by Kit Morgan
Honoria leaned against the banister. “You’re both nervous.”
Colin sighed. “Of course we are. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen the Bergs.”
“I dare say, an eternity,” Honoria said. “Since yesterday.”
“Honoria …,” her father warned.
“That’s not what I meant,” Colin said. “Yes, we saw them yesterday, along with the rest of the town. But this is different.”
“How is it different?” she asked as she followed them into the parlor.
Her father sat in one of the wing chairs and tapped his fingers on his knee. “She’s right. We’re both a little, shall we say, agitated?”
Honoria sat next to her uncle on the settee. “But why, Papa? I don’t understand.”
“In short, sweetling, people change,” he said. “I guess your uncle and I are afraid that Andel and Maddie have changed after being away so long.”
“Your father’s quite right,” Uncle Colin agreed. “Simply put, we just run a ranch. Your Uncle Duncan has an estate – a rather large one, mind you, but still only an estate. I can’t imagine what running an entire country must be like.”
“Did they seem different to you yesterday?” she asked.
Her uncle and father glanced at one another. “No, come to think of it, they didn’t,” her father said.
“Perhaps we are worrying over nothing,” Uncle Colin suggested.
“I know the stories of how they became royalty,” Honoria said. “You don’t think it’s gone to their heads, do you?”
“If yesterday was any indication, no,” said her uncle. “He seemed perfectly normal. For Andel, that is.”
“Quite right, brother. If anything, our wives are the ones to blame.”
“Oh no,” Honoria’s mother said she entered the parlor with her aunt. “Don’t drop this on us! There’s nothing wrong with wanting to clean house and prepare a nice supper for guests.”
“And forcing everyone to put on their Sunday best?” Honoria added with a smile.
“Not everyone, obviously.” Her mother glared at her. “But you have to remember, Andel and Maddie have never met you children. Of course we want you all looking your best. So please go and find a nicer dress before –”
The sound of a wagon rolling into the barnyard interrupted her mother’s statement. Her father jumped to his feet. “Good grief, they’re here! All right, everyone, remain calm!”
Uncle Colin burst out laughing. “So much for not being nervous. I daresay, brother, if you don’t calm down, you’re going to do yourself a mischief.”
“Egads!” her father muttered, wiping his hand over his face. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“Well, it’s been a long time since we’ve had guests in this house,” her mother said.
“With the exception of the chap who brought Honoria home last month, after her little … accident,” Uncle Colin put in.
Heat shot through Honoria at the mention of Major. Oh, Uncle, she thought to herself. Did you have to bring him up?
A knock sounded at the door. “I’ll get it!” Uncle Colin said cheerfully and marched out of the parlor.
“Honoria, it’s too late to change now,” her mother said. “Run upstairs and fetch your brothers and sister.”
“All right.” She left the parlor and was halfway up the stairs before her uncle got a chance to open the door. She gathered her siblings together, shooed them down, then studied her reflection in a small mirror in her brother’s room before following. She hadn’t even bothered to fix her hair. “Oh well, what’s one ragamuffin in the bunch?” she said aloud. “All the more reason to send me somewhere for finishing, I hope.”
She knew this was an opportunity to pitch her idea – but she didn’t feel much like company. Bed and a good sulk seemed much more attractive right now, but there was no help for it. She’d have to get through the evening whether she wanted to or not. With a sigh, she left her brothers’ room, went down stairs and …
“Good evening Miss Cooke.”
Honoria’s eyes widened, and she almost choked.
Major Comfort looked around as her parents and the rest of the family greeted the Bergs. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”
She audibly gulped and glanced at her cousin Adele, who looked lovely as ever in her pink dress. Her cousins must have come through the back door and into the parlor while the Bergs entered through the front. All beside the point now – what was Major doing here?
“Well?” he said.
“I … I …” Unable to think of what to say, she took the last few stairs – and tripped!
Thankfully, he grabbed her before she fell flat on her face. “Easy there …”
Honoria was now flush against him, his arms around her. Her breathing stopped as she stared up into those wonderful blue eyes of his.
“I’ll say it again,” he said quietly. “Good evening, Miss Cooke.”
“Good evening,” she managed. Barely.
“Honoria!” her father called from the parlor. Her eyes drifted in his direction even as his fixed on Major. Uh-oh … “Mr. Comfort! Take your hands off my daughter!”
Major managed to keep his bemused smile even as he set her upright and stepped away. “She was about to fall, sir.”
“What are you doing here?” her father demanded as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
“I invited him,” Mr. Berg said as he stepped into the foyer.
Her father glanced between the two men. “Whatever for?”
Now Honoria really wanted to go back upstairs and hide. If it had been any other man …
“Because his sister and her husband were invited,” Mr. Berg explained.
“What?” her father said, confused. “Sadie!”
Honoria’s mother joined them. “What’s all the yelling about, dear?”
“Did you invite Eli and Pleasant Turner to supper?”
“Oh yes … good heavens, Harrison, I told you about that earlier. I’d invited them several days ago, so when we knew the Bergs were coming this evening, there was no point in cancelling …”
“Besides,” Mr. Berg added, “I wanted to hear more about Georgia and their plantation.”
