Tressy Riddle blotted her beautiful, but quite dry eyes, with a slightly grimy handkerchief. “Oh, my poor dear sister. Cat never was real strong. I always used to tell her, I said, Cat, you got to behave yourself, else you’ll get in trouble, that you will. The world’s a wicked place for us poor orphans, and now there’s Annie.” She let out a wail that startled them all and even silenced Annie for the moment.
Rose edged closer to the door. “If you’ll excuse us,” she murmured, jiggling the baby in her arms.
“Not yet, Rose,” said Matt, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere else in the world.
Actually, he looked almost vulnerable, Rose thought, her protective instincts expanding to include him along with Annie.
“I’d best be getting on back,” the magistrate said with every appearance of relief. “Wife’s waiting breakfast. I’ll set your trunk out on the porch, Miss Riddle. Matt can bring it inside.”
Her trunk?
“Her trunk?” Matt echoed Rose’s thoughts.
“I can’t hardly move into Cat’s house until Mr. Dixon gets those people out, so I reckon you’ll just have to put up with me.” Tressy gave Matt a tremulous smile that didn’t quite match the calculating look in her eyes.
“You still don’t understand, do you?” Grimly, Matt explained once more. “Miss Riddle, your sister died first. Neither she nor her husband left a will, so you don’t stand to inherit anything. The property belonged to Murdoch and he survived his wife, that’s all there is to it. I’m sorry you had a long trip for nothing.”
The magistrate nodded emphatically. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“B-but he killed her. A murderer can’t inherit his wife’s stuff, can he? That ain’t fair.”
She might be a greedy little baggage, but Rose couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. If she was truly alone in the world, then she needed all the help she could get. “Matt, if you’ll bring Miss Riddle’s trunk inside, I’ll go get Bess’s room ready. She’ll be comfortable in there for a few days until she’s ready to go back to—where was it, Beaufort? I’ve heard that’s a lovely little town.” She managed a smile. Not a particularly enthusiastic one, but it was the best she could do at the moment.
Tressy Riddle sniffed and blinked away invisible tears. “Thank you, I’m sure, Miss Littlething.”
Miss Littlething said, “Just let me get Annie started on her breakfast first. Perhaps you’d like to join us? I warn you, it’s rather a messy business. Annie’s learning to feed herself.”
“Captain Matt, do you think you could show me around? I mean, as long as I’m going to be living here, I need to know where everything’s at.” Ignoring Rose, she placed her hand on Matt’s arm and gazed trustingly up at his face.
Seeing that pudgy little hand, the fingernails gnawed to the quick, Rose felt a reluctant surge of sympathy. Oh, Lord, don’t let me make another foolish mistake. At least Annie was in no real danger. She was fairly certain of that.
Matt was another matter. The poor girl thought he was single. They really should reveal their marriage. It might be embarrassing right at first, for not only had Rose deceived her husband, she had deceived the entire village. But embarrassment was rarely fatal. If it were, she’d have been dead long before now.
Matt disengaged his arm and, on the pretext of collecting the Riddle woman’s trunk, followed Dixon out to his gig. “I need to talk to you on another matter if you’ve got a few minutes.”
“You’ve changed your mind about taking over my position when I retire?”
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t have the background. This is about something else. You see, I need to know—that is—” How the devil did he find out what he needed to know without admitting that the woman they all knew as Mrs. Littlefield was, in fact, Mrs. Powers. Once the truth came out, Rose would be branded an adventuress at the very least, and he’d be called a fool.
He cleared his throat and tugged at his collar. “Now, this is not personal, you understand, but say a man married a woman and then they both changed their minds. How long would it take to dissolve the union? Would it be done as soon as the request was made, or would it take more time?”
“Well now, that would depend, wouldn’t it?”
“Depend?”
“On whether this hypothetical couple changed their mind before or after the, er…the honeymoon. You’re talking divorce in one case, annulment in the other.”
