His Remarkable Bride (16 page)

“I’d better see what this is all about.” Honoria sent a meaningful glance to Elspeth then followed.

Three seconds after she disappeared around the corner, there was a crash.

“Was that china?” Bebe yelped. “That sounded like china!”

“If those miscreants did anything to my rosebud china set,” Melinda began, but didn’t finish. She and Bebe tore off, skirts flying.

Vivian laughed nervously. “Right this way.”

She attempted to escort Elspeth around the corner to where a round table had been set up in a wider section of the back porch. As she opened her mouth to speak, there was another crash, and Melinda cried out, “Vivian!”

Vivian flushed scarlet. “I’d better see what that is. Rance, please make our guest comfortable.” She skittered off, jumping inside of the house, the door slamming behind her. A moment later, she screamed.

Elspeth stayed where she was, wondering what sort of mischief was going on inside, wondering whether the children were involved. Well, of course they were involved. The question was whether they were acting on their own or whether Honoria was helping things.

Rance cleared his throat. He sidled closer to Elspeth, running a finger down the arm of her dress. “You know, I hear that divorces are easy to get these days.”

“What?” Elspeth backed away.

Rance took that as an invitation to chase her. “Viv and her sisters can’t talk about nothing else. They think it’s a crying shame that a lady like you should be chained to a fool like Athos Strong.”

“I beg your pardon?” She attempted to flee to the far side of the table, shifting a chair into her wake with her toe so that Rance couldn’t follow.

The impediment only made the hunger in Rance’s eyes flash. “I’ve never met the guy myself,” he went on. “Viv says he’s a pill, though. And a slob. They’ve been hatching all sorts of schemes to get you out of that unfortunate marriage.”

He carefully tucked the chair Elspeth had moved back into the table, then continued stalking her.

“Athos is a good man,” she insisted, twisting this way and that to figure out how she could escape. The porch on the other side of the house was blocked by an arrangement of outdoor furniture. She was forced to back against the railing. The only way out would be to go up and over.

“Melinda seems to think you could probably get an annulment,” Rance went on, slower now that he knew he had her cornered. “I’m not so sure. You have the look of a woman who wouldn’t say no to a roll in the hay.”

“Mr. Bonneville,” Elspeth snapped, changing tactics and facing him with a straight back and an indignant expression. “It may be common to speak to women in such a low manner in Kentucky, but I can assure you, it is not welcome in Wyoming.”

Rance chuckled, stalking closer still. “Oh, I think you like it.”

“What on
earth
would give you that impression?”

He shrugged. “I’ve never had any complaints before.” He leaned closer. “I’m considered quiet the catch where I’m from.”

Elspeth pressed her backside all the way against the railing to avoid touching the man, She glanced over her shoulder, calculating how likely she was to break her ankle if she jumped.

“So why don’t we just go ahead and get you annulled, and I’ll throw Cousin Viv over, and then the two of us can do each other the justice we deserve.” He pressed in, eyes closed, lips pursed.

“Sir, you must be out of your mind to assume that I would even begin to consider something so vile as—”

“What’s going on out here?” Vivian demanded from the doorway.

Rance whipped around, reaching for the nearest chair and pulling it out without so much as breaking a sweat. “I was just making sure Lady Elspeth had the best place at the table,” he said. “Oh, and she had a spider on her shoulder. I flicked it away.”

Vivian’s expression vaulted through about ten kinds of emotions before settling into an overly-sweet smile. “You’re so considerate, my dear. Isn’t he considerate?” She marched over to Rance and grabbed his arm, yanking him away from Elspeth and around the table.

Elspeth never thought she’d be so grateful for any action on Vivian Bonneville’s part. Melinda and Bebe rushed back onto the porch a moment later, then Honoria behind them.

“It was nothing,” Melinda laughed, crossing to sit with a plunk at the table. “Just an accident.”

“Wind doesn’t blow over vases on the far side of the room,” Bebe said, crossing her arms.

“It was a strong wind,” Honoria mumbled, taking a seat next to Elspeth as she too sat.

Bebe humphed, then demanded, “Move, Honoria. I want to sit next to Lady Elspeth.”

“I—”

“No,
I
am going to sit next to Lady Elspeth,” Vivian announced in her most regal voice. She dropped Rance’s arm and swept around the table. “Get out of that chair, Honoria.”

Elspeth’s back went straight. “And what if I want to sit next to Miss Honoria?”

