Her Secondhand Groom (13 page)

Chapter 10

Patrick drummed his fingers along the edge of his desk. He and Juliet had been married two weeks now and they were no closer to being bosom friends than they had been the day they had married. In fact, the past two weeks had not gone well. He frowned. That wasn’t true. In a sense the last fortnight
had
gone well. It just depended on who one was speaking of. For those of the fairer sex, the days had been filled with fun and happiness. But for Patrick they’d been miserable. No, miserable was too eloquent of a word. They’d been...intolerable. No, that was too nice a word, too. What they’d really been was damned insufferable. That was the right description. That woman had a way of provoking him like no one else.

He sighed. He really ought to go talk to her. Since neither of them seemed to be nearing death, they’d have a long time left to spend together. Not that it seemed to matter overmuch to her, he thought with a sour twist of his lips. When she wasn’t provoking him, she was avoiding him. And when she was provoking him it was only because she’d been cornered and unable to avoid him. It was rather like a game, really. A somewhat fun and miserable game at the same time.

He sighed again. It needed to end. While it was enjoyable to bait her, it was not a good example for the children, particularly since it always showed him in a bad light. Always. Without fail. No matter what. He was always made the fool. No girl could respect her father when he was always being put in his place, could she?

Patrick stood. This was it, he’d go speak to Juliet right now and make this right. He checked his timepiece. It was half past one. Good. They’d be in the garden learning about some flora or fauna or fungus or whatever the blazes was growing out there.

Whistling, Patrick strode through the darkened hallways of his house, unconsciously righting his stark white cravat before twisting the ruby pin until it was in proper form. He stopped abruptly, catching a glimpse of Juliet and his daughters just outside the window. His whistling quieted and his eyes narrowed, his heart undecided between swelling with pride and clenching in agony. Instead, it settled for an uncomfortable lurch.

Through the thick window pane, he stared unnoticed and unashamed at Juliet’s laughing face as she explained some biological nonsense to his girls in a way that made them giddy with excitement, asking―no, begging―her to tell them more. He smiled. He’d never seen his girls so happy. Ever. Not in the presence of Mrs. Jenkins or while spending time with him. They’d become quite attached to her, it would seem. Good.

Juliet strolled up to the window from which he was watching her. He took a step back, sighing in relief that she hadn’t seen him, before bending down to pick up whatever it was on the ground she’d walked over to collect. Patrick leaned forward and peered out the glass once more. Juliet sat down on a concrete bench and it appeared she was giving the girls instructions on how to paint using watercolors.

Looking at her thus, she actually appeared to be quite a joyous and fun person. But he knew better. She was only this way because she hadn’t seen him yet. Once she did, her stony-face and tart tongue would resurface. He’d wager everything he owned on it.

Patrick shook his head, and exhaled a deep breath. Whether she liked him or not, he wasn’t going anywhere―and neither was she. They needed to resolve their differences and now was the time to do it. Taking one last glance at the smile on her face and the light in her eyes, Patrick swallowed his pride and opened the door.

He shook his head. Just as he’d predicted, as soon as her eyes landed on his form, her smile faded just as quickly as the sparkle in her eye. He forced a grim smile to his lips. “What has captured the attention of my four favorite ladies?”

Juliet sighed. “What has brought you out today?” The interest she was displaying in righting her spectacles far surpassed the interest she was exhibiting toward him while waiting for his answer.

“
I already told you. I’ve come to check on my favorite lot of ladies.” he said smoothly, flashing her his best smile, the one he used to melt Abigail’s heart and make her forgive him almost anything.

Juliet appeared unmoved. “The girls are learning the basics of watercolors.” She picked up one of the canvases and turned it so that he could see the picture.

It was all he could do not to cringe. Celia was a sweet girl, but watercolors were not her forte. Perhaps she ought to stick with embroidery. He cleared his throat. “It’s lovely, Celia. A real talent you have.”

Juliet shot him a queer expression from behind the canvas before handing it back to Celia. “Would you care to see Helena’s?” she asked. The slight upturn of the right corner of her lips gave him pause.

Slowly he nodded, whispering a prayer he’d at least be able to distinguish the object in the painting and not have to ask. “Perfection,” he lied, blinking rapidly to clear the image from his mind.
What in the blazes had the girls been painting on those canvases?
He raked his hand through his hair. A few months ago he learned his girls lacked any musical inclination whatsoever; apparently they couldn’t paint, either. Hopefully Juliet could find some sort of feminine pursuit they could master. If not, he better start putting money away for their dowries now. A quick movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. “What are you painting, Juliet?”

She shrugged. “Nothing you’d be interested in, I’m sure.”

She never took her eyes from her canvas as she said those words. He stepped closer to where she was sitting, then sank down to his haunches, bringing his eyes level with Juliet’s hand. “Papa!” Helena squealed in his ear.

He turned his head to look at his middle daughter. “Yes?”

“
What color clothes do you want?”

“
Pardon?” he asked, his jaw tightening. The last time she’d asked that question, he woke up the next morning to find all of his cravats covered with colored ink.

Helena gestured to her canvas. “Your clothes, what color do you want them?”

