Read Online Michelle: Bride of Mississippi (American Mail-Order Bride 20) by Cindy Caldwell - Free Book Online

with embarrassment. Anthony was used to all of this luxury, and she vowed not to behave like a wide-eyed street urchin.
    Anthony smiled up at Mable as she set down the tea service and poured two cups of coffee, handing one to each of them. He looked at the cup and saucer in his hand and back to the tray she’d brought in. His eyes met Mable’s and she looked down.
    “It is lovely, ma’am, isn’t it? It was Mr. Anthony’s mother’s favorite. I keep it nice and shiny, all the time, so whenever you want tea or coffee, you just let me know.” She shot a glance at Anthony out of the corner of her eye before she turned and headed back into the kitchen. “I’m off to bed. Congratulations, you two.”
    Michelle looked up from her steaming cup of coffee, just in time to see a shadow flit across Anthony’s face. Sadness? She hoped not, but maybe it was because his mother’s favorite tea set was here on his wedding day but she was not. Nor his father or sister. That must be why.
    She took a sip from her cup, wishing that she could ask him--after all, he was her husband--but she’d only known him a day and couldn’t find the right words.
    Anthony cleared his throat and she looked up at him. “You said you grew up very differently. How so?”
    She set her cup and saucer on the gleaming table next to her chair and looked up at him. “I feel I need to be honest. I’ve never even been in a house this lovely, let alone lived in one. My father died when I was very young, and my mother left to work as a seamstress shortly afterward. And after she died, I went to work there, too.”
    Anthony set his cup down and reached for her hand. As he took her hand in his, she flinched at the jolt of warmth that shot through her. She’d shaken hands with men before, but had never had that happen. She knew she was tired, and maybe that was why. She felt his kindness, though, through his touch and reluctantly drew her hand back. Sympathy was not what she wanted--she’d loved her mother and enjoyed her life so far. She’d never once felt sorry for herself, and she certainly didn’t want that from her new husband. Maybe she shouldn’t have told him. To him, it likely sounded quite sordid after having grown up in the lap of luxury as he had.
    “Michelle, I know I’ve thanked you, and I am truly grateful that you’ve decided to come. Thank you for sharing that about your childhood.”
    She was glad she’d told him the truth. There was no room for secrets in a marriage, no matter how it began or what kind of was. She wasn’t willing to withhold anything, and was glad she’d told him.
    “I have to get up early tomorrow and it’s been a very long day. You must be exhausted.”
    Michelle took in a deep breath as she looked at the fire. “Actually, I’m not tired at all. I think I’ll just take this back in the kitchen,” she said and gestured to the tea set.
    “As you wish.” Anthony cleared his throat as he stood and nodded. “Sleep well, Mrs. Chandler.”
    The flicker of the flames cast shadows on his face, and she noticed once again the sadness in his eyes. She imagined his heart was heavy--but she was Mrs. Chandler now, and she wanted to help make his heart lighter.
    Mrs. Chandler. She liked the sound of that.

Chapter 13
    S he watched as Anthony walked up the stairs and turned at the landing. Her eyes fell on the portrait in the stairwell of the young Anthony and Adelaide.
    The wooden clock on the mantle ticked slowly as she watched the flames die out, the embers glow and beginning to fade. She brushed her hand over the smooth, dark wood of the coffee table, inhaling deeply of the lemon scent the hung in the air as the fire died.
    She picked up the tea tray, the silver cool in her hand as she walked slowly toward the kitchen. Anthony had said that it was his mother’s favorite, and she stopped to glance up at the portrait in the stair well as she heard Anthony’s door click shut in the hallway upstairs.
    Her eyes fell on the