Handpicked Husband. Winnie Griggs
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you all on a few things before I bring Jack into this.”
Adam didn’t care for her tone. Did she think she was running this show?
Then he gave a mental shrug. She was probably as disconcerted by what had just happened as he was. Besides, he was merely an observer and enforcer. The three suitors would be the ones required to deal with her bossy ways.
And regardless of her posturing, she couldn’t get around the judge’s terms. She could toy with them all she wanted, he wouldn’t stop her. But in the end she’d have to submit to her grandfather’s dictates.
It would be interesting, though, to see what she meant when she said they needed to “reach an understanding.”
A few moments later, the hikers came into sight. Adam hid a grin as he got a good look at them. While Mrs. Peavy seemed totally composed, the trio trailing behind her did not.
Chance’s step lacked its usual bounce. Not surprising, given that his left leg, from the tip of his boot, to about six inches up his trouser leg, was damp and muddy.
Everett was red-faced and breathing heavily, as if unused to whatever exertions he’d just been through.
Mitchell had his sleeves rolled up and was vigorously scratching his left arm. Even from here Adam could see the angry red welts forming. Insect bites? Stinging nettles?
In any case, if it had been the housekeeper’s intent to take the visitors down a notch, she’d certainly succeeded.
Behind him he heard a softly uttered, “Oh, dear.” When he glanced back, he saw as much sympathy as amusement in Regina’s expression.
She stepped forward. “I hope you gentlemen enjoyed your walk.”
“Oh, we had a grand time,” Mrs. Peavy answered for them. “Did run into a bit of unpleasantness, though.” As she reached the porch, the housekeeper turned back to her entourage. “You gents have another glass of cider while I get something for Mr. Parker’s rash. Mr. Dawson, if you’ll slip off your boot, I’ll get it cleaned up.”
As Mrs. Peavy disappeared inside, the three men trudged onto the porch.
The judge’s granddaughter waved her hand in a lady-of-the-manor gesture. “Please be seated. There’s no need to stand on ceremony out here.”
Without further prompting, the men plopped down onto various benches and chairs. The wind had definitely been taken out of their sails.
But when Regina joined them on the porch, Adam was amused to note they all came to wary attention.
“Well, gentlemen,” she began, “now that I’ve read my grandfather’s letter and accompanying contract, it’s time we talked.”
Mrs. Peavy opened the door just then and hesitated. “Should I step back inside until you’re finished?”
To Adam’s surprise, Regina shook her head.
Not that it really mattered. With no panes on the window, the housekeeper would still be able to hear every word.
“I think it best you know what’s going on,” the soon-to-be bride said. “It seems these three were sent by my grandfather to start a new life in Turnabout. He’s generously providing each of them the means to join our little community as men of influence. All they have to do in return is participate in a marriage lottery, with me as the prize.”
Her tone was pleasant enough, but Adam watched each man shift uneasily under her stare. At the moment it was hard to believe she wasn’t Judge Madison’s blood kinswoman.
“For my part,” the self-proclaimed lottery prize continued, “all I have to do is select a groom and marry him within three weeks. Otherwise, Mr. Barr will take Jack to Philadelphia so Grandfather can ship him off to a boarding school.”
Mrs. Peavy’s reaction was an indrawn breath and a glare directed toward Adam.
“Did I sum the situation up correctly, gentlemen?” Regina crossed her arms across her chest and stared them down.
“I believe you covered the relevant facts,” Everett answered. The dandy had apparently recovered his aplomb.
“Thank you, Mr. Fulton. From a reporter, I’ll accept that as a compliment.”
Mrs. Peavy approached Mitchell and motioned for him to hold out his arm. She slathered her ointment on the rash with perhaps more vigor than was necessary, but the man bore it without flinching.
The judge’s granddaughter ignored this bit of by-play. “First off, to put things baldly, you should know I’m not happy with this situation. I’m not interested in getting married to anyone, much less a stranger who’s been bribed to offer for me.”
Her tone remained pleasant. Her expressive eyes, however, carried a different message.
“Grandfather couched his letter in polite terms, assuring me any one of you would happily step into the role of my husband. However, I have the distinct impression that the only vying you’ll do over the next few days is to see how best to avoid drawing the short straw.”
She met each of their gazes in turn. “Would any of you care to dispute that?”
When no one spoke up, she nodded and her tone hardened. “Well, it seems our wishes in this matter don’t amount to a hill of beans. My grandfather wants me hitched, and since he knows I’d do anything to keep Jack with me, it looks like wedding bells are in my future. But I want to make it plain from the get-go that I intend to call the shots in how we run this farce.”
Adam watched the men’s reactions.
Chance glared with sullen belligerence.
Mitchell, his forearm still an angry red, twisted his hat uneasily.
Everett, surprisingly, met her gaze with a condescending smile. “My dear Miss Nash,” he said with exaggerated deference, “there’s no need for such dramatic posturing. We are all agreed that the selection lies squarely with you, and we are firmly committed to abide by your decision. In fact, you can make the selection right here and now if you like.”
Everett shrugged. “Or you can keep us all guessing by drawing it out the full two weeks.” He half rose and executed a mocking bow. “We are entirely at your disposal.”
“Yes, you are.” Her expression conveyed quite clearly that she had something specific and very likely unpalatable in mind.
Adam tried not to grin. The lady had obviously learned a thing or two from the judge. If she had her way, these three would pay a steep price for their part in this scheme.
“Now that we’ve agreed who’s in charge,” she continued, “let’s get down to business. First and most importantly, under no circumstances is Jack or anyone else outside of this group to learn about our arrangement. As far as everyone in Turnabout is concerned, you are here as friends of my grandfather.”
She nodded as if making up the story as she went along. “I will, quite naturally, wish to see you comfortably settled, and you’ll return my neighborly attention with courtesy calls. My subsequent engagement to one of you will appear as a delightfully unexpected result of those calls.”
She tucked a stray hair behind her ear. Did her finger tremble slightly or was that his imagination?
“I read the contract,” she continued, “and it clearly states that you are to court me, and I intend to see that you do it properly. I want it all, gentlemen—attention, pretty words, love tokens, flowers and gewgaws.”
Her gaze sharpened. “And I expect a good faith effort from you. No just going through the motions, no begrudging attentions. You have to actually vie for my favors.”
Her color heightened, but her tone never faltered. “It has to look and feel real to everyone who sees us. And I’ll not have a reluctant martyr for a husband. If I get even a hint that any of you are holding back, I’ll cry foul, and Mr.