A Bride Most Begrudging (18 page)

Propping herself against the birch tree, she regarded Drew from beneath her lashes and barely suppressed a smile. He tore into the dishes as if he wrestled the devil himself, his shoulders flexing, his arms tensing.

His mood had deteriorated by great degrees the closer and closer they’d come to supper’s end. Then he’d said not a word—nor even glanced at her—during the entire walk down here. His stance had been rigid, his jaw tight.

Picking up a pebble, she fingered it for the slightest of moments before trying to skip it across the water. It fell with a dissatisfying plop, causing a chain of circular ripples to break out across the creek.

He paused for a moment before continuing with his task. Drawing up her knees, she wrapped her arms around them. “I was wondering … if a hen and a half laid an egg and a half in a day and a half, how many eggs would seven hens lay in six days?”

He stopped scrubbing the bowl, holding it still beneath the water. Slowly, he looked over at her, blue eyes dusted with dark thick lashes.

She smiled and propped her chin onto her knees.

He offered no smile, no dimples, no response. He simply remained crouched on the bank, staring at her.

“I have more if you’d rather try a different one.”

“You have nine brothers and sisters?” he asked. She raised her brows. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

He turned back to his chore. “How many are still alive?”

“Why, all of them.”

“I thought you were raised by
the uncle
.”

“I was, along with Rebecca, my younger sister. But Papa fetched me home, remember?”

“Ah, yes. For the marriage contract that you refused.”

“That’s correct.”

“And all those siblings were there waiting to take you into their bosom.”

She shook her head. “No, they’d already married and left home. But Papa loved to gather them all under his roof as often as he could.” He stopped working again to look at her. “Tell me of them.”

She looked at the stack of dirty bowls, then the sun lowering in the horizon. Heavens, they would be here all night at this rate.

Pushing herself up, she retrieved a bowl and knelt beside him. “My two eldest sisters were married by the ages of twelve and thirteen. Papa had contracted for my other sisters when they were even younger.”

“I’m sure he thought he was acting in their best interests.”

“Yes, God bless him, he did. Unfortunately, the moral integrity of the groom was immaterial, for wedding into nobility was of utmost importance.”

“Women can’t be choosing their own husbands, Constance. It would be a disaster.”

“Financially, maybe. But I’d rather live simply and be cherished than live luxuriously and be mistreated.”

“Surely it’s not as bad as all that.”

“You haven’t met my sisters’ husbands.” Their elbows brushed. “Tell me.”

She set the clean bowl down next to an assortment of animal tracks stamped into the shoreline, each one unique, yet all coexisting in order to survive. She picked up another bowl. “Leoma, the eldest, wrote to me of her husband’s unkindness. I saw for myself that Arietta was beaten. Kristina, the most intelligent of us girls, was bound to a drunken lout. Doreen suffered silently with her spouse’s philandering, and Jocelyn, pregnant with her eighth child, was temporarily deserted by her husband.”

“That’s only five sisters.”

“Rebecca’s husband stuck her in a musty old country home and hasn’t allowed her out nor any visitors in.” Constance eyed his empty hands. “You’re a bit sluggish with your chores this evening. If you can’t visit and work at the same time, I will tell you no more.”

He raised a brow. “I’ve already washed twice the amount you have. I was simply allowing you time to catch up.”

She picked up a noggin and handed it to him. “You’re too kind. Prithee, continue with your task.”

He dipped the noggin in the water. “What did your brothers do to the men who abused your sisters?”

Constance harrumphed. “Norval was busy marrying one of the queen’s maids-of-honor and was sent to the continent just after the wedding. Rogan fought an unsuccessful duel over another maid-of-honor, and Foley had made himself so free with the pleasures of town that, consequently, he was unable to consummate his marriage, as all of London learned the next day.”

“The devil, you say.”

“Yes. Not exactly the kind of men to take an undesirable brother-inlaw to task. They’d be more likely to befriend him.”

He took the last bowl from her. “How did you manage to make it to the age of nineteen without being forced to marry?”

