His Remarkable Bride Page 4

  The children all moaned in protest. Elspeth finished signing, then handed the pen to Olivia and looked to Athos for an explanation.

  Athos shrugged. “The train just came in. Travis and Freddy can unload the cargo and baggage for me, but I’m the only one who can make sure the shipments are logged and inventoried and everything gets where it needs to be.”

  “Papa, you’re always working,” Millicent huffed, crossing her arms.

  Elspeth was inclined to agree with the girl, and she’d only really known the man an hour or less. “Do you have some sort of assistant who can help you?”

  “Me,” Hubert spoke up. “I help after school.”

  Elspeth smiled at the young man, but she wasn’t as reassured as she wanted to be.

  “I keep telling you to ask Howard about hiring an assistant stationmaster,” Virginia said as she passed them on her way to the door.

  “I don’t want anyone to have to go through any extra trouble on my account,” Athos answered.

  Elspeth wondered just how much trouble it could be to save yourself an even bigger amount of trouble.

  “Maybe I’ll talk to Howard,” Athos said, gesturing for them all to head on out of the church. “In the meantime, I want you all to be perfect angels for Elspeth.”

  “Yes, Papa,” the children answered.

  “Show her where everything is kept and where all of your rooms are. We want to welcome her to her new home with open arms.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  “We’re all going to be one big, happy family, aren’t we?”

  Ivy and Heather answered, “Yes, Papa,” but the rest of the children had torn out the back door and scattered across the churchyard.

  Chapter Three

  Three hours, two scraped knees, one screaming match between Geneva and Millicent and Lael and Vernon, a minor fire in the kitchen during supper preparation, and Elspeth was exhausted.

  “Where is the milk pitcher?” Heather hollered from the dining room into the kitchen as she and Ivy set the table for supper.

  “Um…” Elspeth twisted this way and that, searching the messy countertops. She hadn’t had time to wash the mixing bowls or put away the flour and eggs and herbs that had been taken out to prepare enough chicken and biscuits to feed the hoard. The milking pail that Hubert had brought up from the root cellar earlier was still on the kitchen table, but it was empty. Elspeth crossed to the cupboard, opening one door after another to see if the pitcher was there. Cups and plates, platters and mugs were thrown into the cupboards willy-nilly, adding to the feeling of chaos.

  Elspeth’s heart raced as if she had hiked a mountain. She turned to rest against the cupboard, fighting down the panic that so much disorder caused.

  “I found it!” Ivy called out, coming into the kitchen from the hallway with the milk pitcher in her hands. “Somebody put it in the front parlor.”

  “Oh!” Lael glanced up from where he was cutting up carrots. “I put it there.”

  “Lael!” Ivy huffed, walking on to take the pitcher to the dining room.

  “What?” Lael threw out his hands. “There was no place to put it in here.”

  Before Elspeth could say anything about that, the kitchen door smacked open and Geneva, Millicent, and Thomas rushed inside.

  “Flowers! Flowers!” the girls shouted in unison. “We picked flowers for the table.”

  Joy and terror mingled in Elspeth’s heart. Her head had been spinning since the moment she stepped off the train, but it wasn’t truly the children’s fault. They were helpful and lively. She’d experienced a moment of panic when she remembered her carpetbag but couldn’t find it, only to have Hubert say he’d already taken it up to her room. Ivy and Heather had taken her on a tour of the house, then set to work helping her prepare for supper. Vernon and Lael had done their chores—sweeping the front porch, collecting eggs from the chickens in the coop out back, and helping gather laundry from each bedroom and taking it to the room at the back of the house which was designated for washing up of all kinds—and the youngest children had zipped about, trying to help their older siblings. But the very fact that the house had an entire room just for washing filled Elspeth with dread. Laundry days must be an event in the Strong house.

  “Neva, Millie, are those flowers from Mrs. Evans’s garden?” Hubert asked, strolling into the kitchen through the back door.

