Wolf Creek Wife. Penny Richards
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them or treating them like imbeciles.”
“That isn’t fair, and it isn’t true.”
“Isn’t it?” she challenged.
“Be reasonable, Blythe. Think about your future. This is your chance to pull yourself up and regain the respect you lost with the Devon fiasco.”
She looked at her brother as if he had lost his mind. Perhaps he had. Fiasco? She had fallen in love with a man who’d appeared to be everything she’d wanted in a husband; he’d taken her virtue, her money and her self-respect, and Win considered it a fiasco? Why was it no one understood that she’d gone into that marriage with trust and love? Why couldn’t they see how hurt and miserable Devon’s betrayal had left her? She sighed. She didn’t much like the problems that came with becoming an adult and living with the choices she made.
“So you think that if I marry a man whose wife left him, one who is rumored to have a fondness for whiskey, a man who has no desire to be married to anyone—especially me—” she added, recalling Will Slade’s hurtful words “—that all my troubles will miraculously be over. What kind of future would that be? Certainly not a happy one.”
“People marry for lots of reasons,” Win argued. “Happiness is often the least of it. At least you’d be settled.”
Ah. Settled. Translated, that meant that she would be out of his hair, no longer his and Philip’s responsibility. Oh, she knew quite well how the minds of her brothers worked. Both were geniuses when it came to solving problems. And if one solution took care of two dilemmas, so much the better. She also knew that if Win’s mind was set on this marriage, neither she nor Will stood a chance. She almost felt sorry for him.
Well, she hadn’t been a Granville all these years without picking up a few tricks along the way. Perhaps she could shame her brother into forgetting the whole preposterous notion.
“And you wouldn’t have to worry about what to do with me anymore, would you, Win? You could go on with your life with me stuck out in the country and there would be no constant reminders of my fiasco.”
“That isn’t fair, Blythe!” Win said, darting a shocked look her way. “That isn’t it at all. You know we all love you. It’s just that you sometimes make poor decisions.”
More of those dratted tears stung her eyes. “Well, that certainly isn’t fair!” she said in a low, intense voice. “When have I ever not been the soul of propriety? The epitome of good sense? Besides that one mistake with Devon,” she added.
“Don’t forget last night. The people who found you certainly won’t. It’ll be all over town before breakfast that you spent the night at Slade’s place.”
“To help him,” she emphasized and followed the statement with a lusty sigh of frustration.
“You know as well as I do that the why doesn’t matter. People will talk. They especially like gossiping about the missteps of others. Those who were willing to give you the benefit of the doubt will start wondering, and those who already condemned you for your mistake will rub their hands with glee, delighted to see one of the high-and-mighty Granvilles brought low. No matter the situation, everyone will expect Slade to do the right thing by you.”
“That’s just despicable of them, and it certainly won’t be the right thing for me.”
“Maybe not, but it’s the way things are. And you know how Brother McAdams is about even a breath of a scandal touching one of his flock.”
“It wouldn’t have to be a scandal if everyone would just listen to the truth and stop being so judgmental!” she cried. “Besides, Mr. Slade has been divorced. Do you want your sister marrying someone like that?”
“I admit it isn’t the perfect situation,” Win said. “But by all accounts the fault lies with his former wife. She left him, and she’s the one who filed for the divorce. Everyone says he was devastated.”
“See!” she said, throwing her hands into the air. “Even more reason not to do this. If he’s devastated, he must still love her. It’s ridiculous to push two people into a marriage neither one wants just to satisfy some silly convention of society.”
He shrugged. “He’ll get over her, sooner or later. Maybe you can help him.”
Blythe lifted her face to the heavens and threw her hands up into the air. “Lord, can you believe what I’m hearing?”
Once again she sought to strike a blow to her brother’s supreme confidence. “Forgetting someone isn’t something you do willy-nilly,” she said. “You, of all people, should know that.”
More than ten years earlier Win had lost his fiancée, Felicia, in a carriage accident while she was on the way to the church. Some drunk had not stopped at an intersection and tried to turn his horse at the last minute when he saw her carriage. His landau had spun around and plowed into Felicia’s, causing hers to roll over.
The gaze Win turned to Blythe was as bleak and cold as a winter’s day. His pain made her feel small and mean for daring to pick at his sorest spot. The feeling lasted until he spoke his next sentence.
“You have until Slade recovers to accustom yourself to the idea that you are marrying him.”
“I will not accustom myself to the idea. We would both be miserable. I’m twenty-three years old, Win. Perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
He cut another sideways look her direction. “And you’re certainly doing a fine job of it, aren’t you?”
“You are a horrible, dreadful man!” she huffed, folding her arms across her chest and tapping her foot against the floor of the buggy. She turned toward him. “And let me tell you something. You may be able to force me to do what you want, but you may have a hard time convincing my potential bridegroom. He doesn’t look like the kind of man to be coerced into doing anything he doesn’t want to do. He could make mincemeat of you.”
“Don’t forget I was boxing champ at Harvard,” Win reminded. “Stop worrying and leave Slade to me.”
Blythe knew there was no use arguing any further. “Gladly.”
Neither sibling spoke another word during the remainder of the trip to Wolf Creek, which suited Blythe just fine.
* * *
By the time they reached the big, white, two-story house where her mother lived, Blythe wanted nothing more than to escape to her room and never come out. It was a feeling she’d experienced a lot the past few months. Somehow she managed to hold back the tears while Win helped her down from the buggy.
Without bothering to thank him, she raced up the front steps and pushed through the door, rushing up the wide staircase. She barely heard her mother call her name. Secure for the moment in the sanctity of her bedroom, she slammed the door and threw herself face-first onto the bed, where she promptly lost her tenuous grip on her control and burst into tears.
How could one person possibly be so miserable? And how and why did she keep getting into these life-altering situations? Even more disturbing, it didn’t look as if things were going to get better anytime soon, if ever. Sobbing so hard she barely heard the knock at the door, she rolled onto her back and flung an arm over her eyes.
“Come in.”
“Sweetheart?”
Libby Granville’s voice held the soothing tone Blythe remembered from her childhood. Her mother’s embrace and that soft, calming tone had always brought comfort, whatever was ailing Blythe. As usual, the tenderness she heard in her mother’s voice caused her to cry even harder. For long moments Libby just lay beside her, letting her get out all the hopelessness.
When her weeping subsided to an occasional hiccup, Libby handed Blythe a clean handkerchief and brushed back the tendrils of hair clinging to her wet cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” she said at last. “I