The Bridal Swap

by Karen Kirst

  Eyes averted, Nicole toyed with her teacup. Megan met his gaze head-on.

  “It’s not a secret, of course. It’s just that, well, Juliana wanted to tell you herself. No doubt it’s in your letter.” To Kate, she explained, “Juliana is our eldest sister. She was married last month and now lives with her husband, Evan Harrison, in Cades Cove. She and Josh were best friends.”

  Gulping the last of his coffee, Josh set the cup down with a thud. “Are you two going straight home after this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you mind walking Kate home?”

  “Not at all.”

  Grabbing his hat, he looked at her. “Is that okay with you?”

  “Certainly.”

  Standing, he slipped Megan a banknote. “This will take care of the bill and tip.”

  “Josh—”

  He silenced his cousin with a look.

  The three sat without speaking as they watched him leave. As her seat was facing the window, she could see him striding purposefully down the street. He was obviously distraught by this sudden news. Her heart went out to him.

  “Kate, did your sister call off the wedding?” Megan’s troubled countenance revealed how deeply she cared about her cousin.

  “Yes. In fact, she has already married someone else.”

  Kate cringed at Nicole’s shocked gasp. Megan’s eyes glistened with unshed tears.

  “He must be heartbroken,” she whispered. “He was already sad about Juliana’s leaving.”

  “She and Josh were practically joined at the hip.”

  “He lost his best friend,” Megan confirmed. “And now his bride…”

  Lounging on a sun-warmed rock, Josh stared unseeing at the water coursing past. The fish weren’t biting today.

  He’d been in his workshop since leaving the café, working most of the day to finish Mr. Wilcox’s dining table. His hands ached from the amount of sanding and polishing he’d done, but it was a small inconvenience. The table was finished. The money he’d get from it would bring him one step closer to his dream.

  If someone else didn’t beat him to the punch, that is.

  A twig snapped. Josh whipped around, his hand going to the pistol in his holster. Spying Kate, he relaxed.

  She’d abandoned her stiff jacket and wore only a long-sleeved, ruffled black blouse with her deep purple skirts. Slung over her shoulder were an odd-shaped bag and a leather strap attached to a square box. With the other hand, she carried a tripod stand.

  Her porcelain skin was flushed pink. Chocolate curls had escaped confinement to brush against her cheeks. It was obvious she hadn’t seen him. Her gaze scanned the woods, occasionally dropping to the ground as she maneuvered fallen logs and uneven terrain.

  “Kate.”

  Her hand went to her throat. “You startled me!”

  “Sorry.” Standing, he removed his hat. “Do you need help?”

  “I can manage.” Changing direction, she headed his way.

  He met her halfway and took the tripod.

  With careful movements, she set the box and bag on the leaf-strewn ground.

  She held out her hands for the tripod.

  “I’m sorry about earlier,” he said. “I shouldn’t have left.”

  “I survived,” she huffed. “Although you could’ve warned me about Nicole’s propensity to talk endlessly of fashion.” If it weren’t for the teasing light dancing in her eyes, he would’ve thought she was serious.

  Again, her reaction was unexpected. Francesca would’ve pouted over such carelessness on his part, no matter that he was upset, trying to absorb one change after another.

  “It’s a topic of great interest to her, I’m afraid.” He sighed, a hint of answering humor in his voice. “She drove you to distraction, I take it?”

  “Not at all! I like Megan and Nicole very much. They are nicely mannered young ladies.”

  “Glad to hear it. I’m rather fond of them myself.”

  “The sisters you never had?”

  “Living next door to each other, we were practically raised as one big family. They do like to accuse me of assuming the role of protective older brother.”

  “You were upset earlier. Is everything okay with the one who moved away?”

  “Juliana’s fine.” He slipped his hands into his pockets. “Better than fine, actually. Ecstatic. I’m thrilled for her. It’s just that so much has changed the past few weeks.”

  Her expression turned pensive. “Yes, I can imagine it’s a lot to take in.”

  Certain she was thinking of his canceled wedding and not at all interested in going down that path, he resumed his post and picked up his rod.

  Indicating his empty pail, he said, “I was hoping to have trout for supper, but so far the fish aren’t obliging.”

  A ghost of a smile gracing her mouth, she surveyed the pebble-strewn stream and dense forest spreading out around them. It was quiet here. Restful. Nothing but the trickle of water and the rustle of leaves overhead.

  “There’s something magical about this place,” she said, her voice hushed. “It’s so beautiful it almost defies description.”

  With the onset of fall, the leaves were already beginning to thin out. “You should see it in spring and summer. The greenery is so thick you feel like you’re the only creature for miles around, save the birds and squirrels.”

  Her gaze settled on his. “I’d like that.”

  He hadn’t meant it as an invitation. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her. Kate seemed nice enough. But she didn’t fit in here. And although the physical similarity wasn’t there, in his mind he’d never be able to separate her from Francesca and her heartless betrayal.

  He pointed to the box. “What do you have there?”

  “My camera.”

  Crouching down, she flipped open the lid and lifted it out. Made of polished cherrywood with brass fittings, black accordion-like material in between the two ends, it appeared to be an expensive piece of equipment. “Would you mind if I took a photograph of you?”