  Athos was right behind him, looking tired but smiling. His stationmaster uniform was rumpled, and he’d somehow acquired a stain on his sleeve. Elspeth straightened and sent a panicked look around the kitchen. He would probably think she was severely incompetent to have the place looking such a mess when he returned from work. But no, he didn’t even blink at it.

  “Mrs. Evans said we could pick them,” Geneva rushed to defend herself.

  “Did she say that today?” Hubert asked.

  The girlish guilt in the twins’ expressions was answer enough.

  “Papa!” Thomas rescued his sisters by throwing out his arms and running at Athos.

  “Thomas!” Athos replied in the same excited tone. He caught Thomas as he slammed into him, lifting the boy and hugging him. “Have you been good for Elspeth?”

  “Yes.” Thomas nodded.

  “Papa, you’re home!” Ivy and Heather ran into the kitchen from the dining room, rushing to hug their father and bring him further into the room.

  “You’re almost never home before we start supper,” Lael observed. He gave his vegetables a few more chops, then went to give his father a hug too.

  Elspeth’s brow inched up. Her heart warmed to see the children greet their father with such affection, but at the same time, she felt like an outsider intruding on a family scene.

  “I rushed to get everything taken care of with this afternoon’s arrival,” Athos explained, putting Thomas down and hugging each of his children in turn.

  “And I helped,” Hubert added, standing taller.

  “So I’ll be able to lead grace at supper tonight. Imagine that,” Athos laughed.

  He finished hugging his kids, then turned to Elspeth. All of his easy affection clammed up. A hint of color came to his face as he stood where he was, smiling uncertainly at Elspeth. His arms twitched as though he would reach out to hug her, but he held back. There was a sparkle of fondness in his eyes as he looked at her, but in the end, all he did was clear his throat.

  “Have you had a pleasant afternoon?” he asked.

  Elspeth indulged in her observations of him for a few seconds more. She couldn’t decide if he was handsome or if the positive feelings she felt when she was around him came from his clear affection for his children. It was obvious that the children were everything to him.

  “It was a busy afternoon,” she answered at last. “But the children were helpful.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” He stayed where he was, his smile as fond and uncertain as ever. “Do you need any more help getting supper on the table?”

  “I can carry plates,” Vernon offered.

  “I’ll get the chicken,” Ivy added.

  “And I’ll get the vegetables,” Heather followed.

  “The vegetables aren’t finished yet.” Lael stopped her from whisking his work away.

  The moment of relative calm passed and the flurry of activity resumed. This time, all ten people were involved in setting the table, pouring glasses of milk, water, or in Athos’s case, weak beer, getting the vegetables into the pot, taking potatoes out of the pot, baking another tray of biscuits, and basting the chicken several times before taking it out of the oven. Elspeth was grateful for the help, but the sheer volume of movement and noise as people chatted and shouted instructions to each other left her bewildered by the time they all moved to the dining room to sit down.

  “You sit at the foot of the table,” Millicent instructed her as the children all scrambled to take their places. “Papa sits at the head.”

  “If that’s where you want to sit,” Athos added as he sat at the head, Hubert on one s
ide, Ivy and Heather on the other. The children arranged themselves from there in order from oldest to youngest. That left Elspeth sitting with Thomas on one side and Millicent on the other.

  “This is perfect.” Elspeth smiled as she sat.

  No sooner had she tucked in her chair than the children and Athos all joined hands. Surprised, Elspeth reached tentatively for Thomas’s and Millicent’s hands. Everyone bowed their heads.

  “Lord, for the food and good fortune you have given us, let us be truly thankful,” Athos said.

  The children began to chorus, “Ame—”

  “Ah!” Athos stopped them. A rush of giggles followed, then Athos went on with, “And let us be thankful for Elspeth as well. We will love her and cherish her as one of our own.”

  Tears stung at Elspeth’s eyes before the children could say a second, “Ame—”

  “Ah!” Athos stopped them once again. More giggles sprang up, louder this time. “And let us remember to be good and obey what Elspeth says, and to pick up our dirty clothes and to put our toys away and brush our teeth before going to bed.”

