Handpicked Husband (Love Inspired Historical) (3 page)

Adam heard the murmur of voices from inside and pushed away his sour thoughts. Had Miss Nash finally decided to join them? His three companions were strung so tight he could feel the tension crackle in the oppressively still air.

A deerfly buzzed by and landed on his cheek. Swatting it away, he stared at the door, barely controlling the urge to march up and demand Miss Nash show herself.

When the door finally
did
open, his three companions snapped to attention. The dog also stiffened, eyeing them as a predator would its prey. But it was only Mrs. Peavy.

Confound the woman, was she deliberately keeping them waiting? The judge hadn’t painted her as either mean-spirited or a coward. But perhaps he didn’t know his granddaughter as well as he thought.

Mrs. Peavy held a tray containing a pitcher and glasses. She quieted the dog with a word, then turned to the men. “It’s a long ride from Turnabout,” she said as she set her burden on a nearby bench. “I imagine you’d all be glad of a nice, tall glass of apple cider while you wait.”

Mitchell, ever the gentleman, was the first to step up. “Thank you, ma’am. That does sound inviting.”

The housekeeper responded with a smile. “Help yourself.” When she turned to Adam, though, she was all business. “Miss Reggie will be out in a moment.”

Adam nodded, refraining from comment.

It irked him that he couldn’t remember much about Regina Nash. He was usually good with names and faces. True, he hadn’t seen her often, but that was no excuse.

He remembered her stepsister in exquisite detail. And it wasn’t just that he’d known Patricia longer—it would be hard for anyone to forget such a delicate, feminine creature. Not only was she a beauty, she had the willowy grace of a ballerina and the gentle sweetness of a lamb. Being on the receiving end of one of her smiles had made a person feel special.

But Miss Nash’s image was elusive, a wispy shadow he couldn’t bring into focus. She was younger than Patricia, and different in appearance and personality. He remembered a dark-haired girl with a coltish awkwardness about her, a girl who preferred to keep to the fringes of gatherings rather than mingle. She’d seemed a wren in the presence of the elegant swans that were her stepmother and stepsister. That was all he remembered—impressions more than real memories.

His thoughts drifted to the less than musically talented miss they’d encountered earlier. Something about her hinted at earthiness and fire and a quixotic vulnerability. Perhaps, if the opportunity materialized, he’d ask Miss Nash about her.

Adam stroked the brim of his hat between his thumb and forefinger as his thoughts circled back to his reason for being here. “I don’t see the judge’s great-grandson about,” he said, catching the housekeeper’s gaze.

Mrs. Peavy stiffened, and the dog’s lip drew back as he gave a low, throaty growl. The beast seemed to be waiting for word to attack.

“Just why would you be interested in Jack’s whereabouts?”

Adam mentally counted to ten, maintaining his smile by force of will. Why did the woman treat every question he asked with suspicion?

He was spared the need to answer as the door opened once more.

Their hostess had finally deigned to join them.

“Now Mrs. Peavy, there’s no need to be impolite.” The speaker, a tall, slim woman, stepped out onto the porch.

Adam took a minute to size her up. He’d always been proud of his ability to read an opponent—it was another of those skills that had served him equally well in the courtroom as in prison.

If she’d kept them waiting so she could primp it didn’t show. While he could find nothing wrong with her appearance, he saw nothing particularly special about it, either. Her dress was a nondescript blue frock and her coffee-brown hair was secured into a serviceable knot at the nape of her neck.

Yet something about her commanded attention. Perhaps it was the way she looked you straight in the eye, as if trying to take your measure. Or perhaps it was the way she carried herself, as if the world would have to meet her on her own terms. Or maybe it was the healthy glow she projected, like a freshly picked and polished apple.

Miss Nash might not be the beauty her stepsister had been, but he definitely couldn’t picture this confident woman meekly fading away in anyone’s shadow. As for the coltish awkwardness he remembered, the years had replaced that with an air of self-assurance and composure.

This
woman was one he would definitely remember.

“Hello, gentlemen.” She included them all in her polite smile. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I hope you took the opportunity to enjoy a glass of cider.”

She extended a hand toward Adam. He noticed she kept the other hidden in the folds of her skirt. “Mr. Barr, how nice to see you again.”

Adam took her hand and nodded acknowledgment, wondering what she concealed in her other palm. “Miss Nash.”

Something about her appearance and voice
did
seem familiar, but not like something from his distant past. It gave him a nagging, I’m-missing-something feeling.

She laughed. “You don’t recognize me, do you? Not surprising—I looked very different last time we met.”

He straightened abruptly. Those eyes! That vivid, translucent blue-green of a dragon’s scales.

This woman, with her air of country gentility, was the backwoods hoyden with the banshee voice they’d encountered earlier.
Now
he knew what had delayed her. But how had she managed to get here ahead of them?

And what had she been doing out in the woods earlier, alone and attired in castoff men’s clothing?

Her gaze registered surprise at his reaction, then she nodded slightly, acknowledging the connection he’d made. Was she embarrassed at having been found out? If so, she didn’t show it. She merely eyed him expectantly, waiting for his next move.

Should he call her hand? She’d toyed with them, pretending to be something she wasn’t, pretending not to know him. Had she been watching for them? Perhaps hoping to turn them back?

As for him unmasking her, if the others weren’t observant enough to see through her disguise, it wasn’t his job to point it out to them.

“To the contrary,” he said, replying to her earlier remark, “I remember our last meeting quite well.” He released her hand. “Before I forget, I promised to relay greetings to you.”

