Page 38 of A Wallflower's Wassail Punch
CHAPTER17
Andrew knocked on the yellow door.
We call it primrose.He smiled, remembering the clash between Nettie and the vicar’s sister.
“Go away!”
“Phoebe, stop acting like a child and open the door.”
“If I’m acting like one, then you are courting one,” came the muffled reply.
He sighed.His daughter could be difficult; he freely admitted he had indulged her throughout her childhood.But she was also fiercely loyal, and once given, she was an ally for perpetuity.“If you don’t open the door, I won’t be able to explain how your mother approved of this.”
Silence.Ah, the cat was curious.The door cracked, and one chestnut eye glared at him.“How could that be?”
“You know I talk to her.”
“Her portrait, yes.But it’s at home above the hearth.”The door opened wider.
“It was in a dream.”Andrew knew dreams fascinated Phoebe.She loved interpreting them, whether it was hers, a friend, or one of the maids.
He stepped into the room, following her to the huge tester bed.She threw herself across it, her boots hanging over the edge.“First, I was sincere about not needing a son.How could you think such a thing?Second, Nettie and I haven’t even discussed it.I have a great affection for the lady, not her womb.”
He heard a muffled giggle.“I came here to see my friend, my tether to my brother—your Uncle Phillip.I had no idea I would meet someone who made me remember.”
“Remember what?”she asked, lifting her head from the counterpane.
“How the right person can make you feel whole, as if you’ve found a piece of yourself that’s been missing.”He didn’t know how to put his emotions into words.
“I thought you would love Mama until the day you died.”She sniffed but sat up.
Progress.“I will, sweetheart.Just as I will love you with all my heart.But this”—he patted his chest just above his heart—“is an amazing organ that can stretch as large as is needed.So, I’m able to hold on to my love for your mother and allow someone else into my heart again.”
“Tell me about your dream,” she demanded, back to her spunky self.
He told her most of it, leaving out the more intimate details.
“Oh, Papa, she is telling you that she’s fine with it.I don’t want you to be alone when Idofind an honorable andtrustworthyman.”Phoebe wiped her eyes.“I’m sorry, Papa.I will try to like her.For you.The past few days have been so horrid.”
“I know,” he said, squeezing her tightly.“I get lonely.I realized with your betrothal that I didn’t want to be alone the rest of my life.Nor did I want my only conversation at the end of the day to be with a painting that cannot respond.”
She giggled, then stopped, her expression now serious.“It seems I’ve made another scene.”
“Only witnessed by myself and Lady Annette.I promise she won’t tell anyone,” he said, hoping it was true.“Why don’t you get some rest?We have a grand evening planned.”
As he left his daughter’s room and made his way back to the drawing room, he hoped Nettie would be waiting for him.But the room was empty.A maid was picking up teacups.
“Have you seen your mistress, Lady Annette?”he asked.
“Yes, my lord,” she answered with a curtsy.“I fetched her cloak for her.She ordered her horse saddled.”
Glancing out the window, he saw it had begun snowing.Not a light snow as they’d had during the week, but a wind-whipped swirl of white.Fear gripped his chest.“How long ago?”
“About an hour ago,” she said.“Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Yes, I need my horse saddled.Now!”He took the stairs two at a time to retrieve his greatcoat.
Running to the stable, slipping on the snow-covered path, he burst into the warm barn.Please, let Joseph be gone.It would mean she wasn’t alone in this weather.But the stable boy came out of a stall.
