Читать книгу The Nanny’s Temporary Triplets - Noelle Marchand - Страница 11

Chapter One

Austin, Texas

July 1896

“By the power vested in me by God and the state of Texas—”

“Stop this wedding!”

Everything around Caroline Murray seemed to blur. Yet she was more aware than she’d ever been. Time fractured until it was made up of nothing more than tiny details. Seemingly insignificant, she could still feel their indelible stamp on her soul.

Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows of the church, spilling a bizarre assortment of colors onto her pure-white gown. Her hands were clasped in her groom’s. His grip held hers tighter and tighter. So tight now that it was almost painful, not unlike the ring he’d placed on her finger only moments ago that had somehow been forged a size too small.

None of that mattered now because through the dreamy tinge of her veil she watched another woman march down the aisle with a baby in her arms and righteous indignation on her drawn features. Caroline turned back to her groom in confusion, waiting for him to take charge. She saw panic flash across his face before his dashing smile faded to a scowl. Yet he didn’t breathe a word. It seemed she would have to be the one to deal with the stranger who’d brought their wedding to a halt.

It was silent. Too silent with more than two hundred people in the chapel. Even the baby, with his eerily familiar eyes, stared at her without a sound. Somehow Caroline found her voice. “Who are you? What do you want?”

Compassion filled the eyes of the woman who surveyed her. “My name is Lucette Calabrese.”

“She is my sister,” Nico Calabrese asserted as if his strong Italian features bore any resemblance to the delicate ones of the woman who spoke with the inflections of the French.

Lucette closed her eyes and winced. “No. I am his wife.”

Caroline recoiled. “What?”

Lucette bounced the baby in her arms slightly. “This is our son.”

“Caroline, don’t believe her.” Nico’s dark, pleading eyes captured Caroline’s. “She is a crazy woman who follows me from town to town. She is obsessed with my career, my music, my voice.”

“Nico is right. I am crazy...for following him from city to city, standing by as he wastes the money he earns at the gambling table, then makes up for it by seducing unsuspecting women out of their fortunes.” Lucette lifted her chin. “But no longer. I am going home to France. His music, career and voice do not enchant me in the least. I came here today because I could not let him ruin another life the way he has ruined mine.”

Nico finally released Caroline’s hands. “How can you say these things?”

Lucette ignored him. “He will take your dowry and leave you after the honeymoon. That is his plan. Save yourself and your virtue while you can.”

With that, Lucette turned on her heel and walked out of the church. Nico swallowed hard. Turning back to Caroline, he asked, “Do you believe her?”

Her heart screamed no, but her head silenced it. A kaleidoscope of memories paraded through her mind. Their romance had been a fairy tale from the start. They’d met through her parents’ connections in the crème de la crème of Austin’s music society. He was everything they had always wanted for her and exactly what she’d wanted for herself: educated, well-traveled and, most important of all, musical. His skill at the piano wasn’t particularly anything to brag about, especially in comparison to her father’s, but then Lawrence Murray had been a world-renowned pianist from the age of eight.

Nico’s voice, however, was the epitome of what a classical tenor should be. His control over it was astounding, his lyrical phrasing impeccable. He put new shadow, light, vibrancy into melodies she’d heard hundreds of times before and made them exciting again.

Her parents loved him. He’d become the musical son they’d never had. So much so that she’d been glad her tone-deaf brother, Matthew, had been too preoccupied with his cattle and growing family in Little Horn, Texas, to see how they doted on Nico.

He was the handsomest man she’d ever seen and the only man to look beyond the influence and glamour of her parents’ lives to notice her—the girl with a voice that was pretty, but not nearly strong enough to match her mother’s mezzosoprano or to even make it onto the stage. Embarrassingly enough, Caroline had little else to recommend her. Why else would her father have set aside such an obscene amount of money for her dowry, then discreetly make it public knowledge?

Nico had told her the money didn’t matter to him. He loved her for who she was. In return he was destined to be her first and only love. Their romance was going to be able to meet the standard set by the tender tomes of her parents’ love story. At the very least, it was meant to rival her brother’s idyllic one. And it had.

Until now.

Maybe that had been the problem. All of it had been too good to be true. So much a fairy tale that it well and truly was only that—fiction.

