Their Mistletoe Matchmakers. Keli Gwyn

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      “And yet you wear one,” Lavinia said.

      “I’ve made concessions. A businessman is expected to present a certain image. I’ve learned that first impressions are what matter most, so I invested in the trappings necessary to make a good one.”

      “Your hat, overcoat and cravat.” They did lend him an air of distinction. Of course, with his thick, wavy wheat-colored hair, bottomless-blue eyes and muscular build, he’d probably look good in grubby miner’s wear.

      Henry nodded. “Men give other men a quick once over, and then they look each other in the eye, so a nice hat, a silk cravat and a clean collar are what’s important. Once a man has formed his opinion, the rest doesn’t matter as much.”

      “So you’re saying my father looked down on Jack because he didn’t have those things?”

      “What do you think?”

      “I doubt they would have made much difference.” She mentally kicked herself. She’d just admitted that her father had disliked Jack on principle.

      “You see my point, then?”

      All too clearly. “Father had his reasons.” He’d shared them freely, loudly and often. She could hear him now, his booming voice filling his spacious study. Jack Hawthorn is nothing but a presumptuous smithy. Imagine a man like that asking my daughter for her hand in marriage when his are filthy. Has the interloper no sense of how things are done?

      “Such as?”

      What had they been talking about? Ah, yes. Her father’s reasons for rejecting Jack as a suitable suitor for Pauline. “Does it matter? Haven’t you formed an opinion of my father based on outward appearances, too? You don’t really know him or what kind of man he is.”

      “I know enough about him to do whatever it takes to keep the children here where they belong.”

      This conversation had dredged up things she’d rather not think about, gone places she didn’t want to go. She loved her father and wouldn’t allow anyone to speak ill of him, but his treatment of Pauline had left something to be desired. Taking another tack seemed the wisest choice.

      Lavinia grabbed a sofa pillow and toyed with the fringe. “We can discuss this after Christmas. You obviously love them and want them to be happy, as do I. For now, I’m here. I think we should strive to make the holiday season as pleasant as possible for them.” That would give her time to assess the situation, locate a lawyer and overcome this unexpected obstacle.

      He rubbed his chin, and in the quiet room she could hear the rasp of his thumb over the golden stubble dusting his jaw. “What did you have in mind?”

      “To begin with, Gladys and I have been working on a menu for our Thanksgiving dinner. It’s going to be quite a feast.”

      His former antagonism fled, replaced by genuine eagerness. “Really? What will you be serving?”

      “The traditional dishes—turkey with cranberry sauce, ham, roast beef, an assortment of vegetables, fresh bread and, of course, a chicken pie. It wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without one, would it?”

      “That’s a lot of food for six people.”

      “It is, but I want the meal to be special.”

      “I’m sure it will be.” A wagon rumbled past out front, drawing his attention. He looked from the window to her. “That reminds me... I only have a satchel with me, but my trunks should arrive in the next day or two, so you can expect to see the freight wagon show up.”

      She blinked in disbelief. “You’re having them delivered here?”

      “Of course. This is where I live now.”

      Her surprise turned to shock. “You can’t. I mean, I know you have been, but you can’t continue to do so, not with me staying here. It wouldn’t be proper. Besides, I’ve given Gladys the downstairs bedroom, and I’m staying in the spare one upstairs.”

      He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. His calm tone was at odds with his rigid posture. “Let me see if I have this straight. First, you announce that you intend to take the children back east, and now you’re saying I can’t even stay in my own brother’s house?”

      Put that way, she came off looking high-handed, which she wasn’t. At least, she hadn’t meant to be. “This isn’t how I intended for things to happen. If only the letter had reached you before I arrived.” She’d spent hours getting the words just right.

      “You made the same deman—er, requests in your letter, I presume?”

      “I did, but I was more gracious.” She’d taken pains to state her case as tactfully as possible.

      He released his breath in an audible sigh. “Perhaps we could reach a compromise.”

      She didn’t see how that was possible, but she owed him the courtesy of hearing him out. “What do you have in mind?”

      “Since it would be safer for you and Gladys to stay here in the house, given that men greatly outnumber women, I’ll take a room at a boardinghouse. For the time being.”

      “That’s kind of you.” But that wasn’t the compromise. It obviously had to do with the children. Something told her Henry wasn’t going to give in as easily when it came to them. “And regarding the other part of the compromise?”

      “Let’s start by finding our common ground, shall we? Am I correct in thinking you want the children to remain together?”

      “Yes, of course! They shouldn’t be separated.”

      He nodded. “Good. Would you agree that keeping them in one location rather than dividing their time between here and Philadelphia would be wise?”

      “By all means. Uprooting them repeatedly would be quite disruptive. Children need stability. Not only that, but the journey is fraught with dangers. There’s the risk of shipwreck or disease. And now that Lincoln’s been elected...” She couldn’t bring herself to complete her thought.

      “War is imminent, so traveling the waters along the southern states isn’t wise.”

      “Exactly. That’s why Father wanted me to turn right around when I got here, but I convinced him that allowing the children to spend one final Christmas season in their own home instead of at sea would be a compassionate gesture. He saw my point but insisted we begin our journey by the end of the year. I assured him we would.”

      There. She’d let Henry know where things stood and had shown that her father could be reasonable. He was, on rare occasions anyhow, although she rarely challenged him for fear of enduring his slights. In fact, that was only the third time she’d done so. Christmas had been Pauline’s favorite holiday. Her children deserved to have the best one possible.

      Henry rested his left elbow on the arm of his chair and leaned away from Lavinia, putting as much distance as possible between them. He clasped his hands, lifted his gaze to the ceiling and closed his eyes, giving her the impression he was praying for patience. His shoulders rose and fell three times before he opened his eyes. They held conviction coupled with...compassion. An odd mix.

      “It СКАЧАТЬ