A Practical Arrangement (23 page)

“
Now, dear, don't judge yourself too harshly. All will be remedied easily enough.” Dorcas patted her hand. “I had no idea you were suffering with such a misunderstanding or I'd have come right away. Why, I've not even spoken to Uncle Winston about the matter,” she chuckled.

“
What should I do?” Evangeline asked, hesitating before adding, “Did Thomas marry me only to gain his inheritance?”

Aunt Dorcas grew serious. “No, Evangeline. He loves you. He did have to marry, dear, as did you. But I know my nephew. He looks at you with adoration and respect.”

“
Aunt Dorcas,” she said cautiously, “may we keep this between us?”

“
Of course,” Dorcas winked, maintaining her stoic expression. “We ladies must help one another navigate this quandary called love. Now, I say it is time for you to let Thomas know he is forgiven.”

The two women shared a moment of fond affinity before going in search of their husbands.

* * *

Thomas looked up from his desk, incredulity showing on his face, still handsome despite the shadow of dark circles under his eyes and the sorrow within his green-gray gaze.

“
Will you accompany me on my afternoon walk today, Mr. Masterson?” Evangeline inquired gently.

“
If you would have me do so,” he replied softly, the question plain in his expression. Turning toward his Aunt Dorcas he asked, “Will you be joining us?”

“
Not today, dear,” his aunt declined. “Your uncle and I will rest awhile before dinner.” She shot a meaningful glance at her husband, who concurred readily.

“
Very well,” Thomas accepted, secretly gladdened. He would explain everything to her and pray she'd accept his word.”

They journeyed in quiet reflection awhile, neither knowing how quite to begin.

“
Evangeline,” Thomas finally gained his courage, “I wish to explain.”

She linked her arm with his, the unexpected gesture surprising him into stunned silence a few paces.

“
An explanation is rather warranted, I dare say,” she responded with a faint smile. “But, Thomas, before you begin, allow me to say something.” She paused, awaiting his permission out of respect.

He placed his hand atop her own on his arm, nodding his assent.

“
You once commented on my pride, and with humility I now acknowledge the rightness of your astute observation. I overheard your conversation with Mrs. Preston in the dining room, and I refused to hear you out due to my own sense of wounded pride. I realize my folly and...”

“
Hush, sweetheart,” Thomas entreated. He stilled then, placing his finger upon her lips. “My uncle informed me that I had to marry to receive my inheritance. When I learned of your father's similar dictate to you, I believed I had found the solution to my dilemma – a practical arrangement that would serve us both.” He pulled her into his arms. “The more time I spent in your company, Evangeline, the further under your spell I fell. I don't know how Mrs. Preston learned of my predicament. She threatened to expose my secret that morning, and I feared you would believe her over me. My reputation does not recommend me in matters such as these. Our affair was no well-kept secret. It ended long before I engaged you; I swear it. She offered to remain silent only if...” He clasped her tighter. “I refused her. Please believe me.”

“
I believe you, Thomas.”

Evangeline wrapped her arms around him, for the first time embracing him wholeheartedly, without lingering reserve. Thomas exalted in the moment.

“
Let us speak no more of it,” she requested, her cheek pressed against his chest. “Rather, let's look upon the fields in one another's company.”

Thomas took her hand, setting off into the gently waving grasses. “Will you remain with me always among these fields of gold?” His hope-filled expression begged an answer.

Evangeline fell into his arms, her hair spilling down as he captured her mouth with his own. “Always, Thomas,” she whispered in between his kisses.

“
I love you, Evie,” he murmured against her flesh, sinking into the soft grass, his wife secure in his arms. “Abandon all practicality, Mrs. Masterson, for this moment. I want to make love to you, sweetheart.”