“No, it’s all right,” Honoria whispered, getting up and scooting to the side before anything more could become of it.

Vivian leapt into the chair as though they were playing a party game. Bebe pouted, then skipped all the way around the table to sit on Elspeth’s other side. Elspeth made no complaint about that since Bebe shoved Rance out of the way and occupied the chair before he could. Rance gave up and circled back around the table to sit between Vivian and Melinda, leaving Honoria to take the seat beside Bebe. That left one open chair.

“Where’s Mrs. Lyon?” Bebe asked, already reaching for the teapot on the table. She started pouring a cup for herself.

“Bebe.” Vivian huffed and rolled her eyes. “You’re supposed to pour for our guest first.”

“But I’m thirsty,” Bebe protested.

“Pour!”

Elspeth jumped at Vivian’s shouted command. Bebe spilled tea, her hands were shaking so much as she poured Elspeth’s cup.

“Now, Lady Elspeth,” Vivian said once they were all settled, with tea and cakes brought out by a harried-looking girl in plain clothes. “We want to talk to you about your future.”

“My future?” Elspeth reached for a dainty lemon tart.

Across the table, Honoria shook her head slightly. Elspeth’s hand paused over the plate of confections. She arched a brow. Honoria flicked her eyes to the side. Elspeth moved her hand over a raspberry tart instead. Honoria nodded, so Elspeth picked it up and transferred it to her plate. The whole exchange took place in less than three seconds.

“Your future,” Melinda added.

“It seems to us as though you are in an indelicate situation,” Vivian went on. She helped herself to the lemon tart, then took two more. “And by that I mean the unfortunate circumstances in which you came to Haskell.”

“Yes,” Melinda said, taking a lemon tart and a raspberry one. “Of course, we understand that even a lady of your breeding and…and fortune, I’m sure, can fall on hard times. I suppose Hurst Home was a necessary evil.”

“As was your marriage to that reprobate, Athos Strong.” Vivian bit into her lemon tart as she finished. Her face scrunched in shock.

“What does my marriage have to do with anything?”

Trying her best not to look at Honoria—she would have burst into laughter for sure if they accidentally caught each other’s eyes—she took a delicate bite of her raspberry tart. Melinda bit into her lemon one at the same time and made the same puckered, disgusted face as Vivian. Sensing the game, Elspeth proceeded to eat the rest of her tart as deliberately and politely as she could. Wincing and grimacing, Vivian and Melinda followed her lead, consuming their entire tarts. Honoria hid her expression behind her teacup. What had been put into the lemon tarts?

“Your marriage,” Vivian began, but coughed. She snatched up her teacup and drained half of it in one gulp. She pursed her lips and shook her head, then took a breath. “Your marriage is an impediment that someone of your standing should not have to be saddled with.”

“See?” Rance leaned back with a smug grin, crossing his arms.

“You have to get a divorce,” Bebe blurted. She reached for a lemon tart, took a huge bite, then spit it out onto her plate. “Eew! What’s wrong with that? It tastes like…it tastes like anise.”

“Maria!” Vivian shouted at the door to the house. “Get your incompetent hide out here and take these disgusting tarts with you. What is wrong with you, you useless, immigrant scum?”

The back door opened, but instead of the servant from before, Mrs. Lyon stepped onto the porch. Ivy and Heather followed behind her. They were dressed in school clothes, their hair in perfect braids down their backs. Each wore expressions that were far too meek to be real.

“Girls.” Elspeth jumped to her feet, rushing around the table to hug each of the twins.

Ivy and Heather hugged her enthusiastically, but then stepped back, hands clasped in front of them, and bobbed cute curtsies.

“We asked Mrs. Lyon if we could come down to help with tea,” Ivy said, all innocence and sweetness in her hazel eyes—eyes very much like Athos’s…when he was up to something.

“Yes,” Heather agreed, turning to Vivian. “We’ve been ever so impressed with your kindness and hospitality, and we want nothing more than to help you out.”

“I think it should be stated that I am against this,” Mrs. Lyon said. She marched around to the empty chair at the table and sat. “You can pour my tea.”

Elspeth balled her hands into fists, wanting nothing more than to throttle the woman.

“Yes, ma’am.” Heather bobbed another curtsy, then rushed to find the teapot and pour a perfect cup of tea for Mrs. Lyon.

“Would you like cream and sugar?” Ivy asked with impeccable manners.

Mrs. Lyon smirked as though she was single-handedly responsible for the complete turn-around in the girls’ attitudes. “Yes.”