Scooting away from the bank, she rolled down her sleeves. “I think Uncle Skelly must have refused to send us home, for Papa had to personally come and fetch Rebecca and me.”

He stacked the bowl with the others, then picked up his pipe. “How old were you?”

“I was thirteen. Rebecca was ten.”

He settled himself against a tree. “What happened?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Well, Rebecca did just as Papa told her. I, however, was not some ten-year-old child easily cowed into submission. Still, Papa moved forward, welcoming the viscount’s son with open arms. The young man had barely set foot in the house before making his address to me.”

Catching a movement on the far side of the creek, she gasped, then pointed at the brown furry creature sporting a black mask across its eyes and black rings on its tail. The bizarre animal dipped his dinner into the water before washing it off with his paws.

Drew watched it as well, not turning back to her until it finished and lumbered out of sight. “The savages call it an
aroughcoune
.”

“I shall call it a bandit.”

He humphed, then took a long pull from his pipe. “So, was this suitor’s address so bad, then?”

She allowed a fleeting smile to cross her lips. “Oh, no. He was quite eloquent in his address and declared an extraordinary passion for me.” She studied her nails. “Unfortunately, my aversion for him was extreme. Three weeks later he deserted the field.” She looked up, and they exchanged a quiet smile.

“What happened then?”

“Well, my refusal put Papa in a rather untenable position. My rejection was embarrassing for him but not the least of his worries, for it appeared to others as if he couldn’t make good on his business transactions, thus damaging his credit. Hence, he resolved I would yield … or else.”

Drew’s massive hands cradled his pipe, brushing its stem against his lips. “What did he do?”

She smoothed her skirt. “Well, you are aware, I’m sure, that women have now been granted a veto in matrimonial affairs. The woman must, of course, have weighty grounds for her refusal. Still, a veto is a veto.” His hand stilled. “Did you have weighty grounds?”

She looked at him askance. “Mr. Fenton said that no wife of his would participate in mathematical pursuits.”

The beginnings of a smile touched his lips. “But surely your father exerted his wishes.”

“Oh, he tried. He certainly tried. First, he cut off my allowance. That was of little consequence, though, for I simply bought whatever I wanted and had it charged to my future husband—whomever that might turn out to be. So then, he engaged the entire family, hoping they would wear down my resistance. All my brothers and sisters, along with my dearest friends, did most diligently entreat me to give in.” She shrugged. “I simply told Papa that no marriage could be consummated without my consent.”

A dimple appeared as one side of his smile grew. “That sounds familiar.”

She gave him a quelling look. “It wasn’t as desperate as Papa made it seem. I still had at least five more years before I’d be considered a fullfledged spinstress.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, Papa, you see, had already passed his seventy-third year, and he felt it imperative that I find a match, even if it meant breaking this one and starting all over. So that’s exactly what he did.”

“Your poor father.”

“Poor father! Your sympathies, kind sir, are quite misplaced. Five weeks later he had a new set of marriage articles.” She stuffed bits of stray hair back into her cap. “It was not the first time Papa had tried to ally himself with Lord Milburn through a marriage contract, and I represented his last chance at securing this coveted connection.”

“Did your father take out the veto clause?”

She bit her lip. “He couldn’t, but he did alter his contract. This time he made sure he would not be penalized financially if I refused the suitor, and he stipulated there would be no cash down until the wedding day.”

Drew stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. “And what were your ‘weighty grounds’ this time?”

“The man was fifty years my senior.”

“ ’Tis not uncommon, that.”

“ ’Tis disgusting.”

He chuckled. “That’s all relative, my dear.”

She shrugged. “That was about the time my brothers diverted Papa’s attention. When Norval married the queen’s maid-of-honor, it opened up a whole new London for the family. I quite adored his wife, Emma, but then the war broke out and it split our family as sure as an ax splits a log. Even now one brother fights another.” Lowering her lashes, she swallowed. “Anyway, I was left to my own devices for a good while.”

“Thus you found yourself kidnapped and forced to marry an American.”

She looked out over the waters, now reflecting the deep purples and pinks of the sunset. “It’s been an adventure, that’s for certain.”

