Where Love Dwells (11 page)

Stung by Catherine's rebuke as well, Emma took a deep breath, got up from her seat, and went straight to the larder, where she had stored one tin of the licorice root. She popped a piece into her mouth and grimaced, but tolerating the odd taste was but little price to pay for holding her counsel.

“I'm sorry,” she offered. “I wouldn't have let the boys—”

“Forgive me.” Catherine blushed. “I didn't mean to imply you were wrong to let them smear their trays, but Mark and I—”

“You and Mark have your own ideas about raising your babies, which is the way it should be,” Emma offered, grateful for the
wisdom Mother Garrett had shared with her. She tucked the licorice root on the inside of her cheek. “Would you like to have help cleaning up those two cherubs?”

“I'm fine. Why don't you open your package instead?” Catherine suggested as she moistened a pair of washing cloths at the sink.

Emma walked over to the table and stared at the package wrapped in brown paper and held closed with a bit of twine. While she wiped her hands clean yet again, she narrowed her gaze. The package itself was flat and thin, no larger than an ordinary letter, which only made her more curious. “It isn't my birthday yet.”

“It's not a birthday present. It's just something little . . . Just open it. You'll see,” Catherine promised as she started wiping Jonas' hands.

The moment Emma untied the twine and unfolded the paper, she had to blink back tears as she examined the bits of cloth, each no larger than half the size of her palm. She slipped her hand into her pocket and gently reached for her keepsakes. She had no idea yet what each of the bits of cloth Catherine had given to her represented, but she had no doubt that they were meant to be added to the keepsakes she was holding tight.

Moved by Catherine's thoughtfulness, Emma struggled to find her voice, as well as the words to convey how deeply she was touched by this simple gift. “I . . . I don't know what to say, except that I'm completely and utterly overwhelmed that you would give me some cloth to add to my keepsakes.”

“Mark mentioned your keepsakes to me shortly after we married, and I thought it was such a wonderful idea that I've started my own. I'll show them to you a little later and explain what all those bits of cloth mean after I've cleaned off the bread and butter from my hands,” Catherine offered before turning her attention from
Jonas to Paul. “I'm afraid I've been so busy with the twins that I never had time to do more than collect the bits of cloth. I intended to send them to you, but before I knew it, it was time to head to Candlewood, so I thought I'd give them to you in person.”

“Mama, up!” Jonas cried, stretching his arms high in the air and scrunching up his legs, trying to escape from behind the tray and out of his chair.

“Mama, up!” Paul repeated, following his brother's lead.

Emma laughed. “I think we may have to let the keepsakes wait.”

Catherine smiled and shook her head. “Would you mind? I was hoping to let Jonas and Paul toddle off a bit of energy before supper. Otherwise, they're not likely to last through the meal.”

“It's still warm enough for them to go outside on the patio or we could take them into the east parlor. I put away most everything there I thought might hurt them,” Emma said.

“I'm more worried about what they'll hurt or crack or break.” Catherine paused. “Let's try the patio. The fresh air this afternoon tired them out. Maybe more will get them settled into bed for the night a little earlier than usual.”

“True, but on second thought, maybe the parlor would be better. If they're out on the patio and hear those goats—”

“Goats!” Jonas yelled. “See goats!”

“Me go, too,” Paul insisted.

“No goats,” Catherine told them, taking Jonas and Paul out of their high chairs.

Once their little feet hit the floor, the two boys headed straight for the back door. Catherine swooped up one toddler as Emma scooped up the other. Laughing together, they headed through the dining room, where the table was set for supper, toward the
parlor. They were halfway down the center hallway when there was a knock at the door.

Through one of the narrow windows on either side of the door, she saw Zachary and smiled. “It's Mr. Breckenwith.”

“I'll take the boys into the parlor. If they're anywhere near that front door when it opens, they're bound to slip out,” Catherine quipped and ushered both boys away.

Emma stopped in front of the massive oak coatrack to smooth her skirts and check her reflection in the mirror. Pleased that she had decided to change into her favorite winter green linen gown, she opened the door. The moment her gaze locked with his, she could not hold back a smile that came straight from her heart. “You're right on time for supper. Mother Garrett just went out to fetch Mark and Mr. Kirk.”

He chuckled. “I take it they're reinforcing the chicken pen down by the gazebo. Does that mean the nanny goats are staying?”

“For the time being,” she said while he stored his hat and coat on the rack. When he turned to face her, he handed her a packet of papers. “You might want to put these in your office for now. After supper, we can go over them if you like.”

When she furrowed her brow, he straightened his shoulders and set his features into the expression he normally reserved for when they discussed business matters. “Since you've finally agreed to marry me, there are certain legal matters that will need to be settled first. I took the liberty of preparing these documents, and I'd like to discuss them with you before you take them to your lawyer. As soon as you do, we can talk about setting the date for our wedding.”

Seeing the package of papers in his hands and hearing him talk about reviewing legal documents reminded her that there
was a great deal at stake when they married. At this particular moment, the issues seemed as daunting as finding a solution for Wryn's situation.

Still, she did not regret her impromptu acceptance of his proposal earlier this afternoon, though she was not prepared to act quickly on any of those decisions. But until they made them, they would not be able to set a date for their wedding, and Emma knew this man well enough to know he would not be willing to wait a day longer than necessary to make her his wife.

She sighed and took the papers from him. “After supper, then.”

“Don't look so glum,” he whispered. “It's not often that a woman gets a horse named after her mother-in-law and a trio of nanny goats on the same day she becomes formally betrothed,” he teased.

“You forgot to mention having one of her housekeepers injured.”

He nodded. “True.”

“And a young woman still confined to her room because she can't seem to write a simple list of punishment.”

“Also true,” he admitted with a frown.

