There
weren’t many adults who’d have risked drawing Louise’s wrath.
“Of course we care,” George said hastily. “Don’t we, my dear?”
“Not in the least,” she said with icy indifference. “Why would I
care about the opinion of an ungrateful boy such as yourself?”
Gavin shifted so that he faced his grandmother more directly. “Why
should I be grateful? You only keep us ’cause he doesn’t want us.” A
jerk of his head indicated Bishop. “And you figure people would say bad things
about you if you didn’t take us in.”
The bitterness in his son’s voice made Bishop wince. It had been a
mistake to leave the children here. He’d known it at the time but, after
Isabelle died, he hadn’t known what else to do with them. He had no family of
his own. He rarely stayed in one place more than a few weeks or months. He’d
had no way to care for an infant and a seven-year-old boy. So, when Louise had
offered to take them in, he’d gone against his better judgment and agreed.
“Go to your room,” Louise told the boy in a chillingly calm voice.
“I’ll deal with you later.”
“Wait.” Bishop spoke for the first time since the children entered
the room. He stepped forward and set his hand on Gavin’s shoulder, turning so
that he faced the old woman. “You’ll deal with him? Now who’s issuing
threats?” he questioned softly.
“As long as he is under my roof, I will deal with him as I see
fit. As I told you once before, you do not give orders in this house. Gavin, go
to your room.”
Gavin’s shoulder was rigid with tension beneath Bishop’s hand but
he didn’t say anything. It was clear that he expected no help from his father.
It struck Bishop suddenly that, when he’d been Gavin’s age, he’d been able to
turn to his own father if he found himself in a situation he couldn’t handle.
Looking down, he saw Angelique creep forward and slip her hand into her
brother’s, saw Gavin’s fingers close almost convulsively over hers.
“Go to your room and pack your things,” he said. “Get Mary to help
you. You’re both coming with me.”
Gavin’s head jerked around and he stared up at his father, his
eyes round with shock. “Do you mean it?”
“I mean it.”
And God help him when Lila found herself a stepmother to two
children she hadn’t even known existed.
***
Lila finished pinning the heavy mass of her hair into a roll at
the back of her head. The simple hairstyle wasn’t particularly fashionable, but
it was neat and tidy. Surely one of the benefits of being a married woman was
the freedom to choose comfort over fashion, at least occasionally.
Standing back from the mirror, she studied her reflection and was
reasonably satisfied with what she saw. The gown was one of her favorites. The
Prussian blue muslin was simply but elegantly cut, close-fitting through the
bodice with the back of the skirt gathered into elegant folds that dropped to a
hem trimmed with crisp, knife-edge pleats. The color suited her, making the
most of her eyes and hair. Though she would have died before admitting as much,
she wanted to look her best when Bishop returned. Considering the bedraggled
creature he’d left behind, her pride demanded it.
She gave one last pat to her hair before turning away from the
mirror. She was feeling in better charity with her husband than she would have
believed possible. Not only had he sent up the tea and crackers he’d insisted
she have, but he’d also arranged for bath water to be brought to her. The tea
and crackers had settled her stomach, though she’d certainly never tell Bishop
that. But it was the bath that had made her feel as if she just might live to
see another day. She was even feeling a bit hungry, which was something of a
miracle considering how she’d felt a few hours ago. Lunch in the hotel dining
room sounded quite pleasant. Bathed, freshly gowned, and properly coif-fed, she
could face the thought of dining with her new husband with
weren’t many adults who’d have risked drawing Louise’s wrath.
“Of course we care,” George said hastily. “Don’t we, my dear?”
“Not in the least,” she said with icy indifference. “Why would I
care about the opinion of an ungrateful boy such as yourself?”
Gavin shifted so that he faced his grandmother more directly. “Why
should I be grateful? You only keep us ’cause he doesn’t want us.” A
jerk of his head indicated Bishop. “And you figure people would say bad things
about you if you didn’t take us in.”
The bitterness in his son’s voice made Bishop wince. It had been a
mistake to leave the children here. He’d known it at the time but, after
Isabelle died, he hadn’t known what else to do with them. He had no family of
his own. He rarely stayed in one place more than a few weeks or months. He’d
had no way to care for an infant and a seven-year-old boy. So, when Louise had
offered to take them in, he’d gone against his better judgment and agreed.
“Go to your room,” Louise told the boy in a chillingly calm voice.
“I’ll deal with you later.”
“Wait.” Bishop spoke for the first time since the children entered
the room. He stepped forward and set his hand on Gavin’s shoulder, turning so
that he faced the old woman. “You’ll deal with him? Now who’s issuing
threats?” he questioned softly.
“As long as he is under my roof, I will deal with him as I see
fit. As I told you once before, you do not give orders in this house. Gavin, go
to your room.”
Gavin’s shoulder was rigid with tension beneath Bishop’s hand but
he didn’t say anything. It was clear that he expected no help from his father.
It struck Bishop suddenly that, when he’d been Gavin’s age, he’d been able to
turn to his own father if he found himself in a situation he couldn’t handle.
Looking down, he saw Angelique creep forward and slip her hand into her
brother’s, saw Gavin’s fingers close almost convulsively over hers.
“Go to your room and pack your things,” he said. “Get Mary to help
you. You’re both coming with me.”
Gavin’s head jerked around and he stared up at his father, his
eyes round with shock. “Do you mean it?”
“I mean it.”
And God help him when Lila found herself a stepmother to two
children she hadn’t even known existed.
***
Lila finished pinning the heavy mass of her hair into a roll at
the back of her head. The simple hairstyle wasn’t particularly fashionable, but
it was neat and tidy. Surely one of the benefits of being a married woman was
the freedom to choose comfort over fashion, at least occasionally.
Standing back from the mirror, she studied her reflection and was
reasonably satisfied with what she saw. The gown was one of her favorites. The
Prussian blue muslin was simply but elegantly cut, close-fitting through the
bodice with the back of the skirt gathered into elegant folds that dropped to a
hem trimmed with crisp, knife-edge pleats. The color suited her, making the
most of her eyes and hair. Though she would have died before admitting as much,
she wanted to look her best when Bishop returned. Considering the bedraggled
creature he’d left behind, her pride demanded it.
She gave one last pat to her hair before turning away from the
mirror. She was feeling in better charity with her husband than she would have
believed possible. Not only had he sent up the tea and crackers he’d insisted
she have, but he’d also arranged for bath water to be brought to her. The tea
and crackers had settled her stomach, though she’d certainly never tell Bishop
that. But it was the bath that had made her feel as if she just might live to
see another day. She was even feeling a bit hungry, which was something of a
miracle considering how she’d felt a few hours ago. Lunch in the hotel dining
room sounded quite pleasant. Bathed, freshly gowned, and properly coif-fed, she
could face the thought of dining with her new husband with
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