His Substitute Wife Page 17

  She gazed out at the beam of light streaming through the darkness from the engine, reached into her pocket and fingered the telegram nestled there. How long would Blake be gone? Would he miss her while he was away? Her heart caught hold of the hope, refused to let it go. Perhaps this was one of God’s mysterious ways. Perhaps Blake’s heart would grow hungry for the life they had shared, short as it had been, and he would come to love her—

  Movement caught her eye. A shadowy form passed in front of the light from the engine, appeared to be coming toward the store, but the light from the oil lamp kept her from seeing clearly. She took a breath and hurried to the counter, tucked her dusting rag out of sight. Shoes tapped against the porch floor. The door opened, and the bell jingled. She smoothed back her hair, looked toward the door and gasped.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Linda!”

  “Audrey?”

  “Yes!” Audrey ran to her sister and threw her arms around her, laughing and crying. “You’re all right! Oh, Linda, I’ve been so worried. I didn’t know if you would find me—”

  “You always worry about me, Audrey.” Linda straightened, patted her back. “But I’m quite able to take care of myself—with the help of a few servants. Or a little sister.”

  Linda’s laughter sounded to her like crystal bells ringing. It always had. “I’m so relieved to see you well and happy, Linda. I—” She stopped, looked toward the door. “Where is your husband? Is he still at the station? There’s no—”

  “Nigel isn’t here.”

  “He’s not here? But—” She stared at her sister, noted the way Linda turned away.

  “So this is Blake’s store...”

  Why was she changing the subject? “Yes. Linda, what is wr—”

  “Then where is he?” Linda stepped around her and glided toward the door at the back of the room. “Blake, darling...”

  Her stomach sank. Her joy at seeing her sister again flattened, turned into a vague uneasiness. Why had Linda come to Whisper Creek without her husband? She took a breath, pressed her hand against her stomach and waited. Linda would make her request in her own time. “Blake is not here, Linda.”

  “Not here? But I need—” Her sister turned, looked at her. Her delicately arched brows peaked, her lovely features hardened. The act was over. “What are you doing here, Audrey?”

  But I need—Linda was exactly the same. And her sister wanted something. She snuffed the flame in the oil lamp and hung the Closed sign in the window, found strength in doing so. “I came to save Blake’s store. Surely you remember?” She snuffed the chandeliers and led the way into the storage room, thought about following Blake to the stairs on the night they were wed and remembered his pain. The unease turned to anger. “You broke your betrothal, married Nigel and left Blake in danger of losing the store and all of his inheritance. And when I challenged you on your duplicity, you told me if I was so worried about Blake losing his store I should marry him.”

  “Poof!” Linda dismissed the indictment with a wave of her lace-gloved hand. “Blake is too smart to lose his—” Linda stopped, stared at her in the light of the oil lamp by the stairs. “You married him.”

  It was an accusation. She lifted her chin. “Yes.”

  “You little fool! Why would you do such a thing?” Linda’s eyes turned dark—a sure sign of a storm to come. “Blake loves me.”

  The words stuck like knives in her heart. She couldn’t deny it—but she wouldn’t affirm it. And she wouldn’t let Linda hurt Blake. Not again. She would give her whatever she had come after, so she would leave before Blake’s return. “And you’re married to Nigel.” She gripped the banister, lifted her hems and climbed the stairs, focused on the mundane to control the churning in her stomach. “It’s supper time. Have you eaten?”

  “I haven’t had a decent meal since I left St. Louis.”

  She jerked to a halt, turned. The light from the sconce fell on her sister’s beautiful face, shone on the creamy skin revealed by the low-cut neckline of her fashionable satin gown. “St. Louis? I thought you went to collect your husband’s inheritance from his family in San Francisco.”

  Linda’s blue eyes flashed, her mouth tightened. “Do not call that gambling liar my husband!”

  “Linda.” She rushed to her sister, took hold of her lace-gloved hands. “Oh, Linda, what happened?”

