Stop That Wedding

by Melissa Klein

  Their gazes connected, something passing between them. There it was again. The sloe-eyed look he gave whenever she made a joke. She leaned in. “You okay?” Was he sick?

  “Certainly.” He took a sip from the glass. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You looked…” How? Like dinner didn’t agree with him. Homesick? “Pensive.”

  “It’s been a long day. That’s all.” His words came out in a lazy string just this side of a drawl.

  “Speaking of long days.” Jackie yawned and stretched. “I’m headed off to bed.” She gestured toward the right pen housing the double bed.

  “I’ll be along shortly. Please don’t hog the whole bed.”

  “Diana.” Mama cocked her head.

  “What? I don’t want a repeat of when we went to Biloxi for your birthday. I’m too old to fall off the bed.”

  “Sweetie, you aren’t the one who’ll be my bedmate tonight.”

  “Oh.” Her cheeks heated. It never occurred to Diana her mother and Neville would… She shook her head to clear away the mental image. “Mama, no.” Embarrassment aside, if Jackie and Neville were intimate, it would be much harder to break them up. “What would Pastor Beecham think if he found out?”

  Mama pursed her lips. “Who’s going to tell him?”

  Diana grasped for another rational. “What about Granddaddy Dansfield? You know he can see you from heaven.” A wild excuse, true, but she was as low on options as a bride tardy to a Kleinfeld sale.

  “Pish-posh.”

  “Don’t you want to wait until your wedding night?” she asked, praying that particular horse hadn’t already left the barn.

  Finally, Andrew joined the fray. “As the future Duchess of Effingham, you have to understand there’s a proper way of doing things. One must keep up appearances.”

  Neville stood, holding Jackie’s seat for her. “Well, my boy, Jackie and I are going to give the appearance of being a modern couple.”

  “But Mama.” Panic seized her chest. “That, that leaves me to bunk up with—”

  Andrew choked. “Excuse me. Sorry. Went down the wrong way.”

  She cut her eyes at him. “I’m not any happier about it than you are; believe me.” Why hadn’t she thought this part through when she conjured up this brilliant plan? She massaged the twitch over her right brow. “Perhaps I can sleep out here on the porch.”

  Andrew waved away her offer. “No, I’ll do it.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Neville said. “We’ll all be family soon, so there’s nothing wrong with you two taking the loft.”

  Diana’s stomach lurched. “Oh, my goodness—”

  “—will not be relations.” Andrew tossed back the rest of his drink.

  “You two work things out however you like.” Jackie took Neville by the hand. “We’re retiring for the night.” She pecked Diana on the cheek. “Sleep tight and don’t let the bed bugs bite.” With that she and Neville crossed to the other pen and closed the door.

  “I’ll be fine to sleep out here.” Andrew smacked at a mosquito that landed on his arm, garnering a bloody smear for his efforts. “Really.”

  “No, what you’ll be, is in need of a transfusion.” She let out a breath. “Seriously, we’re making a mountain out of a molehill. There are two twin beds up there.” She took a stack of dishes inside and filled the sink with hot water.

  Andrew followed with the remaining dishes, and after placing them with the others, took up position next to her at the sink. “True, and there’s enough room to move them further apart if you feel uncomfortable.”

  “Not necessary.” She handed him the first of the soapy glasses to rinse. “I doubt you’re planning on ravaging me in my sleep.”

  He fumbled the glass, only barely saving it from crashing to the floor. “What? No! Why would you suggest a thing like that?”

  “Ignore me. I’m making inappropriate jokes to cover for the fact my mother is across the way having sex. I never dawned on me she had that side to her life.”

  “I can understand. You’ve always been her caretaker, so your roles have been almost reversed.”

  “Nailed it exactly. Sounds like you have experience in that department.”

  “Not until recently.” Their hands touched as she passed him another glass. “But I can see it’s been a way of life for you.”