  “What? Now?” He wasn’t primped and primed for a portrait. Far from it.

  “Yes, now.” She stood. “Not every photo has to be staged in a studio.”

  “But I’m not dressed—”

  “You look fine.” Her gaze flicked over his shirt and trousers. “Natural. I wouldn’t expect you to be fishing in a three-piece suit, and neither would anyone else.” She paused in sliding a piece of square coated glass into the camera. “If you’d rather not, I understand. I don’t want to make you uneasy.”

  “No, it’s fine.”

  “Great.” Her wide smile elicited one of his own. “I’m going across.”

  There was a natural bridge to the other side, a mound of earth and rocks she crossed without incident. When she was directly across from him, he said, “I thought photographers had to travel with portable darkrooms.” The stream wasn’t all that wide, so he didn’t have to raise his voice.

  “Not with the invention of the dry plate.” She steadied the stand before placing the camera on top. “The image is fixed and doesn’t have to be processed right away.”

  “I haven’t heard anything about it.”

  “That’s because they’ve only recently been manufactured for widespread sale. Okay, look directly at me. And sit as still as possible.” Peering into the camera, she removed the cover and waited for a full minute before replacing it. Straightening, she seemed pleased. “That’s going to be a good one, I think.”

  Crossing back over, she was replacing the camera in its box when he spoke.

  “Tell me about Francesca’s husband.”

  Her hands stilled. She looked uncertain.

  “I don’t even
know her married name,” he persisted.

  “His name is Percy Johnson.”

  “Francesca Johnson. I think Francesca O’Malley has a nicer ring to it, but that’s just my opinion.”

  Her mouth flattened. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know he’s not a common laborer, like me. What does he do? Or rather, what does his family do? He probably hasn’t worked a day in his life.” He couldn’t disguise the bitterness in his voice.

  I’m sorry, God. I can’t help envying the guy. He got the girl, and I’m left here to pick up the pieces.

  Indignation flashed in her eyes. “There’s nothing common about you. My sister chose flash and glamour over depth and substance. She made a foolish decision.”

  Her words sparked an odd pang in his chest. He couldn’t figure out why she was defending him. She didn’t know him. Not really. Except, she had listened to his letters and glimpsed into his soul without his consent.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” she hastened to add, “I love my sister. It’s just that we each have our own opinions of what’s important in life.”

  He found that difficult to believe. They might disagree on specifics, but their outlook couldn’t be all that different. They shared the same upbringing, the same advantages.

  Proposing marriage to a woman so far above his station had been a colossal mistake. He should’ve realized from the beginning that their worlds were too far apart.

  “I just don’t get it,” he wondered aloud. “Why not break off the engagement the moment she decided to patch things up with him?”

  She edged closer to the water, stepping on a smooth, slanted rock scattered with orange leaves. “I wish I had an answer for you. Her behavior is as much a mystery to me as it is to you.”

  “The two of you aren’t close?”

  She frowned. “No.”

  He wanted to question her further, to ask why her parents hadn’t invited her to join them in Europe, but it was none of his business. Soon she’d be gone and he wouldn’t have to spare another thought on the Morgan family.

  She pointed to a rounded shell bobbing above the surface. “Do you know what kind of turtle that is?”

  “Can’t rightly say, but there are a number of painted box turtles hereabouts.”

  “A pity it moves too quickly for my camera.”

  His eyes on the turtle, he hadn’t noticed her getting closer to the rock’s edge.

  “Be careful,” he warned, holding out a hand. “Those rocks can be slippery—”

  “All I want is a closer look.”

  One moment she was standing, bent at the hip with hands braced against her knees. An instant later, she was facedown in the stream.

  Dropping his pole, Josh strode through the thigh-deep water. Wrapping his arm around her, his hand curled around her waist, he helped her stand. “Are you hurt?”

  A bubble of laughter escaped as she wiped the moisture from her eyes. Her mouth a breath away from his ear, the soft, husky sound shot liquid fire through his veins.

  “I’m fine.” Taking stock of her sodden clothing, she grimaced. “My pride is a bit bruised, however. You did warn me, didn’t you?”

  Josh couldn’t stop his smile. “Did you get that closer look you wanted?”

  “No. I guess he didn’t want to stick around for all the excitement.”

  A shiver coursed through her body. Though it was a warm September day, the water was cool. And she was wet from head to toe, the layers of clothing clinging to her petite yet womanly frame. Water dripped from her hair onto his shirt.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth. What would it feel like—

  Stiffening, he dropped his arm and stepped back, the water swirling around his legs.

  Have you lost your mind? This is Francesca’s sister, remember?

  “Let’s get you back to the cabin,” he muttered, avoiding her curious gaze.

  Once he’d helped her to the bank, he was careful to keep his distance the entire walk home. Nor did he attempt conversation. If Kate wondered about his mood, she didn’t comment.

  Leaning the tripod stand against the porch railing, he directed his gaze to the blue mountain ridges framed by the sky. Anything to keep from looking at her. “I’ll ask Ma to bring you a cup of tea.”

