Page 52 of The Dravenhearst Brides
Ruth’s forehead creased with worry. “Margot, I don’t mean to pry, but is there any chance you could be expecting? I only ask because that’s when the visions, thehauntings”—she shivered—“started for Babette.”
Margot vigorously shook her head. “No.”
Ruth reached for her arm. “You can tell me. It’s okay if you are, but—”
“Ican’tbe.” Her cheeks flamed with heat. “Merrick hasn’t…we haven’t…”
She couldn’t finish the admission, but Ruth understood.
“Oh.” Her eyes widened.“Oh.”
Margot tightly crossed her legs, looking over the railing toward the rickhouses. “I mean, I’m sure we will…” she clarified, trying to hide her embarrassment. “We’re just…taking things slow.”
Ruth nodded. “Slow is good. If nothing else, I’ve learned a bit of caution with the Dravenhearst men is never a bad idea.”
“Why do you say that?”
Ruth sighed, carefully considering her words. She tilted her empty glass, ice cubes rattling within it. “I think that may be a story for another day.”
Margot rose to her feet. “It’s one I’d like to hear. Same time tomorrow?”
17
July 12, 1903
Babs,
My secret recipe, as requested. Though I hardly foresee a reason you’ll ever make these without me!
- Fill a highball glass with ice
- Add 4 ounces of gin (for those of weak constitution, 2 ounces will suffice)
- Add 1/2 ounce of fresh squeezed lime juice
- Top with (chilled) club soda
- Pinch of salt
- Garnish with one lime wheel
Yours,
Ruth
Whenheasked,Margotwas on her third gin rickey of the day. She was downright giddy and giggly, very much not herself. That was how hegot her to agree.
It was dusk, and she was hand-in-hand with Merrick, headed for the stables. Margot liked the feel of his fingers bound with hers. He was rubbing the back of her knuckles with the pad of his thumb, making tiny circles, and her world narrowed to that single contact point. The buzzing hum of the evening katydids droned around them, fuzzy and soothing.
“Looks like rain overnight.” Merrick eyed the clouds. “We’ll hurry. I only want to introduce you to Fox and Omaha. We’ll be back to the manor before it storms.”
“Fox?” She giggled, her head pleasantly light. Surely, anything named Fox couldn’t be harmful. Foxes were tiny and cute, with pointed ears and whiskers.
“Yes, Fox. He won the Triple Crown three years ago,” Merrick explained. “We retired him right after, turned him into a stud horse. Ruth thinks we’ll make a good run for the Derby next spring with Omaha. He’s still a bit green, but he’s got Fox’s stride and speed.”
Merrick continued to chatter, full of excitement, and Margot nodded along. She was caught off-guard when they arrived at the stables. For a moment, she’d forgotten where they were headed.
Julian was exiting as they prepared to enter. “Mrs. Dravenhearst,” he said, his lips curling in a slow grin. Margot was not above admitting he was quite handsome, particularly when he smiled like that, all dark hair and dimples. And that deep Kentucky drawl. “Well now, isn’t this a pleasant surprise.”
