Mr. Barclay looked deep in thought then said, “Perhaps we could ready a room for them.”
“That would be wonderful.” Caitlin brightened. “How long do you suppose it shall take?”
“We will have to stop work on the game room and focus our full attention on the bedroom. I have some wall paper with me now. If you like one of the patterns, we will be able to finish the walls today.”
“You are the most prepared man I know, next to my husband, of course.” She smiled cleverly at Dillon.
“Thank you.” His cheeks brightened. “As for the furniture, we will have to scout out the other bedroom and see what we can find.” He nodded to Dillon, “with your permission, sir.”
“Of course, whatever you need.” Dillon waved his arm. “The entire house is at your disposal.”
“Thank you, sir.” Looking back at Caitlin he continued, “I would say maybe a day. Two at the most, and we should be able to move them in.”
“’Tis wonderful!” Caitlin exclaimed. “I knew you would come up with the perfect plan.”
“I will get started right away.” He left without further ado.
Caitlin sat back down, smiling.
“Very well done.” Dillon winked.
“Thank you.”
“’Twas amazing how you made Mr. Barclay think that redoing the bedroom was his idea.” Roderick applauded her. “The innocent, distressed act was beyond words.”
“’Twas not really an act,” she defended. “I have come to understand Mr. Barclay’s personality. He works much better when the matter is his idea. When it comes from a woman he rejects it simply because he does not feel it appropriate as a woman’s job.”
“And you are all right with that line of thinking?” Roderick asked. It seemed to him that her headstrong attitude would fight against the injustice.
“Not at first. But I soon learned that I got more work done by appealing to his sense of pride.”
“And stroking his ego,” Dillon added. “You have him trained like puppy.”
“I can swallow my pride in order to get the job done,” Caitlin said resolutely.
“’Tis a good business head you have,” Roderick commented.
Bernadine seethed in silence. She could not figure, for the life of her, why everyone jumped and applauded Caitlin for being deceiving, yet condemned her for the same thing.
* * *
The day went chaotically along. First, there was a trip into town, where everyone stopped and talked and caught Dillon up on the happenings of town while he had been incarcerated. It was amazing how much had happened in only five days.
Roderick’s respect for his son had grown even more while watching the townspeople respond to him. Dillon was a pillar of the community and everyone wanted his advice or opinion. The respect for their newspaper printer was evident in the handshakes and hugs.
A few folks had fawned over them as if they were a king and queen, to the delight of Bernadine, but most people were more concerned for Dillon’s welfare than the fact that a Lord and Lady were in their presence.
Roderick had worried about his son going off to a foreign land. He now saw that Dillon had made quite a nice life here. Norfolk was very different from England. The pace was slower, the people friendlier and more respectful. They may not have the high society museums or theaters, but they made do and were happy with what little they did have.
The Social was the talk of the town. People wanted to know if Dillon and Caitlin were going. It would be their first official engagement since their wedding.
“I had forgotten all about that,” Dillon admitted. “I do not think we will have time to ready for it.”
“I must confess that I am pretty tired also.” Caitlin hid a yawn behind her gloved hand. “We were planning on a quiet night alone.”
Bernadine who’d walked around with a scowl most of the morning perked up at the news of a dance. This would be her chance to shine. To show these backwoods locals how proper women dressed. She was tired of being ignored. These common folk had treated them as if they were ordinary people.
“Dillon, I would love to see how your town puts on a Social.” Bernadine fluttered her eyelashes. “Besides, I bet you could use the company after being locked up for so long.”
“I am truly tired.” Dillon took his stance with arms locked behind his back. Caitlin knew no argument would win against that posture.
“Please,” Bernadine begged. “It has been such a long trip and I long for some company.”
“’Tis why you are staying with us,” Dillon mocked. “Caitlin and I will keep you company.”
I long for acceptable company, she thought. “You still cannot deny a woman the right to dress in her best finery.”
“Come, Dillon.” Stanly smacked him on the back. “The town was denied the privilege of seeing yer wedding. You cannot deny us the opportunity of seeing the two of you together at the Social.”
Their marriage was still the big talk around town. Maybe after the Social people would have something better to discuss. “It really has been a trying a day however I will leave the choice up to Caitlin.”
Caitlin’s shock registered plain as day. “I have not even thought about what to wear. Nothing is ready.”
“Gowns don’t matter none. Besides you look great no matter what you wear.” Stanly persisted. “Anyway you have guests that want to come. It won’t be the same without you two.”
“How kind.” She smiled. “I suppose it would be rude not to allow our guests see what a grand Social our town can throw.” She looked at Dillon.
“I guess we could make an appearance.” Dillon slid his arm around her waist. “But you realize that you cannot dance with Caitlin, now that she is my wife.”
Dillon was aware that Stanly like many others had been admirers of Caitlin. Some courting her, and even proposing marriage. Just about every single man under the age of sixty had been drawn to the fair redhead. How he had become so lucky as to marry her was beyond his comprehension. He just thanked God daily.
