Handpicked Husband

“Land sakes. Someone’s come all the way from Philadelphia to see us? Did the judge send him?”

“I’m not sure. But until I find out, I’d rather keep Jack busy elsewhere. Would you step down to the lake and let Ira know he and Jack should stay put until I signal it’s okay?”

Mrs. Peavy gave her a considering look. The squarely built woman was shorter than Reggie and had more salt than pepper in her hair, but she could assume a commanding presence when she wanted to. “You expecting trouble?”

Reggie shrugged. “Hard to tell.” For now, she’d keep the information about Adam’s jail time to herself. She didn’t want to alarm Mrs. Peavy. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to let the housekeeper know caution was in order. “I’d just prefer to find out what this is about before introducing them to Jack.”

Their reason for seeking her out might be perfectly innocent, but she didn’t believe in taking chances. Four able-bodied men versus herself, a six-year-old and an elderly couple—the scales seemed weighted in the visitors’ favor if trouble erupted. But there were a few things she could do to even the odds until she learned their reasons for being here.

She gave Mrs. Peavy a level look. “Ira does have his hunting rifle with him, doesn’t he?”

The housekeeper straightened, then nodded. “I won’t be gone but a few minutes. Think I’ll bring Buck back with me. You go get yourself cleaned up.”

Oh, she’d clean up all right. By the time the handsome lawyer-turned-convict and his friends arrived, there’d be nary a trace of the ragtag tomboy they’d met earlier.

If Adam Barr remembered anything at all about her from her long ago visits to Philadelphia, then he’d learn he wasn’t the only one who’d changed. She wasn’t the tongue-tied wallflower she used to be.

In Philadelphia she’d always felt like some critter put on a leash and made to heel. Here, she was free to be herself.

She marched into the cabin, her hands already on the buttons of her overalls, her mind planning her next moves.

If she remembered right, her old blue dress had pockets large enough to hide her father’s derringer.

* * *

Adam bit off a groan as Chance cleared his throat. He should have known the silence wouldn’t last.

“Do you really believe Miss Nash came out here to avoid us?”

The question hung in the air a moment, then Everett swatted at something on his neck with an irritated oath. “Can you think of any other reason a sane person would choose to hide out in this ghastly wilderness?”

Adam refrained from comment. Arriving in Turnabout to discover the judge’s granddaughter had retreated to an isolated cabin had only added to his sense of time—and opportunities—slipping away. The plan had been for Miss Nash to receive her grandfather’s letter of explanation before the four of them arrived so she would have time to come to terms with the arrangement in relative privacy.

Instead, she’d apparently used the time to enact this childish stalling tactic. Did she think they’d get tired of waiting and go back to Philadelphia? Or was she using the time to devise some clever scheme to outmaneuver them?

Well, he had no intention of cooling his heels in Turnabout while waiting for her to reappear. Over the grumbling protests of his companions, he’d immediately set out to find her.

Judge Madison had cautioned that his granddaughter would do her best to thwart his plans. He’d also said she was shrewd and not one to take being manipulated with good grace. In other words, much like the judge himself, even if the two didn’t share a blood tie.

Adam had expected a more direct assault, however, not this cowardly retreat. But, then again, he was dealing with a woman.

Of course, the judge also had good things to say about the step-granddaughter he obviously loved. He’d assured Adam that beneath her tough exterior was a kind-hearted, vulnerable woman. The old schemer had made Adam promise to do his utmost to see that she wasn’t unduly embarrassed by the situation. Although, considering the “situation” was instigated by the judge himself, and deliberately orchestrated to force her hand, Adam wasn’t certain how he was going to pull off that part of his assignment.

But he’d given his word to try. It was the least he could do for the one person who’d stood by him through everything.

And it wasn’t as if he didn’t feel some sympathy for Miss Nash. He could imagine her reaction to that letter. She no doubt felt as if she were being backed into a corner.

And he, of all people, knew what it was to feel trapped and betrayed by those you trusted.

“I still think the three of us should have stayed in town while you approached Miss Nash alone.” Mitchell’s words held an accusatory edge. “I can’t imagine Judge Madison would approve of the lot of us descending on his granddaughter’s privacy this way.”

“It’s my job to decide what the judge would or wouldn’t want,” Adam answered shortly. He might owe the older man a debt of gratitude, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t look out for his own interests as well.

“Do you think that’s Miss Nash’s place?”

Adam raised up in the saddle at Chance’s words. They’d topped a low hill, and ahead of them, barely visible amidst the trees, was a log structure.

“Only one way to find out.” He nudged Trib into a trot.

The others didn’t appear to share his impatience. Not only didn’t they increase their pace, Adam sensed a definite slowing of the carriage. The closer he got to the cabin, however, the less certain he was that they’d reached their destination. He studied the place while the carriage caught up.

