Haunting Rachel Page 5

  “I’ll tell Nicholas you need more time to decide about the business.”

  “Thanks. I’ll see you later, Graham.”

  “You bet.”

  Rachel left his office and drove her leased sedan home without incident. Except that she couldn’t stop scanning her surroundings in search of the blond stranger. She didn’t see him.

  That newspaper ad began to seem more inviting.

  When she went into the house, it was to discover that Fiona was upset because Darby’s workmen had been “tramping” up and down the stairs all day, getting in her way, and Cam wanted to talk to her about buying a rosewood wardrobe that had been found in the attic even though Darby was desperate to have it for her shop, and Darby needed to check with Rachel because she had a list of requested pieces from clients.

  Rachel dealt with each of them patiently, soothing, answering, or making a decision—whatever was called for. Fiona was promised fewer difficulties caused by workmen, Cam was promised the rosewood wardrobe, and Darby’s list was gone over and selected items agreed upon. Then Rachel retreated to her father’s study so she could be alone for a little while.

  It was a room she had always loved, a fairly small room off a side hall on the first floor, where her father had spent much of his time when he was home. It was one of the few rooms in the house not furnished with delicate antiques— though the huge Regency table that had served as his desk was certainly an exquisite piece. The remaining furniture consisted of big, comfortable, overstuffed chairs and a sofa that faced the marble fireplace, as well as big, solid end tables and occasional tables. The floor was hardwood, but covered with a lovely rug in muted shades of blue and burgundy, and bookshelves lined the wall between the two large windows.

  Rachel had already been through all the business papers her father had kept in this room, but she was still in the process of sorting through his remaining personal papers. He had been quite a letter writer, especially in his younger years, and Rachel was loath to throw away his correspondence without reading it just to make sure nothing important was discarded by accident.

  She was sitting at the desk bemusedly reading a letter to her father from a rather well-known sixties actor, when the door opened and Fiona stepped in, a peculiar expression on her face.

  “Miss Rachel …”

  “What is it, Fiona? Darby said she’d speak to her guys, so they should stay out of your way now. Is that it? Or is there another problem?”

  “No. That is—I don’t know. There’s a—a gentleman here to see you.” The housekeeper’s voice was as odd as her expression, a little shaky and more than a little hesitant.

  “Oh? Who is he?”

  “He says his name is Delafield, Miss Rachel. Adam Delafield. He says.”

  Rachel frowned at the housekeeper. “Did he say what it was about?”

  “Something about your father, he said.”

  “All right. Show him in.” Since her parents had died, she had been getting calls and visits from people they had known, and in particular from people who had been helped in some way by her father.

  “Miss Rachel—” Fiona hesitated, then turned away, muttering something under her breath. And crossing herself.

  So Rachel probably should have expected her visitor to present something of a shock. But she didn’t. And when the blond man walked into the room a few moments later, she could only stare at him in astonishment.

  “Hello,” he said, his voice low and curiously compelling. “I’m Adam Delafield. It’s nice to finally meet you, Rachel.”

  His eyes were definitely blue.

  He was tall and athletic in appearance, with wide shoulders and an easy way of moving that spoke of an active life. His lean face wore a tan that had obviously come from time spent outdoors over the years. He was dressed casually in dark slacks and a black leather jacket worn over an open-necked white shirt, and looked perfectly at ease.

  He also looked, amazingly, incredibly, heartbreakingly, like Thomas.

  Of all the questions swirling around in Rachel’s mind, the first one to find voice was “Who are you?”

  He smiled slightly. “I just told you.”

  She got up and went toward him, stopping when she could rest her hands on the back of a chair, keeping it between them as a barrier. “You told me your name. But who are you? Why have you been watching me? Why did you leave the accident and—and come to my hospital room, and how do you know my name?” And how is it that you look so much like him?

  “Lot of questions.” His smile remained. “Can we sit down while I try to answer them?”

  Rachel hesitated, then gestured for him to sit on the sofa while she chose the chair across from it. She couldn’t take her eyes off his face, and even as he began speaking in a voice that was—surely it was!—eerily like Thomas’s, she realized that he was not as at ease as he appeared. There was tension in him; she could feel it. And those blue eyes held a muted intensity that stirred a new and wordless uneasiness in her.

  “My name, as I said, is Adam Delafield.” He spoke slowly, consideringly, and his gaze was intent on her. “And the simple answer to all your questions is that I knew your father.”

  “How did you know him?”

  “He invested money in a … project of mine.”

  Rachel frowned, trying to take in what he was saying, to separate his words from the overwhelming confusion of his looks. “I don’t recall seeing your name on any of Dad’s financial records.”

  “No, you wouldn’t have. The investment wasn’t through the bank. He used personal money and there were no records of the transaction.”

  Her frown deepened. “I know Dad occasionally invested his own money in ventures he considered too risky for the bank, but no records? A handshake deal? How could he report his profits or losses if there was no paperwork?”

  “In my case, he didn’t expect either profit or loss. The deal was simple, a turnaround of the money. He invested a considerable sum, which I was to repay within ten years.”