She pulled in a deep breath, locked eyes with the man she’d just pledged her life to and suddenly felt dirty, soiled. Anger burned within her so hot and deep that it couldn’t rise to the surface. She pushed it away, clinging instead to the protective numbness. “Yes, Nico. I believe your wife.”

His shoulders sank, but he offered an irascible half smile and tweaked her nose in that familiar way of his. “It was fun while it lasted. Arrivederci, my sweet.”

She cringed away, but he was too busy rushing out the door to notice. It closed with a bang loud enough to startle some sense into her. She turned to her parents and their guests. “Wait. Shouldn’t someone arrest him for something?”

A few laughs punctuated the shocked silence as a few justice-minded men bolted off in pursuit. Caroline took advantage of the general confusion that followed to slip out the side door into the harsh sunlight. She shoved her veil out of the way and hugged her arms around her waist. Wincing as the door opened behind her, she turned with a glare that softened at the sight of her brother.

Matthew didn’t say anything at first. He just searched her face in concern. Finally, he ran his fingers through his blond hair and pleaded, “Carrie, let me take you away from here until all this blows over.”

“Where would we go?”

“To my ranch.”

A laugh escaped her. “In Little and Worn?”

His scowl lacked any real bite. “You know the town is named Little Horn.”

She offered him a faint smile. “I know.”

He caught her arm gently. “Come with me. Get away from the city. The country is beautiful, Caroline. The sky goes on forever. It’s the kind of place that puts everything in perspective. Emma and I would love to spend time with you. You could go riding, let loose without worrying about what society thinks of you.”

As though on cue, guests started exiting from the front of the church. They walked in groups with their heads together. No doubt already gossiping about what they’d seen. Who could blame them? If she’d been a guest at such a wedding, she’d talk about it, too. The gossip in Austin was going to be unbearable for the next few weeks. Besides that, she and Nico had made memories all over town.

Someone spotted her. The society reporter from Austin’s most widely read newspaper. He veered her way. Caroline tensed. Her voice came out kind of wobbly. “Matt, get me out of here.”

Within minutes she was in the carriage beside her brother and sister-in-law. They went back to their parents’ house, where Caroline changed into her traveling clothes. Her trunks were already packed. Having said goodbye to her parents at the church, Caroline was on a train headed toward Little Horn in less than an hour.

Relief filled her as the train lumbered into the station at Little Horn after what felt like an eternity. Soon she would be tucked away at her brother’s ranch, where she might be provided some modicum of privacy.

As they stepped onto the train platform, Emma placed a hand on her rounded stomach. “I hate to say this, but the baby and my stomach are both doing flips. I think I need to eat something now before it gets any worse.”

Matthew placed a comforting hand on his wife’s back. “We’ll stop at the café before we head home.”

Caroline realized she should be ravenous. She’d been too nervous to eat before the ceremony and had had nothing since. Yet food didn’t interest her, and she wasn’t sure she could hold her emotions together long enough to eat an entire meal at the café. A hand reached through the fog to give hers a light squeeze. Caroline met her sister-in-law’s understanding gaze. “Would you like to take a walk first and meet us there when you’re ready?”

“Yes,” Caroline agreed almost desperately even as Matthew protested.

Emma ignored her husband. “Go right ahead, Caroline. The church is around the corner and across the street. You might be able to find some privacy there.”

“Thank you.” Caroline wasted no time in finding the church, but she stopped just shy of entering. She followed the walkway between the church and what seemed to be the parsonage, hoping it might lead exactly where it did. The path opened into a small sort of...well, park would a generous term. It was really just a field. Though the wildflowers and grass were all but dried up, the space was blessedly empty.

A few tall live oaks provided refuge from the sun. She sank to her knees at the base of one. She opened her hand to stare at the small gold wedding band she’d carried all this way. She should have thrown it out. Yet when she’d removed the silly thing, she’d been unable to let it go.

Now it gleamed in the bright Texas sun, mocking her, berating her, teasing her with the reality of what her situation might have been had she gone through with the wedding. Not the roses, cake and laughter she’d expected, but robbery, ruination, abandonment. Closing her eyes, she clenched her hand and let the metal bite into her fingers. “How could I be so utterly stupid? So ridiculously foolish? How did I not suspect anything?”

