––––––––
Olivia had a well-deserved raging headache when Hannish carried her breakfast in on a tray, yet she wasn’t about to let that stop her. “Are you not the most handsome maid I have yet to see? She sat up, stretched and let her sleeping gown expose the upper half of her bosom. “I need a maid to dress me, or shall you do it?” Before he could answer, Olivia slipped out of bed, untied the strings to her gown, lifted it over her head and tossed it away.
He tried not to look upon her nakedness as he set the tray on the table. “You are leaving this morning.”
“Am I never to be forgiven?” she pouted.
He ignored her, picked up her sleeping gown and handed it to her. “It may take a week or two, but I will forgive you in time.”
Her eyes instantly lit up. “Truly?”
“Truly. I wish you to go back to Scotland and prepare for my return. I shall come in time for the rest of the season. You do still have my formal clothing, do you not?”
“Of course I do. They will need cleaning and you are right. I shall need time for the alterations on my new gowns.” She dropped the sleeping gown and tried to go into his arms. Again, he stopped her. “There is no time for that now. I reserved a seat for you on the afternoon train.”
“I hoped we might start our family.”
“We will, when we are both in Scotland. I do not wish to miss a moment of it.”
“Very well then, I shall need money for my expenses.”
“Alistair is going with you and he will pay your expenses.”
“Alistair? I would rather pay my own expenses.”
“Have you no money left? I have given you a very generous allowance.”
“Well, yes, but everything was very expensive in New York.”
He was having trouble holding back his anger and decided he best leave, before he said what he desperately wanted to. “Get dressed, Olivia. If you are not dressed in an hour, I shall be forced to dress you myself in the first garment I find.” He walked out and closed the door, leaving a naked Olivia alone to stare after him.
When Hannish went back to the kitchen, it was clear by their smiles that the Scots had spread the word to the Americans - the duchess was going and Hannish was staying. He was surprised to find Sassy at the table eating everything in sight and it made him feel a little better, but not much. It didn’t appear as though her eye was going to blacken after all, but she had her hair loosely piled on top of her head as though it still hurt where Olivia had ahold of it. “Where might my sister be?”
“Still in bed,” Sassy answered. “That awful banging kept her awake.”
“I am sorry, I dinna consider how it was keeping everyone else awake. Sassy, you need not work today. I would rather see you outside in the sunshine or perhaps you might read a book. There are a few in the library you might enjoy.” Before she could argue, he turned to Prescot. “We are to receive a visitor from Scotland this afternoon, a Mr. George Graham. Take him to the study and then notify me of his arrival.
“What do you mean to do to him?” McKenna asked, walking to the table and sitting down.
“I mean to delay his return to Scotland, nothing more.”
She wasn’t certain she believed him, but did not pursue the matter. She did give Prescot a pleading look as if to beg him to stay close at hand when Graham came. “Brother, will you be needin’ me to do anything this morning? I am hoping we might set a date for the ball today and I’ve invitations to order.”
Sassy joyfully clasped her hands together. “A ball?”
“Aye, Sassy, and I shall need you to help me. Are you willing?” McKenna asked.
Sassy thought about it and frowned, “Well, no, Miss McKenna. I know nothing of balls. Millie would do much better, or Donnel. Come to think of it, even Keith would be more help than I.” She made everyone laugh and she meant to. She had come to enjoy putting a smile on everyone’s face, especially with the spiteful duchess in the house.
A bell began to ring and everyone looked at the bell board on the wall. McKenna gasped. “Olivia found the bell in the water closet, Hannish.”
Hannish set his cup of tea down. “I best see to her, she had nothing on the last I saw of her.”
*
For the next hour and a half, the tension was thick in Marblestone Mansion. Something could still go wrong and everyone held their breath. Olivia managed to fix her own hair and dress herself, but not pack her things. So while Hannish took his wife outside to enjoy the fresh air, Millie and Sarah made haste to throw everything in Olivia’s travel bag and steamer trunk – everything except her dreaded wooden brush. As soon as they were finished, Keith and Ronan carried the luggage down the stairs and loaded them on the wagon. At the same time, Alistair and Dugan added their travel suitcases and got aboard. Both had shed their uniforms for more informal clothing. Once everything was finished finally, Ronan got set to drive the carriage and Keith got ready to follow with the wagon.