Thomas received no audible reply, but his wife's body rose in welcome greeting beneath him as he kissed her ardently. He reveled in her willing participation, her taste, her gentle passion. His hands roved her body, unlacing the front of her gown, exposing her to his tactile exploration. Pleasurable sighs stole from her as he feasted upon her breasts, the beauty of her complete surrender kindling his fervid desire. Divesting her of her undergarments with tender care, he at last touched her silken flesh beneath the gown, stroking her with practiced patience. Her cries mounted, growing fervent with need until he could stand no longer to be separate from her. He bared his engorged flesh, coming over her protectively, possessively.

“
I've never made promises carelessly, and I have failed those I love many times in this life. But I swear to you, Evie, you're the only woman I've loved – the only woman I've spoken the words to – and I will never betray or abandon you.”

“
Thomas,” she said softly, her hands caressing his face, “I am helplessly in love with you.”

He sank into her body, a ragged groan tearing from him. “Evie, sweetheart...”

Unhurried, he moved within her, marveling at his wife's unfettered desire. Her body stirred beneath him, giving and receiving, sharing the euphoria of impending release. She shattered, crying his name as she tightened around him. He abandoned himself, pouring his love inside her, claiming her mouth in communion with his completion. Raining kisses upon her, he begged her never love him any other way but as she had, freely and completely. Thomas remained inside her, savoring the connection of his wife's body and the peace of her love.

* * *

Thomas railed against himself.

My selfishness has endangered her...just as it did my brother...

Had the damp ground been too much? Why had he taken her in the field yesterday instead of bringing her home? Any responsible man would know better.

Evangeline again wretched pitifully into the basin.

He pulled her hair back, rubbing her shoulder with his other hand. “I'm sorry, Evie. This is my fault.” His voice cracked with emotion. “Mrs. O'Leary will be up right away, sweetheart.”

“
Don't leave, Thomas,” his wife pleaded.

“
Hush,” he soothed. “I'll not leave you.”

A moment later, Mrs. O'Leary knocked, peeking her head inside the door. She hurried in with a tea tray. “Once you've settled, Mrs. Masterson, sip the drink I've brought you.”

Thomas moved aside to allow the woman access to his wife.

“
There, there, ma'am. It'll pass.”

Evangeline rested back against the pillows. “I think it is subsiding. I cannot imagine what is wrong with me.”

“
This is all my fault, Evangeline,” Thomas uttered with the full conviction of his statement's truth.

“
It
most certainly
is your fault, Mr. Masterson,” Betsy O'Leary chuckled, removing the basin after stroking Evangeline's head with motherly affection.

Thomas was taken aback by the bold accusation. He made to make his rebuke, but the censure died upon hearing the woman's next pronouncement.

“
We shall have a babe before Christmas!” she announced with pride.

“
A baby?” Evangeline repeated, looking up at Thomas. “Well, I have not had...that is to say...and we have...”

She blushed, or perhaps, Thomas allowed, she glowed, the knowing of how her happiness had come about a thing she would wish to hold private. He sat back, chest expanding with both satisfied pride and worry. Pride won him over. “A baby,” he stated matter-of-factly, his lip curving in a smug smile.

“
It should come as no surprise,” Mrs. O'Leary clucked, gathering the items to return to the kitchen. “Heaven's mercy! The pair of you hadn't figured it out?” Her brusque manner softened considerably. “I'll leave you to enjoy your happy news.”

Right after Mrs. O'Leary closed the door she opened it again, springing back into the room, capped red hair and all, her smile beaming. “I hope you come to terms with your news quickly, Mr. and Mrs. Masterson. I shall near bite my tongue off trying to hold the secret much longer.”

“
Mrs. O'Leary,” Thomas inquired dryly. “Will it be in your power to hold up until noon?”

Betsy beamed anew. “Oh, yes, Mr. Masterson. I'm sure to last until noon.”

“
Very well.”

The moment the door closed, Thomas sat next to Evangeline on the bed's edge and wrapped his arms around her. “I have my doubts, sweetheart, if she'll make it to the bottom of the staircase without spilling our news.”