She lowered her head to bury her fingers in her hair and fought against the tears filling her eyes. The sound of approaching footsteps made her still. She stared through blurry eyes at the man who’d stopped some distance away. He removed his hat in a gesture of respect, then went down on one knee as though purposefully making himself smaller. His broad shoulders and muscled form could be deemed intimidating. Yet there was no mistaking the gentleness or concern in his drawl. “Ma’am, I don’t mean to intrude, but I couldn’t pass by without asking. Are you all right? I mean, are you sick? Should I get a doctor?”

A doctor would be of no help to her. Still, it was a sweet gesture. A wobbly smile tilted her lips. “No, thank you.”

There was a moment of silence. He was probably trying to figure out what to do next. Was there a polite way to ask him to leave? There had to be.

She blinked several times to clear her vision. Everything blurry came back into focus. He was handsome. So handsome that the gentle dismissal she planned to deliver died even as her lips parted to speak.

She wanted to look away, but his gaze held hers in place. More than that, it seemed to peer deep inside, where he had no business being. Then something flickered in his eyes. Recognition. Kindness. An odd feeling of kinship stretched between them as if he understood her pain and, in his own way, had felt it, too.

This time there was no question in his voice. “You are hurt.”

She wanted to deny it, but her heart wouldn’t listen. The ache in her chest reopened, becoming a chasm too wide to run from. Her tears would no longer be denied or controlled. They flooded her cheeks. Sobs broke free, along with more shame and self-recrimination than she’d ever felt before. She no longer cared that she had an audience. What was one more person when so many had already witnessed her humiliation?

* * *

David McKay wasn’t afraid of a woman’s tears. His late wife had been a crier. Anytime he’d disagreed with her or displayed the slightest displeasure over her wandering eye, she’d cried until he turned to putty in her hands. That had lasted until his mother had oh so casually mentioned she’d heard Laura instructing a friend on how to make herself cry. After that, he’d let Laura cry as often as she wanted. She’d eventually realized her tears wouldn’t sway him and saved her energy for other ways to torment him.

Then his pa had been fatally gored by a longhorn. Nothing David did could stop his mother’s tears. All he could do was offer a shoulder and a handkerchief to mop up her tears when she was done. She’d gone on and on to her friends about what a comfort her son had been in her grief. That was when he’d learned a secret about women strange enough to boggle any man’s mind. They wanted to cry. The sooner a fellow let them do it, the sooner they’d stop on their own accord.

Of course, the difference was that the woman crying now was a complete stranger to him...and a beautiful one at that. Yet he couldn’t leave a woman crying in the dirt without trying to offer at least a little comfort. He approached her as he would an injured heifer, hoping not to frighten her. She didn’t seem to care one way or the other. She just kept crying in heartbreaking sobs that shook her whole body.

He tentatively put a comforting hand on her back, between her shoulder blades. She didn’t flinch away, so he left it there. Her shudder seemed to travel up his arm. She began to talk. David knelt beside her to listen to her quiet confession through her sobs. “I loved him. I really did.”

His eyebrows rose, though he couldn’t say he was surprised. He’d suspected she was a victim of heartbreak by the pain he’d seen in her eyes.

“I never imagined he had a wife.”

Everything within him stilled. He swallowed down the instinctive aversion he had for anyone who played fast and loose with fidelity. He’d had more than enough of that from his late wife.

“How stupid can one person be? To be taken in like that? To believe every lie and ignore any sign of the truth?”

All right. She’d been lied to. That didn’t exactly excuse it, but it did explain it. It also made her the injured party here. Her and the man’s wife. He’d been in that situation one too many times not to feel compassion for her.

With a sigh, David settled in the dirt beside the woman and put his arm around her shoulders. He was kind of hoping she’d get all offended and push him away. She leaned slightly into him instead. He gave in to the moment, as crazy as it seemed, and pulled her a bit closer. Her cheek landed on his chest, allowing warm tears to spill onto his shirt. He ran his right hand up and down her arm in a calming, predictable pattern while his left hand rested on his knee in full view of her downturned face, making it clear he wasn’t panning to take advantage of the situation.

Her sobs faded to intermittent shudders. The wet patch on his shirt began to cool. He dug a white handkerchief from his chest pocket and offered it to her. “You can keep this, so don’t be afraid to blow your nose if you need to.”

A small, watery laugh reached his ear as she took his offering. She wiped her face, then blew her nose before whispering, “Thank you, Pastor.”

David’s eyes widened. “I’m not a preacher. I’m a rancher.”