With her hand wrapped around his arm, Hannish turned his wife and walked her back toward the waiting carriage. “You look beautiful as always. I had almost forgotten how glorious you are.”
“I am disappointed not to have spent at least one night alone with you, but I suppose another few weeks will be bearable.”
“For us both.” He smiled, stopped, took her in his arms and kissed her passionately. “I can hardly wait.” He whispered. He closed his eyes and held her in his arms for a long moment before he let her go. “I fear you will miss the train, my love.”
“Are you certain you cannot come home with me?”
“I’ve this place to sell and the servants to find positions for. You understand.”
“Always the sweet Hannish; thinking of everyone else first.”
He helped her into the carriage and then closed the door.
“You are not taking me to the train?”
“I cannae, I must wait here for our friend George Graham.”
Olivia wrinkled her brow and it was the last expression he saw before Ronan loudly smacked the reins against the back of the team and jerked the carriage away.
Hannish nodded to Alistair and Dugan as the wagon passed, and then looked for the carriage between the trees. He remembered to smile and wave when he was certain Olivia could see him, and kept watching until it was completely out of sight. Then he bowed his head.
At the window of the second floor sitting room, McKenna had tears in her eyes. Sassy put her arm around McKenna’s waist and tried to comfort her. “He truly loves his wife, does he not?”
“Aye, ‘tis the hardest thing he has ever done, sending her away forever like that. Harder even than leaving her three years ago.”
“‘Tis my fault. I knew to stay clear of her.”
“‘Tis not your fault, ‘tis Olivia’s.” She wiped her tears away and tried to smile. “Come, we have work to do and planning a ball will help distract my brother.”
“Mr. Graham, it is good of you to come all this way to give your report,” Hannish said, as he walked into his study. “Please sit and be comfortable. Would you like some tea? Of course you would.” Hannish walked to the wall and pulled the cord. “I trust you had a good journey?’
George Graham removed his hat, sat in a chair, crossed his legs and set his hat on his knee. “I did, Your Grace, very good indeed.”
Hannish was not impressed with the man’s appearance and for the life of him, could not see why Olivia would prefer him. His mustache nearly covered his upper lip, his beard appeared to be just growing out, and although it matched the color of his mousy brown hair, there were places that most likely would not fill in well. The bald spot on the back of George Graham’s head refused to be covered by long strands of hair, and the man had dull brown eyes. “Are the repairs completed?”
“There are a few things, here and there, but it is mostly finished.”
“What sort of things are left undone, precisely?”
“I have not yet managed to get the gardens finished, but that will come along nicely now that it is spring.”
“Then you intend to go back to Scotland?” Hannish asked.
“Naturally. Is Olivia not about?”
“Do you mean Duchess MacGreagor?”
Graham squirmed in his seat a little. “Aye, Duchess MacGreagor.”
“She is not here.”
The unwelcome visitor sat up a little straighter. “Not here? But she said...”
“You were on the train with her?”
“Well yes. She invited me to come and I was more than happy to see she arrived safely.”
“Why did you not make yourself known at the train station?”
“Well, I thought...I mean...I...you drove away before I could.”
“I suppose I did.” Hannish stopped talking when Brookton entered with a tea tray and set it on the desk. He watched Brookton pour a cup of tea, hand it to Graham and then pour a second cup for him. Still, he waited until Brookton left before he spoke again. “Mr. Graham, your services have been very expensive.”
“That is precisely what I have come to discuss, Your Grace. When might I be paid?”
Hannish stared at the man. “You have not been paid?”
“Not this past year complete.”
“I see.” He took a slow sip of tea and considered what that meant. “I find I am confused. I sent the funds to my wife and she claims to have paid you in full.”
“You sent her the funds?”