“Which we no longer have,” Major said quietly. “I really don’t understand your interest, sir.”
“Parts of Dalrovia have a similar climate and soil to your coastal plain, so I wanted to learn more about growing cotton and the other crops in that part of the country.”
“Are you thinking of growing some of them where you come from?” Major asked.
“Along with a few other ideas, if you’ve time to talk about them,” Mr. Berg said with a smile.
“Of course, I’d be happy to.”
Honoria barely heard their exchange. She stood and watched Major, fascinated at the way his left earlobe moved when he talked. When she caught herself leaning toward him, she took a quick step back for safety’s sake. The feel of having his arms around her still lingered.
“Well, I think everyone’s here,” her mother said, peering out the open front door as she clasped her hands in front of her. “Eli and Pleasant just drove up.” She looked at Mr. Berg. “Are you and Maddie ready to meet the children?”
Mr. Berg glanced at the crowd in the parlor. “Can everyone fit in here, or do we need to line them up outside?”
Sadie laughed. “That’s not a bad idea, Andel. Maybe we should.”
“Let’s do it, then.” The giant headed for the parlor, her mother on his heels. Her father had already been pulled back into the chaos.
But Major hadn’t budged. “May I escort you outside?” he asked, offering her his arm.
She bit her lower lip, unsure of what to do. He’s just being a gentleman, she told herself. And he’s courting Miss Lynch. She had no business even speaking to him –
“Honoria?”
Her head snapped up. “What did you call me?”
“That is your name, isn’t it?”
&n
bsp; “Yes, but …”
“Can you fault me if I wish to use it?”
“But Mr. Comfort…”
“After all we’ve been through?”
Friends called each other by their first name, didn’t they? Perhaps that’s what he was offering – friendship. Maybe it was his way of making up for his borderline-improper behavior when he’d brought her to town and home. She swallowed hard and looked at him. “Does this mean that I should call you Major?”
“Major is fine. Though my brothers call me Quince.”
She had to swallow a giggle. Being named after a military rank was one thing, but after a fruit? Then again, he did look good enough to eat … stop, stop, stop, Honoria! she told herself. “I’ll try Major, then,” she finally said.
The chaos of the parlor had started to file out the door. The children were loud and excited, clamoring for position to see who could get outside first. Honoria’s cousin Jefferson, two years her junior, brought up the rear, rolling his eyes at her as he motioned with his hands to speed his younger brothers along. The adults came next.
“Coming?” Major asked with a smile. “Though I hope we’re not going to be tested to see if we remember all their names.”
“You’ll learn them in time,” Honoria said. “That is, if you’re around long enough.”
Major offered his arm again. “I always did like a challenge.”
She licked her bottom lip and, unable to help herself, said, “Then I’ll make sure I test you later.” And together, they followed the rest of her family outside.
Archibald Lynch paced his hotel room like a caged animal. He’d been biding his time, allowing Lucretia the opportunity to work her feminine wiles on the Comfort men. Any of the Comfort men – he wasn’t picky about which one at this point. But dash it all, what was taking her so long?
Ever since that luncheon in the Denver café, when he’d overheard Buford Comfort speaking with his sister-in-law (or some other relative, he still wasn’t sure) about his precious plantation and how prosperous it was, he’d been determined his daughter would marry into it. Then he’d be taken care of as well.
So far, the Comforts had fallen for the story of their father sending Lucretia to be Major’s mail-order bride. But that wasn’t going to last – it was only a matter of time before one of them heard back from their father or Mrs. Pettigrew of the Pettigrew Mail-Order Bride Agency. Lucky for him, he’d overheard that part of Buford’s conversation as well, how he wanted his sons to marry and was thinking of suggesting to the eldest that he order a bride.
Granted, things would’ve gone more smoothly had Buford actually gone through with it, but when Archibald and Lucretia went to see Mrs. Pettigrew, there were no applicants from any of the six Comfort boys. That was when Archibald decided to take a leap and create his own application and subsequent marriage contract.
He’d even gone so far as to get acquainted with Buford Comfort himself by following him around. The man talked of nothing but his beloved Comfort Fields to anyone who’d listen and that he was only visiting his sister-in-law for a time. From what Archibald could gather, poor Buford had suffered some sort of a shock and was convalescing in Denver. Why anyone would want to convalesce there, he had no idea. The weather in Savannah was so much nicer this time of year.
All in all, his plan had moved along perfectly until they’d gotten to the benighted burg of Clear Creek. He was patient, a trait that made him a good con artist, but his money wasn’t going to last forever. He’d have to get Lucretia married and soon, preferably to the eldest brother, who stood to inherit most of the plantation. He’d seen it before – fathers usually passed everything to the eldest son, or most of it anyway.
“Daddy, I thought Major was joining us for supper!” Lucretia whined.
“The blind man downstairs gave me a message from him. I’m afraid he was called.”
“What?” she said with a huff. “How rude! And I just had that Mrs. Mulligan mend my best dress! I can’t think how it got torn! I wish I could have some new ones made, but this backwoods town doesn’t even have a dressmaker! When are we going get out of here?”