  Her sister stiffened, tugged her hands free and pushed at the golden curls resting on her forehead. “Nigel lied to me about everything. There was no inheritance! No family! He only told me those things because I had told him I was planning on using my inheritance from Father to go to San Francisco and become an actress.”

  A memory flashed. I’ve only come home to collect a bank draft for my share of our inheritance from Father, get my jewelry and say goodbye. Dread settled like a rock in her stomach. “Your inheritance...”

  “It’s gone. Along with my jewelry. Nigel gambled it all away on a Mississippi riverboat. I had to sell a few of my best gowns to purchase my train ticket here.”

  “Oh, Linda, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you write—” What are you doing here, Audrey? Everything in her went still. Linda hadn’t known she was here. She locked her gaze on her sister’s eyes. “Why did you buy a ticket to Whisper Creek, Linda? Why didn’t you go home?”

  Linda tossed her head, glanced around. “To what purpose? There’s nothing for me there.”

  You thought I was there. She pushed aside the hurt. At least Linda hadn’t lied. Her chest tightened. Whatever her sister wanted had to do with Blake. Money. What else could it be? She spun and walked into the kitchen, lit the oil lamps, pulled food from the refrigerator and arranged it on a platter. Cabbage slaw, pickled beets and carrots, boiled eggs and cold ham, a few olives... “I’m afraid this is all I have to offer.” She set the platter on the table along with a pitcher of lemonade and walked to the dresser for dishes and flatware. “I haven’t been cooking or baking since Blake left.”

  “Where is he?”

  “In New York.” She put the dishes on the table and slid onto a chair, prayed for the food and hoped she’d be able to eat. If she didn’t, Linda would know she was upset and—

  “How long will he be gone?”

  She looked at her sister sitting and eating at Blake’s table and squared her shoulders. She would resolve whatever problem had brought Linda to Whisper Creek and have her sister out of town before Blake returned. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—let Linda hurt him again. Not if it cost her every cent she possessed. “The date of his return is indefinite. His father passed away.”

  “His father died!” Linda lifted her head, put down her fork. “Blake is an only child...”

  “Yes.” There was a disturbing, speculative gleam in Linda’s eyes that made her stomach churn. She stopped all pretense of eating. “What about Blake’s being an only child?”

  “Oh, nothing.” Linda picked up her knife and fork, cut a piece of ham. “I simply recall him mentioning once that he had no living family but his father.”

  “I didn’t know.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “How awful for him to have to bear his grief and sorrow alone.”

  “Why, Audrey, you’re in love with him!”

  Another truth she couldn’t deny—but she couldn’t bear to have Linda know of her feelings for Blake. She would be merciless in using them as a weapon to get her way. “It’s necessary for the people of Whisper Creek to believe that’s so.”

  “Oh, yes. Because of that foolish contract Blake signed.”

  Because of you! She reached for her lemonade, swallowed the words along with the cool sweetened liquid and turned the conversation away from Blake. “Do you think your husband will follow—”

  “Nigel is not my husband.”

  The glass slipped from her hand. She grabbed for her napkin and sopped up the spille
d lemonade, carried the napkin to the dry sink and rinsed it. “I don’t understand. You told me you were married.”

  “I thought I was.”

  Her stomach clenched tighter than the wrung-out napkin. She shook out the cloth, hung it over the hot water pipe to dry. “What do you mean, you thought you were married? Either you are, or you aren’t.” Unless you’re only a pretend bride.

  “I’m not. When Nigel deserted me, he left a note saying that our marriage was bogus. The ceremony had been performed by his friend.”

  “Linda, that’s terrible!” Indignation on her sister’s behalf swept away all thought of her own troubles. “You must have been devastated! No wonder you came—” Linda wasn’t married. And neither was Blake. Not in his heart. The room tilted, righted itself. She clutched the edge of the sink while her hope seeped away like the water swirling down the drain. Please, Lord...

  She drew a breath, turned to face her sister. “Why did you come here, Linda?”