“I had my banker in Scotland see that she got them on the first of every month, just as you were promised.”
“I assure you...I have not been paid.”
Hannish was quiet for another long moment. “I believe my wife has swindled you.”
“See here, Olivia...Duchess MacGreagor would never do a thing like that.”
“You know her that well, do you?”
“I worked on her...your home daily. I know her quiet well.”
“Tell me, how much did your passage on the ship cost?”
Graham thoughtfully sipped his tea. “I do not recall.”
“But you did pay for it yourself.”
“Of course I did, what kind of man do you think I am?”
“‘Tis odd, because my wife says she paid your passage. Surely, you dinna have two tickets.” Hannish took another slow sip of tea, watched the increasingly agitated man and waited for Graham to ask the inevitable question. He did not have to wait long.
“Where might Duchess MacGreagor be?”
“On a train somewhere between Denver and St. Louis, I imagine.”
“She has gone back?”
“You look disturbed, Mr. Graham. Has she left you behind?”
“Well no...I mean I am quite capable of finding my own way home, I assure you.”
“I am glad to hear it, since my wife’s allowance has been cut off.”
“Cut off?” The color began to drain from Graham’s face.
“Mr. Graham, I believe you. If you say my wife has not paid you, then I must. However, my funds will not be available until the end of the week. I hope you dinna mind waiting.”
“But I cannot afford to stay a week.”
“You have no money at all?”
Graham looked worried. “Not enough to pay for a week’s stay in a hotel.”
“That is a pity. Perhaps I might put in a good word with the hotel manager and you can pay him at the end of your stay.”
“Yes, that might do.”
“Naturally, I must deny some of your invoices.”
George Graham set his cup of tea on a nearby table and stood up. “Mr. MacGreagor, you have no right!”
Hannish put his cup down and slowly got up as well. “I have every right. I asked my brother to look over the place. You neglected several things I specifically put on my list, yet you invoiced me for them. Shall I show you the...”
“That won’t be necessary. I shall leave now.”
“Have a nice walk.”
“Walk? What have you done with my horse?”
“I fear he has thrown a shoe. Of course, if you wish to stay, I am certain we can make you more than comfortable here.”
Graham fiddled with his hat rim. “Perhaps your man might take me to town?”
“I am afraid not, I keep everyone quite busy here. Have you met my sister? I am certain you have, she was on the ship...” Suddenly, a shot rang out. Hannish ran out of the study, across the parlor, through the foyer and out the front door.
Shepard stood in the middle of the lawn with a still smoking Springfield musket in his hand, looking at something in the trees. “What is it, Shepard?”
“Charles Whitfield, Mr. Hannish. I missed.”
Said Hannish, “Now there’s a pity.”
“He’ll not be coming back this time, Mr. Hannish.”
“Dinna count on it, Shepard. His kind always comes back.” When he turned around, Mr. Graham was standing there with his mouth gaping. Hannish put his hand on George Graham’s shoulder and tried to urge him back toward the house, but Graham was reluctant to go. “Mr. Whitfield fancies my sister, but his manners are too poor to suit either of us.”
“You shoot a man for ill manners?” Graham asked.
“Only if he persists. I am convinced you would not persist, am I right Mr. Graham? You would not persist in pursuing another lad’s wife, would you?”
“Certainly not. I am a married man.”
“I had not heard that. Do you love your wife?”
“Very much.”
“Does she know you are having an affair with my wife?”
Graham oddly looked defiant. “I assure you, I am not having an affair with your wife.”
“Of course you are. Come now, Mr. Graham, there is no need to deny it, I’ve plenty of witnesses.” Hannish’s smile turned to a frightening glare. “Mr. Graham, should you ever go near my wife again, I shall see that everyone in Scotland hears of your treachery.”
George Graham realized Shepard was reloading and began to back away. “But you will pay me?”
“At the end of the week, just as I said. Furthermore, I shall be happy to see that the horse is returned to the hotel.” Hannish pointed down the lane. “Town is that way.”
