Filed To Story: Alessia Mistaken as Mistress Book PDF Free
Anger, he realized, as she drew a breath that threatened to spill her from the dress and stood. “You arrogant son of a bitch. I suppose you think you’re too good for somebody like me? You think I’m theater trash!”
An unattractive vein appeared in her temple. “Well, guess what, Stephen’s wife was theater trash, too. She wouldn’t have cleaned up any better than I do.”
Her rush of words struck him as odd. “Wouldn’t have?”
“Look at you. Pompous is written all over you. You hold me in contempt.”
“Not because of your upbringing or your occupation.”
She shot forward and raised a hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist.
“And what about your precious ‘Claire’ you were so proud to take to the theater and to dinner and show off?” she asked, placing contempt in the name. “Do you think she’s a better person than I am? Do you think she has any more class than the real Claire had?”
He held her wrist firmly. “Wait a minute. The ‘real’ Claire? What is that supposed to mean?”
“Your dainty little blonde was a phony.” She laughed, jerking her wrist from his grasp. “I knew Claire Patrick back in New York. And your sweet little number wasn’t her.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Claire had brassy red hair and freckles, long legs and a tight little fanny. That soft little thing wasn’t Claire. And that, Mr. High-and-Mighty Halliday, is how dense you are.” She poked him in the chest for emphasis and turned to leave.
He caught her arm and jerked her around to face him. “Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not going to say something like that, and then just walk off.”
“Okay, I’ll spell it out for you so. That little number you were so hot over is not Claire Patrick. I don’t know who she was, but I’d never seen her before that night at the restaurant. And I knew Claire. I knew Stephen, too. He wasn’t the stuffed shirt you are.” With deliberate control she softened her voice. “He knew how to appreciate the finer things in life.”
He stared at her, noting the lines around her eyes and mouth that she’d artfully tried to disguise with makeup. “Why should I believe you?”
“You don’t have to believe me. Doesn’t matter to me.” She pulled out of his grasp and walked only a few steps before stopping. “On the other hand, how much would proof be worth to you?” she asked over her shoulder.
“What kind of proof?”
“Proof positive.”
Obviously she wasn’t going to tell him what the proof was. “I’ll pay you whatever Claire owed you.”
She turned back. “A thousand dollars.”
He turned and flipped open the ledger on his desk, dipped his pen and wrote out a bank draft.
She reached for the slip of paper, but he pulled it out of her range. Her eyes narrowed into an unbecoming hateful scowl.
He blew on the ink and stood slowly, enjoying taunting her. With his other hand he beckoned. “The proof first. Then the money.”
Judith opened her bag, withdrew an envelope and sailed it across the room. It hit the wall and fell to the floor.
“What is it?”
“A farewell note.”
He walked to where the envelope lay and picked it up. His name, along with his mother’s, had been written neatly across the front. The flap had already been torn open. Nicholas pulled the sheet of parchment out and unfolded it.
Nicholas and Leda,
I know what I have done is unforgivable, so I don’t ask for your forgiveness. All I ask is that you do not hate me. I planned to tell you the truth from the very minute I awoke in that hospital.
His heart dipped. He extended the bank note, glad to be rid of her. With a derisive smile, Judith snatched it from his fingers.
His legs suddenly unable to bear his weight, Nicholas carried the letter to his desk and sat. He read on.
But when I saw your grief, Nicholas, and when you offered protection and shelter for my son, I could not bring myself to speak the words. I thought perhaps they’d be more easily spoken to your mother.
Anyone could have written this, Nicholas thought angrily, denying the emotion the words drew from his soul. Judith could have written it herself as a means to hurt him or get a thousand dollars from him.
And then, dear Leda, when I saw your tears, and your expression as you looked at my son, I could not bear to say the words then, either. I am still too much of a coward to speak them to your face, so I am leaving this letter.
I am not Claire Halliday. I was never married to your Stephen. I only met him that night of the train wreck. He took me in out of the rain and he and Claire gave me food and dry clothing and shared their berth with me.
If they had been in that compartment that night, they might still be alive. So you see, I am responsible for their deaths. That is something I will live with for the rest of my life.
That didn’t sound like something Judith would think to make up. Did it? Those words sounded like-“she” was blaming herself for Stephen-and Claire’s death. But if the woman he’d brought home hadn’t been Claire, who was she?
A sick feeling permeated his chest. He looked up to see Judith’s gloating smirk. “Where did you get this letter?” he asked.
Her expression flattened. “It-it doesn’t matter where I got it.”
Nicholas wondered if his feelings of confusion and betrayal were written all over his face. He couldn’t bear for this woman to watch him read this letter and see what it was doing to him.
“Get away from me,” he said through his teeth.
Her left eye developed a tic. She raised her chin, spun on her heel and fled his office.
Without sparing her a second thought, he picked up where’d he’d left off.
That and the lies, he read, imagining Claire’s soft voice as she would say the words.
I lied to you and pretended to be Claire so that I could take advantage of you until my leg was healed and I was able to make it on my own.
Enclosed you will find a list of all the items I have taken with me. As soon as I am settled and have a job, I will repay you for the clothing and food and the time spent in your home.
Nicholas read over the list of clothing and articles for the baby. Inconsequential things, material things that didn’t add up to a hundred dollars. Exactly the things Mrs. Trent had said were missing. No one else could have known that.
But what of the jewelry she’d taken?
His fingers trembled on the parchment.
I can never repay you for your kindness, nor for the sin of lying to you and for the loss of your son and brother. I can only tell you how very ashamed and sorry I am.
I don’t know if you can find it in your hearts to not hate me. For the things I have done, I hate myself.
You have no reason to believe me, but now you must see I have nothing left to lose, so I want you to believe this: Stephen was a good man. He knew how to love. He was a son and brother to be proud of.
Tears burned beneath Nicholas’s eyelids.
I was but a stranger, and he and Claire showed me kindness. You would have liked Claire, I know. Cherish their memories.
Sincerely, Alessia Thornton.
Alessia Thornton.