  He paused. The children began a hesitant “A—” An expectant hush fell over the table. Elspeth opened one eye. Athos’s eyes were still closed, but all around the table, the children were peeking at him and each other, and at her. A grin formed on Elspeth’s lips, and a giggle caught in her throat. The tension that hung over the table with all the pent-up laughter was palpable.

  “—men!” Athos shouted at last.

  “Amen!” the children all cried out, then burst into laughter and dug into their supper.

  Elspeth couldn’t shake her smile as she carved her chicken—and cut up Thomas’s as well. Family dinners of her childhood had consisted of her and her siblings eating in silence with their nanny in the nursery. On the few occasions she had dined with her parents, she’d been expected to sit still, to eat daintily, and to keep her mouth shut. The Strong’s table was a sea of noise and confusion, and more than a few spills, but in one minute, with one blessing, Athos had made her feel more welcome and more…loved than her family ever had. It was beautiful, and it was overwhelming.

  With a little encouragement from Athos, the children all helped clean up from supper once everyone had had their fill. The older girls helped Elspeth store the leftover food while the older boys helped the younger ones first with their homework and then washing up and changing for bed. As much as Elspeth wanted to tidy the kitchen and the dining room from top to bottom, there was only so much she could do before it was dark and all of the children needed to be readied for bed.

  The kids had one major incentive to put on their nightclothes and wash their faces and brush their teeth. As Athos explained while the mad rush to use the washroom downstairs and one designated room upstairs was in full swing, the house rule was that if everyone was ready before the clock on the mantle downstairs struck nine, Athos would read to them. Elspeth was astounded by how vigilant the children were in getting ready for their treat. She was equally astounded by Athos’s choice of reading material once they were all gathered in one of the bedrooms.

  “Black Bart reached for the revolver in the holster at his hip,” Athos read the lurid dime novel in a voice that left his children gasping in excitement. “‘I reckon you better git,’ Bart growled, stroking the handle of his revolver. Dirk Manley wasn’t intimidated. He widened his stance, puffing out his chest to show his sheriff’s star. ‘This town won’t be cowed by the likes of you anymore.’”

  “Papa, what does ‘cowed’ mean?” Geneva asked.

  “Did he turn him into a cow?” Lael attempted to supply an answer.

  “No.” Athos laughed. “It means intimidated or beaten down.”

  “So Dirk Manley won’t let Black Bart push him around.” Vernon nodded.

  “Right.” Athos reached over to ruffle his hair, then went on. “‘We’ve got good on our side,’ Dirk said. ‘Evil never prospers.’”

  Elspeth covered her mouth with one hand, half to hide her smile at the sweetness of the scene in front of her and half to stifle a yawn. It seemed like she’d arrived days ago instead of hours. The dime novel was thrilling, and the children gasped with each new twist that Athos read, but Elspeth could barely keep her eyes open.

  When Athos finally ended the chapter on a cliff-hanger—causing the children to whine in protest and to beg for one more chapter, but to no avail—eight tired little bodies finally dragged themselves off to their own rooms. Ivy and Heather shared a room and hinted to Elspeth that they would stay up reading their own books for a little while longer. Hubert, surprisingly, shared a room with little Thomas and carried him off, already half asleep. The younger twins shared a room and Lael and Vernon shared the room which doubled as the upstairs wash room.

  “I don’t know how you managed to find places for them all,” Elspeth commented through a yawn as she retired to her own room.

  “It is tight,” Athos agreed, following her. “But we’ve managed to make it work. There’s a bit more room in the attic, but Piper has claimed that entire floor as her domain.”

  “Your sister lives in the attic?” Elspeth asked, lips twitching as she tried to decide if that was practical or mad-capped.

  “She does,” Athos chuckled. “She’s made things much nicer up there than you would expect.” He closed the door behind them, then shrugged out of his suspenders.