  “That’s not necessary,” she countered in a subdued voice. “I’m certain she has more important things to do than wait on me.”

  He clenched his fists. Of course she would be gracious. He couldn’t imagine that ever coming out of his ex’s mouth. From what he’d seen, Francesca had relished being waited on.

  Again, his mind discharged a warning signal. This woman was dangerous.

  “You’re our guest. She wants you to be comfortable here.”

  “Yet I don’t make you comfortable, do I?”

  He did look at her then. Even with her wet hair plastered to her face and head and her clothes disheveled, she was beautiful. The vulnerability he sensed in her touched a chord deep inside.

  Setting his jaw, he hardened his heart. “You don’t affect me at all, Miss Morgan. Evenin’.” He tugged on his hat’s brim and, pivoting on his heel, left her staring after him.

  Chapter Six

  Stung by his cool dismissal, Kate watched him stride away. He held himself stiffly erect, his broad shoulders taut with tension. Well, he’d certainly told her, hadn’t he? She’d been forward and assuming. What did she expect?

  Josh was merely tolerating her presence. She was an interloper, a painful reminder of loss and betrayal.

  She didn’t fit in at home, and she certainly didn’t fit here.

  Shivering in the late-afternoon sunlight, she went inside to change. The quiet that greeted her inside the quaint space compounded her loneliness. At the estate, she was never completely alone. Butlers, footmen, housekeepers, ladies’ maids and manservants moved discreetly about, attending to their business, seeing to the day-to-day running of the expansive mansion and tending to the needs of its occupants.

  Though New York was her home, she wasn’t happy there. And while she gained immense satisfaction from her photography work and her gardening, she lived with the knowledge that her presence wasn’t wanted or needed by anyone. She didn’t brighten anyone’s day or bring a smile to a loved one’s face. No one was eager to share secrets with her or give her a hug.

  From the time she was a little girl, she’d known something was wrong with her. Her mother had never looked at her with pride and pleasure, as she had Francesca. Instead, whenever her gaze lit on Kate, her mouth would tighten and a wrinkle would form between her brows, as if puzzling out an impossible riddle.

  The nightmare with Nanny Marie underscored her feelings of inadequacy.

  By the time Wesley Farrington IV entered her life when she was seventeen, she’d been desperate to forge a connection with someone, anyone.

  Seated on the edge of the bed combing out the tangles in her hair, her eyes drifted shut as she recalled their first meeting. Her parents were hosting an elaborate party, and everyone who was anyone in New York society had made an appearance. The ballroom glittered and sparkled like the contents of a jewelry box with its crystal and gold chandeliers, gilt-edged mirrors and jewel-toned carpets. The air was sweet with the fragrance of fresh flowers spilling from vases placed about the room, the sets of French doors thrown open to the balmy night.

  While Kate had watched from the sidelines as gaily dressed couples swirled and dipped across the marble floors, Francesca had been surrounded by a bevy of admirers.

  She’d noticed Wesley the instant he entered the room. Darkly handsome, with a smile that hinted of secrets and promises, the Oxford graduate had captured the attention of nearly every female under the age of sixty. Kate watched him charm each one, in turn, never dreamin
g he’d spare a word for her.

  So when he’d appeared at her side not an hour later and requested a dance, she’d gaped at him. He laughed and repeated the request. They danced the next two dances, then escaped outside to stroll through the gardens. By the end of the night, she was certain she was in love.

  Over the course of two months, he took her on carriage rides in Central Park and showered her with trinkets and roses and boxes of chocolates from Paris.

  Kate had never been happier. Wesley treated her as if she were the most special girl in the world. He loved her. He hadn’t voiced the words, but she could see it in his eyes.

  It was that assumption that had ultimately led her to make the worst decision of her life. One night of pleasure had cost her not only her virtue, but a future with him.

  Wesley never explained why he left. For months afterward, she’d waited impatiently for correspondence from him. Surely he would apologize for leaving so abruptly, reveal his reasons for abandoning her. She waited in vain.

  She concluded that she must’ve done something wrong. Or disappointed him somehow.

  When her mother questioned her, Kate made the mistake of confiding in her.

  Georgia had railed at her. She had risked the family’s reputation and ruined forever her chances of marrying a decent man. She was damaged goods.

  A sharp rap on the door startled her, and the brush slipped out of her hand and clattered to the floor.

  Her stomach flip-flopped. Was it him? Had he come back to apologize?

  “J-just a minute,” she called, her fingers going to her neck to make sure the buttons of her china-red housecoat were buttoned. She wasn’t dressed to receive visitors, but this wasn’t the estate. There was no one else to open the door.

  Pulling it open, she found Nathan standing on the other side with a tray in his hands.

  “Hi. Josh told me about your dunking.” His smile was gentle. “He fixed a pot of tea and asked me to deliver it.”

  With a grateful smile, she gave him room to enter. Josh had ignored her refusal and sent the tea anyway.

  Nathan set the tray on the table, and the tangy scent of ginger filled the cabin. There was a rose-emblazoned teapot, a matching cup and saucer, honey and a dessert plate bearing four pillowlike cookies. Her mouth watered. What was he doing, sending her sweets?