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Authors: Ann H. Gabhart
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portrait to the attic, and her father didn’t protest. On the second day, she demanded access to the account books not just for the household but for the whole farm, and he handed them over with a smile. Charlotte began to fear that if Selena asked him to burn down the house and build it back to her specifications, he might strike the match on his boot. As long as she kept calling him “my love” and flashing her ingratiating smile at him.
It was almost beyond bearing. But Charlotte had never spent much time pretending. Not since she was twelve and her mother had handed over the keys to the pantry and linen cabinet. She had never pretended her mother would rise up off her couch and take control of the household again. She had never pretended that her father would notice and appreciate the way she, Charlotte, kept the household running. She had never pretended that she loved Edwin or that he loved her. Love had nothing to do with the agreement between them.
And now she didn’t pretend that she could stop Selena’s onslaught on Grayson. Not without her father’s help, and he was so enamored with the woman it was obvious he thought she could do no wrong. Charlotte saw little choice but to bide her time and carry on as if her life wasn’t getting turned upside down. She wasn’t exactly pretending that things hadn’t changed or that her carefully arranged future wasn’t slipping out of reach, but with time, she was sure she could step out of the vortex. She could take control of her future again. Just as soon as her head stopped spinning.
Meanwhile, it didn’t help that she often caught Adam Wade’s much-too-perceptive eyes on her as she put forth a polite front at the dinner table each evening. It didn’t help that the only news she received from Hastings Farm was of Edwin visiting the Shaker village. It didn’t help that her father began talking of six-year-old Landon, whom he hadn’t even met, as if he was the son he had always wanted. It didn’t help that Selena began to speak of the dowry Charlotte would take with her when she married in May, when it was becoming more and more apparent that there might not be a wedding in May.
It especially didn’t help that Charlotte’s father told her Selena thought she spent an inappropriate amount of time in the kitchen with Aunt Tish and had suggested Charlotte should go visit his Virginian relations for a few months to broaden her horizons beyond Grayson. When Charlotte asked which relatives, since the redheaded grandmother had passed on years since, her father said there was a cousin but he would have to find out her name. Even so, he was sure Charlotte would be quite welcome as a houseguest.
Charlotte felt as if she had been bowled over by a runaway horse, and every time she tried to stand up and get her bearings, the same thing happened all over again. Selena was outflanking her at every turn. And all with a too-sweet smile and the claim that she only had Charlotte’s best interests at heart.
On the third day, she summoned Charlotte to her while she was sitting for the portrait. If it hadn’t been her father delivering the message, Charlotte would have ignored Selena’s summons. Not forever. Just until after the sitting because of how assiduously she had been avoiding the artist except at the evening meal when she could hardly be absent from her place without a good excuse. Cowardice would not be an acceptable reason or one she would like to explain to her father. Nor could she come up with a reasonable excuse to delay talking to Selena when her father found her in the garden.
“Charley, I’ve been looking for you.” He sat down on the stone bench beside her and shifted his weight from side to side with a little groan. “These things need some padding.” He was a man who liked his comfort.
“But the sunshine is nice.” Charlotte smiled as she dropped her book to her lap, keeping her finger on the page to mark her place. The extra weight her father
It was almost beyond bearing. But Charlotte had never spent much time pretending. Not since she was twelve and her mother had handed over the keys to the pantry and linen cabinet. She had never pretended her mother would rise up off her couch and take control of the household again. She had never pretended that her father would notice and appreciate the way she, Charlotte, kept the household running. She had never pretended that she loved Edwin or that he loved her. Love had nothing to do with the agreement between them.
And now she didn’t pretend that she could stop Selena’s onslaught on Grayson. Not without her father’s help, and he was so enamored with the woman it was obvious he thought she could do no wrong. Charlotte saw little choice but to bide her time and carry on as if her life wasn’t getting turned upside down. She wasn’t exactly pretending that things hadn’t changed or that her carefully arranged future wasn’t slipping out of reach, but with time, she was sure she could step out of the vortex. She could take control of her future again. Just as soon as her head stopped spinning.
Meanwhile, it didn’t help that she often caught Adam Wade’s much-too-perceptive eyes on her as she put forth a polite front at the dinner table each evening. It didn’t help that the only news she received from Hastings Farm was of Edwin visiting the Shaker village. It didn’t help that her father began talking of six-year-old Landon, whom he hadn’t even met, as if he was the son he had always wanted. It didn’t help that Selena began to speak of the dowry Charlotte would take with her when she married in May, when it was becoming more and more apparent that there might not be a wedding in May.
It especially didn’t help that Charlotte’s father told her Selena thought she spent an inappropriate amount of time in the kitchen with Aunt Tish and had suggested Charlotte should go visit his Virginian relations for a few months to broaden her horizons beyond Grayson. When Charlotte asked which relatives, since the redheaded grandmother had passed on years since, her father said there was a cousin but he would have to find out her name. Even so, he was sure Charlotte would be quite welcome as a houseguest.
Charlotte felt as if she had been bowled over by a runaway horse, and every time she tried to stand up and get her bearings, the same thing happened all over again. Selena was outflanking her at every turn. And all with a too-sweet smile and the claim that she only had Charlotte’s best interests at heart.
On the third day, she summoned Charlotte to her while she was sitting for the portrait. If it hadn’t been her father delivering the message, Charlotte would have ignored Selena’s summons. Not forever. Just until after the sitting because of how assiduously she had been avoiding the artist except at the evening meal when she could hardly be absent from her place without a good excuse. Cowardice would not be an acceptable reason or one she would like to explain to her father. Nor could she come up with a reasonable excuse to delay talking to Selena when her father found her in the garden.
“Charley, I’ve been looking for you.” He sat down on the stone bench beside her and shifted his weight from side to side with a little groan. “These things need some padding.” He was a man who liked his comfort.
“But the sunshine is nice.” Charlotte smiled as she dropped her book to her lap, keeping her finger on the page to mark her place. The extra weight her father
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