A week.
He’d have to do his best to fill in the gap with Mandie, though he was a poor second choice to their wonderful housekeeper.
He eyed his brother again. “What about a telegram?” News from her parents would surely cheer Mandie’s spirits.
Robert shook his head again, this time with a grimace. “Nothing. I did get the wood ordered though.”
Enoch’s jaw tightened. He was still moving slowly from the burns. And then on top of it, no Mrs. Wang and no word from Mandie’s parents. The Lord certainly wasn’t making things easy.
“How’s she been?” Robert lowered his voice as he glanced toward the house.
“Managing.” Enoch turned to walk beside his brother and the mount into the barn. “Better than managing, truth be told. You wouldn’t know she wasn’t raised to this life.”
Robert’s gaze turned to scan the interior of the barn where Thomas and James fitted one of the final poles in the ground beside the far wall. “You boys got a lot done today.”
“Enoch’s a hard taskmaster.” Thomas kept his focus on the pole he held. “Didn’t even let us stop for a nap.”
Enoch shook his head. “There’s only one more to set after that one.” He eyed Robert. “Think you could help while I see if Mandie needs any help with the food? I don’t want her overdoing.” He should have gone in a half hour ago to check on her, but it took three of them to raise one of these tree trunks and secure it to the beams at the top.
Robert nodded and turned to unfasten the saddle from his mount. “Go on.”
Enoch strode to the house, keeping himself to a walk, though part of him wanted to sprint. When he opened the door, the smell of something savory greeted him—a rich, hearty aroma that made his stomach growl in anticipation. He’d not realized how hungry he was.
He found Mandie at the stove, her back to him, hair pinned up with a few tendrils escaping to curl against her neck. The sight of her there, stirring the pot, struck him with an odd feeling of rightness that tightened his chest. As much as he needed her to stay, to agree to be his wife for the sake of the duchy, she stirred too much inside him.
He couldn’t let all these feelings come alive. Couldn’t let his heart get attached. But he couldn’t turn her out. Where else could she go? Did she have another choice? Did he?
He cleared his throat to announce his presence as he stepped into the kitchen. “Smells good.”
She startled slightly, turning to face him. “I didn’t hear you come in.” A smile curved her lips, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m trying to make a stew.”
“I think you mastered it.” He moved closer, fighting the urge to reach out and brush back a tendril of damp hair that had wrapped nearly to her chin. “Robert’s here.”
Her eyes widened with hope. “And Mrs. Wang?”
He shook his head. “She needs to stay another week with the family.” Enoch watched the hope fade from Mandie’s eyes, replaced by something that looked like resignation. “The mother’s having trouble recovering, and the baby isn’t eating well.”
“Oh.” Mandie turned back to the stew, giving it another stir. “Of course she must stay. They need her more than we do.”
But he could see the slight slump of her shoulders, the way her hands tightened on the wooden spoon. He stepped closer, though careful to keep a little distance.
“And…was there any word from my parents?” Her question came softly, her back still to him.
Enoch hesitated. If only he had better news. “I’m afraid not. Robert did check.”
Her shoulders tensed, then relaxed with deliberate control. “I see. They’re likely just… busy.”
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the bubbling of the stew and the crackle of the fire.
He took another step closer. “How can I help with the food?”
“It’s nearly ready.” She glanced up at him. “I hope you’re not getting tired of biscuits. There’s not any other kind of bread, and I didn’t know what else…” A flash of something like worry—or maybe even panic—lit her gaze, then disappeared as she turned back to the pot.
Realization slipped through him. She may not know how to make bread or biscuits. He’d not thought about the fact that Mrs. Wang had all her recipes stored in the rich recesses of her mind. Mandie likely knew little more about cooking than him. Less even, for had she ever been without a paid cook?
He kept his voice gentle. “Mrs. Wang’s biscuits are good enough to eat every meal for a week. I don’t know how she makes them, and I doubt she has the recipe written down anywhere. I do know how to make her skillet cornbread though. I used to help her every so often, and that one was easy enough for me to handle on my own. I can show you whenever you like.”
“Thank you.” She glanced at him, gratitude flickering across her features. “Maybe tomorrow morning?”
