Seven Swans Bride
Page 7
A young Negro rounded the side of the house and ran to the horse’s head. The boy gave Evander a curious look, and then turned his gaze on her. “Mornin’, Miss Abigail. Welcome home.”
Abigail climbed down from the buggy and treated him to a warm smile. “Good morning, Samuel. It’s good to be home.”
It was good to be home. Everything would turn out just fine—to think otherwise would invite disaster.
She curled her hand into the crook of Evander’s arm. She wouldn’t let woebegone thoughts ruin their last few hours together. “Let’s go inside, shall we?”
They climbed the stairs, and Evander opened the door. White cotton bunting and wreaths of white roses decorated the foyer. A flowery aroma filled the air. It was the perfect setting for a wedding.
She passed in front of a mirror and gasped. Stray wisps sprayed from beneath her hat like straw on a scarecrow. A smudge streaked her cheek. She glanced down. Even her dress was wrinkled from travel. She would look like a drab cowbird standing next to her swan of a sister. Oh well, at least she was here.
Quiet permeated the hall, almost as if there was a funeral service instead of a wedding. “Father? Penelope?” she called out.
A blonde head popped around the doorway leading into the parlor. Penelope squealed and dashed into the hall. “Abigail, you’re home.”
She was enveloped in a tangle of arms. The familiar closeness wrapped around her like a warm blanket on a cold winter’s night. This was what home was. Not some brick and mortar building.
“Where is everyone, Penelope?” She leaned back and eyed her sister’s simple calico day gown. “Why aren’t you wearing your wedding attire?”
Penelope linked elbows with her just as they always had when heading off to some grand adventure. “I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans.”
Abigail pulled back. “What do you mean a change of plans?”
“There’s not going to be a wedding.”
“Not going...” She unhooked from her sister’s arm. “What in the world happened?”
“Frederick wanted me to move to California after the wedding. I simply will not be uprooted from all I know to go live in some faraway place.”
No wedding? After all she’d gone through to get here? Incredible. Absolutely incredible. It was the perfect icing for a lopsided cake—a wedding cake that no one would be eating. She melted to the floor, laughter and tears spilling from her in waves.
Evander dropped to a knee beside her. “Abigail? Are you all right?”
She looked up at him and hiccupped around a laugh. “I’m fine. P-Perfectly fine.”
He smiled and shook his head. “Definitely not unexciting.”
Penelope’s curious gaze moved from her to Evander and back. “What is going on, Abigail? Who is this gentleman?”
This gentleman was the reason the sun brightened her day—the reason why she could laugh at the absurdity of the situation instead of railing against it.
Abigail swallowed her laughter and reached for Evander’s hand. His loving gaze swept over her as he helped her to her feet. She smiled up at him before turning to her sister.
“This is Major Evander Holt. Evander, my sister, Penelope.”
Evander dipped a nod. “Miss Whitlock.”
Penelope leaned toward her and dropped her voice to a whisper. “He’s quite handsome. How did you two meet?”
“We’ll discuss that later. First, I want to know more about you and Frederick. I cannot believe you called off the wedding. If you love him half as much as you claimed, you would follow him to the ends of the earth.” Her sister had gushed over Frederick night and day. How perfect he was. How happy he made her heart. Surely a love that powerful could conquer any obstacle.
“I suppose what I felt for Frederick wasn’t love at all. Just some silly schoolgirl fantasy. I won’t make that mistake again.”
Abigail gave her sister a closer look. Her pretty face glowed with confidence. Her eyes were clear and bright. She needn’t worry about Penelope falling apart. It appeared her little sister was a lot stronger than she gave her credit for.
Footfalls clattered on the stairs and then Father was on the landing and pulling her into a tight embrace. “I’m so glad you’re home, poppet. We were starting to get worried when you didn’t arrive on Monday as your telegram from Richmond stated.”
She briefly rested her head on his chest, breathing in the aroma of sandalwood-scented cologne and the faint hint of cigar smoke. It was the smell of comfort, of unconditional fatherly love.
“I’m sorry you were worried, Father. A rockslide in Virginia halted the train. I didn’t want to miss the wedding, so I travelled across the mountain to Covington where I caught another train.” She pointed to Evander. “This officer was kind enough to be my escort.”
Evander held out his hand. “Major Evander Holt, sir.”
Father gave him a hearty shake. “Mighty pleased to meet you, Major Holt. Thank you for seeing my Abigail safely home.”
Evander’s gaze rained over her like a soft spring shower. “It was my pleasure.”
“I’m sorry you went through all that trouble only to discover there’s no wedding.”
“It was no trouble at all.”
Father motioned to the end of the hall. “Let’s go into the parlor, shall we? I’ve been smelling these blasted roses all week long. The odor is beginning to give me a headache. I should have asked Mrs. Peabody to take them down days ago.”
Evander cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should leave them up for a little while longer, sir.”
What a strange suggestion, especially coming from a man. “Why should we leave them up, Evander?”
“Because I want them to decorate our wedding.” He took her hand in his. “Will you marry me, Abigail Whitlock? Right now. Become my wife, the love of my life, and follow me to the ends of the earth?”
Her pulse danced a jig. She should think it over, be less impulsive. But her heart knew what it wanted. “Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.”
Evander’s smile caressed her. He turned to her father. “Mr. Whitlock, I know this is sudden, but I love your daughter, and I will do everything in my power to make her happy. Will you give us your blessing?”
Father took Evander’s measure with a keener eye this time. His brow pulled tight. “Is this what you want, Abigail?”
She brought Evander’s hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Very much, Father. Evander is everything I could have hoped to find in a husband. Kind, protective. Yet he challenges me to be more. He will always have my heart.”
Father clapped his hands together and gave a hoot of joy. “That’s music to my ears. We’ll send for the pastor. Seven Swans shall have its Christmas bride after all.”
A word about the author...
Donna Dalton lives in central Virginia with her husband, two sons, a grandson, and a pitbull mix named Gizmo. An avid reader of historical romances, Donna uses the rich history of the “Old Dominion” state for her story settings.
You can visit her on her website at:
www.donndalton.net
or on Facebook at:
DonnaDaltonbooks.
~*~
Other Donna Dalton titles
available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.:
Historical Releases
THE CAVALRY WIFE
THE REBEL WIFE
IRISH DESTINY
IRISH CHARM
LOVING BYRNE
THE GIFT
Contemporary Short Stories
A CHRISTMAS STALKING
BLUE ICE
HER RODEO MAN
Thank you for purchasing
this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
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