Page 42 of His Unforgettable Bride
“Based on my conversation with him before bed, I believe so. But we shall have to wait and see.”
Cy had been relieved and overjoyed when she’d returned to him yesterday and invited him back to the house. The sisters met with him in the drawing room for a while before finally coming out and announcing they had hired him for room and board.
“Quite the shame his gout kept him from church this beautiful morning.” Since Cy’s ailment prevented him from climbing the staircase, Gray had temporarily relocated to Tabitha’s bedchamber after much deliberation. And Tabitha moved into the empty room next to it, placing herself between Juliet and Gray. “That was quite the debate yesterday, trying to determine which upstairs room to assign you.”
He chuckled, then lowered his voice. “I was surprised Tabitha did not employ a yardstick to measure the distance from doorway to doorway before reaching the decision.”
“It is all ridiculous, in my opinion, though I believe Livy is less concerned about keeping you and me apart.” From the corner of her eye, Juliet caught Livy drawing closer, the young pastor at her side. Her monstrous fur-trimmed hat almost smacked the poor clergyman’s head.
Most likely, Reverend Channing was five years older than Juliet. Freckles dotted his full cheeks and the bridge of his nose. She dubbed his hair an auburn hue, and someone had cut his locks incredibly short. If he stood taller than her, it was only by a whisper.
Livy gestured to her companion as they stopped before her and Gray. “Juliet Dash, please meet Reverend Channing. He is new to town, like you. And Reverend Channing, may I present Miss Dash. Although she is in our employment, she’s practically part of our family already.”
Juliet’s eyes widened. Practically family? What a kind but outlandish thing to say. Somehow, Juliet found her voice. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Thank you for your lovely sermon this morning.”
He smiled, displaying a straight row of teeth. “A distinct pleasure to meet you, as well, Miss Dash. Knowing what part of God’s message appeals the most to my flock is helpful. Can you pinpoint something specific?”
“Yes, Juliet.” Gray was smirking. “What did you find most illuminating?”
She shot him a narrowed look. “All of it, I believe, especially the ending. I mean the prayer…at the end.”
Either Gray coughed or laughed, his eyes full of merriment. If she could legally throttle him, she might.
Livy slapped his back as if she believed he had choked. “And this young man, Reverend, is our nephew, Alex Sherwood. He’s kindly helping us renovate our tearoom.”
The hatless reverend cupped his hand over his brow, avoiding the direct sunshine. “The upcoming event is the talk of the town. Like everyone else, I’m excited to attend, since I relish a good cup of tea most evenings.”
After nodding, Gray shook hands with the reverend. “Good morning, Reverend.” He didn’t bother to correct Livy by stating he might not be her nephew. It was probably easier than kicking up a complicated discussion on amnesia. “I, for one, particularly appreciated your message on truthfulness.” Gray’s expression was overly serious, except for his eyes, which still teased her.
Laughter bubbled up in Juliet. This time, she was the one coughing or choking to hold back her humor. And Livy moved to her and slapped her back. “There, there, dear. It’s the humid air after so much rain. It makes me cough sometimes, too.”
Juliet cleared her throat, trying to hold back more laughter. She needed to get away before she embarrassed herself and the sisters. “If nobody minds, I’ll return to the house to check on Mr. Kelly.”
“Of course, Juliet.” Livy beamed. “You’re always thinking of others.”
Oh, she was thinking of others, all right, namely Gray. And how she’d like to give him a swift kick. “Excuse me, please.”
As she turned to leave, Reverend Channing called, “I hope to see you soon, Miss Dash. You as well, Mr. Sherwood.”
What? Was Gray returning home, too? Her heart sped as she strolled away from the church, crisp leaves crunching underneath her shoes.
In no time, he reached her side and extended his elbow. “May I escort you back to the house? A proper young lady always accepts a gentleman’s invitation.”
Snakes alive, she longed to roll her eyes. She gripped his elbow instead. “You’re quite the tease.”
“Thank you.” He sounded proud of the fact.
She chuckled as a gray squirrel crossed their path, its cheeks full of nuts for the winter. The sun beat on her brow, and she lowered her shawl off her shoulders.
With one hand, Gray unbuttoned his boxy knee-length overcoat, another castoff from the late Mr. Sherwood. “Who do you think taught me manners?”
“My first guess is nobody,” she jested.
“Touché, which is French for point taken.”
“Parents or a governess, I suppose. It must be hard not to recollect your past.”
He peered at her, his gaze thoughtful. “And also difficult to recall too much, I assume.”
