make her way to the table and sat at the far end. Her eyes darted to the plate of bacon and she stiffened. “What’s the matter?” August asked. “You don’t care for what’s on the table for breakfast?”
Her eyes met his. They were brighter than he remembered, and she looked like she was trying to think of what to say. “Hardly. I enjoy your American foods very much.”
“Don’t let her fool ya, August,” said Jefferson. “I was married to Harrison and Colin’s mother, after all. Even I know the English eat bacon.”
“They haven’t any kippers though,” Eloise commented as she sat. “I do so miss kippers in the morning.”
“Kippers?” August asked.
“Little fish, Mr. Bennett,” Edith explained. “I don’t much care for them, but a lot of folks do.”
“Herring is what most Americans call them,” Miss Red explained.
“Oh,” August said in answer. “I think I’ll stick with fresh trout if I’m gonna have any sort of fish for breakfast.”
“Do you have to fish and hunt for your food?” Constance asked, eyes wide with interest.
August smiled at her, then winked at Miss Red for good measure. “Sometimes.”
“Oh, dear me,” Miss Red muttered.
“What was that?” August asked. Of course he heard her, but asked anyway.
“Nothing. Please be so kind as to pass the biscuits and coffee,” she said in a weak voice.
He smiled and slid the plate of biscuits down the table toward her. Constance took one in passing, and then pushed it the rest of the way.
“Coffee, anyone?” Edith asked. Without waiting for an answer, she began to pour. The girls had met Jefferson and Edith the night before. They’d come into the kitchen while the three sisters were washing the dishes, and introductions were made. Belle had stayed with them until the task was done, then they went into the parlor and visited with Jefferson and his wife until it was time for bed. All three sisters found Edith quite comfortable to be around – so much so that they didn’t notice for a few minutes that none of the other Cooke brothers were around.
“Where is everybody?” Eloise finally asked.
“Out in the barn, getting the wagon ready,” Jefferson told her.
“By themselves?” Miss Red blurted.
August looked at her, his mouth half open. She’d sounded so utterly shocked when she asked it. “Of course. Sadie and Belle know how to hitch up a team of horses.”
Miss Red blanched.
“Stop it,” Edith scolded. “You know very well Logan is hitching up the team. Belle is gathering eggs.”
August smiled. “Oh, really? I thought it was the other way around.” The three sisters looked at one another, not knowing what to think. August knew he shouldn’t, but he just couldn’t resist asking, “Do you ride, Miss Sayer?”
“Of course I ride,” she snapped. “We all do.”
“Oh, good. Perhaps you could accompany me this afternoon? I’d like to show you my farm after we talk with the preacher.”
She swallowed hard and stared at him. “Lovely,” she managed to mutter.
He took a slice of bacon, sat back in his chair, and stuffed it into his mouth. He watched her as he chewed, and wondered what she’d think of his little farm. He’d worked hard on it the last year, making it special, preparing it for a woman who could turn it into a real home. Miss Red was apparently whom Fate had sent him to do the job. The question was, could she? The woman probably couldn’t sew a button on a shirt if her life depended on it. And good grief, what was her cooking going to be like? He’d been pretty spoiled by Mrs. Dunnigan’s and Mrs. Upton’s cooking the last few years – how was he going to get used to ...
“I haven’t a proper saddle. Does the livery have any?”
“What?” August asked, her voice pulling him out of his thoughts. “Saddle?”
“Of course,” Miss Red stated. “You can’t possibly expect me to ride astride.”
“What other way is there?” he asked, dumbfounded.
Her eyes grew
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