Darby: Bride of Oregon (American Mail-Order Bride 33) Read Online Free PDF Page B

was a simple thing to imagine she was a princess in a tower with
nothing pressing on her schedule but to sleep.
    She woke to the sound of Margaret shaking her.
    “Margaret, leave me be.”
    The shaking ceased. Margaret never gave up so
easily…
    But Margaret was in Atlanta, and she was
in…Portland.
    She bolted upright and nearly bumped heads with
the maid. “Forgive me,” she said, adopting her practiced accent. “I hadn’t
intended to fall asleep, only to rest my eyes.”
    Queen Victoria. I am Queen Victoria.
    “No, mum. The fault is mine. I should have come
sooner. We need to get you ready for your wedding.” The maid grinned
shamelessly. “Mr. Jacobs will be coming to collect you in an hour.”
    The poor girl was mightily disappointed in the
dress Darby had set out for the ceremony. Unfortunately, it was the best she
had. But at least her undergarments weren’t in tatters. In some things, being a
seamstress served her well.
    “Begging your pardon, mum, but there are dresses
in your closet you might find…tempting.”
    “Dresses in my closet? To whom do they belong?”
    “Mr. Beauregard had a sister who used to come
visit when the house was first built. She died two years ago, in childbed.” She
gasped. “But that was not my place to say. Forgive me.”
    Darby gave the girl’s hand a squeeze before she
realized it was the last thing Victoria would do. “No harm done. Let me see
these dresses.” She stood imperiously in front of the mirror and waited for the
girl to bring the clothes to her. The first was a pale green that went well
with her hair. The next was white with small green and pink flowers stamped
onto the material. It was tempting. After all, Victoria had worn white to her
own wedding…
    The next was a rich cream satin that looked fit
for a royal ball. The bateau neckline had been expertly stitched. The bell
skirt was ruched in several places and beneath the ruching, a pink tulle
petticoat that matched tiny pink bows tied along the peaks of the hem.
    She smiled at the maid. “I suspect you saved the
best for last, uh...”
    “Jenny, mum. I think so too.”
    “I hope it will fit me.”
    “I’m sure it will, ma’am. You look to be about
Miss Rachel’s size.”
    An hour later, when Jacobs helped her into the
carriage, she half expected him to warn her that the magic would disappear at
midnight. Of course, she didn’t need reminding.

CHAPTER NINE
     
    She was late. Or Jacobs was late. Either way, Rand
wasn’t pleased to be left standing on the steps of the gothic church like some
lovelorn fool.
    A block away, a familiar carriage turned the
corner.
    “Forgiven,” he whispered.
    He felt each step of the horses until they came to
a stop beneath the porte-cochere. Jacobs jumped down but Rand waved him away
and opened the door himself. He stooped to unfold the step and when he rose,
his breath was stolen by the beauty staring back at him from the shadows.
    No one moved.
    He boldly stared for another few seconds, wanting
to press the moment into his memory like a flower pressed between pages. Would
he be able to recall it again, years from now?
    Still, she didn’t move. He shook off his
enchantment and held out a hand to her. Was she a mouse that needed coaxing out
of the corner?
    She nodded once as if she’d made some decision and
laid a gloved hand on his.
    He knew that slipper. He knew that hem.
    Finally, when the woman and gown were safely on
the ground, he stepped back and stared again.
    “You are beautiful, Miss McClintock. Almost too
beautiful. You’ll make me forget what my sister looked like, if I’m not careful.”
    She didn’t look too pleased with the compliment. “Forgive
me, sir. I had nothing suitable to wear and –”
    “Nonsense. The dresses were there for your use.
Don’t mind me. It’s a sentimental day, so naturally, I am thinking sentimental
thoughts. Did Jenny tell you Rachel also had red hair?”
    She shook her head. He wished she would speak more
freely so