Matt could feel his face starting to burn. Grimly, he plowed ahead. He had to know, and Bagby was taking too damn long to answer his mail. “Say the request was made before the, uh—the honeymoon.”
“Hmm.” Dixon stroked his chins, then ran a finger under his limp collar. “Now this is lawyering, and I don’t have any real experience in this sort of thing, you understand, but my guess would be…depending on how quickly the paperwork could be done, a matter of days. Perhaps less. Maybe longer.”
Well, hell. He’d have done better to hop the next boat to Norfolk and get his answer straight from the horse’s mouth. He muttered his thanks, shouldered a Saratoga that looked as if it had barely survived a war, and headed for the house again.
For the sake of Rose’s reputation, he would have to keep to his own bed until he knew for sure they were still married. His groin tightened in protest, but until they could get rid of the Riddle woman, he couldn’t afford to take chances. His legal claim to Annie would never stand up in court if there was so much as a hint of scandal.
He’d give it three days. If he hadn’t heard from Bagby by then, he’d get Dixon to tie the knot, and this time it wouldn’t be any slipknot.
Somehow they got through the rest of the day. Miss Riddle monopolized Matt, which left Rose and Annie to their own devices. Rose watched from the ridge as he showed her over every inch of the estate, right down to the henhouse.
Oddly enough, she wasn’t jealous. She knew he was only trying to keep the woman away from Annie until he could find an excuse to get rid of her. They would each do whatever it took to protect Annie, and if that meant bribing the woman to go away, then that’s what they would do.
Not that Rose had anything to use as a bribe. The pink gown, perhaps… “But not you, sugar. And not our Matt, either.”
Annie gnawed on her fist and began to fret. Reluctantly, Rose stood, dusted the sand from her skirt and headed back down the ridge.
He loves me. The words echoed in her heart again and again as she went through the rest of the day, a silly grin on her face as often as not. He hadn’t actually spoken the words, but she knew him well enough by now to realize he would never wear his heart on his sleeve.
Supper turned out to be a circus. Sandy Dixon came by and was invited to stay. Crank, despite having what he called “comp’ny,” served the meal in the kitchen, as usual. And as usual, Annie splashed her milk and dropped fistfuls of food on the floor.
Tressy edged away from the high chair until she was practically sitting in Sandy’s lap. Sandy stared at her yellow ringlets as if he’d never seen hair that color before. It really was rather striking, Rose had to admit.
Once or twice she tried to catch Matt’s eye, but he avoided looking at her, even though she sat across the table from him. He had little to say, and as Rose was busy seeing that as much of Annie’s supper ended up inside her as outside, it was left to Sandy to entertain their houseguest.
Which he did with a discourse on the condition of the roads in rural North Carolina, while Crank misquoted the occasional applicable Bible verse.
All in all, Rose decided, it could have gone far worse.
Once the household was finally settled for the night, Rose, feeling a glow of anticipation, bathed and dressed in a simple ivory batiste gown. Sprinkling a few drops of lilac water on her hairbrush, she did her hundred strokes slowly, sensuously, remembering each touch, each langorous look, every thrilling moment of the night before.
After turning the lamp down low, she climbed into bed to await her husband. Unsettled at h
aving a stranger in the house, Annie had taken longer than usual to fall asleep. Rose wasn’t happy about it, either, but it wouldn’t last long. As soon as Matt made her understand that there was nothing for her here, the poor girl would move on to greener pastures.
Matt would probably end up paying her passage and even giving her a little something to tide her over. Rose decided that if there was a tactful way she could give her the pink silk dress, she would do it. As unfortunate as the style and color had been on Rose, the thing had cost dearly. With Tressy’s coloring, it would look lovely.
She might even offer her a few suggestions for finding work. Goodness knows, her own experience hadn’t been notably successful, but she’d thought about it a lot since then. At the very least she could advise against a few of the more common pitfalls.