  Shock coursed through Elspeth as he undressed. A second later she shook her head at her ridiculous reaction. Somewhere in the confusion of the day she’d forgotten that she and Athos were married. Of course they would share a room. She peeked at the bed out of the corner of her eye. Of course they would share a bed.

  Heat flooded her face. She tried to shake that off as well. It wasn’t as if she was some blushing virgin who had never known a man’s touch. No, a man’s touch was what had gotten her into this life in the first place. And even though Craig Valko had broken her heart and left her destitute in a foreign country, she was forced to admit she’d enjoyed her scandalous nights with him. At least at first. She reached for the buttons of her blouse, rolling her eyes at herself for her shaking hands. Athos was a good, kind man, as far from the man Craig turned out to be as possible. Pleasing him in bed was the least she could do for him.

  Across the room, Athos stopped halfway through taking off his shirt. His eyebrows tipped up as he studied her, then he burst into chuckles as if he’d grasped the punchline to a joke. “No, no, no, don’t worry about any of that.” He resumed undressing.

  “A-any of what?” Elspeth winced at the tremor in her voice, but forced herself to continue removing her clothes.

  “That.” Athos shook his head and unfastened his trousers. “I don’t expect anything resembling…” He cleared his throat, a flush coming to his cheeks. “Anything like a wedding night, now or…or ever, if that’s what you want.”

  “Oh?” Elspeth let her hands drop to her side.

  “No.” He stepped out of his trousers, folded them, and lay them across a chair on the other side of the room. Then he crossed back to the bed and pulled back the covers. “I’m exhausted after today, and I can only imagine how tired you are. I saw you yawning while I read The Outlaw’s Last Stand.”

  “I didn’t mean to be rude.” She shrugged out of her blouse, turning toward her trunk, which Hubert had set against the wall earlier. At some point, she would have to make time—and space—to put away her things.

  “You weren’t rude at all.” Athos laughed as he settled on his back in the bed. “Eight children is entirely overwhelming. Piper usually goes up to her room to work on hats after supper. She has plans to start a millinery business, you know, and that’s the only time she has to be alone. You’re a good sport for staying up with us.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  It felt a little odd to change into her nightgown with a man in a bed potentially watching her just a few feet away. When Elspeth turned to the bed, though, Athos was carefully looking away. Like a gentlema
n. As soon as she slid in beside him and pulled the covers up to her chin, he turned back to smile at her.

  “Honestly, as wonderful as being married and sharing a bed as a married couple is, and as much as I enjoy sexual relations—” He paused, flushing. “That was probably more than you need to know.”

  “It’s all right,” Elspeth said, feeling herself flush. “I-I’m not a virgin.”

  He glanced up at her. He didn’t look surprised. “As nice as all that is,” he went on, “to tell you the truth, I haven’t had two spare seconds to think about anything like that in ages. There’s too much work, too many children to see to, too many trains. I didn’t send for you only because I wanted someone to warm my bed.”

  “You sent because you needed someone to share your load.” She realized the truth of it as she spoke.

  Athos laughed and settled on his back. With a sleepy sigh he said, “These days I’m more of an automaton, put in motion to make sure everyone else is taken care of.”

  If there was more to his thought, he didn’t speak it aloud, even though Elspeth waited. She didn’t have to wait long before Athos’s breathing turned steady and deep with sleep.

  A strange sort of sadness filled her heart as she adjusted her position and stared up at the ceiling. An automaton was nothing more than a machine. There was something tragic about hearing the same man who had just spent a lovely evening with his children referring to himself as a machine. And yet, what could she do about it?

  Athos slept like a rock and woke with a deep-seated confidence that everything would be all right from now on, that his children would be safe and healthy with Elspeth helping raise them, and that he might just be able to make a good friend of his new wife. It wasn’t until he was out of bed, undressed, scrubbing himself down for the day with a sponge and the bowl of water on the table in the corner of his room that it dawned on him his new wife might have different standards of modesty than he did. With a wince, he glanced over his shoulder to see if she was still asleep.