  “Why, to marry Blake, of course.”

  * * *

  The clop of horses’ hoofs and rumble of carriage wheels faded away. The last of the mourners had gone. Blake pulled up the collar of his coat, turned his back to the wind whipping through the cemetery and stared at the headstone with his father’s name newly engraved beside his mother’s. Robert Sydney Latherop. Born, June 11, 1809—Departed this world, August 29, 1868. He jammed his hands in his coat pockets, tried to catch a full breath. The platitudes about time spoken by his father’s colleagues were well intended, but he doubted the ache in his heart would ever heal.

  The wind gusted. He staggered forward. He looked up at the dark clouds that rolled and boiled above the nearby trees whose branches were thrashing about in a wild frenzy. He should leave before the storm broke and the rain started. He closed his eyes and searched inside for the strength to walk away. When he did, he would be alone. Help me, Lord.

  The wind plastered a leaf against the side of his face. He snatched it away, opened his eyes and stared. All around him dried autumn leaves were lifted from the ground, rode the wind in a swirling eddy around the headstone and fell. A thin layer of them already covered the mound of raw earth—a blanket of mustard-gold and rusty-red leaves with a few green ones that hadn’t yet dried mixed in. Audrey. The need to see her struck with the swiftness of a lightning bolt. The pressure in his chest eased. She was waiting for him in Whisper Creek.

  Glad you’re...happy, son. I’ll...tell... Mother.

  He tugged his hat down, lifted his gaze to the darkening sky. His father wasn’t in that grave. He was with Mother in Heaven. And one day he’d see them both again. Meanwhile, he had a life to live. And he’d learned one thing since being home in New York; he wanted to live it in Whisper Creek—with Audrey, if she would agree to continue their arrangement. And why wouldn’t she? They had worked out a pleasant relationship. The only difficulty was his attraction to her. But that was only rebound emotion and would fade. Meantime, he could control his instincts.

  Was that what his father had seen in his eyes—his pleasure with life in Whisper Creek? Whatever it was, his father had understood. He would miss his wisdom. He took another breath, pushed words through the tightness in his throat. “Thanks, Dad, for all you taught me. I’ll try to live up to the examples of honesty and fidelity with Audrey that you and Mother set. Perhaps love will follow.”

  That was an intriguing thought. He bent down and picked up one of the gold autumn leaves, put it in his pocket and walked to his father’s carriage. He would keep the leaf as a symbol of this moment when he’d decided on the course he should take. He had found an honest, faithful woman in Audrey. Or, rather, she had found him.

  I came to marry you.

  He shook his head, still amazed by her proclamation. And her tenacity when he’d challenged her. She’d always been quiet and obsequious around Linda—sort of faded away when her sister came into the room. But not that night. She’d never hesitated a moment in her plan to save his store. And what a sense of honor she had, to offer herself in her sister’s stead in order to uphold Linda’s word—to a point.

  Rain spattered on his hat and shoulders, bounced on the carriage roof. He picked up the ground tie, set it on the floor, climbed in and took the reins in his hand. “Let’s go home, T-T.” The bay leaned into the harness and the carriage rolled forward. He smiled, urged the mare to a faster pace. He needed a horse. He would keep the bay when he settled his father’s estate and take her home with him. He had a hunch Audrey would like the name his mother had given the mare—Twinkle-toes. His dad had hated it—said it embarrassed him saying “Get up, Twinkle-toes” in front of his business cohorts—and shortened it to T-T.

  He chuckled at the memory, wiped a splatter of blowing rain off his cheek. Now, he had a decision to make. Should he tell Audrey the mare’s name and face the embarrassment of owning a horse named Twinkle-toes in the wilds of Wyoming Territory—or simply call the horse T-T?

  * * *

  “This sitting room is very small. However do you entertain?”

  Linda’s voice floated into the kitchen, cool, patronizing. Audrey stiffened, put the beets and carrots back in the crocks and set them in the refrigerator. “We’re newlyweds.” Pretend ones. “We’re not expected to entertain until a suitable amount of time has passed.”

