Page 11 of An Unwitting Alliance
“His name is Mr. Cooper. Why do you insist on calling him Joseph?” Papa had long ago ceased trying to understand Tom, but every once in a while, his curiosity won out.
“Cooperis stuffy. He’s more than a valet to me. Sometimes I call himthe righteous one, like his biblical namesake. Would you prefer that?”
Mama changed the subject, her patience waning. “I reminded him that he works for your father and me, and we had no problems.”
“Mama, please.” He did not know where to begin with how wrong this was. He might not be serious often, but she had to see he was now.
“Do not fail me in this, Tom, dear. I have one son to see married.” Her voice choked on her words, and her eyes filled with tears. “Your wedding will bring us all so much happiness.” She extended a letter to him. “This is for you.”
His stomach tightened, but he took the letter and none too gently broke the seal.
“It’s from your intended,” Mama explained. “Her parents thought a letter of introduction might ease the news for you.”
“You asked her to correspond with me? What of her reputation?”
“You are engaged, Tom. All is proper.”
Tom’s heart raced at the words.Engaged.Him. This couldn’t be happening. He mindlessly unfolded the letter. A single sheet of paper—at least she was not long-winded. His eyes read the words of their own accord.
Dear Mr. Harwood,
I requested the opportunity to write and tell you a little about my nature so we might be better acquainted before your visit. I will start with my appearance, which I hope will suit you well. I have a rather spotted complexion, eyes that cross of their own accord, mousy hair akin to dried mud, very crooked teeth that cannot touch in front, and a sort of hunch in my back. If you can bring yourself to overlook these things, I pray you will also be able to overlook my very bad temper and tendency to blurt improper words. Please do not ask me to work to overcome these habits, as my parents have tried repeatedly to rid me of them, and we have all quite given up.
As far as my pastimes go, I am sure we will be equally matched. I read a great deal, but only newspapers and political matters. I wish I could embroider, but I find my talents fall more toward the collecting of insects and an obsessive curiosity of dead things—not people, of course, just animal carcasses. It is my greatest desire that we will embark on these activities together once we are wed.
I hope this letter finds you well. I look forward to your visit and the exciting event our marriage will be!
Sincerely,
Miss Cassandra Ophelia Euphemia Buxton Vail
“Well?”
Tom’s wide eyes drew upward to meet his mother. What could he possibly tell her? He was not sure what to think himself. “She... wrote to tell me about herself. Her hobbies and such.”
“What a sweet child.”
He scowled. “Yes, very sweet.” And strange. Very strange.
But her words had given him the first inkling of hope since his father had told him the papers were signed—hope that maybe there was a way out of this without breaking his mother’s heart with an outright refusal. It was quite obvious that his betrothed had no desire to be married either, and it was practically his duty to give his intended what she wanted.
There would be no convincing his own parents to give this up—not after seeing how emotionally attached Mama was to the idea. Instead, he would have to convince the other party to end it all on their own. The Rebels would insist he make a plan, but he had always been better at improvising. How hard could it be to break an engagement neither party wanted?
Chapter 4
Thank heavens Cassandra had anactual plan. Finally.
Her pen scratched her paper in quick succession as she composed her letter to Aunt Evans. Chewing her lip, she frowned over her words. With the clock against her, she was not averse to begging. She required an immediate solution that did not involve marrying a stranger.
Dipping her pen into the ink again, she finished her most compelling argument for acting as a temporary companion to her aunt, promising to do and be everything Aunt Evans desired. In turn, Cassandra would be creative with whatever opportunities she was given to meet an eligible young man, whether they be at church, small dinners, or the occasional country dance.
She was not certain her reputation had survived the ballroom embarrassment enough to return to Brookeside, but Bradford was at enough of a distance that surely Society there would accept her. If everything went her way, she’d meet a good, wealthy man of her own choosing—a man she could love. There was no reason for any rash engagements.
The door of her shared bedchamber flung open, and Megan marched into the room. “I have an idea that will solve all our problems.”
“Go ahead.” Cassandra braced herself for whatever Megan’s wild imagination had produced this time.
“I intend to steal all our jewelry. I’m only telling you so you won’t be alarmed in the morning.”