Evangeline looked up at him. “I do not mind, Thomas, as long as you are happy.”

“
Happy? Sweetheart, I am a man held captive to a most conceited and sincere admiration of my own virility,” he crowed.

“
Do not congratulate yourself overmuch, Mr. Masterson. I dare say you only accomplished the task with my help.”

Thomas found his wife smiling behind her hand.

“
Is that so?” he replied, eyes alight with humor.

“
Please attempt to contain your smug amusement,” she teased sternly. “I've not the energy to ensure your wit is kept in check.”

Thomas pulled her closer, his hand shaping her abdomen. “Rest, Evie. I shall save my wit for later.” He waited, gauging her reaction to being held so securely, but she remained relaxed. “And yes, sweetheart, I am happy.”

* * *

Mr. and Mrs. Masterson attended together the grand wedding of Melody Grey and Jonathan Lane, and Thomas learned, through the investigations of his Uncle Winston, that he had apparently imbibed much alcohol in his despair after hearing Mrs. Preston's threat on the night in question. He did, however, retain the ability to climb atop his mount – who with quite more sense than his rider – promptly started for home. After rumor subsided, it was reported that Mrs. Preston traveled the continent with her brother. Some speculated she went in search of a new husband, but none knew for certain.

As couples twirled about the dance floor, Albert Grey and Winston Platte toasted to their successful endeavor into matchmaking – each swearing an oath to abandon the practice forevermore before they downed the amber whiskey with light hearts. Dorcas and Opal joined them, the happy event spurring each to good cheer, even the capricious Opal Grey – indulged to the end of her long life by her loving, if long suffering, husband.

“
Mr. Masterson,” Evangeline spoke privately, “the hour is quite late. Shall we pay our final respects and depart for home? I long for the comfort of our own bed.”

“
Why, Mrs. Masterson,” Thomas whispered into her ear, “you are ever inventing ways in which to lure me into the bedroom.”

She stiffened slightly beneath his hand at her back, her eyes narrowing at his lurid – if private – remarks.

God! But he adored her when riled...

“
You, sir, shall find yourself in the stables tonight,” she returned in a hushed tone, but her quickly hidden smile had not gone unnoticed.

“
Is that so?” Thomas quirked his brow. “Am I to understand the lady would prefer my attentions be visited upon her in that location?”

“
Mr. Masterson, you shall find yourself wont for any attention at all if you persist.” Evangeline struggled to maintain her staunch expression.

“
But, Evie,” he protested in pretended remorse, “I will gladly indulge your every wish.”

She sighed, a happy sound, and allowed him to lead her forward.

His practical wife grounded him, fueled his new found desire to become the best man he could be. Privately, she loved him with an honest passion he'd never known before her.

Evangeline leaned against her husband, thankful to be riding toward Cherry Hill. Alone in their carriage, she relaxed completely. Considering the man beside her, the man she had wed, would spend the remainder of her days alongside, Evangeline Grey Masterson marveled. He'd never given up on gaining her trust, and in the process, had earned her respect and good opinion. She could imagine no other life so satisfactory despite her initial reluctance. Thomas impressed upon her such a sense of calm, of security. And while still new and unnerving, she recognized the rare and precious treasure she'd unwittingly unearthed – his love.

Epilogue

The sun sank low in the western sky, bathing the far-reaching barley fields in a golden burst of color. Children frolicked amid the tall grass, laughing in summer abandon, oblivious to all but their present joy. From the porch, they watched. His hand covered hers, warm, solid, dependable these many years later.

“
I remember watching our own children play among the fields,” she recalled aloud, revisiting the images of decades past.

He remained silent a long while before speaking. “I remember lying in the fields with a beautiful girl, too,” he chuckled. “Now we watch our grandchildren. But, Evie, you're still my beautiful girl.”

“
We made a good life, Mr. Masterson.”

Her words reminded him of events from long ago. “It all began with my orchestration of a practical arrangement.”