so close and her heart beating faster than normal.
“It’s quite lovely here,” Amanda said, peering at the passing neighborhood from beneath her wide-brimmed hat.
The West Adams district had become as famous as New York’s Fifth Avenue, and Nob Hill, where Amanda’s uncle made their home. Wide, tree-lined boulevards, wrought-iron and stone fences fronted the magnificent homes of some of the finest families in the city. Here, standards were set by people of affluence and wealth.
“My parents selected the site and designed the house,” Nick said. “Father died shortly after construction began.”
“He never got to live here?”
“No.” Nick smiled gently. “But the house makes us all think of him.”
Amanda turned back for a last glance at the Hastingses’ home. A three-story structure with scrollwork and gingerbread, a witch’s cap and onion dome, the house was painted ivory with deep blue and maroon trim. It was a grand home, and a fine legacy left by Nick’s father.
“Don’t you want to know where we’re going?” Nick asked.
“Not really,” Amanda said, and smiled. “I trust you.”
“Now you’ve really put me on the spot,” Nick replied, and gave her the same devilish smile she’d seen earlier.
That smile wound its way through Amanda and settled around her heart. If Nick got much more handsome, or smiled at her again, she didn’t know how she’d bear it.
Maybe she shouldn’t have come with him today, she thought again. Regardless of how dreadful another day of wedding preparations sounded, perhaps she should have stayed at the house and endured it, somehow. She’d come to Los Angeles with the intention of keeping her distance from Nick, knowing it was best for her. Dolly had been right to remind her of that. Now here she sat, facing a day alone with him.
Once more, Amanda cautioned herself to stay on guard, lest she lose herself completely in Nick’s green eyes.
They rode in silence for a while, and that seemed to suit Amanda, Nick noted. He studied her face, turned toward the window so she could watch the passing scenery. Unlike so many other women, she didn’t chatter about this or that, or feel the necessity to fill every moment with conversation.
Usually, that would have pleased Nick. Having lived with females his whole life, he thought that, in general, they talked too much. But now, with Amanda, it made him wonder what she was thinking.
Certainly, it wasn’t anything remotely related to what he was thinking.
“Amanda, you’re really very—”
Pretty, he’d intended to say. But when she turned to him and he saw that look of tired expectation on her face, it occurred to him that people probably told her she was pretty all the time—because she was. Nick didn’t want to be like everyone else.
“Smart,” Nick said. “You’re really very smart.”
She smiled then, a genuine, heartfelt smile that Nick was sure she seldom shared with anyone. He was inordinately pleased that he’d elicited it from her.
“The way you took care of that problem with Cecilia this morning,” he continued. “You were the only one who seemed to have a handle on the situation.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “All my wedding experience came in handy for something.”
“What do you do with your time when you’re not being dragged into everyone else’s weddings?” Nick asked.
“Volunteer work, mostly.”
Any other woman would have rattled off a list of clubs she belonged to and decorating projects she’d completed. But Amanda wasn’t just any woman, Nick was fast learning.
“What sort of volunteer work?”
She seemed surprised that he’d asked. “Three days a week I work at churches, preparing meals and serving indigents. Twice a week I visit the orphanage.”
“You enjoy doing that?” he asked.
“It breaks my heart, seeing the children.” Amanda looked at him, tears instantly welling in her eyes.
Nick nearly bolted across the carriage to hold her, comfort her. He’d never felt a desire so strong in his entire life.
Amanda blinked her tears away. “But I can’t stay away.”
“Has this got something to do with that women’s refuge you mentioned earlier?”
“Yes, it does,” Amanda said. “So often women don’t have the skill or knowledge to support themselves and their children when their husband leaves them or passes away. I want to provide a place where they can live while they get on their feet and learn how to provide for their children.”
Nick just stared at her. Good Lord, who was this woman—this Amanda Van Patton? Where had she been all his life?
“That’s an incredible idea,” he finally managed to say.
“Thank you.” She smiled softly, and Nick’s heart melted a little.
For the first time, he wondered what would have happened to his own family if things had been different when his father died. What if he’d been a boy, unable to take over the family business? Would his mother have known what to do? Where would she have gotten the help and guidance she needed to provide for their family?
“So, when are you starting this project?” Nick asked.
“As soon as I raise the money.”
“What about your uncle Philip? He’d support your cause.”
“I don’t want to ask him,” Amanda said. “It’s a losing proposition, never intended to show a dime of profit. I can’t expect him to spend his own money on it. Besides, I’d like the community to get involved, to realize what’s happening and take part in solving the problem.”
“That’s a tall order.”
She sat a little straighter on the seat and gave him a brisk nod. “I have a plan.”
He grinned. “Really?”
“I plan to stage a number of events for San Francisco’s wealthy families to raise awareness of the situation and drum up support. Once I’ve secured the funds, I’ll start on the refuge,” Amanda said. “I need a building large enough to accommodate women and their children. It will require a kitchen, sitting rooms, a playroom for the children, and a place where they can receive medical care. I’ll also require space so the women can receive training for the jobs they’ll need to eventually become self-reliant. I want a safe location near schools, parks and churches.”
She paused and blushed slightly. “Well, that’s my plan.”
“It sounds more like your passion,” Nick said.
She considered his words. “You could be right.”