Rose yawned. What on earth could be keeping him? Crank had washed the last dish and gone to his own room hours ago. The poor man had been muttering all day about Jezebels and foxes in henhouses.
It had been a long day. Endless. As soon as breakfast had ended, Matt had been pressed into giving his guest that guided tour. Dutifully, he had shown her everything with the exception of the bedrooms and his office. Judging from what she’d seen from a safe distance, Rose didn’t think either of them had particularly enjoyed the excursion.
She yawned again and tugged at the neckline of her nightgown. Mercy, it was hot tonight. Tressy had come to supper wearing a tight blue taffeta gown that Rose could have told her was a mistake. While the color might enhance her eyes and the style certainly did things for her figure—she bulged both above and below the tightly corseted waist—taffeta, with or without stays, was utterly miserable in this climate.
Poor child. The very last thing Rose would have expected was to find herself in sympathy with the woman who had come to take Annie from her. And, quite possibly, Matt. Still, she couldn’t help but remember her own similar circumstances.
Not long ago she herself had been without family and utterly without prospects. Then Bess had come along—Bess and Mr. Bagby—and Rose had let herself be talked into something she would never have dreamed of doing if she hadn’t been desperate.
Obviously, Tressy had taken a leap of faith in coming here. Rose hoped things turned out well for her. Hoped her sister had left something, after all. Perhaps she could find work in the village, or even a husband….
But not my husband, Rose thought firmly, wishing Matt would come. Wishing with all her heart they had declared themselves man and wife from the beginning.
And not my baby, either, she added as she drifted off to sleep.
Matt couldn’t sleep, picturing Rose alone in her bed, waiting for him to go to her. He had fully intended to do the honorable thing and explain that they might or might not be legally married. Before he’d had a chance to explain anything, the Riddle woman had shown up. All day long she’d stuck to him like a barnacle. He’d never got the chance to see Rose alone.
Honor would just have to wait, he decided, because he damned well couldn’t. She was in his blood worse than a fever, setting him on fire, rattling his mind until he could no longer think clearly. Three days, he’d allowed himself. If he didn’t hear from Bagby by then, he would marry her all over again, as if the first marriage had never taken place.
Thus resolved, he moved silently down the hall and let himself into her room. He’d heard there were ways to keep from getting pregnant. Not that he would have minded, but it wouldn’t be fair to Rose. Remembering too well how the village had shunned the poor Murdoch woman, he vowed never to allow a shadow to be cast on Rose’s reputation.
“Rose,” he whispered. A streak of moonlight fell across the foot of her bed, revealing one slender white foot. He took it in his hands, then slid his hand up over her calf.
She didn’t move. Her foot was cool, her calf warm, and he was damned near burning up. “Rose,” he whispered again.
He waited. Waited, watched and listened until he heard the soft, puffy little sound she made with her lips when she was sleeping. Then, aching with disappointment and still painfully aroused, he pulled the sheet over her feet and silently returned to his bed.
He could read. He had books he’d never even cracked, but if he lit a lamp, the Riddle woman might take it as an invitation. After today, he didn’t dare give her any opening.
So instead, he turned his mind to the Black Swan and occupied himself with wondering how Peg was getting on with the repairs. After that, he thought of possible ways to rid himself of Tressy Riddle, and from there he went on to wondering how he was going to explain his irregular marriage to Crank and Luther, not to mention the rest of the world, without looking like a fool.
Just as the eastern sky began to show light, he got up and went outside to douse himself with a bucket of water from the rain barrel. Then, without regard for anyone who might still be sleeping, he plopped a chunk of oak onto the chopping block and raised the ax over his head.
Plop, whack, crack. Plop, whack, crack. Splits of kindling piled up on either side. When the pile reached high enough, he buried his ax in the chopping block and began to stack it, as Luther wasn’t here to do it.
From inside the house he heard a whining voice that was far too familiar after but a single day. Damned, pesky female. He’d caught on quickly enough to what she was after, and it wasn’t Annie. Something about the way she gazed up at him and swatted her eyelashes, the way she hung on to his arm and his every word, reminded him a little too much of Gloria.
