet.”
Harriet went pale, bit her lip and stared down at the floor.
The business losses and the gambling Adam had been able to understand, but the multiple girlfriends? After four years of being a widower, his father was still a handsome man, and Adam could accept that his dad wanted female companionship, but two secret girlfriends at the same time? It had all felt so grubby, and his father hadn’t been able to look him in the eye when he’d admitted it was true. Adam hadn’t been able to look his father in the face either.
He glanced at Harriet, and his anger returned in a white-hot surge. “Why the stunned look? You’re the one who took all those photos of him with
“Now?”
“If you’re not busy.”
“Uh, sure. I’ve always wanted to see Blackstone Hall.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. It’s not what it used to be.”
He slipped a pair of runners on to his bare feet, and they strolled down the driveway. The afternoon was quiet and pleasant, the poplar trees a rustling mass of gold against a deep blue sky, the surrounding hills slowly turning flaxen under the autumn sun. Their feet crunched on the gravel as they skirted the main house and approached it from the front.
The peeling paint, broken windows and missing tiles stung him afresh, but Harriet still seemed impressed. They went inside, and she stared around her in awe, taking in the soaring ceilings and grand proportions.
“This room is amazing.” She wandered around the drawing room and ran her fingers over the carved mantelpiece. Two sagging armchairs crouched in front of the fireplace, with springs and stuffing leaking from their torn upholstery. Their shoes echoed on the bare floorboards as they moved to the adjoining dining room. Here everything had been removed, only the marks on the dingy walls indicating where paintings had once hung. “But why are these rooms so bare?” she asked. “What happened to all the furniture and the paintings?”
The muscles between his shoulder blades tensed. Did she really not know what had happened? “My father sold off all the valuable pieces. If you recall, he had debts to pay.”
She nodded, looking uncomfortable. “I didn’t realise. I thought he…”
His gut clenched as her voice trailed off. “You thought he’d try to hide behind bankruptcy to salvage his assets?” His voice rumbled with suppressed anger. “My father might have run up some huge debts, but when the truth came out he didn’t try to dodge behind the law. He tried to do the right thing. He sold everything of value—the farmlands, the horse stud, the vineyards, all the furniture and paintings we had here, even the books. Unfortunately it didn’t come anywhere close to what he owed.”
Motionless, she stood in the centre of the room, her hands twisted together. She drew in a slow breath. “Your father never struck me as an extravagant person. I’ve always wondered how he managed to run up such huge debts.”
Her question scraped across his nerves, as she must have anticipated. His first instinct was to turn away, give her the cold shoulder, but something made him pause. He grazed his fingers through his hair and leaned his taut shoulder against a window frame.
“A combination of lousy business decisions and gambling,” he said roughly.
“Gambling?”
He’d been shocked when he’d found out the size of his father’s debts. When confronted, his father had broken down and confessed that, after Adam’s mother had died, he’d been unable to concentrate on his various business concerns. He’d let things slide and had started betting on the horses. The gambling had become an addiction, easing the pain of his loneliness, if only temporarily. Adam could understand that. His mother had been the heart of their family; without her, he and his dad had fallen apart, each nursing their own private grief.
“Yeah.” He jutted out his chin. “Gambling. And girlfriends. A sure-fire combination to empty a man’s wallet.”
Harriet went pale, bit her lip and stared down at the floor.
The business losses and the gambling Adam had been able to understand, but the multiple girlfriends? After four years of being a widower, his father was still a handsome man, and Adam could accept that his dad wanted female companionship, but two secret girlfriends at the same time? It had all felt so grubby, and his father hadn’t been able to look him in the eye when he’d admitted it was true. Adam hadn’t been able to look his father in the face either.
He glanced at Harriet, and his anger returned in a white-hot surge. “Why the stunned look? You’re the one who took all those photos of him with
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