  “Interest free? That sounds like a loan rather than an investment. And a pretty good deal for you.”

  Adam Delafield nodded. “An excellent deal for me. But he called it an investment because he was sure we would do business together in the future. That was a little more than five years ago. I expect to be in a position to pay off the … loan—within the next six months.”

  “And that’s why you showed up here? Why you watched me from a distance for days?”

  “You make me sound like a stalker.” His voice was light, but that intensity lingered and lent the words shadows. He sighed. “Rachel—I hope you don’t mind, but Duncan talked about you and I got into the habit of thinking of you as if I knew you.”

  She hesitated, then shrugged. “No, I don’t mind.”

  “Thanks. Rachel, I just wasn’t sure how to approach you. I intended to introduce myself to you earlier, right after Duncan and your mother were killed, but you had already gone back to New York, and until the estate was settled, or nearly so, you weren’t expected back. I didn’t want to intrude on your grief. And—I knew about the resemblance.”

  Taken aback, she said, “You did?”

  He nodded. “Duncan commented on it, even showed me a photograph of Thomas Sheridan. So I knew my appearance would probably come as a shock to you. I didn’t want to upset you, that’s why I hesitated to just come up and knock on the door. At the same time, the investment Duncan made in my project was substantial, and since I knew there were no documents, and that he wouldn’t have mentioned it in his will, and possibly not even in his personal papers, I had to see you and explain the situation.”

  She thought it said something about this man’s character that he insisted she know about a part of her inheritance she would never have missed; she couldn’t help wondering how many people would have just kept the money and their silence. But all she said was “It doesn’t really sound like Dad, investing money with no records. He must have trusted you a great deal.”

>   Adam looked down at his clasped hands. “He was very kind to me at a point in my life when kindness meant more than money. And he had faith in my future, something I didn’t have myself. I don’t know why he trusted me, but he did. I’ll always be as grateful to him for that trust as for the money that put me back on my feet.”

  Rachel was moved despite both uneasiness and fascination. Dear God, he looks so much like Thomas! And sounded like him. She clasped her hands together and made herself concentrate. “How did you know Dad? I mean, how did you meet him?”

  “It’s a bit involved.” He raised his gaze to her face and smiled faintly. “He came out to California, where I’m from, more than five years ago on a business trip. I had, the week before, called up an old friend to ask for help. The friend, as it turned out, was away in Europe. His partner, as it turned out, was Duncan Grant.”

  “Nicholas Ross?” That surprised her, although she couldn’t have said exactly why.

  “Yes. We’d known each other a long time and Nick … sort of owed me a favor. Anyway, when I couldn’t reach him, I spoke briefly to Duncan. I found out when he came out to San Francisco the next week that he had called Nick and asked about me. To this day I don’t know what Nick told him, but he came out to California specifically to see me. He listened to my problems and my plans, and offered me the money I needed on the spot.

  “Over the next three or four years I flew out here several times to see him. To let him know how his investment was doing. How I was doing. We’d have lunch, maybe even do a flyover of the city in that little plane he was so proud of. And then I’d go back to California.”

  Rachel flinched a little as she thought of the sleek twin-engine plane her father had loved—and that had taken both her parents to their deaths. Adam obviously saw her reaction.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you any pain, Rachel.”

  “No, it’s just … I don’t like to think about that plane, that’s all.” Planes had taken all the people she loved. She conjured a smile. “So you know Nicholas. Didn’t you assume he’d tell me about Dad’s investment?”

  Adam shook his head. “No, I knew he’d leave it to me. Nick isn’t exactly the most candid of men, you know. I mean, he isn’t apt to discuss other people’s business.”

  “Or even his own,” Rachel observed dryly.

  “Very true.” Adam’s eyes grew even more intense when he smiled at her, and it made her feel strange. He isn’t Thomas. He isn’t! No matter how much he looks like him. But those logical reminders did nothing to curb her growing desire to reach out and touch him.

  Unwilling to let a silence fall between them, she said, “Why did you leave the scene on Friday when I hit that tree? The paramedics told me only the highway patrol was there near the car when they arrived.”

  “You should have asked the highway patrol about me,” he told her with a touch of amusement. “When they reached the scene, they made everyone else stand back. You were in expert care and there didn’t seem to be anything I could do, so I left when I heard the ambulance coming.”

  She half nodded, then said, “Why did you come to my room at the hospital so late? You did, didn’t you? I didn’t imagine it?”

  “No, you didn’t imagine it.” He hesitated. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right. Didn’t expect you to wake up, but you were obviously groggy and went back to sleep almost at once, so I didn’t stay.”

  “You came late. After visiting hours.” That still bothered her.

  “There were some things I had to take care of first,” he said rather vaguely, looking briefly down at his hands in a way that shuttered his gaze for a moment. “It was late when I finished up and got to the hospital. To be honest, I snuck in.”

  She thought his smile was very disarming. “I see. All right—Adam. I suppose all this makes sense.” But it doesn’t, none of it does.

  “But you still have your doubts?”