  There was that unease again, giving her goose bumps and making the hairs on her neck stand up. Maybe she was unaccustomed to empathy since folks in her world dolled it out with the same clenched fist as her grandmother did her famous Christmas divinity candy. The revelation still wouldn’t make it any easier to pass the night a few feet from him.

  After draining the sink, she dried off her hands. “All done here. I’ll go up first and get into my PJs.”

  He swallowed hard. “Call when you want me to come up.”

  Upstairs, she took a moment to appreciate the tidy loft with its rustic furniture and white cotton curtains. Andrew had made up the side-by-side beds with matching summer-weight quilts. He’d even tucked the ends in with proper right-angle corners. Topping off his homemaking skills, he’d raised the windows at either end to draw a cross breeze and brought up a pitcher of water and two glasses.

  Using the water from an old-fashioned pitcher and bowl, Diana cleaned up before slipping out of her jeans and T-shirt. Despite the cool water Andrew provided, a rivet of perspiration trickled down her neck as she reached around her back to unhook her bra. Even if the underwire hadn’t been cutting into her all day, releasing the girls was one of the highlights of her evening. The edge of her favorite pair of shorty pajamas stuck out from the top of her duffle bag. Mocking her and the cool relief it could offer. Mocking her naïve belief Jackie led a chaste life. Mocking her for the attraction to Andrew that Diana could barely keep under control.

  She riffled through the bag and pulled out a tank top and cotton shorts. “Thanks, Mother,” she grumbled, slipping under the sheet. After lowering the lantern, she called to Andrew. “Come on up.”

  The wooden ladder creaked then his head peeked above the floor. “You decent?”

  “Not according to the women at Greenville First Presbyterian, but I am fully clothed under this sheet.”

  He padded to his bed, sitting with his back to her. “I sense a story there.” His shoes hit the floor. “I’d like to hear it if you will.” He paused. Leaning across the bed he extinguished his lantern.

  “Only if you share in return.”

  The soft rustle of clothes followed. “We will be up all night if you want to hear the tales of my misspent youth.”

  That was the idea. She needed something to get her mind off the damage to her store, a dozen itchy bug bites, and the fact her mother was shacked up across the way. “Tell me about your parents. Do you see them often?”

  “I see them a few times a year when I come through London.”

  “Siblings?”

  “I’m an only child as well. Eventually I’ll inherit my father’s title as well as Uncle Neville’s.”

  “The weight of two dynasties rest fully on your shoulders.”

  “Too right. Some days it seems hardly worth the handful of titles it comes with.”

  And the money. Surely it took millions of pounds to keep up the estates and finance Andrew’s playboy lifestyle.

  “What about your paterfamilias?”

  “My so-called father walked out on Mama and me. That’s when we moved in with Granddaddy and Grandmother Dansfield. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of my daddy since.”

  “Tell me about your grandparents. They seem to have been a positive influence on your upbringing.”

  “I can’t imagine what my childhood would have been like without them. At the very least, they were my example of what a good and healthy relationship looks like. When I’m finally ready to settle down, I won’t settle for anything less than what those two had—two equals working toward the same purpose.”

  The bed creaked as Andrew shifted. “I know the q
ualities I’m looking for in the next Duchess of Effingham, despite never having seen it in real life.”

  “I take it you’re not referring to my mother.”

  “Are you doubting our plan?”

  “No, just checking. Tell me about the lofty ideals this woman must attain to be found worthy. I assume you’ve got to choose someone with the same social standing.”

  “That’s partly it. There are other criteria—more mercenary boxes to tick off. However, I have other expectations, a wish list of sorts, I believe will make us a good match.”

  “Let’s hear them.”

  “I want someone who’s kind, gracious, appreciates the past and those who carved it. She needs to love children and be committed to not only bringing forth the next generation but raising our children to be good people.”

  Surprise zinged through her. “She sounds—” Unexpected tears clogged her throat. “She sounds lovely.” And the same qualities she wanted in a husband. “I hope you find her.” She’d all but given up hope fate would send her such a man.

