Shannon's Daughter (19 page)

“You
choose.”
 

“A
musical, I think.
 
I’ve seen most of
what’s playing now, but I think it would be fun to see Guys and Dolls with
you.
 
Since it’s so
American.”

“Whatever
you like.
 
And you don’t have to take me out at all, if
you’d prefer to stay home.”

“Oh,
no.
 
I want you to see as much of New York as
possible.
 
Maybe you’ll like it so much I
can sell you on auditioning for Bernie and you’ll get a job and move here.
 
You could even live here, in this house.
 
There are plenty of empty rooms.
 
You could have your pick!”

He was
about to raise a protest when Mrs. Leary intervened.
 
“There you go again, Miss Peg, letting your
imagination run on.
 
I’m sure Mr. Gregg
has a perfectly nice life of his own in London.”

“Thank
you, Mrs. Leary.
 
I couldn’t have said it
better myself.
 
Seriously, Peg, I
couldn’t just pick up and leave my students and what work I have there.
 
There are three other fellows who rely on my
talent to carry them along, you know.
 
A
string quartet is nothing without its first violin.”

She
made a little face, complete with scrunched nose.
 
“Fine.
 
Pass up the opportunity of a lifetime.”

He
laughed, but the idea that she had such a thing in mind was food for his own
thoughts.
 
Implausible as it seemed, what
would really prevent him from putting down roots someplace other than London?
 
Here, in New York, particularly in Peg’s New
York, he would be out of his element, but at the same time he might be free to pose
as someone suitable for a woman like Peg.
 

“I’ll
tell you what, brat.
 
If things don’t
work out in London, I’ll keep your offer in mind.
 
How’s that?”

She
smiled across the table, casting an eye to Mrs. Leary.
 
“Very wise.
 
Now try the shrimp salad.
 
A couple weeks of Mrs.
Leary’s
cooking and you may be packing your bags for New York after all.”
 

Even a
top-rated Broadway extravaganza paled next to Peg in a slim-fitting black dress
and exquisitely delicate high-heeled sandals.
 
The dress, strapless and topped with a little white lace jacket cut high
in front and crossing low in back, left just enough to the imagination to provide
a constant distraction.
 
Kendall couldn’t
seem to keep from searching beyond that lace to the tantalizing curves above the
dress’s neckline, and when he walked beside her, his hand insisted on going to
the bare skin above a single convenient button closing the back of the
jacket.
 
She had bound her hair in a
snood again, this one black mesh decorated with tiny white flowers.
 
As he slanted a glance at her during the
opening tableau, he acknowledged that she was in the same instant innocence
personified and seductive beyond belief.
 
When she slipped a white-gloved hand beneath
his on the armrest separating their seats, his visceral response caused him to blush
like a schoolboy.

Throughout
the show, try as he might, his focus was far from the stage, although Peg
seemed thoroughly entertained.
 
It was at
least good to see her enjoying herself.
 
He knew she was still concerned about her father, who’d insisted she go
out and leave him to the peace and quiet of his study and his brandy.
 
“I love my family, but a few days at a time
is
quite enough.
 
Don’t
fuss,
darlin’.
 
A nice quiet night at home and I’ll be right
as rain.
 
You’ve got Kendall here to
watch out for you, so I won’t worry.”
 

She
hadn’t seemed convinced, but now as the curtain went down for intermission, he
was relieved to hear her say how glad she was they’d come.
 
“Isn’t it wonderful?”

“I’m
glad you’re having fun.
 
I should make a
trip to the gents.”
 
He stood, holding
out a hand to help her up, assuming she’d go with him to the lobby.

“I’ll
just stay here.”
 
She looked up through
her lashes.
 
“Don’t forget to come back.”

“No
need to worry about that.
 
You’re sure
you’ll be all right here alone?”
 
It
occurred to him to wonder if Simon would approve of leaving her unguarded in a
crowded theater.
 
Never having escorted
an heiress, he wasn’t sure where the potential dangers lay, but after several
days of noting what a close watch was kept on her, he’d come to suspect there
must be justification for caution.
 

“Of
course.”
 

The
line was long, and by the time he returned, the warning lights had
blinked.
 
Threading his way toward their seats,
he caught sight of a small, wiry man hovering over Peg, his hand outstretched
as though saying farewell.
 
His pulse
quickened when the man—
not quite seedy but definitely not one
of Peg’s sort—
shot him a sidelong glance before turning to leave.
 

“Who
was that?”
 
Further alarmed at the
puzzled expression on her face, he took her hand as he sat down.

“I
don’t know exactly.
 
He just came up and
started talking to me.
 
He knew my name,
and he said something about having seen my mother on the stage years ago.
 
He acted almost as if I should know him, but
I’m sure I’ve never seen him before.”
 
She stared in the direction the man had disappeared, her eyes clouded
with confusion.
 
Shrugging her shoulders,
she turned back to him with a weak smile.
 
“Oh, well, maybe I have met him somewhere.
 
Or he might just have recognized me from the
papers.
 
I’ve had several people who saw
my deb picture come up to say hello, and it turned out they hadn’t seen me
since I was a little girl.”
 
She tucked
her hand more securely in his.
 
“I missed
you.”

“Long
line.”
 