  “Well, let’s just say it surprises me that Dad would have done business the way you say he did. However, you didn’t have to come and tell me all this, and I can’t think of any devious reason why you would have. And I imagine Nicholas will vouch for you.”

  A flicker of some emotion Rachel couldn’t read crossed his handsome face, but he merely said, “I’m sure he will. In the meantime, I just want to assure you that Duncan’s investment will be repaid as promised. By the end of the year, I believe.”

  Realizing suddenly that she had no idea, she said, “I suppose I should ask what kind of business Dad invested in.”

  “It was more a project than a business, initially. I had dreamed up an electronic gadget that would improve most manufacturing facilities. I had to get the design patented, a prototype built, and try to sell it. It was so successful that I was able to start my own electronic design and engineering firm. All possible due to the investment Duncan made.”

  “I’m sure he was pleased with your success. Dad loved to see people achieve their dreams.” Rachel started to rise to her feet. “How much was the investment, by the way?”

  Matter-of-factly, Adam replied, “Three million dollars.”

  FOUR

  achel sat back down. “Three million dollars?”

  He nodded.

  “You’re telling me that my father invested three million dollars of his own money on a handshake?”

  Patient, Adam said, “I’ve already told you that, yes.”

  “You didn’t tell me it was three million dollars.” She was incredulous. “Adam, I’ve seen Dad’s bank records going back years. There was no unexplained withdrawal anywhere near that size, not five years ago and not ever. Every penny has been accounted for.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you. Except—as I remember, he transferred the funds to my bank from a Swiss bank account.”

  She blinked. “He what? He doesn’t have a Swiss bank account.”

  “He did five years ago. I was sitting in the room, admittedly a bit numb, but I remember the call clearly. He definitely called Geneva.”

  Rachel had passed bewilderment; now she felt distinctly unnerved, and not only because the image of her long-dead fiancé was sitting across from her. What would an honest businessman want with a Swiss bank account? And why had no sign of such a thing come to light during all the months countless experts had combed through Duncan Grant’s financial records?

  It naturally occurred to her that she was hearing this from a virtual stranger, and that she had every reason to doubt what he was telling her. Except that he seemed about to hand her three million dollars, and she couldn’t imagine how that could be part of some tangled deception. And—he looked like Thomas. He looked so damned much like Thomas.

  “Rachel? Are you all right?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  He hesitated, then said reassuringly, “I’m sure there’s no reason for you to be concerned. Duncan may have routed some of his funds through Geneva temporarily for some tax reason. If the account still existed, you surely would have found some record of it among his papers.”

  “Would I? I found no record of a three-million-dollar investment, so I would say nothing’s certain where my father is concerned.”

  Adam hesitated once again before saying, “He wouldn’t have wanted you to miss getting part of your inheritance, so I’m sure he would have left some kind of word for you if he had money … put aside somewhere you wouldn’t expect it to be.”

  “You mean if he had money hidden somewhere.”

  “I didn’t want to put it that way,” he murmured.

  “My father,” she told him fiercely, “was an honest man. He earned every nickel he had. Every last one. There was no reason for him to hide money.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” Adam shook his head. “Look, Rachel, I’m sorry I’ve upset you. It wasn’t my intention to do that. I just wanted to let you know that Duncan’s investment will be repaid this year. You might want to talk to whoever advises you financially. That’s a pretty large chunk of money.
”

  “No kidding.” It was Rachel’s turn to shake her head. “And how do I explain it? How will you explain it?”

  “Repayment of a personal loan,” he said promptly. “It started my business, so I’ve had to be fairly specific in my own paperwork, but since the repayment is coming out of clear and already taxed personal profit, I don’t expect there’ll be many questions.”

  Obviously, his “dreamed-up” design and new company had proven to be enormously successful if he could repay three million dollars from his personal bank account. “Simple for you, but I know enough about finance to be fairly certain that if I can’t prove that loan was made to you out of already taxed earnings, I’m going to have problems. Somehow, I doubt that’s the way Dad planned it.”

  “So do I,” Adam agreed with a slight frown. “Which means he must have left some record somewhere, if only a notation about making a personal loan and where the funds came from. Have you gone through all his personal papers?”

  “Not all of them, not yet.”

  “There you go. Until you do and nothing turns up, let’s not borrow trouble.”

  Rachel managed a smile, even though too many questions remained unanswered. “I guess you’re right. Besides, an hour ago this money didn’t even exist for me. Anything realized from it is more than I expected.”

  “That sounds like a sensible way of looking at it.” Adam got to his feet. “And now, since I’ve taken up enough of your time, I’ll be going.”

  Rachel got to her feet as well, and hoped her voice didn’t sound as anxious to him as it did to her when she asked “Back to California?”

  “No, not yet. I plan to stay in Richmond another week or two. I’ll be at the Sheraton if you … need to get in touch.” He took a step toward her and held out his hand.

  Rachel hesitated only an instant before giving him her hand, and as braced for it as she was, the touch of him was still a little shocking. He isn’t Thomas. He isn’t. But that certainty didn’t have the power to change what she felt. She gazed up into his eyes and felt stirrings of sensations she hadn’t experienced in a long, long time.