  “Now it’s my turn. I’d like to hear more about your grandfather. He sounds like quite the character, despite your assurances he would not have liked my uncle and me.”

  “I don’t know…maybe he would have learned to tolerate you.” She rubbed at the center of her chest. Three years later, it still hurt to talk about the most important man in her life. “I owe everything I am to my Granddaddy. He believed in me, gave me words of wisdom, and treated me like I was important.” For a child growing up with a self-absorbed parent, this positive influence couldn’t be underestimated.

  “I feel the same way about my uncle. That man is more father—” Andrew cleared his throat. “Anyway, that’s why I’ve been so protective about him.”

  “Speaking of which, how do you think he’s doing?”

  “He’s uncomfortable; that’s for certain, but he’s not exactly miserable enough to throw in the towel.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “Jackie is completely oblivious to his limited experience, fatigue, or his sore muscles.”

  “Welcome to my world.” At age six, she’d come down with chicken pox over a long weekend. It wasn’t until she showed up at school covered in itchy scabs she’d received anything to relieve the discomfort.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Me? How long is your uncle going to put up with that? She’s my mother, so I’m stuck with her. He’s still got options.”

  “You’re right. Perhaps I’ll have a word with him in the morning about standing up for himself. Like you said earlier, he should start out as he means to go on.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” A warm breeze caressed her cheek. Her eyelids grew heavy.

  In the distance, thunder rumbled. “Do we need to worry about that?” The scent of rain wafted in through the open window.

  “Not unless it starts coming in through the windows.”

  Several moments passed with only the growing sound of thunder filling the air.

  “Diana?” The low timbre of his voice reached across the room.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you still wish for a dishwasher over indoor plumbing?”

  The next morning, Diana rose at first light to get breakfast going. With temperatures predicted in the high eighties, good sense required an early start in front of the stove. She’d closed the door on a pan of biscuits when Andrew descended into the kitchen. “Good morning.” She finger-combed her rat’s nest, wishing she’d taken a moment to run a brush through her hair. “I hope you slept well.”

  “Quite, thank you.”

  On him, the unkempt hair worked, and the whiskers made her want to run her hand along his jaw.

  He grabbed a mug from the dish drainer then moved in close. “Your cheeks are bright pink.”

  “It’s the stove.” And maybe a little blushing. No one had a right to look that yummy first thing in the morning. “Breakfast will be ready soon.”

  He poured himself a cup of coffee then leaned against the cabinets. “The smell of bacon and coffee makes the absolute best alarm clock.”

  His snoring had woken her. Rather than annoying, she found the snuffling sounds of another human nearby comforting. She’d lain in the dark trying to remember the last time she’d been that close to a sleeping man. Counting back the months, she recalled a night eight months ago when she and Doc James took turns watching over a colicky horse. Which was sad, considering until six months ago, she was still dating Travis.

  “I hope I didn’t snore.” His grin showed over the rim of the coffee cup. “I’ve been told I do.”

  She waved away his concern. “I only ask if you slept okay because when I woke this morning the windows were closed.” And a light quilt had been thrown over her.

  “It started raining in during the night.” He took a long draw from the mug. “The sound of rain on metal is something else. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a better lullaby.”

  Diana thought the same and hated she missed the rain song. “I must have been out. I didn’t hear a thing. Then again, I always sleep well out here.”

  Andrew stretched. “The Ritz can’t compare.”

  She laughed. “Now, now, it’s starting to run up over the tops of my shoes. That bed wasn’t that fabulous.” Between turning the bacon and cracking eggs, Diana studied the viscount. He sure was agreeable for a man who’d endured a great deal of torture yesterday. She’d expected him to be at least as miserable as his uncle. Instead, he seemed to be relishing his exposure to rugged life. What was up with that?

  “You see things your way, and I’ll see them mine. I don’t feel like I was dragged through the mud yesterday.”