“Please, allow me.” Ivy hurried to pour cream and sugar into Mrs. Lyon’s cup.

The Bonneville sisters—all but Honoria—watched with wide eyes and mouths that sagged open.

“Well, those two
have
been kind of nice,” Bebe admitted as Elspeth edged back to her seat. “They were only a few years behind me in school.”

“Speaking of which.” Elspeth pulled her chair into the table and sent piercing glances around the table to the sisters and Mrs. Lyon. “Why aren’t the older children in school right now? As I understand it, they weren’t in attendance yesterday as well.”

The sisters sniffed, looking baffled and a little worried.

“It’s the end of the school year anyhow,” Melinda excused them. “No one does anything at the end of the school year.”

“I was supposed to take a test,” one of the boys shouted from inside the house.

Mrs. Lyon slammed her teacup down, chipping the saucer. “Who let them out of their room this time?” she hollered at the open back door. “I simply don’t understand how the lock on that door keeps coming undone.”

Thumping footsteps and giggles followed.

Elspeth arched an eyebrow at Mrs. Lyon. “I wonder what Judge Moss will have to say about the children’s lack of school attendance this week. Especially considering, as I understand it, they had very good attendance while living with their father.”

“And you know, Ivy and Heather are really quite tame,” Honoria added, just above a whisper.

“Shut up, Honoria,” Vivian snapped.

“Viv, is that how you talk to your sister?” Rance asked.

Everyone at the table seemed surprised to remember he was there. Vivian flushed pink and scowled. A moment later, she laughed. “Oh, Rance.”

“If the older girls are well-behaved, it’s got to be the influence we’ve had on them,” Melinda said. She reached for the lemon tart on her plate, remembered the disaster of before, then carefully picked up the raspberry tart. She nibbled on the corner, and when it didn’t produce any outrageous effects, bit into it.

“Yes, indeed,” Elspeth agreed. Her heart raced as she tried to figure out how much to push things now or whether to wait until they were all in front of a judge to spring the trap. “Perhaps they should stay here even after the judge makes his pronouncement.”

Mrs. Lyon snorted in derision. Rance curled his lip in a sneer. But to Elspeth’s surprise, neither Vivian nor Melinda nor Bebe shouted out against the idea.

“I suppose young people can be shaped and molded,” Vivian said. She picked up another tart from her plate, then grunted and put it down again. “Where is that idiot Maria? These tarts are poisoned.”

“I’ll take care of that for you, Miss Bonneville.” Ivy rushed forward and removed Vivian’s plate with a flattering smile.

“I’ll get rid of this, and we’ll fetch you something else,” Heather said, reaching in to take the platter from the center of the table.

As soon as they had disappeared inside, Bebe said, “You know, those two always were nice. And Hubert isn’t so bad either.” She blushed and failed to hide a smile. “He’s only two years younger than me, you know, and he’s already sort of got a job at the train station.”

“Shut up, Honoria,” Vivian snapped. “I…I mean shut up, Bebe.”

Across the table, Honoria rolled her eyes.

Elspeth’s mouth twitched. She fell back on the best thing she knew to keep herself from laughing or giving up the game too soon. “We’ve had lovely weather since I arrived in Wyoming.”

“Oh yes,” Vivian rushed to agree. “Of course, the weather in Wyoming can be severe.”

“I like the summers,” Melinda added.

Just like that, they steered clear of anything dangerous or incendiary. The topic of the weather was followed by those of fashion, the upcoming centennial celebration, and Vivian’s impending wedding. For the time being, Elspeth considered that she had accomplished her mission. With just a little prodding, she was convinced they would end up supporting Athos in the courtroom, whether they knew they were doing it or not.

Picking up clothes and toys and scrubbing away stains was a thousand times easier than clearing up old memories. Athos bent to gather the twin ragdolls Natalie had sewn for Geneva and Millicent from the corner where he’d found them under an old tablecloth. He straightened and held up the dolls, smiling with bitter-sweetness. Natalie had been pregnant with Thomas when she sewed the dolls especially for Neva and Millie. The girls had only been three at the time, and when they were presented with the homespun dolls, they hadn’t been as excited about them as Natalie had hoped they would be. Her mother had just sent them expensive dolls with porcelain faces and hands from Hartford, and the tiny twins didn’t think anything their mother could make would compare. But then, there was no accounting for the toys that children took a special fancy to.