“When you’re married. Then we’ll head to Georgia and your new home. Those Comfort boys can’t possibly plan on staying here. I think they’ve come to sow their wild oats.”
“And their father let them? Men!” She twisted a lock of hair around her finger. “Have you gotten Major to tell you anymore about Comfort Fields?”
“No. He seems touchy about the subject – won’t discuss Savannah or Georgia or any of it. But don’t worry. If their father can afford to let his sons have an extended holiday out west, they family must be rich indeed.”
“I’ve heard of men doing silly things before, but this is ridiculous! I hope he gets this out of his system before we marry!”
“He will, then he’ll whisk you away to Comfort Fields.”
“I can’t wait to see it. Perhaps we could get married there?”
“And travel across the country with your betrothed? No, no, my dear. It’s best to get married here in Clear Creek.”
“If you say so,” she pouted.
“Daddy knows best, dearest. Speaking of your betrothed, when do you think he’ll ask you?”
She rolled her eyes and plopped herself into a chair. “How should I know? I’m not a mind reader. I thought sure he’d ask after lunch yesterday, but that beast of a man and his wife showed up and everyone went ‘plumb loco’ as the locals say.”
“Yes, they certainly did. Come to think, I heard something yesterday but…” He shook his head.
“What?”
“It’s nothing. I must’ve heard wrong.” He went to her chair, bent and took her hand in his. “You just keep showing Mr. Comfort that pretty smile of yours and he’ll come around. Soon, I hope.”
“I wish he’d smile back,” she commented dryly. “I noticed he smiled plenty when that country girl came in the mercantile.”
“What girl?”
“That Cooke woman. Her family owns the big ranch outside of town. Horrible creature. Major hardly batted an eye at me once he saw her!”
“Really?” her father said. He rubbed his chin in thought and glanced at the door. Where had Major Comfort got to this evening? Was he with the Cooke woman? The last thing Lucretia needed was competition – sure, she was pretty enough, but she wasn’t bright, couldn’t cook and had the temperament of a rattler when annoyed. She’d been on her best behavior since coming to Clear Creek. But what if her best wasn’t enough? “I’m afraid you’ll have to step things up with Mr. Comfort, my dear. As you know, time is of the essence.”
“You don’t have to remind me,” she sneered. “I’m doing the best I can! So, Daddy, what are you going to do about it?”
“Not to worry, my dear,” he assured. “I’ll make sure to … remove the competition.”
Lucretia smiled. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“Think nothing of it.”
Chapter 12
Honoria wasn’t sure how it happened – the chaos of the evening, an unconscious effort on her part or divine intervention – but somehow she found herself next to Major at the dining table. Her heart thundered in her chest and she hoped no one else noticed. She even stole a glance at her bosom to see if it was rising and falling with each heartbeat. She swore it did, several times, but when she looked, all was still. My heavens, but was the dining room unusually hot?
“Andel,” her father said. “Would you like to say the blessing, for old time’s sake?”
Mr. Berg smiled. “Certainly.” He folded his hands in front of him, bowed his head and closed his eyes. “Thank you, Lord, for friendship, camaraderie, old acquaintances and new. We ask that you bless this food and everyone at this table. Amen.”
“I think that’s the longest supper prayer you’ve ever said, Andel,” Uncle Colin said with a grin.
“At least no one wrote it for me,” he joked.
Everyone stared at him in confusion until Maddie lea
ned forward and said, “speeches.”
“Speeches?” Aunt Belle said. “Do you give a lot of them?”
“Only when I have to. Maddie has to do most of them.”
“You will have to explain to us how everything works in your country,” Harrison said. “I’d be fascinated to know.” He gave Honoria and Major a glance, then returned his attention to the Bergs. “But first, how long do you plan on staying in Clear Creek?”
“Actually,” Mr. Berg said, “we are on holiday. We had some business in New York and Washington City, but now our time is our own.”
“That’s wonderful!” Sadie happily. “How long can you stay?”
“We plan to leave after Christmas,” he said. “We wanted to spend the holiday among friends. It was a hard choice to make because of the children.”
“Oh, that’s right,” said Belle. “Will they be disappointed you’re not there?”
“My mother and Anton are with them,” explained Maddie. “We’ll join them for the new year.”
“After the new year, she means,” Mr. Berg said with a smile.
“Oh! Yes, of course,” Maddie said in a rush. “After all, we couldn’t possibly get home that fast, could we?”
Honoria studied them. Was that a warning glare Mr. Berg was giving his wife?
“What sort of climate does your country have?” Major asked.
“Very diverse – one of our ministers has compared it to California, with all the different regions,” Mr. Berg explained. “We have all four seasons. That’s part of why we’re looking into planting alternative crops, to take full advantage.”
“Such as cotton,” Major offered.
“Exactly,” Mr. Berg replied. “And I’d still like to speak with you about that. Perhaps tomorrow?”
“Of course, I’ll make myself available. Would afternoon suit you?”
“Quite.”
“Er … speaking of tomorrow,” Harrison said as he reached for the mashed potatoes. “I hear that a party is being planned?”
“Party?” Colin said. “Oh yes, a party.” He grinned at the Bergs at the other end of the table.
