Everything I Ever Wanted by Jo Goodman Page A

movement as she heard the sound of her own speech as though from a distance. She fell silent, trying to orient herself.
    Southerton waited no longer. He ducked out of the carriage and turned to offer his hand to her, grasping her wrist when she did not avail herself of his assistance. His pull was light but inexorable, and he drew India to her feet and then outside without a show of force or even effort. The driver flew ahead of them to the small stoop outside India's unexceptional gray stone home and applied himself to the brass knocker. The door swung open, held there by a distracted young maid in a twisted gown and skewed cap, just as South and India reached it. The driver forgot himself long enough to stare openly at the flustered maidservant before the advance of his passengers reminded him of his place. He made a slight bow and disappeared.
    South noticed India lift a single brow in her maid's direction, a gesture that managed to be censorious and tolerant at the same time. She would never have any discipline among the ranks while giving those opposing orders. Mildly amused and more than a little intrigued by this lack of discipline, South escorted India to a sitting room on the main floor. Miss Parr found wits about her enough to tell the maid to bring some light repast for them from the kitchen; then they were alone.
    "Please," India said softly, "you will make yourself comfortable."
    The way she phrased it, with that slight inflection at the end, South thought the invitation was more in the way of discovering if he could be comfortable here. Looking around, he very much decided that he could. He had not thought that he might have preconceived some notion of how the actress lived, and he realized now that this was not the case. He must have given it some fleeting thought since the moment of their first meeting, or perhaps since the colonel raised the specter of such a meeting, because this room, at least, seemed to him wholly unexpected.
    It was sparely furnished with a chaise longue, a Queen Anne settee, and a single chair near the fireplace. The hearth itself was not an elaborate green-veined marble affair but plaster. The mantel gleamed whitely against light blue walls and darker wainscoting. There were two small round tables with ball and claw feet situated so they could be reached easily from wherever one was seated. One held the remnants of material that spilled over the side into a basket on the floor; the other held a stack of three books still bound with carrying string from the booksellers. The appointments were centered by the Aubusson rug. The perimeter of the room had a narrow sideboard, a window seat that overlooked the front street, and a table near the door, which held a Delft blue vase abundantly filled with hothouse flowers.
    Southerton removed his hat and gloves and placed them on the table beside the vase. Miss Parr stepped toward him as he began to unfasten his coat, belatedly realizing that her flustered maid had taken no measures to secure these items from him. South waved away her concern and laid his coat over the back of the chaise. He walked slowly around the room, studying the occasional figurine, reading the spine of a book lying on its side. He was aware of India watching him but wholly unconcerned by it.
    "This is a pleasant room, Miss Parr," he said.
    "I am glad you find it so. I have been told it is rather too spacious a room to be so meagerly appointed, but there is nothing I wish to add."
    He shrugged. "Then you should not. You enjoy the late-morning light here?"
    "Yes. For reading and sketching. Sometimes I sew."
    He nodded, his glance going from the books to the basket of colorful fabrics. "And for entertaining?"
    "I no. That is, I do not" India sat down abruptly on the settee. Her shawl slipped over one shoulder, and she made no attempt to reposition it over her in spite of the fact that she was chilled. "I have only the rare visitor," she said after a moment. "I suppose it comes