“Well, I will just go and take a rest for a while.” Bernadine smiled with excitement. “What time shall we meet you for dinner?”
* * *
“Mr. Barclay, have you eaten yet?” Dillon asked.
“No, sir. I wanted to finish as much as possible today.”
“Are you not hungry? Martha made more food than we could possibly eat in an entire week.” Dillon waved to the sideboard. “Since you and your men are taking on so much responsibility I would suggest full stomachs to keep up your strength.”
“’Tis very kind of you, but we have never eaten with our employers before.”
“But I insist.”
“Dillon,” Bernadine intruded. “Let the man be.” She used her most parental tone. She did not want to sit at the table with a bunch of cheapened workers. At least Mr. Barclay had the correct disposition.
Martha bustled into the room and caught the last of the conversation. “Mr. Barclay, you sit your scrawny little bottom down and have some of this here food. I didn’t cook all day as to have it go to waste.”
“But ... ”
“Don’t even go giving me any lip. You start you plate. I’m gonna go get the rest of your men.” She left before another word was spoken
Dillon and Caitlin exchanged surprised looks. Mr. Barclay did has he was told and went to the sideboard to fill a plate.
“I do not understand why he let her boss him that way.” Caitlin’s brow creased with perplexity. “He hated it when I did the same thing.”
“’Tis a difference of servitude, my love,” Dillon explained. “You were trying to challenge a position he holds as a man’s job. Martha is the cook. ‘Tis a woman’s job.”
“I see your point, although I strongly disagree with your theory.”
“What theory do you have?”
“I can assure you that Mr. Barclay is not likely to be bossed around by anyone, especially a woman.” Her eyes creased in thought. “Mark my w
ords something is up with the two of them.”
Chapter 17
Caitlin surveyed her appearance in the mirror, remembering how frightened and angry she had been the first time she wore this dress. But, tonight was a grand celebration, and she had plenty to celebrate.
“I think you look more beautiful each time you wear that gown.” Dillon stood behind her, watching as she scrutinized her appearance.
“Do you think it too much for the Social?”
“Perhaps. However, I enjoy seeing you in it. Besides, I did not have the honor of helping you out of it on our wedding night.” Dillon wagged his brows. “I plan on rectifying that tonight.”
“You, sir, are still a rake.” She swatted his hand away. “’Tis not for your pleasure that I am wearing this gown.”
“Then whose?”
“I believe half of the town is still upset at not being invited to our wedding. Apparently ‘twas the big event of the year.” She fiddled with the silver broach. “I just thought that maybe feelings might be appeased if they saw me in my wedding gown.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. His heart swelling with love as he realized the maturity she was gaining. Caitlin was developing from a young girl into a grown woman. “As long as that is the only reason you are all dressed up.”
“Well,” she confided, “I am trying to make a good impression on your parents.”
“Do not try so hard. Bernadine will more than likely be upset that you upstaged her.”
“What about your father?”
“Why are you trying to impress my father?” His tone turned serious.
“Why, Dillon Cade, if I didn’t know better I would swear you are jealous.” She crossed her arms. “And of your own kin. ‘Tis as absurd as being jealous of Mr. Jefferson.”
“We do not need a repeat of Thomas’s party.” Dillon laughed but the tone was not entirely playful. Especially remembering the hangover he suffered the day after.
Caitlin still had trouble grasping how her husband could use such a casual address with a man as influential as Mr. Jefferson.
“‘Tis only that I know how many men have admired you.”
“Most of them mere boys, hardly worth the time of day, especially compared to you.” Caitlin encircled his waist with her arms. “’Tis no other man in this town, or any other town for that matter that I want.”
“As is no other woman for me.” He kissed her slowly, deeply.
“We could skip the outing tonight.” She played with knot of his cravat.
“You will hear no argument from me. ‘Tis not my idea to go, I would like nothing more than to stay home with you.”
“As much as I adore the thought, your parents are downstairs waiting for us.”
“Spending the evening with Bernadine is going to be pure torture,” Dillon grumbled.
“I do not relish the idea either, but, perhaps events of the night will keep her occupied.”
“We can only pray for that.”
* * *
Henrietta fumed most of the night as she watched Dillon and Caitlin together. It seemed nothing she did to break them up worked. All she needed was one last chance to prove to Dillon that she could make him happy. She’d never be able to show him as long as Caitlin stood in the way.
“You know, dear, a lady looks much prettier with a smile on her face.” Bernadine smiled, small lines fanning out from her eyes. “That frown does not become you.”
“What does it matter anyway?” Henrietta sighed. “The man I want will never notice me.”
“Perhaps not, but I see a handsome fellow watching you.” Bernadine nodded to a tall stranger, standing across the room.
Henrietta gasped when she saw him head her way. She glanced around for a place to hide, but found none. Not wanting to make it obvious that she knew him, she hid her fear and smiled.