“
That’s me?” he asked, immediately coughing to cover the hitch in his voice. He looked back at the painting and cocked his head to the right. Then to the left. Then squinted. How was that supposed to represent him? When Juliet first showed it to him, he thought it looked like a very well-fed, but horribly disproportioned starfish. Now that he’d studied it a bit better, he’d amended his opinion. It didn’t look so much like a starfish, but perhaps more like an angry bear. Yes, a hairy, angry bear standing on his hind legs with his arms up in the air. “Helena, why did you paint Papa with such an unhappy look on his face?”

“
I didn’t,” she said, blinking her innocent eyes at him. “That’s how you always look.”

A peal of infectious laughter rent the air, and a tight coil formed in Patrick’s stomach. He glanced at Juliet. She wasn’t even looking at him. Her eyes were fixed on her canvas instead. He reached forward to pluck it from the portable easel she was using. “Papa,” Kate said, shoving
her
indecipherable painting in front of him. “What do you think of my painting of Juliet?”

Patrick dropped his hand from the edge of Juliet’s canvas, and his eyes bored into the image in the middle of Kate’s. That was not a picture of Juliet. It couldn’t be. The hairy, angry, ravenous bear was a closer resemblance to him than Kate’s...uh...he couldn’t even describe what it looked like, was to looking anything like Juliet. It was just a few uneven lines and several blobs as far as he could tell. “It’s lovely,” he murmured, turning his head away before she could ask anything else.

Kate tapped him vigorously on the shoulder with the bottom edge of the canvas. “Do you think I captured her figger right?”

“
Her what?” he spewed, snapping his head around to look at her.

Shrugging, Kate said, “Her figger.”

Patrick blinked at his little girl, speechless.

“
Kate, I believe the word you mean to use is
figure
,” Juliet said, her voice terribly uneven.

Patrick swallowed and chanced a glance up at Juliet. Though her eyes didn’t have the light in them he’d seen earlier, there was no denying she was on the verge of laughter. “Poppet,” he said thickly, turning his attention back to Kate. “Your picture is quite splendid.”

“
Thank you, Papa,” Kate said, beaming.

He patted the top of her head. “You’re welcome, poppet.” He turned his attention back to the mirthful Juliet. “Can I see y―”

“
Papa, do you think I made her fluffies right?”

“
Pardon?” Patrick choked, gasping for air.
Her fluffies?

“
Papa, your eyes are bigger than the wolf’s in the story Juliet told us,” Kate commented, her voice full of wonder and her eyes just as big as he imagined his looked.

Patrick beat his chest with his fist. “Sorry,” he muttered when he felt composed enough to talk. “I was merely shocked.”

“
Shocked?” Juliet queried, the light pink tint on her cheeks the only telling sign of her discomfort with the conversation.

He nodded. “Yes. I had no idea my little girl knew what
fluffies
were.”

Juliet opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by more misguided innocence from Kate. “They’re the fluffy things Juliet keeps hidden in her dress here and here,” she said proudly, tapping her chest to indicate just where these fluffy objects were located.

Patrick blinked. “That’s quite enough, Katie love. Why don’t you go paint some flowers or something. I need to have a word alone with Juliet.”

“
Excuse me for a moment, girls,” Juliet murmured, wiping her fingers on a damp handkerchief. “Finish your paintings so when I’m done we can have tea.”

“
Would you care to explain what you’ve been teaching my girls?” Patrick asked as soon as they were out of earshot of the girls.

Juliet blinked at him. “We’re painting. I’m sorry if the portraits they have painted were not what you would have liked for them to paint. I wanted them to become familiar with using paints before asking them to focus on painting―”

“
That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it,” he broke in. “Why is Kate openly talking about breasts?”

Though Juliet’s face turned crimson, she inclined her chin. “She’s not. She’s talking about fluffies.”

He penetrated her with his stare. “And what do you think fluffies are?”

“
There’s no need to be condescending, Lord Presumptuous.” She twisted her lips and looked out over the gardens before turning her attention back to him. “She’s only five. She’s just being a little girl.”

“
I wasn’t aware little girls had interest in breasts,” he retorted. He knew for certain boys did. He remembered that part of his boyhood very well. But girls? No. They probably didn’t even notice their existence until they started developing. A knot formed in his stomach. Just when did they start developing? Kate was too young, but what about Celia? His blood froze in his veins. Not Celia. She was too young still. She couldn’t be maturing that way yet. Could she?

“
You’re not even listening to me,” came Juliet’s voice, penetrating his thoughts.

“
I’m sorry,” he said, swallowing. “What was it you said?”

She frowned. “It’s normal that she’s curious.”

Patrick stared at her. What was she talking about? “Pardon?”

Juliet sighed. “I don’t understand why you’re having such a hard time understanding this. She’s a little girl.”

“
I understand that.”

“
Then what seems to be your problem?” Juliet burst out, throwing her hands into the air. “Is the problem that she momentarily forgot her manners and mentioned a topic considered improper in mixed company? Or is it the fact she knows anything about them in the first place?”

“
The second one. I think Kate’s too young to know of such things.”

Juliet removed her spectacles and rubbed the bridge of her nose, her brows knitting together. “She’s not too young at all. But if it’ll make you feel better, next time she asks such a question I’ll direct her to come speak to you.”

He ground his teeth. “No, you’re their―” He broke off. His mouth couldn’t form the word mother. She wasn’t their mother. Abigail was their mother. He swallowed hard. “Juliet, part of your role here is to help guide the girls into womanhood, I’ll not get in the way of that. I just feel Kate is too young for those discussions. Please wait until she’s a little older and better able to understand. That’s all I’m asking.”