The woman had come here looking for an easy mark and thought she’d found one. He was half tempted to send her back to Dixon with orders to stay the hell away from Powers Point, but if he did, she might turn nasty and try to take Annie away from him just for spite. And while he didn’t know much about the law, he had a feeling her claim might be stronger than his own.
She couldn’t have Annie. Annie was his, and besides, it would break Rose’s heart, and he’d cut off both his hands before he would hurt Rose.
He should have explained to her. Between them they could have presented a united front.
Explained what? Explained how you planned to seduce her without telling her you knew who she was, just so you could watch her struggle to redeem herself?
Whatever his initial plan had been, he hadn’t counted on two things: that Rose herself would confess, and that he would want her as much as he did. For all he knew, he might even love her. Not that he knew what love was supposed to feel like, but if it was anything like this fever that was burning him up, this ache inside him at the thought of losing her, then it had to be love. Either that or he was desperately, incurably ill.
Rose woke with a headache. Grimly determined to ignore it, she quickly fed and dressed Annie, collected basket, blanket and book and headed for the ridge, the one place she was sure of being left alone. She had some serious thinking to do before she was ready to confront Matt and his houseguest.
The air was completely still. Mosquitoes whined, frogs croaked sporadically, and from the very top of a wind-stunted yaupon, a mockingbird sang melodically, never once repeating a single verse.
Annie warbled back, waving her pudgy fists and kicking her tiny bare feet. There was a speck of dried googoo in her hair, but it could wait until later. For now, Rose only wanted to be alone with the troubling thoughts she’d woken up with, which weren’t quite as charitable as the ones she had taken to bed last night.
All evening she’d kept waiting for Matt to announce that they were married. Crank already knew, at least she was pretty sure he had guessed the truth, but Matt hadn’t said a word.
At first she’d been puzzled. There was no real reason that she could see to keep their marriage a secret. She had fully expected him to explain when he’d come to her bed, but he hadn’t even done that. She’d wakened up alone this morning—hurt, puzzled and a bit angry.
If he had changed his mind and decided he didn’t want her for a wife, that was one thing, but even considering her poor judgment where me
n and their motivations were concerned, she refused to believe he would throw in his lot with Tressy Riddle in order to better his claim to Annie.
Chapter Seventeen
Too hot to sleep. Too hot to eat. Too hot even to move. Having a stranger constantly underfoot, asking nosy questions about things that were none of her concern, only made matters worse. Rose did her best to be patient, but with so much on her mind, it wasn’t easy. How long was the woman going to stay? What was she waiting for? For Rose to go away so she could have free access to Annie?
Hardly. She wouldn’t even change a diaper.
Sandy visited daily. As Rose had given up on sailing lessons, he spent most of his time with Tressy, encouraged by her flattering attentiveness to elaborate on his varied interests and plans for the future.
Rose had heard it all before, so she excused herself and went about her business. Heat or not, things had to be done, and she’d rather do the wash than watch Tressy flirt and Sandy show off.
As miserable as the sticky weather was, it was not the heat that bothered her most. Something was wrong between her and Matt.
They had been on the verge of announcing their marriage…hadn’t they? So then, why was he avoiding her? Was it something she had said? Something she’d done? Could he have changed his mind?
All the uncertainties of her youth came rushing back to haunt her. For goodness’ sake, Rose, why can’t you stop growing? You certainly didn’t get your looks from my side of the family, I’ve always been dainty.
That was the year she had shed her baby fat and shot up like a beanpole. From then on she’d been too tall, too sallow and too gauche, despite all her mother’s attempts to turn her into a fashion doll. When she was old enough to begin making her own choices, she had invariably chosen the wrong girls to emulate, the wrong boys to develop a crush on, the wrong colors and styles, despite her mother’s advice.
The Paper Marriage Page 20
