Lisa Bingham - Accidental Family

Charles hadn’t thought about that. It would seem strange that Willow had never confided an affection for him all this time.

“In fact, I’m pretty sure that Sumner told me on more than one occasion that Willow was part of the group of mail-order brides destined for California. As I recall, my wife said something about Willow agreeing to marry a bedridden man with a houseful children.”

Charles had forgotten about that, too. He knew that Jonah was waiting for him to comment, but for the life of him, Charles didn’t know what to say.

This time he couldn’t help meeting Ramsey’s gaze, and by thunder there was a glint in his friend’s eyes, even in the darkness.

“I’m sure Sumner will be relieved to hear that she was mistaken,” Jonah continued when Charles failed to speak. “She was worried that Willow’s arrangement might be less of a marriage and more a lifelong term of servitude.”

They’d both eased to a stop in front of the livery, where a lantern hung by the door offered a small puddle of light. Charles studied his friend hard, wondering if there were hidden meanings to the words being offered. Once again, he wondered if Ramsey somehow suspected the true parentage of the twins. If so, he would know that Charles’s claims of an earlier marriage ceremony in England were false. But if that were the case, he would have called a halt to the vows that had just been exchanged.

Wouldn’t he?

“What brings you out on a night like this, Charles?”

What on earth could he say to that?

“I... I needed to have a word with Smalls.”

Willoughby Smalls oversaw the livery, the mules used in the mine and the other various animals that kept the mining community in milk, meat and even wool. Since Charles often helped him with the blacksmithing, he had a logical reason to talk to the man.

“I thought he should hear about my resignation from me.”

Jonah nodded. “That’s good of you. But I think I saw him head up to Miner’s Hall. He and Creakle were probably thinking of getting their fiddles out and providing a little music. I’m sure they’ll be easy to find.”

The man opened one of the side doors to the stables, then turned at the last moment. “Oh, and Charles...”

Again, Charles could have sworn that Jonah’s dark eyes flashed with amusement.

“While you’re at it, tell Smalls that I’ve given you permission to take one of those goats off his hands. We have more milk than we can handle with those things. And I think I remember my mother saying that goat’s milk was more tolerable to a young child than cow’s milk. You can find out for sure when Sumner comes back to the camp in a day or two. In the meantime, with two babes on her hands, Willow might find a little extra nourishment could come in handy.”

With that, he closed the door with a soft thud.

Leaving Charles more unsettled than ever.

Chapter Four

Charles had been gone for only a few minutes when Willow heard a soft tap at the door. She froze.

“Willow, it’s me.” The voice was distinctly feminine.

Hurrying to the door, Willow drew back the bolt, allowing Lydia to slip inside.

“What are you doing here?”

The other woman grinned. “I was helping to clean up in the cook shack after the evening meal, and I happened to see Charles head to the livery with Jonah Ramsey, so I slipped out the side door.”

“Won’t the Pinkertons realize you’re gone?”

Lydia sniffed, eloquently offering her opinion of the men tasked with being their guards. “I’ll be back before they know I’ve gone. Besides, Gideon Gault has taken the lead tonight, and it won’t hurt for him to be brought down a peg or two.”

Willow didn’t comment on the fact that the head of the mining camp’s Pinkerton unit seemed to rub Lydia the wrong way more than any of the other guards.

“Besides, I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight if I didn’t have a chance to talk to you.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed as she studied Willow intently. “You are happy, aren’t you?”

“Happy?”

“With Mr. Wanlass. You haven’t been forced into anything against your will, have you?”

“No! I... Mr. Wanlass... Charles and I...” Willow didn’t know what to say to reassure her friend, so she offered weakly, “We’re in love.”

The explanation tasted false on her tongue. Willow didn’t have the slightest idea what “love” even meant. When she’d agreed to marry Mr. Ferron and serve as his helpmate and the mother of his children, she’d known that love had nothing to do with it. The two of them had shared a business agreement, nothing more, nothing less. If she’d ever had any dreams of romance, Willow had pushed them aside and consoled herself with the fact that the marriage of convenience would offer her the one thing she wanted: a family. Or at least the closest thing to a family that she was likely to get.

In that respect, the arrangement with Charles wasn’t much different. Willow was still playing at being a wife and mother. The principal characters had just changed for the time being.

But Lydia was unaware of Willow’s turmoil. The woman grasped her hands, squeezing them.

“I thought so, otherwise I wouldn’t have interfered. It was my idea to bring the dress, the veil.”

Willow’s fingers slid from Lydia’s grip to the pink ribbon at her waist. “Oh, you’ll need your dress back. It will only take a minute to—”

“Stop it. I don’t want it back. It’s a gift. The other dresses that you wore were...”

“Awful,” Willow blurted out.

Lydia laughed. “I honestly thought you were wearing them for religious reasons, or as penance or something.”

“Lydia!”

“Okay, I’m exaggerating. But now that I know you have no objections to colors, I’ve got a few more gowns you can have.”

Willow stiffened.

Lydia must have sensed her concern because she gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Please, don’t say no. My aunts insisted on an entirely new wardrobe for my speaking engagements. I headed for California with thirteen trunks—thirteen!” She grimaced. “Even Mr. Gault had something to say about such excess when the men finally managed to unearth the last of them. I refuse to continue my journey with more than three trunks—four at the most. Consider the new clothing a wedding gift. Most of them have never been worn—and it will take you a month of stitching to alter them to fit, so I’m inconveniently adding to your workload. But it would bring me such pleasure if I knew that they could be of use to you.”

“I...”

“Just say ‘thank you’ and I’ll consider this conversation finished.”

Willow hesitated, but in the end, the temptation proved too much. The yellow dress she wore now was unlike anything she’d ever owned before, and she was discovering that the use of color and delicate fabrics made her feel...pretty.

“Thank you, Lydia.”

Lydia offered a squeak of pleasure and clapped her hands.

“I’ll sort through things tonight and drop by tomorrow with a selection. You don’t have to take anything you don’t like, but I think you’ll have plenty to choose from.”

She was reaching for the doorknob when Willow blurted, “I thought you disapproved of marriage, Lydia. Isn’t that what your speaking engagements are all about?”

Again, Lydia waved a dismissing hand. “My speeches are about females gaining a voice in government, standing up for their own happiness and relieving themselves of the tyranny of male domination. It’s time women refused a subservient role and spoke out against inequality, abuse and the demonizing effects that an excess of hard spirits or gambling can have in any relationship. Just as importantly, men need to see that women are their partners, not their servants. There should be equal respect between the sexes, and an acknowledgment that some women are happiest as wives and mothers. But there are others, like Sumner, who have much to offer the world if they are allowed to pursue their dreams of a career.”