“A rancher?” Dismay filled her voice as she pulled back to look at him with hazel eyes that were an intriguing mix of brown, amber and green.

He tried not to grimace. It figured she’d be one of those women like his wife. The kind that against all odds got even prettier when she cried. Color flushed her cheeks while reddening her nose only slightly. A rich brown tendril came loose over her right eye. It threatened to tangle in the dark lashes that her tears had turned spiky.

He lifted a hand and brushed it back. She froze. Suddenly aware of the intimacy of the moment, he removed his arm from around her and searched for something, anything, to put distance between them. “Something wrong with being a rancher?”

“Of course not. My brother is a rancher. It’s only that being near the church and you being so kind and all, I assumed...” She trailed off with a shrug.

“No. I was just on my way to the parsonage and happened to see you. You say your brother is a rancher? How is it that I’ve never seen you around town before?”

“I haven’t been around town before. Not for several years, that is. I’m visiting my brother. His name is Matthew Murray.”

“I know Matthew. He’s a good friend of mine.” Matthew had mentioned he would be leaving town for a few days to attend his sister’s wedding. The puzzle pieces shifted into place. “And you’re Caroline.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Yes.”

He hesitantly added, “I take it the wedding didn’t go as planned.”

“No.” She glanced toward the church. “It did not.”

That was probably for the best, though he wasn’t sure she’d appreciate him saying so. He kept quiet, watching for any indication she wanted to be alone. She turned to look up at him with curiosity. “I just realized I don’t know your name.”

“David McKay.”

Her lashes lowered toward her cheeks. “Well, David McKay, thank you for listening to my troubles and...”

“Holding you in my arms?” He probably shouldn’t have teased her, but he wanted to see if he could make her smile just once before they parted ways. He wasn’t disappointed.

Her laughing hazel eyes met his, acknowledging the underlying absurdity of the encounter, while her lips tilted into a smile. “That, too.”

Anytime, he wanted to say, but that would be inappropriate. It would also be flirtatious, and David hadn’t tried his hand at flirting since Laura had died five years ago. He wasn’t planning to start now. Especially not with a woman whose heart had just been broken. He knew from experience how long that could take to heal.

Granted, he could use another woman’s influence in Maggie’s life. Preferably it would be someone who could convince his daughter to stop cutting her hair shorter and shorter anytime she got the notion and someone who could teach her that there was nothing wrong with wearing dresses or acting feminine.

Of course, there were the triplets to consider now. The ten-month-old foundlings had been abandoned at the county fair last month. Their mother had left a note explaining that she was widowed, penniless and dying. No longer able to take care of the boys, she’d asked the Lone Star Cowboy League, a group of ranchers known for their compassion and ability to get things done, to take in her boys.

As a member of the league, David had stepped up to do exactly that when the folks originally charged with their care had to give up the babies because of an illness in their house. He’d gone through a lot of trouble to hire a nanny for them and his daughter. Maggie had a tendency to run wild when he wasn’t around. School being out for the summer only exacerbated that. He had a ranch to run, which meant that Ma was Maggie’s main caretaker for most of the day. At seventy-seven, Ma wasn’t as spry as she used to be, and keeping up with Maggie’s ever-increasing energy and mischief was becoming more of a challenge.

Of course, the truth was, even in her younger days Ma never had been able to find it in her heart to discipline her only grandchild. He understood. Maggie’s big blue eyes, honey-colored hair and button nose made her cute as could be. It also gave her an innocent appearance that unfortunately was too often only that—an appearance. Hence, the reason he’d been heading to the parsonage.

First, he needed to do the gentlemanly thing. That did not include leaving his new acquaintance by herself in this state. “Where is your brother?”

“He’s at the café with Emma. I should probably head that way myself.”

She made a motion as though to rise, so he jumped to his feet and caught her arm to help her stand. “May I escort you?”

“Oh, no. That isn’t necessary.” She brushed the dirt from her skirt, lifted her chin and offered one last faint smile. “Thank you again, Mr. McKay.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am.”

He watched to make sure she was headed in the right direction before crossing the field to the parsonage. Brandon Stillwater answered the door with a welcoming grin. “Come in, David. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I need your advice on something.” David removed his hat and stepped inside the foyer.

“Let’s talk in my study. Can I get you anything? Coffee? A cookie? One of those little strudel things Mrs. Hickey is so fond of making?”