  “Excellent, because I need you on your A-game today.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  She scooped up the scrambled eggs, placing them on a waiting plate. “I’m deciding between clearing a trail around the lake, so I can eventually bring the horses out here and doing cabin repairs.”

  “Which has the higher misery factor?” Andrew followed her lead, collecting the bacon and the dish of butter for the biscuits.

  “Both have potential.” Diana pointed through the door to the waiting table. “I vote we eat without the love birds. We can plan until they get out here.”

  After filling their plates and digging in, Diana began detailing her ideas. “Both require the same amount of physical strength and endurance. Sweating is a given. But if we stay around here, there are plenty of chances for everyone to take rest breaks. I’m leaning toward clearing the trail.”

  Andrew bit into a piece of bacon, his brow furrowing as he chewed. Finally, after a swig of coffee, he said, “I see your point, however, breaking a trail sounds more dangerous. Uncle Neville could get hurt or lost out there.”

  Before Diana could remind him of the impossibility of negating all danger, Jackie opened the door to the other pen and sashayed into the dog trot. She leaned down to peck her daughter’s cheek. “Good morning, sunshine.”

  Diana rubbed her temple in the hopes of staving off the headache forming behind her right eye. “Mama, why are you wearing a dress?”

  “I’m taking my sweetheart on a picnic. Dukie Dear endured quite a lot yesterday, and I don’t want him to think this way of living is all rough and tumble.”

  “There are chores that need to be done around here, things I counted on y’alls help with. Boards have come loose around the back of the house. There are weeds growing up in the path to the outhouse. Not to mention the fact we need to get a couple machetes to the trail around the lake.”

  Jackie fluttered past on her way into the kitchen as if Diana’s words were nothing more than butterflies tickling her ears. “I’m sorry, darling, you’re going to have to adjust to not being my first priority anymore.”

  Anymore?! Irritation burned in Diana’s stomach. Jackie’s top priority had always been Jackie. She shot a pleading look to Andrew.

  “Jackie, my uncle believes in d
uty over personal pursuits. I’m certain as much as he would enjoy spending time with you, he’d much rather not leave Diana in the lurch.”

  “Nonsense, my boy.” Neville exited the bedroom, dressed in lightweight khakis, a plum colored golf shirt, and loafers on his feet. “All work and no play.”

  Where the man kept acquiring his wardrobe baffled Diana. “How about a compromise? A few hours of work, and then we’ll all take a picnic lunch down to the lake.”

  Jackie returned to the dog trot with a small hamper which she passed to the duke. She looped her arm through his and the two headed down the path to the lake. “We’re going to the quail pasture to pick blackberries. Afterward, we’ll have our picnic. I don’t know when we’ll be back, so don’t wait on us to start your work.”

  The couple trod out of sight while Diana and Andrew sat speechless. How had the romantic duo outflanked them again? She wanted to pitch a good hissy fit and demand they come back, but her more sanguine partner in crime shook his head.

  “It seems I’m not the only one who enjoyed the restorative powers of this cabin. I don’t know how much you planned on charging for people to stay out here, but you need to consider upping the fees. I would have bet money the old chap couldn’t have gotten out of bed today.”

  “Darn it all to heck.” She growled. “I should have burned dinner last night.”

  “Too late for that. What do we do now?”

  “Search me. Any chance your uncle is allergic to blackberries?”

  “Loves the damn things.” Andrew returned to his breakfast, proving the affinity ran in the family as he polished off the last of the homemade jam Diana carried at Sweet Tea and Lavender.

  After cleaning his plate, he returned the dishes to the kitchen. Then he proceeded to wash up—like he’d been born pouring heated water from a kettle instead of with a bevy of servants waiting on him.

  Alone all day in a cozy cabin with good husband material… Diana scrambled for a way to put distance between them. “Since Plan A is blown all the smithereens, I’m going to focus on situations I can control. At some point yesterday, the manager of the store in Hattiesburg texted me. I need to check in with her.”