Trinity: Bride of West Virginia (Amercan Mail-Order Bride 35) Read Online Free PDF Page A

wrapped around a glass of brandy.
    “I didn’t come here to discuss my personal life. It’s you I’m fretting over. I came as soon as I got wind of this insane scheme you concocted. Sending out for a mail order bride.” He laughed, “It’s something they do in the west. You’ve dozens of ladies to choose from, father. You didn’t need to contact this matchmaker woman. It’s ridiculous. It makes you look desperate.”
    “And that would be why you weren’t invited to the wedding. I don’t need someone telling me what I should or shouldn’t do with my personal life. I’m quite capable of making my own decisions.”
    “She’s entirely unsuitable. I doubt she’d even know what fork to use at dinner. Have you seen her hands? I had the misfortune of touching them today. They’re as rough as sandpaper.”
    “Rose water and cream will take care of that in due time. She was a factory worker, after all.”
    “That outfit she’s wearing is a stiff wind away from falling apart. Is it wool or cotton? It’s been washed so often it’s hard to tell if it’s grey, blue, or brown.”
    “She’ll be given an entirely new wardrobe soon enough.”
    “Blast it!” He glared at his father, who sat on the sofa. “You’re not listening to a single thing I’m saying. You’ve possibly made the worst mistake of your life, and she’s my stepmother!”
    Laughter filled the air. “I find her lovely just the way she is.”
    “Your eyes are failing, that’s why.”
    Having been insulted in every way possible, I forced a smile, not wanting them to know I had overheard their conversation. Stepping into the room, my resolve faltered for a split second, having been seen by Nathanial, who stared at me.
    “You heard every word of that, didn’t you?”
    “I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to,” I said, hating how nervous this man made me feel.
    Mr. Witherspoon grasped his cane, getting to his feet. “Now, then, there you are. My lovely wife!” He approached, grinning, the skin around his eyes creasing. “You’ve rested, I hope.”
    “I have.”
    “Mrs. Dexter says you had a nap on the balcony.”
    “It was quite comfortable. I couldn’t resist.”
    “Her new life is so diverting, it put her straight to sleep,” murmured Nathanial, taking a sip of brandy.
    I ignored that, saying, “You play the violin so … so competently.”
    “I try,” he said dryly.
    “It helped put me to sleep. What was that, ‘Lullaby’?”
    “It was.”
    Mr. Witherspoon took my hand, kissing it. I shivered slightly at the coolness of the touch, his lips leaving a moist, cold patch upon my skin. “My dear, let’s have a drink before supper, shall we?”
    “Yes.” He led me to the sofa, where I sat, crossing my feet beneath my skirt. A servant brought in wine, handing me a glass. “Thank you.” Feeling awkward and inadequate, I kept my gaze on the carpet, noting how plush the fibers were.
    “Now then,” said Mr. Witherspoon, smiling placidly. “How do you like your new house, my dear?”
    “It’s far grander than I could’ve imagined.”
    “You’ve yet to take a tour of the grounds. If my leg wasn’t in shambles, I’d be delighted to escort you.” He glanced at Nathanial. “How long do you plan on staying, son?”
    “I should leave tomorrow.”
    “Perhaps, you could delay another day or so? Why travel such a distance for only a day?”
    “Work.”
    “It’ll keep.”
    “I’ve clients waiting on me. I’ve postponed two court dates to be here. Incurring the wrath of the judge isn’t healthy for my career.”
    “What do you do?”
    “I'm a solicitor.” He stepped away from the mantle. “Speaking of which, I should go over some things while I'm here.”
    “Preston’s seen to it. My affairs are in order. Despite your doubts over my mental faculties, I’m managing the coal mine and everything else with extraordinary ease, Nathanial. I don’t need you meddling.” He nodded soberly. “The will remains