surprised at you boys.” She crossed her arms and lifted a brow. “Y’all know the rules. Absolutely no boarders allowed in my ma’s kitchen.”
Peter Engel, who worked in the telegraph office, blushed bright red. He lowered his gaze to the floor as though wishing it would swallow him whole. Unable to let him suffer for long, Isabelle allowed a smile to warm her voice. “Now, take this food and get out.”
Peter’s head shot up. Hank chuckled as he stepped forward to take the serving plate filled with eggs and bacon along with a bowl of fruit. She gave Peter the pancakes and biscuits before following behind the men with the steaming carafe of coffee. Wesley Brice entered the room from the hallway as they placed the food on the large oak sideboard buffet. “What’s all this?”
She gave him a cheery smile but the Texas and Pacific Railway worker was too busy frowning at the other boarders to notice. “It’s breakfast.”
“I meant the rule breaking.”
Hank rolled his eyes. “Good morning to you, too, Wes.”
“Mrs. Bradley was busy,” Peter said, standing frozen with a serving spoon of fruit hovering above his plate. “Isabelle needed help.”
“She kicked us out of the kitchen right quick, too. She just sent the food with us on our way out.”
“Yes, but I forgot a few things. I’ll be right back.” Isabelle returned to the dining room a few moments later with butter, syrup, cream and sugar.
Wes poured exactly the right amount of cream and sugar into a cup of coffee before giving it to her. He then handed the cream to Hank and the sugar to Peter since they were already sitting down. Returning both items to the sideboard, he met Isabelle’s gaze with concern. “Where did you disappear to last night?”
A sudden vision filled her mind of Rhett’s amber gaze catching hers as they whirled around each other on a rooftop beneath a million stars. She shook it away and glanced back at Wes. Mindful that the other boarders were listening, she stalled to gather her thoughts. “What do you mean?”
“One second you were dancing with Mark Antony. The next, you were gone.”
“Oh. Well, Mark turned out to be Chris.” She paused to blow on the steam from her coffee as Wes grimaced, Peter lifted a brow and Hank shook his head in sympathy. The boarders always seemed to be around when her sister’s suitors decided to try to pay her court. It was downright embarrassing having an audience for those types of things. “Then, John Merriweather decided to cut in. Chris wouldn’t have it. They started arguing, so I left them on the dance floor.”
Hank toasted her with his coffee cup. “Good for you. I see why you would’ve wanted to make yourself scarce after that. You should have come to one of us, though. We would have been glad to dance with you.”
“Too glad, maybe,” Wes muttered as he threw a meaningful glance toward Hank and began to fill a plate with food.
Gabriel Noland must have heard the conversation out in the hall for he sent Isabelle a sympathetic glance as he entered the room. “I’m surprised Isabelle got to dance at all with you three standing around like guard dogs.”
Isabelle seized the opportunity to change the subject to something that might ease the odd tension filling the room. “And what were you doing all evening, Gabe?”
“I thought you might want to see.” He handed her the sketch pad that had been tucked beneath his arm. “The latest ones are near the back. I stayed up almost all night finishing them.”
Sitting in the nearest chair, she set her coffee on the table and wiped her hands on a napkin before flipping to the back of the book. Images from the previous night filled each page in startling detail since each could have only lasted a few moments at most. She was aware of Gabe taking the seat beside her, but didn’t bother to look up. The boarders had moved on to talking about the fire and Rhett coming to stay with them. She figured as long as she looked busy, no one would ask her any more questions that she’d rather not answer.
She froze as she recognized the tableau playing out before her on a page of the sketch pad. It featured her caught in the throes of indecision. Her hand was in the grasp of Mark Antony, who bowed over it with old-world elegance. Meanwhile, her gaze and attention were consumed by the pirate behind him. There was a shared longing on their faces that surely couldn’t have been there last night. Isabelle almost jumped at the sound of her father’s voice. “Are those your sketches from last night, Gabe?”
She casually turned back to a much less incriminating sketch of someone else as her father stepped up behind her. She lifted her gaze to Gabe’s, suddenly aware he’d been watching her reaction. Gabe smiled. “Yes, I think I’ll get several good paintings from my efforts last night.”
Her eyes widened then narrowed into warning slits. “In that case, why don’t I put this somewhere safe for you? We wouldn’t want it to get stained by being around all this food.”
“I’ll sit on it. How’s that?”
She had the distinct urge to pop him over the head with it. Gabe had no idea how blessed he was that her mother entered the room to distract her father with the news that Violet was ready to go. Beatrice decided to take a breakfast tray to Rhett. Isabelle would have volunteered to do it in her stead, but didn’t have the nerve to suggest it in front of Gabe. The boarders lingered over breakfast since none of them had to rush to work on a holiday. However, once the plates were taken to the kitchen, they all slipped away to their various amusements outside the house.
With the dishes washed, Beatrice pulled out her baking supplies. “Poor Rhett must be bored to tears in the study by now. Why don’t you play a game of spades with him or something? Be sure to leave the door open. I’ll join y’all in a little while. I want to whip up some plum pudding and a bit of wassail in case we get any callers.”
“All right, Ma. Let me know if you change your mind about wanting my help in here.” Isabelle removed her apron and gathered a deck of cards from the parlor. She was right about to knock on the study door when the front door opened and Violet walked into the foyer. Isabelle changed course to greet her. “Violet, how was your literary circle’s New Year’s Breakfast?”
“Positively exquisite.” The fifteen-year-old’s blue eyes danced as she removed her hat and scarf. “We’ve decided we’re going to have one every year.”
“And how did your hair turn out?”
Violet spun to show off the elaborate chignon. “What do you think of it?”
Isabelle winked. “Gorgeous, darling.”
“I’m almost glad Ma and Pa said I can only wear it up for special occasions. All these pins digging into my brain...” She gave a little shudder before shrugging out of a familiar navy coat.
Isabelle frowned. “I thought you were going to wear your new coat? It’s so much nicer than this old one. It was Amy’s first, you know—”
“Oh!” Eyes wide, Violet turned to stare at the floor by the front desk. “Oh!”
“What?”
Violet dropped to her knees by the coatrack. Her hands swept back and forth across the floor as she crawled toward the front desk. Isabelle