“Oh?” Her voice held a wary note.

“Yes.” He gave her a mock-innocent smile. “We encountered a grubby, barely civilized girl down the road who claimed to know you.”

A flash of indignation crossed her face. Then her lips twitched. “An unflattering but accurate description of my friend.” Then she waved toward the others. “Please, introduce me to your friends.”

“Of course.”

As he made the introductions, he tried reading her mood. But she didn’t appear at all discomposed that they’d called her bluff and followed her out here.

Once the amenities had been satisfied, Miss Nash turned back to him, raising a brow in question. “I hope my grandfather was in good health when you saw him last.” Her tone was polite, but contained a hint of something else as well.

“He was his usual irascible self when we left Philadelphia.”

She nodded, and Adam was puzzled by the flash of relief in her expression. It seemed her question had been more than a casual inquiry.

“Then if you gentlemen will excuse my directness, may I ask what brings you to this remote location?”

Adam stilled, studying her expression carefully. Was this another delaying tactic?

But all he saw was puzzlement and suspicion. Did she truly not know what was going on?

“Are you telling me you never received your grandfather’s letter?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Either she was a very good actress or she had no idea what she was about to face. It appeared he owed the lady an apology for the unflattering thoughts he’d entertained about her these past few hours.

Then the full import of the situation hit him, and Adam swallowed several choice oaths. He’d have to explain the judge’s Machiavellian scheme to her. That wasn’t supposed to be part of his duties.

But this wasn’t her fault, either. “Then please forgive our intrusion. It’s unfortunate you didn’t receive proper warning of either our arrival or our purpose.”

Not sure what else to do, he reached into his pocket and retrieved the missive Judge Madison had entrusted to him. “Your grandfather asked me to give you this before we began serious discussions, so perhaps it would be best for us to start there. Then I can explain things to you in more detail.”

She took the paper from him, a crease marring her forehead.

Adam rubbed the back of his neck. This didn’t feel right. How much had the judge put in the second letter? Would it make any sense to her if she hadn’t read the first? Maybe he should explain—

Everett cleared his throat. “While Miss Nash is reading the letter and Mr. Barr is making his explanations, perhaps the rest of us could take a look around. A walk would be welcome after that long ride.”

Adam wondered cynically if Everett’s offer came from a gentlemanly urge to give her some privacy to absorb the news, or a cowardly urge to distance himself from her reaction to it.

Whatever the man’s motives, he was immediately joined by the other two.

“Good idea,” Chance agreed hastily.

“My legs could do with a bit of stretching, too,” Mitchell added.

Their eagerness to exit the area was so obvious, Adam wasn’t surprised to see Miss Nash’s brow raise.

* * *

Uh-oh. Her visitors suddenly seemed like critters fleeing a brushfire. Reggie figured that meant only one thing.

They knew she wouldn’t like whatever she was about to learn from her grandfather’s letter.

“Of course,” she answered smoothly. She actually welcomed the chance to read the letter in private since she wasn’t known for having a poker face. “Mrs. Peavy, why don’t you escort them on a little tour of the area. I believe the
south end
of the lake would offer the best view.”

Not to mention keep them away from Jack. “Oh, and I think Buck would enjoy the walk as well.”

Reggie did her best to ignore the knowing look on Adam’s face. If only he wasn’t so perceptive. How could he have seen through her disguise so quickly? She was certain none of the others had. It would be better all the way around if he went along on that little walk.

But as Mrs. Peavy and the other three men headed away from the porch, Reggie stared at his I’m-not-budging demeanor and knew it would be wasted breath to even suggest he leave.

She sat on the porch swing, feeling his gaze on her. She couldn’t help but remember that little jolt of connection she’d felt when she realized he recognized her.

Forcing that thought aside, she opened the letter. Scanning quickly over the greeting, she searched for the promised explanation. Her gaze paused at the third paragraph.

Your desire to adopt Jack came as no surprise. However, though you have been like a mother to him since his infancy, we both know the bonds that unite you are those of affection, not blood. I am, in truth, the only blood relation Jack has left.

Reggie flinched. Regardless of what others thought, she was closer to Jack than
anyone
else—he was truly the child of her heart. She’d thought her grandfather understood.

I do not want Jack to grow up without a man in his life. It is important for a boy to have someone to teach him the proper lessons on his road to manhood, something you could not do on your own. My first impulse was to ask you to send him to me.

Reggie’s heart thumped erratically. Surely Grandfather wouldn’t take Jack from her.

I admit, however, that this solution has drawbacks. I’m no longer young. It is quite probable I won’t be around long enough to guide Jack into manhood.

Reggie breathed easier. She wasn’t overly concerned about the judge’s health—he’d used that bluff to get his way more than once. Even though he must be in his seventies, the old codger would probably outlive them all.

My next thought was to send him to boarding school. There are some fine institutions that would provide wonderful experiences for a boy such as Jack.

How could Grandfather consider such a thing? Those places were impersonal, sterile. Jack was too young—he still needed her. And she still needed him.

Of course, there is another option—to find you a husband.

Reggie sat up straighter, a different kind of dismay flooding through her as an inkling of the men’s mission sank in.

Surely she was mistaken. Even the judge wouldn’t—

Reggie glanced at Adam, then wished she hadn’t. That sympathetic glint in his expression was unnerving.

She swallowed hard and stared back down at the letter, hoping she’d misunderstood.