“Now that you've given me these papers, you wouldn't happen to know if there might be any other facets left to the day, would you?”

“Only one,” he murmured, “but I'm not telling you about it until after supper and we're alone.”

10

I
'VE FINISHED MY LIST
of possible punishments and my letters of apology,” Wryn announced as she entered the dining room. Her surprising arrival silenced the heartfelt celebration Emma and Zachary had shared with her family during supper, and the troubled young woman slipped into her chair just as Mother Garrett started to dish out hearty servings of bread pudding still warm from the oven.

Emma swallowed hard and avoided Zachary's gaze by focusing only on Wryn, who waved away Mark's suggestion she might want to start with a bowl of the soup that had been taken back to the kitchen. “I'd rather start with dessert,” she insisted before looking directly at Zachary. “I assume by now you've had enough time to research exactly how I'm related to Widow Garrett—or is that something I need to ask a lawyer who is more competent?”

Mark scowled and put his hand protectively on Catherine's arm. “Wryn!”

Mother Garrett set down her spoon and stopped dishing out anything but a glare she served directly to Wryn. Before Emma could find her voice, Zachary responded to the little twit.

“It's not entirely an unfair question,” he said. “Many lawyers specialize in various aspects of the law, so they are more competent in some areas than others. But to answer your question,” he said, turning toward Wryn, “I can tell you without reservation that you have no legal relationship to Widow Garrett, only a social one.”

“I believe you're either ill-informed or motivated to give me incorrect information by your own self-interest,” Wryn insisted. “I could hear you all celebrating way up in my room. Perhaps now that you're marrying Widow Garrett, your advice is based more on the fact that you're about to establish your own legal relationship to her than on the law itself—”

“That's enough,” Mark snapped. “There's no reason for you to be rude to Mr. Breckenwith.”

“There's no reason for Widow Garrett to even think about remarrying. Not at her age. But apparently that hasn't stopped her from making a fool of herself by accepting Mr. Breckenwith's proposal, has it?”

Emma's cheeks burned with embarrassment, if not a flash of anger she fought to control.

“Don't bother to send me to my room. I can see I'm not welcome here.” Wryn slipped away from the table and waltzed out of the room, leaving an awkward silence in her wake.

After Mark and Catherine left just as abruptly to go upstairs to deal with Wryn, promising to let Emma know later how they fared, Zachary took a deep breath, rose, and nodded toward Emma. “As much as I'd like to sample some of your mother-in-law's bread pudding, I'm afraid I have a lot of work waiting for me at home, and there are a number of matters we still need to discuss in your office,” he suggested.

Grateful to make her own escape, Emma preceded him out of the dining room, across the hall, and through the library. Unsteadied
by Wryn's outrageous behavior, which had clearly ruined the festive mood at the supper table, she blinked back tears of disappointment. By the time she and Zachary reached her office, however, she had composed herself and led him inside.

As he closed the door to assure their privacy, she turned up the oil lamp she had lit earlier in anticipation of their meeting tonight and swallowed hard. Whenever they had met in her office to discuss legal matters in the past, she had always sat behind the massive wooden desk that had been used by the previous owner while her lawyer sat in one of the two chairs opposite the desk facing her.

Tonight, however, Zachary Breckenwith was more than just her lawyer. He was her betrothed, although she feared he might be ready to change his mind about that, given Wryn's little performance at supper.

She acknowledged their new relationship by handing him the documents he had given her earlier before sitting down beside him. “Please allow me to apologize. Wryn had no cause or right to speak to you the way she did.”

“She was more disrespectful to you,” he said.

Emma blinked back a swell of tears that threatened again. “I wish I had a simple answer to the question of how to help her, but you obviously saw for yourself that Wryn is a very complicated young woman. She hasn't any manners at all, and she seems utterly resistant to developing any, either.” Emma drew in a long breath and gave voice to her fears. “Truthfully, before tonight, with all the disruption she's caused, I was half afraid you'd change your mind about courting me, let alone marry me. Now, after the way she just behaved . . .”

“Let's just hope your son and his wife fare well with her tonight,” he said gently. “They promised to come back downstairs to tell you, but even if it turns out that Wryn needs your firmer hand
for a few weeks, I'm not overly concerned. I don't believe there's a man, woman, or child you've met who couldn't be persuaded to do exactly what you wanted them to do. It shouldn't take very long for Wryn to discover that for herself, which means she'll be returning to Albany with your son and his wife as a reformed young woman,” he said.

Turning toward her, he offered her a reassuring smile. “In all truth, I'd like for the moment to set aside concerns for Wryn in favor of something much more important we need to discuss.”

Relieved, she nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat. Zachary sorted the documents she had given him before handing one to her. “You'll probably recognize the format of this document, which is very similar to the one protecting your assets in a separate legal estate when you married Jonas.”

Memories of preparing to marry Jonas swirled through her mind as she skimmed the document. She had inherited the General Store, as well as a number of properties in the area in and around Candlewood, from her mother, who had inherited everything from
her
mother. To protect those holdings after she married Jonas, when all that she had inherited would have legally become his, Zachary's uncle had indeed drawn up a document very similar to this one.

With no head for business at all, her dear Jonas had never once questioned the need for a separate legal estate. In turn, Emma had tried never to give him cause to regret marrying a woman with means far more substantial than his own. She was grateful Zachary had no qualms about keeping her holdings separate from his, unlike the devious Mr. Langhorne, who had tried to lay his own claim to her wealth by attempting to court her last fall.

“I took the liberty of compiling a complete inventory of your assets, as well,” Zachary noted as he handed her a second document. “You'll want to have your lawyer look at both, of course.”

Without bothering to read the second one, she folded the two documents together and laid them on her lap. “I don't suppose I should even attempt to argue that I don't need another lawyer, since I've agreed to marry one,” she teased.