The Matchmaker by Kay Hooper Read Free Book Online

in his life, even in his last years when age had taken its toll....
    His father?
    Very slowly, Cyrus sat down in the chair behind the desk and stared at the slip of paper. Then he looked at the cane, and he was conscious of nothing except shock.
    His real father?

THREE
     
    Julia managed to remain very close to home during the next few days, even though she risked Adrian's suspicion by doing so. Despite his own busy schedule, he always seemed to know if she'd gone out and often where she had been. Any variation from her usual routine was a virtual guarantee he would spark an explosion of questions, accusations, and cruelty. Ironically, he was most suspicious when she didn't go out, apparently believing she was more likely to betray him in his own house.
    Normally, she spent no more time in the house than necessary unless it was literally too painful to get dressed, keeping herself as busy as possible so she wouldn't have time to think, to dread. She tried to make certain she was either very much in the public eye or else indisputably in the company of other women, so Adrian had no grounds for suspicion.
    The tactics made her feel the constant tug of an invisible leash, and they weren't always successful since he was sometimes completely irrational, but it was the best way she'd found to cope with an impossible situa tion.
    After what had happened in the park, however, she didn't dare go out. She knew that hiding in the house was only a temporary postponement, but she needed the time to try to shore up her splintering emotional barri ers. Luckily, Adrian had decided they would give a party—a large party—the following weekend, so Julia was able to claim preparation for it as an excuse to remain at the house.
    In truth, there was a great deal for her to do, and since the visible evidence of her work greeted Adrian when he came home late each afternoon, he could hardly deny she'd been taking care of all the arrangements involved in hosting a large social event—especially since she made it a point to greet him with numerous questions regarding his preferences. It was another tactic she'd found to be generally effective; by focusing his attention on mundane details that he had absolutely no interest in, she could induce him at times to release the pressure inside him in small spurts of temper rather than devas tating explosions.
    "For God's sake, Julia, I don't care what you serve!"
    She kept her voice brisk. "If you mean to discuss politics either during or after dinner, Adrian, then what we serve for the meal is quite important.'
    They were standing in the foyer, alone after a maid had bustled by with her arms full of linen, and Adrian glared down at Julia. His hat had been tossed aside the moment he came into the house; his blond hair was plastered to his scalp with perspiration, and a nerve beside his hard mouth pulsed visibly. He looked hot and frustrated; his duties as mayor were more difficult than he'd expected. The strains of office coupled with the intolerable heat wave gripping Richmond made his temper more ragged than Julia ever had seen it. At least for the moment it was just annoyance, not irrational rage.
    "Why's it important?" he snapped, loosening his tie with a jerky movement.
    "In this heat, serving something too rich will just put them to sleep or make them hideously uncomfortable. No one will feel like talking, especially about politics."
    "Then serve something mild and chilled—use your head, Julia." He shrugged out of his coat, scowling. "Is my bath ready?"
    "Yes."
    She remained where she was, watching him ascend the stairs until he was out of sight. Only then did she swallow hard and slump a little as some of the tension left her. Perhaps this would be a good night. She wasn't sure yet, and wouldn't feel completely safe until he was asleep. He could still shout for her and demand she help him bathe, she knew. It was one of the little humiliations he enjoyed inflicting, forcing her to handle his naked