Alarmed by the shot, every member of the household was outside watching when Mr. Graham began to run down the lane. As soon as he was out of sight, they watched Hannish take off his jacket, hand it to Shepard and head for the woodpile.
*
The axe was right where Hannish left it the last time – imbedded in the end of a log. He pulled it out, set another log on top of it and delivered a mighty blow. He was not as angry this time as he was perplexed. By his count, Olivia had managed to get her hands on a great deal of money. Had she squandered it or was she up to something? Did she mean to get all she could out of him, and trick him into divorcing her so she could marry George Graham? An hour later, that was the only explanation he could come up with.
*
It was a mistake to wear the new shoes Olivia bought him in New York, and it didn’t take long for Graham’s feet to blister on his forced walk down the hill toward town. The worst seemed to be on the outside of his little toes, and when he found a rock to sit on, he stopped, took off his left shoe and tried to see what the problem was. He put his hand inside, felt around and when he finally looked up, a man on a horse was watching him.
“I had a pair of shoes like those once,” the stranger said. “They have a knot inside, but if you clip it...if you can reach it that is, the shoe begins to fall apart.”
“They are very expensive shoes.”
“The best there is, the shoemaker claims. I am Charles Whitfield, and you?”
“George Graham.”
“Care for a ride to town, George?”
“I would be ever so grateful.” He hated to, but he put his shoe back on and began to tie the laces.
“You’re a Scot? I saw you at Marblestone Mansion.”
George nodded. “You must be the lad MacGreagor’s man shot at?”
“He missed.”
“So he said.”
Charles reached down and patted the side of his mare’s neck to steady her. “I hoped to get a look at his wife.”
“You are too late; he sent her back to Scotland.”
“So soon?”
“She only came to beg him to divorce her.” George finally finished tying his shoe and stood up.
“On what grounds?”
“Adultery. Apparently, it infuriated him and he agreed more quickly than she expected.”
Charles moved his foot out of the stirrup, offered his arm, helped George mount behind him and headed for town.
*
McKenna was more than worried about her brother. He had been in his study for the better part of three days, checking lists and placing orders, now that he could do it by telephone instead of writing letters. She often heard him raise his voice, but it was not in anger, it was to make his order heard through phone lines that did not always carry a clear conversation. As well, Cameron called each day, normally late at night Colorado time. Hannish had not come to the kitchen in the mornings or joined her for lunch, and as the third evening approached, she decided to see if he was coming for dinner.
“Come in,” she heard him say when she knocked on the door. She entered, looked around the undecorated room and frowned. “A mounted bear head or two on the walls would tidy the place up a bit.”
He smiled. “Must I shoot the bears myself?”
“Of course, how could you brag about your hunting talents otherwise?”
“Perhaps I might consider it for the billiard room.” He closed his accounting book, put it in a drawer and stood up. “Come, I have something to show you.” He took her by the hand, led her to the back of the house and then up the first flight of stairs. He stopped, looked upstairs and down to make certain no one could see, and then pushed on an inside section of the wall.
McKenna was astonished when the door opened into a small room. A table, just inside the door, held candles and matches to use if necessary, but from somewhere above, the sun gave off enough light to climb the spiral staircase. She did not hesitate to start up. “A secret room, how thrilling.”
He carefully pushed the door closed. “All mansions must have a secret room or two.”
“Indeed they must.” At the top of the stairs, oval windows were set in a pattern to look like the rest of the mansion’s outside decorations.
“I built this in case the Arapaho Indians are not as happy on the reservation as President McKinley claims they will be. What do you think of the view?”
McKenna was speechless and quickly sat down on a wooden bench facing one of the windows. The sun was beginning to set behind Pikes Peak and the scattered clouds were in shades of gold and pink. Below the mountains, the lights of a small town were beginning to come on. “‘Tis breathtaking. What is that place called?”
He chose a second bench to sit on opposite another oval window. “That, my dear, is Manitou Springs. There are many wondrous things to discover there. The mineral pools have a way of soothing aching bones and the watering holes have tiny bubbles coming from somewhere in the earth. If you are silent, you can hear the rumble in the ground.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“Not that I have heard. There are magnificent cottonwood trees everywhere, hotels, parks, a very fine bathhouse and of course, a few mansions. None as grand as mine, I boast.”
