Page 13 of An Unwitting Alliance
Tom nodded, still taking in the room. He sat on the middle sofa, the seat sinking upon contact like the old ones in the Dome. Just as he was about to relax, a series of thuds sounded on the ceiling, making the room vibrate beneath his feet. The sound traveled, and not a half minute later, the door to the drawing room swung open. People poured through it, but Tom managed to stand and hold his ground.
First entered the nutmeg-haired boy. Then a little girl with two fair braids and a sweet giggle on her lips. Then two boys in an increasingsuccession of age entered, blond like their small sister. How many children did the Vails have? Next was a maid carrying the smallest of the group, a little girl as cute as could be with her thumb in her mouth. They were followed by their parents, he assumed. By the swelling size of Mrs. Vail’s stomach, she looked like she would have another child before her next meal. Poor woman.
The observation faded when a young woman possessing the same nutmeg coloring as her mother and youngest brother entered.
His muscles tightened reflexively. His betrothed, he presumed. She was pretty, but she was also barely old enough to be considered a woman. It was too late to realize his partiality toward someone more mature.
Tom took in the family lined in front of the fireplace. He was not easily overwhelmed, but the entire picture was enough to make him realize he had arrived sorely unprepared. A forfeit of his engagement would affect every member of this family.
“Mr. Harwood.” Mr. Vail dipped his flaxen head, revealing a rather large bald spot. “A pleasure to have you at Fairview.” His long whiskers stretched from his ears down to meet his easy grin. The warmth about his person nearly put Tom at ease, but he couldn’t quite forget that the same man had foisted his daughter on him.
“Thank you, sir.”
“May I introduce you to my wife, Mrs. Vail?”
Tom nodded as Mr. Vail brought his wife forward, and she curtsied.
Tom bowed his head in response. “You have a beautiful family.” Beautiful and much larger than he had expected.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Vail said. “They have been so anxious to meet you.” Mr. Vail stepped to the side as his wife began pointing and naming each one. “Nancy, our nursemaid, is holding Janie, who is but three, and next to her is Bethany, who is five.” Next, she pointed at the wild one with nutmeg hair, who looked at him sideways. “This is Robert. He just turned—”
Robert cut his mother off. “I’m nine. How old are you? Are you going to marry Cassandra?”
Tom blanched. “Um, er, um...”
Mrs. Vail saved him from answering. “Don’t interrupt, Robert. Next is Michael, who is twelve.”
Michael frowned like there was nothing worth smiling about ever. Today Tom might agree with him.
“This is Peter,” Mrs. Vail continued.
Peter puffed out his chest in response. “I’m almost sixteen.”
“Yes, in eleven months,” Mr. Vail replied, smoothly moving on to the last introduction. “And this is our daughter Megan, who is seventeen.”
Tom remembered his manners and stepped toward Megan. “Miss Vail.” He bowed deeply, his nerves surprising him, along with a sense of dread. This was to be his wife? Nothing could feel more wrong.
Mr. Vail put his hand on Tom’s arm when he straightened and said quietly, “This is not the Miss Vail we arranged for you to meet. This is her younger sister.”
It was then Tom realized the name was not right. This one was Megan. He was waiting for a Cassandra. The children giggled at his mistake. However, the news offered him sweet succor, and his relief was palpable. Miss Megan Vail would make someone a fine wife, but not him. His smile toward her came out part grimace.
So where was the older Miss Vail? Were they hiding her because of the hunch on her back? He still believed the description to be utterly fictional, but he had not thought of the very real disabilities she could possess. A bedridden wife would take a great deal of adjustment, if he were honest with himself. Not impossible, though, if she were at least sweet. He knew a few families in which the husband or wife struggled with difficult conditions and whose love was stronger for it. But worrying about the what-ifs did not matter since he had no plans of actually marrying anyone.
He turned back to Mr. Vail. “Is the older Miss Vail not at home?”
Mr. Vail cast an uneasy glance at his wife. She gave a nearly imperceptible shrug. “She is home. We think.”
Tom should’ve expected such an obtuse response. This household was quite different from his own quiet and orderly one. An idea formed, and it was all due to Miss Vail’s absence. “Not to worry. I shall come back in a few weeks’ time, and we shall try the introduction again.” He backed away toward the door only to hear a patter of footsteps come into the room behind him.
He turned his head to look over his shoulder and caught a pair of familiar, startled blue-gray eyes. Her appearance hit him like a bolt of lightning. Whirling around, he blurted, “Miss Smith! How did you... ? When did you... ?”
Her jaw tightened. “I am not Miss Smith.”
Right.Not Miss Smith. But then, who?
Mr. Vail crossed between them. “Cassandra, where have you been? Never mind—as you see, Mr. Harwood has come.” He put his arm around his daughter. “Mr. Harwood, my oldest daughter has returned, though it seems you have mistaken her for another. Not to worry. What matters is that you don’t have to leave now.”
Tom dipped his head again, his pulse pounding recklessly in his chest. “A pleasure to meet you.” He did not know if he was lying or telling the truth. Miss Smith was Miss Vail? He was to marryher? What sort of joke was this?