“The judge’s granddaughter is staying here?” Everett’s words echoed Adam’s thoughts.

They’d all been inside Judge Madison’s stately home. Adam had assumed the granddaughter lived in a comparable level of luxury, albeit a more countrified version. Of course, this wasn’t the household’s primary residence, but even so...

“This is a hovel.” Everett sounded horrified.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Chance’s response lacked conviction. “It’s plain, but—”

“Look at it.” The British undertones in Everett’s voice sharpened. “The walls are unfinished logs and the whole lot isn’t much bigger than a respectable parlor. Those benches on the porch—bah! They look as if they were put together with odd bits of scrap timbers by a drunken carpenter. There aren’t even glass panes on the windows.”

Adam turned to face them. “We don’t know for certain that this is Miss Nash’s place.” He narrowed his eyes and added a flintiness to his tone. “But even if it is, she’s Judge Madison’s granddaughter and is to be treated like a lady. Is that understood?”

He might be as irritated as a picnicker in a rainstorm by Miss Nash’s delaying tactics, but he’d given his word to protect her honor, and these men better remember that.

He waited for their reluctant nods, then faced forward again. Now that he’d had time to get a good look at the place, he found he didn’t agree with Everett’s assessment. True, the structure was rougher than he’d expected. But the swing hanging on one end of the porch held calico cushions, and the whole area seemed well-tended. Maybe it was because of the years he’d spent in that iron-barred rat hole, but this place had a simple, homey appeal.

Wisps of smoke curling from the chimney and an abandoned checkerboard on the porch assured him someone was in residence, but was it Miss Nash? It seemed more likely this was home to the girl they’d encountered earlier. Not that she’d had time to make it here. Still, there might be someone else about.

Sure enough, a stocky, older woman appeared from the side of the cabin. The banshee’s mother perhaps?

Whoever she was, she eyed them with as much suspicion as the muddy yellow cur padding along beside her. The dog had a feral quality that didn’t bode well for anyone the creature took a dislike to.

Chance gave a low, appreciative whistle. “Look at that mutt, will you? He’s big as a pony, and those teeth are like spikes. Do you suppose he’s part wolf?”

“Given our surroundings, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Everett responded. “I, however, don’t intend to get close enough to examine his features.”

“Afraid?” Chance’s tone matched the sneer on his face. “Are you a coward as well as a dandy?”

“Listen, boy.” Everett flicked a spot of dust from his sleeve. “I have no intention of rising to an adolescent dare just to prove I can live up to your idea of manly valor.”

The dog watched the men without blinking. The woman’s expression was even less welcoming than that of the cur.

Doing his best to ignore the squabbling men, Adam tipped his hat. “Good afternoon, ma’am. We’re looking for Miss Regina Nash. Can you tell me where I might find her?”

“Who’s asking?”

The lack of warmth in the woman’s tone was punctuated by a low growl from her companion. She lowered her hand to stroke the creature’s head, never taking her gaze from Adam.

What did it take to get a straight answer around here? Adam tamped down his impatience. “My name is Adam Barr. Miss Nash’s grandfather sent me.”

She nodded acknowledgment, but remained stone-faced. “Funny, the judge didn’t send word about your coming.”

Did that mean this was Miss Nash’s place? In which case, was the female major domo bluffing, or had Miss Nash kept the letter a secret?

Not that it mattered. Adam would play along, as long as it got the judge’s granddaughter out here. “As a matter of fact, he did. Perhaps his letter arrived after you left town.”

Her manner remained stiff. “I see.” She gave the dog’s head another pat, then moved to the steps. “Miss Reggie’s inside. I’m Mabel Peavy, the housekeeper. If you gents will make yourselves at home out here, I’ll let her know we have company.”

A housekeeper for this place? It was almost laughable, if he’d been in the mood to be amused. If Regina Nash was inside she’d doubtless overheard them. Why didn’t she come on out? Surely she knew it was futile to continue hiding?

As Mrs. Peavy reached the door, she glanced back. “Don’t worry about Buck. He won’t bother you as long as you don’t make any sudden moves toward one of the family members. He has a strong protective streak. Otherwise, he’s just a big overgrown puppy.”

The dog’s baleful glare seemed to contradict her statement.

Adam dismounted, glad to stand after sitting in a saddle for so long. He moved toward the porch, but only climbed the first two steps before lounging back against a support post. No shaded bench for him. He preferred to feel the sun on his face. He couldn’t seem to get his fill of fresh air and open spaces ever since he shook off the dust of prison two months ago.

Besides, from here he had a clear view of the door.

Everett climbed onto the porch, giving Buck a wide berth. He dusted a chair with his handkerchief, then sat down with the air of royalty stooping to grace a mud hut.

