Her Secondhand Groom(13)

“Is it true?” Celia asked, her voice cracking.

Patrick gave a simple nod and swallowed hard. Celia was five when Abigail died. Following her death, Celia had spent several months quiet and distant. Of the three, she might be the most resistant to having a new “mother”. Sinking to his haunches in front of her, his eyes met hers and his fingers came up to cup her chin. “Celia―”

Before he could say another word, her arms wrapped around his neck and she buried her face in the crook of his neck. It took but a moment to realize her body was trembling.

He brought his hand up to rub her back. “It’ll be all right, Celia,” he crooned. “I know you miss your mother, but Miss Hughes isn’t going to replace her. She’s just going to…um…stand in for her,” he finished dully.

Celia’s body slightly jerked and she pulled her head back. “I don’t think there’s a difference,” she said in a tone that was far more even than he expected.

“No, I suppose not,” he agreed. “What I meant was―”

“It’s all right, Papa. I’m not upset.”

“You’re not?” he asked, staring dubiously at the tears that streaked her face, and the memory of the tight embrace she’d just been holding him in flashed in his mind.

She shook her head carelessly, making her long black braids swing around. “No. I want you to marry Juliet.”

“Then why are you crying?” he asked. He wiped a tear off her cheek with one long finger, then turned it around to show her the evidence.

“Because I’m happy,” she said with a giant grin.

Patrick started. He hadn’t been expecting that response. “Those were happy tears?”

“Yes,” she affirmed, nodding wildly.

Patrick blinked. Celia was so much like Abigail it was almost frightening. Abigail was the biggest watering pot he’d ever met. She cried when she was happy, she cried when she was sad, she cried when she was tired or overwhelmed. There was rarely a circumstance that didn’t result in tears from her. He shook his head. At least these were happy tears. He could handle happy tears. “So you’re happy?” he asked like a simpleton.

All three of his daughters stared strangely at him. “Yes,” Celia said loudly.

Patrick winced. “You don’t have to talk so loud. I’m right here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just thought you were getting to be like Lord Rutherford, you know the one who holds the horn up to his ear.”

“I know who he is,” Patrick remarked testily, standing.

Celia shrugged and fingered the end of one of her long braids. “I’m very happy for you,” she said at last. “And I think you’ll really like Juliet.”

A slow smile spread across Patrick’s lips as a picture of that beautiful creature he’d seen reclining on that sofa flashed in his mind. He may not wish for another woman to love, but this woman had all the necessary qualifications for what he was certain would make him a good wife, and the girls a good mother. Besides her abundant beauty, she was educated at one of the finest schools in England. The fact that her father didn’t seem to turn a hair at Patrick’s arrangement for the marriage, was all the assurance he needed she was biddable―and beddable, too. A sobering chill ran down his spine at the mere thought of the repercussions of sharing her bed. Perhaps she wasn’t beddable, after all.

“Papa!” Kate yelled, catching his attention.

He cleared his throat. “Yes.”

“Can we go visit Juliet today?”

“Not today. Miss Hughes will be very busy the rest of the week.”

“Oh,” Kate said glumly.

“Not to worry,” Patrick said, scooping her up and holding her against his chest. “Once we marry you’ll get to spend all the time you want with her.”

“I will?” she squealed.

Chuckling, Patrick ruffled her hair. “Of course you will. You’ll probably spend so much time with her you’ll sneak out and try to avoid her.”

“No, I won’t,” Kate declared, shaking her head for emphasis. “I could spend all day with her.”

“That’s very good to know since you will be spending all day with her,” Patrick said easily. “See, in addition to being my new wife, she’s also going to be your new governess.”





Chapter 5





Juliet chastised herself for the fiftieth time as she admired her side profile in the mirror. She really shouldn’t take such great joy in not having told Lord Drakely the truth. He might have acted like a highhanded jackanapes and deserved a little shock to make him come to his senses, but he was still the lord of the land and this could potentially end very badly.