“Sounds like a good place to start.” He hung his hat on a hook in the front hall.
Olivia gestured to the door on the right. “You’ve seen the parlor. This is our main gathering area. We have tea here in the evenings and listen to the radio or do needlework. Some of us are knitting socks for the soldiers.” It seemed everyone knew someone away at war.
Mr. Reed’s presence filled the room as he scanned the interior. “Very nice. Did you help decorate?” He ran a finger over the wooden mantel.
“No. This is the original décor. All we did was add some more seating and a few side tables.”
He turned the full force of his blue eyes on her. “Did Mrs. Bennington have to make many renovations? I heard about some construction work going on before the official opening.”
Olivia tensed. Was he fishing for information to use against them? “We had a bit of work done upstairs.” She clasped her hands in front of her as she walked the perimeter of the room. “Ruth added a second, larger bathroom and reconfigured the bedrooms to accommodate more residents.”
“I see.”
“And she updated the kitchen as well.” Olivia bit her lip to curb the tendency to ramble. Why did this man make her nervous?
“I’d love to see that.”
Olivia frowned. Could his reason for feigning interest in the renovations be to ascertain the property’s new worth? “Let’s move to the dining room next. The kitchen is at the back of the house.”
“I shall defer to the expertise of my tour guide.” A teasing note rang in his voice.
She glanced over to find his eyes brimming with amusement.
With an annoyed huff, she led the way down the hall to the dining room. “This room hasn’t changed either, except that Ruth added a larger table and more chairs. One day, we hope to have a full house that can include up to twelve residents.”
He looked around the room, his gaze moving from the sideboard to the pictures adorning the walls. “Tell me more about your goal in opening this home, Miss Rosetti.”
“Very well.” She rested her hand on a chair back and paused to search for the right words, wanting to provide enough information to satisfy his curiosity without revealing too many personal details. “We want to offer women in crisis a safe haven where they can stay until they’re able to get back on their feet.”
“Pregnant women in particular, I presume, since it’s a maternity home.”
She lifted her chin. “Yes, but we wouldn’t turn away any woman in need of shelter. There’s a definite lack of this sort of resource in the city.”
His dark brows rose. “Not really. Toronto has several maternity homes that I’m aware of.”
“True, but those are mostly religion-based—not that I have anything against religion,” she added hastily when he frowned. “However, some women prefer a nondenominational residence. Our aim at Bennington Place is to provide a welcoming atmosphere, one that enables women to determine the best course for their future and their child’s.”
“You sound as though you’re speaking from experience.” Mr. Reed’s blue eyes drilled into her.
Olivia gripped the chair, her heart racing, but somehow she managed to hold his gaze without wavering. “I have witnessed some very sad cases, Mr. Reed, and have become passionate about injustice toward the underprivileged in our society. Women and children in particular.” She gestured to the door. “Shall we continue the tour?”
He waited a beat before nodding. “After you.”
They exited the room and moved toward the rear of the house, where a narrow corridor branched off to the right.
Mr. Reed peered down the hall. “Where does that lead?”
“To the library that now serves as our office. Beyond that room is a storage closet, a sunroom, and the stairs to the basement.”
“I do appreciate a good library. Do you mind?” He started toward the office.
Olivia struggled for an appropriate response. Yes, she did mind, since their private financial records lay open on the desk with various receipts and invoices strewn about. Instead of answering, she rushed ahead and entered the room before him. “It’s a bit of a mess in here. I was right in the middle of some bookkeeping when you arrived.” Smoothly, she slid over to the desk and closed the ledger, then straightened the papers into a pile.
“Don’t tell me you’re a bookkeeper as well?” Again he seemed to be teasing her. He came closer, his woodsy scent surrounding her.
“I know how to keep a business ledger, if that’s what you mean.”
“A woman of many talents, it seems.” He winked and then wandered over to peruse the bookcases.
Her nerves continued to spin in the presence of this man who elicited a contradictory mixture of annoyance and admiration. While his attention was elsewhere, she took the opportunity to study him, noting the fine cut of his suit, the starched white shirt and crisp necktie. His dark hair was meticulously styled off his forehead, highlighting his well-shaped brows and thick lashes. He reminded her a little of Clark Gable from the movie posters she’d seen. Her mouth pinched. He was far too good-looking for his own good. Probably guilty of breaking hearts all over the city.
As he reached out to examine one of the volumes, Olivia glanced at his hand, noting the absence of a wedding band. How had a handsome, successful man like Darius Reed escaped marriage? Come to think of it, how had he escaped going to war? He was of the right age and seemingly fit. So why was he still here when good men like Rory sacrificed their very lives to serve their country?
Irritation snapped through her. “Why are you not off fighting in the war, Mr. Reed, like all the other respectable men?”
His hand stilled before he replaced the book and slowly turned. When he did, no trace of amusement remained. “Believe me, if I’d had no responsibilities, I would have signed up immediately.”
She raised a brow, waiting for more of an explanation.
His blue eyes turned hard. “My