Chance paused in front of the dog. When the beast bared his fangs, though, Chance continued up the steps. Glowering at Everett’s smirk, he sauntered to a bench on the other side of the porch and slouched down on it.

Mitchell remained on the grass in front of the porch, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He kept a respectful distance from the dog, but otherwise seemed more concerned with watching the front door than the animal.

Adam thought about who these men were and what they were being offered, and he still couldn’t find the logic in the judge’s selections. Everett—an officious dandy who’d destroyed an entire family with his sloppy reporting. Mitchell—a man who’d let his bottled rage get the better of him and killed someone in a gunfight. Chance—the spoiled younger son of a politician who’d gotten into trouble one too many times for the law to continue turning a blind eye.

As a prosecuting attorney, Adam would have had little trouble convicting any of them. Sure, there had been extenuating circumstances in all three cases, but that was neither here nor there. In Adam’s view, there was right and wrong, good and evil, black and white. Trying to see shades of gray only resulted in confusing the issues of guilt or innocence.

He himself, an innocent man, had spent six years in prison, and was still struggling to pull his life back together. Yet these three self-proclaimed wrongdoers not only remained free, but were being given a generously funded opportunity to start over.

Where was the justice in that?

Adam heard the murmur of voices from inside and pushed away his sour thoughts. Had Miss Nash finally decided to join them? His three companions were strung so tight he could feel the tension crackle in the oppressively still air.

A deerfly buzzed by and landed on his cheek. Swatting it away, he stared at the door, barely controlling the urge to march up and demand Miss Nash show herself.

When the door finally did open, his three companions snapped to attention. The dog also stiffened, eyeing them as a predator would its prey. But it was only Mrs. Peavy.

Confound the woman, was she deliberately keeping them waiting? The judge hadn’t painted her as either mean-spirited or a coward. But perhaps he didn’t 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. It’s unfortunate you didn’t receive proper warning of either our arrival or our purpose.”

Not sure what else to do, he reached into his pocket and retrieved the missive Judge Madison had entrusted to him. “Your grandfather asked me to give you this before we began serious discussions, so perhaps it would be best for us to start there. Then I can explain things to you in more detail.”

She took the paper from him, a crease marring her forehead.

Adam rubbed the back of his neck. This didn’t feel right. How much had the judge put in the second letter? Would it make any sense to her if she hadn’t read the first? Maybe he should explain—

Everett cleared his throat. “While Miss Nash is reading the letter and Mr. Barr is making his explanations, perhaps the rest of us could take a look around. A walk would be welcome after that long ride.”

Adam wondered cynically if Everett’s offer came from a gentlemanly urge to give her some privacy to absorb the news, or a cowardly urge to distance himself from her reaction to it.

Whatever the man’s motives, he was immediately joined by the other two.

“Good idea,” Chance agreed hastily.

“My legs could do with a bit of stretching, too,” Mitchell added.

Their eagerness to exit the area was so obvious, Adam wasn’t surprised to see Miss Nash’s brow raise.

* * *

Uh-oh. Her visitors suddenly seemed like critters fleeing a brushfire. Reggie figured that meant only one thing.

They knew she wouldn’t like whatever she was about to learn from her grandfather’s letter.

“Of course,” she answered smoothly. She actually welcomed the chance to read the letter in private since she wasn’t known for having a poker face. “Mrs. Peavy, why don’t you escort them on a little tour of the area. I believe the south end of the lake would offer the best view.”

Not to mention keep them away from Jack. “Oh, and I think Buck would enjoy the walk as well.”

Reggie did her best to ignore the knowing look on Adam’s face. If only he wasn’t so perceptive. How could he have seen through her disguise so quickly? She was certain none of the others had. It would be better all the way around if he went along on that little walk.

But as Mrs. Peavy and the other three men headed away from the porch, Reggie stared at his I’m-not-budging demeanor and knew it would be wasted breath to even suggest he leave.

She sat on the porch swing, feeling his gaze on her. She couldn’t help but remember that little jolt of connection she’d felt when she realized he recognized her.

Forcing that thought aside, she opened the letter. Scanning quickly over the greeting, she searched for the promised explanation. Her gaze paused at the third paragraph.

Your desire to adopt Jack came as no surprise. However, though you have been like a mother to him since his infancy, we both know the bonds that unite you are those of affection, not blood. I am, in truth, the only blood relation Jack has left.

Reggie flinched. Regardless of what others thought, she was closer to Jack than anyone else—he was truly the child of her heart. She’d thought her grandfather understood.

I do not want Jack to grow up without a man in his life. It is important for a boy to have someone to teach him the proper lessons on his road to manhood, something you could not do on your own. My first impulse was to ask you to send him to me.