Westmore nodded and peeked around the corner of the veranda. “Tell me, why aren’t we being married in a church? It seems strange for so solemn a ceremony to take place in front of a judge.”
“There’s no church in Winchester Falls.” He never even missed it, to be honest. “I guess there aren’t enough people.”
“Hmm.” Miss Westmore’s eyebrows drew together. “I’ve never lived anywhere that didn’t have a church of some kind.”
“Winchester Falls is still pretty new.” He shrugged. “We’re building this town from scratch.” He offered her his arm, a bit rustily. He’d have to get used to squiring a lady around again. “Should we go?”
She nodded, taking his arm. All the color had drained from her face. She must be nervous. Who could blame her? This was a lot to take in all at once, and even more to handle gracefully. She didn’t seem the type of woman to appreciate much coddling, though.
He led her around the veranda and into the front vestibule. “Don’t be chicken,” he whispered. Maybe teasing her would brace her a little.
“I beg your pardon?” She halted, looking up at him with a sharp, startled expression.
Maybe teasing wasn’t the right road to take, either. “I just meant—don’t be scared.”
She squared her jaw, looking at him frankly. “I’ve never been afraid of any man in my life.” Then she squeezed his elbow, propelling him into the parlor. Sure enough, Pearl and Frank Lowe, the judge, stood waiting before the fireplace mantel.
“So you were able to talk some sense into her.” Pearl laughed. “You have succeeded where I failed, Jack. Of course, a handsome fellow like you is more persuasive than an old farm woman like me.”
“I am an entirely sensible creature,” Miss Westmore said, breaking away from him. “We’ve come to an agreement that is acceptable to all parties. There’s no need to be so ridiculous, Aunt Pearl.”
Frank shot Jack an amused look that said, plainer than spoken words, Are you sure you want to get hitched to that?
For his part, a grudging respect surged through Jack as he stood beside her, waiting for the ceremony to begin. She was small of stature but stout of heart. It would be hard to picture anyone coercing her into doing anything she didn’t want to do. His first wife had simply gone along with whatever the St. Clair family wanted. Even miles away, they had controlled every movement of the Burnetts. Which, incidentally, his father-in-law still was capable of doing. After all, here he was, marrying a woman he barely knew just to please the man.
The ceremony was over as soon as it started. Miss Westmore gave him a startled glance as he slipped a ring on her finger. He kissed her briefly on the cheek, and they were married. It was as simple as that.
Pearl came forward to embrace them both, and Frank shook Jack’s hand as he passed through the parlor and out the front door.
“I suppose you want some supper.” Pearl smiled at her niece. “You must be starving.”
“Actually, I prefer to go home,” Miss Westmore replied, her voice sounding tired. But she wasn’t Miss Westmore any longer. Now she was Mrs. Burnett. That would take some getting used to.
Pearl looked as though she’d been slapped but gave a strained smile.
“Sure.” Jack stepped in between the two women. “I know you’re probably worn-out.”
Miss Westmore nodded. No, she was no longer Miss Westmore. She was Mrs. Burnett now, but that seemed too strange to accept just yet. He’d just call her Ada. That seemed less formal. “Is my trunk still in your carriage?”
“It is. I just need to go hitch up the horses and bring them around front.” He hesitated, glancing from one woman to the other. The air had become distinctly frosty despite the balmy early-spring weather.
“I’d prefer to go with you to do that,” Ada replied. “Goodbye, Aunt Pearl.” She gave her aunt a curt nod and then flounced out of the room.
“She’s mad at me,” Pearl fretted, turning to Jack. “Hopefully she’ll come around. I do think this is for the best. I wouldn’t have suggested it, otherwise. You know me—I am always looking for the sensible solution.”
Jack nodded. It was better not to get involved in a family argument. He’d learned that one the hard way. “We’ll be seeing you, Pearl. Give her a few days to get used to things. I’ll bring her by once she’s settled in.”
Tears filled Pearl’s eyes, but she said nothing. She merely nodded and patted his shoulder. A prickle of unease worked its way down Jack’s spine. This didn’t feel right—the rushed wedding to a stranger, the tense surroundings. Even Pearl’s tears were unusual and made a fellow feel off balance. He hadn’t seen her cry since the day her husband, R. H. Colgan, had died. She was as tough and salt of the earth as they came. That she was crying now over her niece’s situation was downright odd.
The sooner they were home, the better.
He left the parlor and joined Ada on the porch. “Have you ever hitched up a carriage before?”
She shook her head. “I had my own curricle at home, but the groom always readied it for me.”
“Well, if you’re going to be as equal as me out here, you might as well start with hitching up your own horses,” he replied. He wasn’t trying to be fresh with her, but, on the other hand, it really was time for her to learn how to handle a few things herself.
He showed her how to hitch the horses to the harness, and she stroked their necks with a gentle hand. “Such beautiful bays. I’ve missed being around horses. Mine were sold before I left New York.”
He glanced over at her in startled surprise. “You know about horses?”
“Of course.” She heaved herself up into the wagon, disdaining his outstretched hand. “I’ve ridden every single day since I was six years old. I’ve been on several fox hunts, of course, and even tried my hand at a steeplechase once.” She leaned forward, her eyes glowing at the memory. “Father never knew about that. He would have been appalled.”
Fox hunting was a St. Clair pastime, a ridiculous waste of horseflesh and energy. He pulled himself up beside her and flicked the reins. The bays moved forward as he pointed them toward home. He could tell her, on no uncertain terms, just what he thought of the kind of people who went fox hunting in Virginia. That, of course, would mean starting a fight. He’d like to at least get her home before they had another row.
He lapsed into silence as they rolled over the hilly road that stretched between his property and Pearl Colgan’s. If Ada could ride well enough to keep her seat during a steeplechase, then she might be of help around the ranch. He’d never really had help unless it was his hired hands. Emily had been afraid of horses—the only St. Clair to be terrified of the animal. So it took everything he had to try to get her to drive a gig alone. After all, he couldn’t be at her beck and call to drive her to every social function in the county.
Ada was quiet, too, but not in an uncomfortable way. He looked over at her once more. Dust still covered her traveling dress and dark circles ringed her eyes.
“Only one