“And none with a secret room?”
“Not that I am aware of. I come here sometimes when I want to be alone. I believe Charlotte goes quite mad trying to find me.”
“She fancies you, I think.”
“I suspect it too, but so far, it has not been a problem.”
“It might be, now that you have no wife.”
“Charlotte is the least of my concerns.” He was quiet and just watched the colors of the drifting clouds change for a time. “When I feared Olivia would not leave, I told her I had been unfaithful. Can you guess what she did?”
“What?”
“She forgave me. Any other woman would have had my head.”
“Perhaps she still will, once she’s had time to think about it. They are rare, but with enough money and the right solicitor, she might manage to secure a divorce without your permission.”
“Do you suppose that is what she is up to? It would explain her refusal to pay the servants and Mr. Graham.”
“Perhaps. She might have hoped she could lure you back to Scotland, but if not, she would have the money to secure another means of happiness.”
He considered that for a moment. “It makes more sense than anything I have come up with.”
“Yet, I care far less about her than I do about you. Without a wife, you shall have no children. Father would wish the bloodline to continue.”
“I fear Cameron must see to that now.”
“Oh brother, my heart breaks for you. You would make the best father in the world.”
“Thank you for that. Whatever would I do without you here to comfort me? My heart is broken too, but I am determined to recover. I have no high opinion of Olivia now, and I must learn not to love the memory of what I thought her to be.” Hannish sighed. “I had such plans for our life here. Now I know not what to do with it all.”
“Well, I still need a home as do you. Therefore, you must continue on as before and I will help. The servants need positions and this place needs hundreds of guests to entertain.”
“True and perhaps you might fill the place with children someday. I can love your children just as well as my own.” He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “Are you not hungry? I am starved.”
*
“Telephone for you, Miss McKenna,” Prescot said.
“For me?”
“Mrs. Whitfield, Miss.”
“Thank you.” She got up, walked to the wall phone in the upstairs sitting room and lifted the receiver. “Abigail... I am much improved, thank you...oh, he has? Paris is beautiful this time of year...quilting, oh yes I would love to...may I bring a guest?...thank you, I shall see you tomorrow then.” Excited, she hurried down the stairs, knocked on the door and walked into the study. “Good news!”
“What?” Hannish asked, setting his fountain pen down.
“Charles Whitfield leaves tomorrow for Paris?”
“That is good news. I shall tell the lads they no longer have to watch the trees.”
“Abigail has invited me to a quilting party tomorrow afternoon.”
“Would you like me to go with you?”
“Nay, but I would like to take Charlotte. She loves to sew and can teach me if quilting is beyond my understanding.”
“Charlotte will likely enjoy that. I have seen the quilts Abigail and her friends make, and they are quite nice. Next, you will want me to take you to town so you can buy up all the cloth you see.”
“Would you? I’ve been longing to go and now that Charles will not be a bother...come to think of it, you need not go with me now, unless you want to.”
He looked surprised. “Of course I want to, I have neglected you long enough. Will Saturday be soon enough? I must see about our dear Mr. Graham on Saturday anyway.”
“You are not going to kill him, are you?”
Hannish chuckled. “Not unless he shoots first.”
“Saturday is fine then.” She kissed his cheek and went to find Charlotte.
Hannish opened his accounting book again and started to add up this day’s expenses. Just then, he heard a scratching somewhere. For a moment, he feared the place had rats, but when he heard it again, he got up and tried to figure out where it was coming from. At last, he opened the door and Olivia’s puppy bolted into the room. The dog scurried around, smelled this and that, and then ran back. He sat at Hannish’s feet, looked up and whimpered.
“Do you not get enough attention?” he asked, picking the dog up and rubbing it behind the ears. “You need a new name.” He went back to his chair, set the dog in his lap and went back to work. In no time at all, the curled up puppy was fast asleep.
