Handpicked Husband. Winnie Griggs
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know his granddaughter as well as he thought.
Mrs. Peavy held a tray containing a pitcher and glasses. She quieted the dog with a word, then turned to the men. “It’s a long ride from Turnabout,” she said as she set her burden on a nearby bench. “I imagine you’d all be glad of a nice, tall glass of apple cider while you wait.”
Mitchell, ever the gentleman, was the first to step up. “Thank you, ma’am. That does sound inviting.”
The housekeeper responded with a smile. “Help yourself.” When she turned to Adam, though, she was all business. “Miss Reggie will be out in a moment.”
Adam nodded, refraining from comment.
It irked him that he couldn’t remember much about Regina Nash. He was usually good with names and faces. True, he hadn’t seen her often, but that was no excuse.
He remembered her stepsister in exquisite detail. And it wasn’t just that he’d known Patricia longer—it would be hard for anyone to forget such a delicate, feminine creature. Not only was she a beauty, she had the willowy grace of a ballerina and the gentle sweetness of a lamb. Being on the receiving end of one of her smiles had made a person feel special.
But Miss Nash’s image was elusive, a wispy shadow he couldn’t bring into focus. She was younger than Patricia, and different in appearance and personality. He remembered a dark-haired girl with a coltish awkwardness about her, a girl who preferred to keep to the fringes of gatherings rather than mingle. She’d seemed a wren in the presence of the elegant swans that were her stepmother and stepsister. That was all he remembered—impressions more than real memories.
His thoughts drifted to the less than musically talented miss they’d encountered earlier. Something about her hinted at earthiness and fire and a quixotic vulnerability. Perhaps, if the opportunity materialized, he’d ask Miss Nash about her.
Adam stroked the brim of his hat between his thumb and forefinger as his thoughts circled back to his reason for being here. “I don’t see the judge’s great-grandson about,” he said, catching the housekeeper’s gaze.
Mrs. Peavy stiffened, and the dog’s lip drew back as he gave a low, throaty growl. The beast seemed to be waiting for word to attack.
“Just why would you be interested in Jack’s whereabouts?”
Adam mentally counted to ten, maintaining his smile by force of will. Why did the woman treat every question he asked with suspicion?
He was spared the need to answer as the door opened once more.
Their hostess had finally deigned to join them.
“Now Mrs. Peavy, there’s no need to be impolite.” The speaker, a tall, slim woman, stepped out onto the porch.
Adam took a minute to size her up. He’d always been proud of his ability to read an opponent—it was another of those skills that had served him equally well in the courtroom as in prison.
If she’d kept them waiting so she could primp it didn’t show. While he could find nothing wrong with her appearance, he saw nothing particularly special about it, either. Her dress was a nondescript blue frock and her coffee-brown hair was secured into a serviceable knot at the nape of her neck.
Yet something about her commanded attention. Perhaps it was the way she looked you straight in the eye, as if trying to take your measure. Or perhaps it was the way she carried herself, as if the world would have to meet her on her own terms. Or maybe it was the healthy glow she projected, like a freshly picked and polished apple.
Miss Nash might not be the beauty her stepsister had been, but he definitely couldn’t picture this confident woman meekly fading away in anyone’s shadow. As for the coltish awkwardness he remembered, the years had replaced that with an air of self-assurance and composure.
This woman was one he would definitely remember.
“Hello, gentlemen.” She included them all in her polite smile. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I hope you took the opportunity to enjoy a glass of cider.”
She extended a hand toward Adam. He noticed she kept the other hidden in the folds of her skirt. “Mr. Barr, how nice to see you again.”
Adam took her hand and nodded acknowledgment, wondering what she concealed in her other palm. “Miss Nash.”
Something about her appearance and voice did seem familiar, but not like something from his distant past. It gave him a nagging, I’m-missing-something feeling.
She laughed. “You don’t recognize me, do you? Not surprising—I looked very different last time we met.”
He straightened abruptly. Those eyes! That vivid, translucent blue-green of a dragon’s scales.
This woman, with her air of country gentility, was the backwoods hoyden with the banshee voice they’d encountered earlier. Now he knew what had delayed her. But how had she managed to get here ahead of them?
And what had she been doing out in the woods earlier, alone and attired in castoff men’s clothing?
Her gaze registered surprise at his reaction, then she nodded slightly, acknowledging the connection he’d made. Was she embarrassed at having been found out? If so, she didn’t show it. She merely eyed him expectantly, waiting for his next move.
Should he call her hand? She’d toyed with them, pretending to be something she wasn’t, pretending not to know him. Had she been watching for them? Perhaps hoping to turn them back?
As for him unmasking her, if the others weren’t observant enough to see through her disguise, it wasn’t his job to point it out to them.
“To the contrary,” he said, replying to her earlier remark, “I remember our last meeting quite well.” He released her hand. “Before I forget, I promised to relay greetings to you.”
“Oh?” Her voice held a wary note.
“Yes.” He gave her a mock-innocent smile. “We encountered a grubby, barely civilized girl down the road who claimed to know you.”
A flash of indignation crossed her face. Then her lips twitched. “An unflattering but accurate description of my friend.” Then she waved toward the others. “Please, introduce me to your friends.”
“Of course.”
As he made the introductions, he tried reading her mood. But she didn’t appear at all discomposed that they’d called her bluff and followed her out here.
Once the amenities had been satisfied, Miss Nash turned back to him, raising a brow in question. “I hope my grandfather was in good health when you saw him last.” Her tone was polite, but contained a hint of something else as well.
“He was his usual irascible self when we left Philadelphia.”
She nodded, and Adam was puzzled by the flash of relief in her expression. It seemed her question had been more than a casual inquiry.
“Then if you gentlemen will excuse my directness, may I ask what brings you to this remote location?”
Adam stilled, studying her expression carefully. Was this another delaying tactic?
But all he saw was puzzlement and suspicion. Did she truly not know what was going on?
“Are you telling me you never received your grandfather’s letter?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Either she was a very good actress or she had no idea what she was about to face. It appeared he owed the lady an apology for the unflattering thoughts he’d entertained about her these past few hours.
Then the full import of the situation hit him, and Adam swallowed several choice oaths. He’d have to explain the judge’s Machiavellian scheme to her. That wasn’t supposed to be part of his duties.
But this wasn’t her fault, either. “Then please forgive our intrusion.