They dined on marinated olives followed by sole limande and coq au vin with rice pilaf and Jerusalem artichoke.
“Mmm, delicious,” Golden said, looking around the elegantly decorated room. “I’ve never dined in a place as fancy as this before.”
Reed cocked his head, his curiosity getting the better of him. “And yet you seem the kind of person who should patronize places like this one. Who are you, Golden Browne?”
She raised her eyebrows, obviously surprised by his question. “What do you mean?”
Leaning forward, he looked directly into her wide amber eyes. “You confuse me,” he said honestly. “I saw you as a poor, struggling girl trying to make ends meet but then your home tells me a different story, the story of a family that’s well-off. So which is the real Golden Browne?”
She paused as if thinking about her answer then she spoke. “Both, I guess. And neither.”
Reed’s brows crinkled at her answer. She’d just succeeded in confusing him even more. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, my family is fairly wealthy, as you guessed.” She drew in her breath then expelled it softly. “But I’m not.”
As far as he was concerned that wasn’t an answer that made any sense. “And how is that?”
She shook her head. “It’s a long story. I’m not sure I want to bore you with it.”
“Bore me.” He sat back in his chair, folding his arms comfortably across his chest, making it clear he was prepared to wait.
When she saw there was no escaping it, Golden sighed. “All right, I’ll tell you but it’s a deathly dull story. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Reed didn’t say a word.
After a few seconds of silence Golden began. “My father, Jefferson Browne, made a lot of money from his dairy farm in Georgia but he always wanted to move back to England which is where he was born so, when I was fourteen, he sold the farm and took my mother and me with him to Tunbridge Wells. That’s where we settled first until he bought the house we now live in.” She paused and her eyes took on a faraway look. “That was the happiest year of my life. Father’s whole personality changed. He’d been really miserable back in Atlanta but in England he mellowed. I guess it was because he’d reached retirement age and he wanted to be back with his friends from his early days.”
“Retirement age?” Reed could not help breaking in. That came as a shock to him. She was so young. He’d expected her father to be in his forties, fifties at most.
She smiled. “I know it sounds strange but my father was forty-nine when I was born and my mother was only twenty so by the time we moved to England he was already sixty-five years old.” Then a shadow crossed her face. “He was so happy being around old friends, playing cricket and drinking at the pub, but it only lasted one year. When I was fifteen he had a heart attack and I lost him. I was at school. I never even got the chance to say goodbye.”
For a moment she looked close to tears but then she blinked and drew in a deep breath. “When my father died it was like my mum was totally lost. He’d taken care of everything, you see, and Mother is not the kind of person who likes to be in charge. I think that’s why she remarried so quickly, just a year after my father died.” She laughed softly but in her eyes was a sadness Reed could not comprehend. “And just like with my dad she made sure to find a man old enough to be her father. Except that Dunstan Manchester is nothing like my father was. He’s bossy and manipulative and a real beast. He controls my mother and now he wants to control me.” She frowned and her lips formed into a stubborn pout. “But I won’t let him.”
This was not the story Reed had expected. “I’m sorry to hear this,” he said, his voice solemn, now realizing that there was a lot more to Golden than he’d thought. Behind the shyness was a determination that this man, Manchester, could not shake. He admired that.
“And that’s why you see me living in such a nice house but looking like the poor field mouse.”
Reed tightened his lips, stifling a wry smile. He wouldn’t have put it quite that way but she was nothing if not brutally frank.
“He’s taken control of everything,” she continued, “including the money my father left for Mother and he’s determined that I should have as little of it as possible. That’s why I have to make my own living. I refuse to go to him, begging for money that’s rightfully mine.” By the time she stopped speaking Golden’s breathing had quickened and her eyes flashed with an anger Reed had never witnessed in her before.
Obviously she was unhappy in her own home, all because of this man who had appointed himself her guardian and banker, to boot. “Why don’t you just leave?” he asked. He knew that would not solve all her problems but it would be the first step. At the very least, she would not have to see the man every day.
But Golden’s next words surprised him.
“I can’t,” she said, her voice a tearful whisper. “Not without my Mother.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
It took a moment for Golden to collect herself. Why, oh why had she told Reed all of that? Now he must think her a perfect wimp, living in a home where she was being bullied every day. How could he understand that she had no choice, that if she left Dunstan would have won both the battle and the war?
The real problem, though, was the fact that her mother would never leave that man. Even though he was sixty-one and she was only forty-two, still so beautiful she could have her pick of men, she clung to this one like he was her world. She did nothing without his approval. Sadly, although she was the one with the money, the way she gave her husband free rein she might as well not have any money at all. She certainly didn’t have the freedom to give any of it to her own daughter, not without his consent.
Golden shook her head, not wanting to spend any more of her date thinking about her depressing situation. “I’m sorry,” she said, pasting a smile on her lips, “I’m sure you’re not the least bit interested in me and my mundane problems. You’re a CEO. You have more pressing issues on your plate.”