“Thank you, but I’m fine.” Entering the study behind Brandon, David paced back and forth on the bright square of light falling from the window onto the floor in front of the well-hewn desk.

Concern furrowed Brandon’s brow as he leaned his hip against the desk. “What’s going on?”

“Maggie put a snake in the nanny’s bed.”

“What?” Brandon asked in alarm.

“I know.” David sank into a nearby chair. “It was dead. I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse. Before I could even try to discipline her, my ma stepped in and fired the nanny for being angry at Maggie. It was a formality, really. The nanny was already halfway up the stairs on her way to pack her bags of her own accord.”

“How long have you been without a nanny?”

“Two days. I’ve been racking my brain for a solution, asking around to see if any of the ladies in town would take the position. None of them are interested. In fact, I may have offended a few husbands and fathers by even suggesting their women might be able to use the extra income. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of anyone in need of a job? Perhaps someone in the congregation?”

Brandon glanced away, looking deep in thought, before he slowly shook his head. “I’m afraid not. The women in our congregation are mostly married or widows with their own children. The unattached women help out on their families’ ranches and farms. A lot of them are younger girls, too. Either way, you might run into the same problem of offending their menfolk. Of course, if we put the word out that you’re looking for help, a few of them might be willing to do so out of pure Christian charity—and a chance to catch the eye of one of the ‘wealthiest and most mysterious bachelors in Little Horn.’”

“Ugh.” David winced. “Is that really what they say about me?”

Brandon grinned. “I’m afraid so.”

“Well, nothing doing. I’m not letting those women into my house. The last thing I’m looking for is romance. There has to be someone else.”

“What about her?”

“Her? Her who?”

“Her.” Brandon tipped his head toward the window.

Confused, David followed his friend’s meaningful look. All he saw was an empty field with a few trees. It was the same field where David had been only a few minutes ago...holding Caroline Murray in his arms while she cried on his shoulder. Heat spread across his face. He met Brandon’s steady, amused gaze. “You saw that?”

“Sure did.”

“Why didn’t you come out to help me?”

Brandon shrugged. “You seemed to have everything well under control, so I didn’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t have been intruding.”

“Are you sure about that?”

David glanced out the window and frowned. “Of course I am.”

“Who is she?”

“Matthew Murray’s sister, Caroline. She’s just here for a visit.” He shook his head. “There has to be someone I can hire.”

“Maybe, but not locally. Have you checked the newspaper? That’s where you found the first nanny, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s the first thing I did. I found the latest papers from Houston and Waco at the general store. None of the personal ads mentioned anything remotely close to a nanny, nurse or governess.”

“Governess.” Brandon held up a finger, then rounded the desk to open a drawer. “I saw something in an Austin newspaper about a governess.” He pulled out a newspaper and rifled through it. “Here it is. ‘Former governess of good reputation and character seeking Christian...husband.’ Oh. She’s a mail-order bride.”

“I didn’t say anything about marriage.” His ma had, though, countless times. She wanted her son to be happy and for her granddaughter to have a mother. Why she thought marriage would ensure his happiness after what he’d been through was beyond him, but there was no denying Maggie would love to have a mother.

“Now hold on. Don’t reject the idea without thinking about it first. You need someone to take care of the triplets until they find a permanent home, but you also need someone to help out with Maggie. This woman may have the experience you’re looking for.”

David gave him a doubtful look. “What else does the ad say?”

“‘Please inquire at—’ She doesn’t give a name. Just a PO Box in...” A wistful look flickered across his face. “Boston.”

“Well, that’s certainly straight to the point, isn’t it? Almost businesslike in a way. It doesn’t mention anything about love or feelings.” Hope started building in his chest. “Maybe I don’t have to, either.”

“What do you mean?”

“If she’s willing, we could have a marriage in name only.”

Brandon frowned. “David, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

That was too bad because the idea had real merit—not the least being the woman wouldn’t be able to run away as soon as Maggie got into trouble. If she did, she wouldn’t take his heart with him. Of course, there was a chance Maggie would get hurt if that happened. He could do his best to rule out that chance, though. In talking to this potential bride first and laying out all the parameters, they would both know from the start where they stood with each other and the marriage. There would be no passion or emotions getting in the way to confuse things. It would be a nice, straightforward marriage of convenience.

Decision made, David glanced up at Brandon. “May I borrow a pen and paper? I have a letter to write.”