The lights dimmed.
 
He scanned the rows ahead for any sign of the
stranger, but he had vanished without a trace.
 
Lesson learned, he mused as the curtain came up.
 
Princesses were not to be left alone, even in
a crowd of seemingly innocent theatergoers.
 
Whoever that fellow was, he’d made Peg uncomfortable, and more to the
point Kendall had sensed a threat, or a warning, in his glance.
 
From now on, he would be more watchful.
 
Michael trusted him to protect Peg, not only from
his own lusty interest, but from what could well be genuine danger.
 
He studied her profile as the stage lights
came up, tightening his grip on her hand.
 
Peg Shannon was everything men coveted, a smart, beautiful woman in
possession of a fortune.
 
If he wasn’t
careful, she would soon be in possession of his own worthless heart as well.

“If you
don’t mind, I think we should go home and have a bite to eat there, rather than
going out somewhere.
 
I want to check on
Dad.”
 
She settled back in the cab,
linking her arm through his.

“Not
at all.
 
But your father seemed fine when we left.”

“I
didn’t like his color.
 
He thinks he can
hide it from me when he’s not feeling well, but I know what to look for.
 
I’ll just check on him and then we can raid
the icebox.
 
A picnic in the garden would
be romantic, wouldn’t it?”
 
She brushed
her lips across his cheek, slipping closer on the seat.

“A hike
across the Sahara would be romantic if you were along, brat.”
 
Obviously expecting him to kiss her, Peg
closed her eyes.
 
“But don’t think I
can’t resist that beautiful mouth of yours.
 
You’ll have to wait until we get home.”
 
Easier said than done, but he was determined two could play her
game.
 
A little teasing might do her
good,
make her even more willing, if that were possible.
 
He had the reckless notion to move things
forward just a bit, take advantage of that tempting dress and see how Peg
responded.
 
Already in his mind he had
undressed her sufficiently for a taste of those lovely curves and at least in
his dreams she had not objected.

“Fine,
but what if I’m not in the mood when we get home.”
 
Her pout was such an obvious fraud, he
chuckled.
 

“I’ll
take my chances.
 
I’ve yet to see you
‘not in the mood.’”

“Oh!
 
That’s awful!
 
Are you saying I’m easy, Kendall Gregg?”
 
She jerked her hand away and crossed her arms with a sharp ‘humph.’

“Not
at all.
 
But once in a while the man likes to think
he’s in the lead, you know.
 
A little coy
resistance, not too much mind you, only sweetens the seduction.”

She
turned with wide eyes sparkling.
 
“Are
you planning to seduce me?”

“Wouldn’t
you like to know what I’m planning?
 
You’ll
just have to wait and see, won’t you?”

Adamson
opened the door before Peg could put her key in the lock.
 
Instantly, Kendall knew his plan would not
take shape tonight.
 

“Now
don’t get upset, Miss Peg, but I’m afraid your father’s been taken to
hospital.”
 

“Why?
 
What happened?
 
When did he go?
 
Why didn’t you call me at the theater?”

Apparently
prepared for this barrage, the man waited patiently for her to take a breath.
 
“He was experiencing some discomfort and when
I telephoned the doctor, he felt it best to have Mr. Shannon brought by
ambulance to Lennox Hill for observation.
 
Your father insisted your evening not be interrupted.”
 
Kendall was impressed with Adamson’s careful
response to each of Peg’s questions.
 
“He
also suggested you wait here for a call from the doctor which should be coming
through at any moment.”
 
Dropping his
professional façade, he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.
 
“I assure you, my dear, had I believed him in
any danger, I would have contacted you myself.”
 
Kendall was surprised when she seemed to wilt slightly beneath the
butler’s hand.

“Adamson,
should we be prepared to go to the hospital all the same?
 
Once the doctor calls, that is?”
 
It was the first thing that came to mind,
knowing Peg would insist on rushing to her father’s side.
 
He fully intended to be the one to go with
her.

“That’s
difficult to say, sir.
 
In the meantime,
you might want to take Miss Shannon to the kitchen.
 
Mrs. Leary has made tea.
 
I’ll put the call through the moment it
comes.”
 
Gently, he steered Peg toward
the kitchen, signaling that Kendall should take charge.
 

Touched
by this sign of trust, he took Peg’s arm and said softly, “Tea.
 
I suppose even in New York, it’s the accepted
comfort in any emergency.
 
Come on,
sweetheart.
 
I’m sure he’s in the best of
hands.”
 
When she looked up, her eyes
brimming with tears, his heart twisted.
 
Even the best doctors could not always mend a failing heart, he
remembered his father telling him.
 
“He’ll be fine, Peg.
 
You’ll see.”

He was
grateful to Mrs. Leary, who calmly served them tea and sandwiches, saying that
at times like these, it didn’t pay to go without nourishment.
 
Joining them at the table, she offered her
own version of the night’s events.

“It
must have been around eight when your father called Mr. Adamson to the
study.
 
He said he felt a bit flushed and
his heart had been beating irregular-like for a time.
 
Said he wondered if it might not be best to
telephone the doctor.
 
It’s not as if he
had a spell like the last time, dear.
 
Nothing as bad as that.
 
Even the man with the ambulance said his heart sounded strong.”