  “Oh, yes. I forgot that boring rule. I notice the settee and chairs are blue.”

  She clenched her teeth, crossed to the sink cupboard and turned on the spigot. Linda knew full well Blake had chosen everything in this house for her! Hot water splashed into the dishpan. She swished the soap through it and slipped in the dirty dishes, thankful, for once, that her sister didn’t deign to perform household tasks. It gave her an excuse to hide from Linda’s probing gaze until she gained control of her emotions. She took a breath to steady her voice. Perhaps acknowledging the truth would stop Linda’s taunting. “Yes. Blake bought them before you broke your betrothal to him and married Nigel.”

  “Must you take every opportunity to remind me of my mistake, Audrey? You’re not usually that unkind.”

  Mistake? Her stomach churned.

  “What is this room?” A door opened. “Oh, it’s Blake’s office.” The door closed.

  Linda was exploring. No! She yanked her hands from the water and ran for the hall. Lord, don’t let her—

  “Oh, a bedroom.”

  Too late. She stopped, watched Linda make a slow turn in the center of Blake’s bedroom. Her heart pounded. Her stomach knotted.

  Linda looked at Blake’s boots sitting on the floor beside the cot, turned to her and smiled. “And where do you sleep, Audrey dear?”

  Linda had guessed the truth. The knowledge of it was in her eyes, in the smug smile curling her lips.

  Bile surged and burned into her throat. She swallowed hard, took a breath to calm the churning in her stomach and lifted her chin. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “This is it. You will sleep here tonight.” Audrey stopped in the doorway, forced the words from her aching throat. It had to be, but she could not bear to see Linda sleeping in that bedroom.

  Linda brushed by her, the short ruffled train on her gown floating across the floor. She stopped, removed her flower-bedecked hat, tossed it onto the dressing table and fluffed her blond curls. “Well, at least there is a bed. And a wardrobe where I can hang my gowns when I get my trunks from the station. How shall I do that without Blake here to fetch them for me?”

  She looked into Linda’s eyes, read the determination in them. Her sister was staying. Linda intended to marry Blake, and she wouldn’t let a little thing like their marriage stand in her way. And there was nothing to be done about it. Linda would be Blake’s choice. “I’ll have your trunks brought here in the morning. It’s too late now.”

  “Morning will be fine.
I’ll manage without them tonight.” Linda opened the doors on the dress cupboard, glanced her way and smiled.

  She stiffened. Linda smelled victory. The lack of any male garments or accessories in the wardrobe gave mute testimony to her in-name-only marriage to Blake. And though Linda may not know exactly what it was, she was certain that something was not right. That small superior smile meant that her sister would not rest until she learned what was amiss.

  “I’ve so much to tell you about what happened to me while we’ve been apart, Audrey. And, of course, I want to hear the story of your marriage to Blake.” Linda gave her another smile, came and touched her arm. “Shall we have a cup of tea while we talk?”

  There was no way to escape it; the conversation would happen sooner or later. She fisted her hands, hid them in the folds of her long skirt and nodded. She would not be able to hide the truth. And she did not have the right to do so. Blake loved Linda. She couldn’t protect him from his own heart. “I’ll put the water on.” She turned and headed for the kitchen, her heart aching for the love she had recognized too late—a love that must now stay hidden for the days and weeks and months and years to come.

  Tears stung her eyes. She hurried to the stove, added a scoop of coal, closed the door and adjusted the draft. She would have to teach Linda how to use the stove. She ran her fingers along the oven handle, swallowed hard. She’d come to think of the stove as hers. But it was Linda’s stove. Blake had bought it and everything else in the house for her sister. He loved Linda. She had to remember that. It was the only way she would get through this.

  “How sweet of Blake! The stove is blue. And the dishes, too.” Linda carried two cups and saucers to the table, set them down and frowned. “The lack of a proper dining room certainly limits the entertaining possibilities, doesn’t it?”