“May I have this dance?” The stranger bowed.
“I would love to, however, ‘tis not proper to dance with someone I haven’t been introduced to.” Her smile was forced.
“Allow me to introduce myself.” He stepped closer, whispering into her ear. “’Twould be in your best interest to dance with me so we can speak inconspicuously. Otherwise people will wonder what business you have with the sheriff.”
“Why yes Mr. Oliver, I’d like to dance with you.” Raising her yellow skirt enough to not trip over it, she walked to the dance floor.
The band began a waltz; she stood rigid in his arms as they circled the floor. The smile she pasted on her face never left as they continued their conversation.
“Really, sheriff, I have no idea why you are here, or what we have to discuss.”
“We had a bargain, remember.”
“To which you did not fulfill your end.” Henrietta felt the eyes of the onlookers ogling her. She smiled even bigger.
“I did arrest the traitor. ‘Tis not my fault his lawyer and father convinced the judge to let him go.”
“Pish-posh.” She twirled around. “’Tis a poor excuse to be sure. What power could they have over the judge? Treason is a serious crime.”
“Lord Cade has plenty of power in England. Although we have our own justice system, the judge wasn’t about to make an enemy of England, especially with weak evidence.”
“Dillon’s father is nobility?” She couldn’t conceal her surprise. “To think of all that wealth and power going to that Irish imp. It should be mine.”
The sheriff grimaced as Henrietta missed a step, the heal of her slipper landing on top of his foot. “I will try to consider that an accident.”
“’Twas, truly.” She glanced around the dance floor and found Dillon twirling Caitlin. “How did she manage to pull this off?”
“If I were you, I’d consider spending less energy on them and concentrate on our arrangement before I tell the whole town who put me up to arresting the town hero.”
“Don’t be absurd. Dillon is hardly a hero, and I never put you up to anything.” The golden specks in her hazel eyes may have added color but no warmth. “Besides, our deal was for you to arrest Caitlin, not Dillon.”
The music ended. She curtsied saying loud enough for onlookers to hear, “Thank you for the dance, Mr. Oliver.” Then whispered for his ears only. “I have nothing further to say to you. Stay away from me.”
As she turned to leave, he grabbed her arm. “Don’t play games with me.” His face was hard. “You won’t like me when I’m angry.”
The commotion drew the attention of several couples. “Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Oliver.” With head held high, she walked off the dance floor. Seeking solitude to formulate a plan, she headed to the punch bowl.
Bernadine joined her. “I have yet the pleasure of meeting you.” She extended her gloved hand. “I am Lady Bernadine Cade.”
“Dillon’s mother.” Henrietta almost choked on the berry drink.
“Stepmother,” she corrected.
“Lady Cade, I’m honored to meet you.” She curtsied. “I’m Henrietta.”
“I do not mean to pry, but you seemed to be having a problem with that gentleman.”
“He’s no gentleman,” she sniffed. “He’s the sheriff.”
“How do you know him?”
“I don’t really know him. I just felt rude not giving him one dance. He is much too old for me.”
“I also couldn’t help noticing the melancholy look you have worn this evening.” Bernadine followed Henrietta’s gaze as she watched Caitlin and Dillon talking with a group of people.
“Look at her. How can she manage to have the entire town wrapped around her finger?” Henrietta looked at Bernadine. “I am sorry. I did not mean to be unkind about your daughter-in-law.”
“Do not trouble yourself about it.” Bernadine sighed. “I have no soft spot for the Irish. I have been surveying the crowd and noticed several more suitable companions for Dillon, including you.” Bernadine had noted the spark of envy in those hazel eyes. She understood the longing and knew first hand the determination
it took to get what you wanted. “You remind me a lot of myself when I was younger.”
“I do?”
“I know how it feels to be in love with someone who never notices you.” She inclined her purple-feathered hat to indicate Roderick. “When he was married to Dillon’s mother, he barely knew I existed.”
“I find that hard believe,” Henrietta gushed. “You are most beautiful, and was surely the belle of every ball in your youth.”
“How very kind.” She smiled, delighting in the compliment. “’Tis true I had lots of suitors, just not the one I wanted.”
“But you ended up with him.”
“’Twas only through tragic circumstance that I landed Roderick. After his wife died, he then looked to me.”
“It does not matter how you get what you want. Only that you get it.”
“Truer words have never been spoken.” Bernadine waved her fan. “So why are you sulking in the shadows and not going after Dillon?”
Surprise filled Henrietta’s eyes. “How did you know?”
Bernadine laughed, the chilly sound rumbling over the sounds of the music, laughter and talking. “I have been watching you most of night.” Her cold, blue eyes bore into Henrietta. “I recognized the fire in your eyes. But as the night progressed and you made no move, I thought perhaps I was wrong about your feelings toward him.”
“You figured right.” Henrietta looked down at her folded hands. “’Tis only that I am tired of throwing myself at him only to be ignored.”
The Unwilling Bride Page 27