“It could cost you your life, yet. Going on that ship without escort was foolhardy in the extreme.”

“I needn’t a lecture,” she said, standing, “from you or anyone else.”

He stood as well, his expression darkening. “Listen well, Constance. Until your father comes, I am responsible for you. Therefore, you will curb your rebellious behavior. One act of foolishness here could result in your death.”

She bristled. “And what would you care? Seems it would make your life a great deal easier if I weren’t around.”

“It would reflect badly of my character if you did something dullwitted.”

His
character? She snatched up the bowls. “Well, we can’t have that now, can we?”

She started to leave. He grabbed her arm. “Do not ever walk away from me in the midst of a discussion, Constance.”

They stood nose to nose, cocooned in the aroma of his tobacco. She hugged the bowls to her. “And if I do?”

“Try me.”

A burning devil take him. “Why are you so angry all of a sudden? Is it because you’ve just realized I am who I say I am?”

“You’ve had an entire ship’s voyage to concoct whatever stories you wished.”

“I couldn’t possibly have made all that up and you know it. That’s the whole reason you questioned me.”

He stood quietly, his eyes searching hers. At long last, he spoke. “The fact of the matter is, I think I do believe you. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Do you, Drew? Do you really believe me?”

He loosened his hold on her arm and rubbed it slightly where he’d squeezed it. “Yes, Constance, I do. If I didn’t I think, God help me, I’d have already bedded you.”

Her breath caught. The light caress on her arm captured her full attention. She scrambled for something to say. “And my title?”

Releasing her, he tapped her chin and picked up the other dishes.

“You are Mistress Drew O’Connor until your father arrives and I can give you into his safekeeping.”

Her heart surged. Heaven help her, how could she stand this until spring? “Just send me home on the next ship.”

“We’ve already been through this. Besides, it would be too dangerous. Knowing you, you’d do something dull-witted and then I’d be held responsible.”

All tender thoughts fled as exasperation surged to replace them. “
You
take me back, then.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t leave. You’ll have to wait until Josh returns.” He glanced up at the dark sky. Gone was the sunset, replaced instead by the iridescence of the moon and stars. He scanned the path ahead of them. “Watch your step. The moon’s shadows can be deceiving.” Lifting a corner of her skirt, she nodded, then turned. The night sounds shrouded them as they walked side-by-side to the cottage.

————

In the following week, the household fell into a comfortable pattern. Mary rose before dawn to prepare breakfast while Constance saw to Sally. After the men left for the fields, Constance and Sally did simple chores until Mary shooed them off so she could complete the tasks she deemed necessary.

“Let’s go boo-ee picking!” Sally exclaimed one morning, basket in hand.

Constance frowned. “I’ve not seen any berries around here. Have you, Mary?”

“No, mum. There’s sure to be some, though, and I’d be pleased to make you up some flummery.”

“Have you been berry picking before, Sally?”

“Yes, with Gamma! I show you.” Sally grasped Constance’s hand, pulling her from the cottage.

Despite her concern at the twists and turns they took through the forest, they did indeed come across several shrubs covered with very small white berries. Sally picked one, rubbing its waxy coating between her fingers. Constance touched one to her tongue.

Sally seemed to find that quite amusing. “You don’t eat bay boo-eez!” The child began picking even as she spoke, her confidence such that Constance soon found herself reaching for more. She marveled at the abundance of berries, and the two of them filled the basket with a minimal amount of effort.

On their way home, they encountered a huge magnolia tree as wide around as Constance was tall. The ground surrounding it lay barren, for the mighty tree’s roots drank up a great deal of the earth’s nourishment and its abundance of intertwining branches and leaves kept any sunlight from filtering through.

Setting their basket down, Constance walked around the base of the tree, basking in its majesty. Sally followed, balancing herself on one root before hopping to another.

Constance tipped her head back, experiencing a moment of dizziness as she tried to see all the way to its top. “Imagine, Sally, if this were the paw of some giant creature, its head reaching as high as the heavens, its mouth holding two thousand teeth.”

“Then
we’d
be ants.”