Holly, Mistletoe, and Midnight Snow
Page 13
“Well done, you.” She gave a satisfied nod.
Hechuckled, a deep resonating purr in his wide chest, like a big, contented cat. “But that’s not what kept the curs from attending class the next day. Your brother, the wicked devil, bribed a barmaid to taint their ales all evening with generous amounts of a tincture meant to cure constipation. The chaps spent the next four and twenty hours on chamber pots.”
“He did not!” She giggled. “Oh, that is priceless.”
“He didn’t tell me until after he’d done the deed, lest he was caught, and I should get blamed too.” Owen shook his head. “No one had ever come to my defense before, and we became the best chums afterward.”
“CanI ask you something else, Owen?”
Heeyed her suspiciously but not unkindly.
“I suspect, Althelia, you will do so even if I say no.”
Sherolled her eyes, then shrugged because he had the right of it.
Howwas a person to learn anything unless they asked?
“Probably. I wasn’t always this outgoing, you know.”
Somemight call her behavior today forward and sassy.
“Hmm.” The noise he made in his throat told her nothing.
“In truth, three years ago, I was a mousey, bashful wallflower, easily intimidated and manipulated and frequently the target of humiliation and teasing. Not by my family, of course,” she rushed to reassure him when his sable eyebrows arched high on his broad forehead. “But by others in the community, one family in particular.”
Thememory of the event that sent Althelia fleeing to Boston for over two years still caused discomfort but not the anguish and mortification it once had. She’d healed, but the scar remained—an irrefutable reminder to take extreme care of who she trusted and to guard her heart.
Acrossthe meadows, the Hartigans’ manor’s chimneys stood as dark sentinels against the rising sun. Smoke slowly spiraled upward from one triple stack. PeterHartigan was in residence—had been for a year. Rumor had it he’d been injured but that he’d recovered except for a partial memory loss.
Sincenone of the Westbrooks spoke to the Hartigans any longer—their closest neighbors and, at one time, good friends—they didn’t know precisely what had happened to him. Furthermore, if Althelia was any measure, they didn’t care. That proverbial bridge had burned, and there was no rebuilding it had anyone been so inclined, and no one was.
Theoldest son, Peter, and his sister, Leticia, had caused Althelia’s torment, though she had no doubt, meanspirited and spiteful LeticiaHartigan had instigated the debacle.
Unexpectedcompassion shadowed Owen’s striking eyes. “I’d vow the transition from a bashful caterpillar into the vibrant butterfly you are now was not without angst and discomfort.”
Howdid he know?
Hadhe also endured pain and disgrace?
Adversityand disappointment turned some people bitter, cold, and toxic. In others, hardship strengthened them while enabling them to empathize with others who suffered.
Altheliapointed to the stately house, partially shrouded in mist. “That’s the Hartigans’ house. At a summertime ball, the daughter of the house plied me with spiked lemonade. I was so gullible and foolish back then. I believed her smiles and promises of friendship.”
Shepeeked at Owen from beneath her lashes but detected no discernable emotion.
“I take it that is not the entire story?” he asked, reining Sampson in as a hare dashed across the track.
Sheshook her head.
Ifonly it had been.
“No. Leticia convinced me that her brother Peter was enamored with me and wanted to meet me on the terrace to declare himself. I’d been infatuated with Peter for years, and Leticia must’ve guessed my secret.” Althelia released a caustic laugh. “I have no idea what I saw in him now, but a young girl’s silliness blinded my eyes and emotions.”
Anda yearning to be desired.
Noman or boy, for that matter, had ever directed his romantic attention toward the unsure, gauche youth she’d been. In truth, other than GregoryBancroft in Boston—who’d pursued her quite vigilantly—Althelia had been beauless.
Gregory’sclammy hands, wet lips, and propensity to burp at the most inopportune times didn’t lend themselves to a successful courtship. Besides, though she’d fled England for a time, she had no wish to marry an American and make Boston her home.