*
The Whitfield Mansion was lavishly and colorfully decorated – perhaps a little too colorfully. Chandeliers in every room were as magnificent as any McKenna had ever seen, and her comment made her hostess very proud. The formal dining room had blue wallpaper with curtains to match, and the long table was already cluttered with patterns and different colors of cloth. Five women were hard at work, cutting the cloth into squares, circles and wedges, but they stopped when McKenna and Charlotte entered the room.
“Miss McKenna MacGreagor, I would like you to meet Mrs. Maude Goodwin,” said Abigail.
Maude smiled sweetly, “I believe you have met my husband, Miss MacGreagor.”
“I believe I have. Please, call me McKenna.” She feared Maude would remark on what happened in town with Charles, but thankfully, she did not. “This is Charlotte, our seamstress. I confess I sew little except to embroidery and I am counting on Charlotte to help me learn.”
Said Abigail, “We are happy to have help, wherever we can find it.” She introduced Mrs. Vivian Mabs, Mrs. Wilma Miller, Miss Loretta Collins and Miss Pearl Hughes. “Sit down, McKenna, and now that you are here, I shall ring for tea. Cook makes the most wonderful apple pie, only not in the usual form. She makes individual servings surrounded with crust and sprinkled with just a touch of sugar.”
“It sounds delightful.” McKenna made herself comfortable and motioned for Charlotte to sit beside her, while Abigail rang for tea.
The woman next to her touched McKenna’s hand to get her attention. “Your brother is very handsome.”
“Thank you, Pearl.”
“Indeed he is,” Loretta agreed. “And we are not the only ones who think so.”
“I shall happily...” McKenna started.
“He is married,” Charlotte mumbled.
“Not for long, the way I hear it?” said Abigail.
“What?” McKenna asked.
“My dear, you need not pretend you do not know. Charles got it from Mr. George Graham. Mrs. MacGreagor only came to beg a divorce from your brother.”
“Truly?” Charlotte asked, not bothering to hide the delight in her eyes.
“Charlotte, it is not true,” McKenna quickly countered.
“Why else would he send her away the very next day?” Loretta asked.
“My brother wished her to...” McKenna tried.
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “He tricked her into leaving.”
McKenna was dismayed. “Charlotte, please.”
“Well, he did. He sent her back and promised to follow her to Scotland, but he has no intention of leaving Colorado. He...”
Abigail took pity on a horrified McKenna and interrupted, “My dear, Charlotte, a servant does not speak of her employer’s private affairs.”
“Yes, but you will not tell, will you?” Charlotte was pleased when all the women shook their heads. “There, you see. Besides, I am not really a servant, I am a teacher.”
“A teacher?” McKenna asked. “You’ve not said a word about it before.”
Charlotte looked particularly pleased with herself. “Well, I should not have said it now. I have yet to secure a position, and I feared if Mr. Hannish learned I seek employment elsewhere, he would send me away.”
“My brother is not like that,” said McKenna.
“I know that now, and that is why I say it. I am very proud of my teaching certificate,” Charlotte said.
Abigail hoped to change the subject and gleefully put her hands together. “The Duchess of Ainsbury was to be a teacher too, but that was before she married her duke. McKenna you must know her.”
It took a moment for McKenna to gather her wits. “I do not recall a Duchess of Ainsbury. What is her given name?”
“Mary, I believe. Of course, we just called her duchess and I do not recall ever hearing her married name. We met at the Banker’s ball last year. It was held at the very fine Manitou House in Manitou Springs. McKenna, you have not likely been there yet, you being so new to the neighborhood.” Abigail nodded for the footman to pour her tea and hardly paused to breathe before she went on, “The ball gown she wore gave me quite a flutter and I told Claymore, I simply had to have one just like it. He agreed, naturally, but then he rarely denies me anything. McKenna you must know her. Hannish said you know practically everyone in London society.”
McKenna hesitated to say it, but truth among friends seemed to be called for in this case. “I am afraid I do not. As far as I know, there is no Duke of Ainsbury and I am sad to say, there is no such place as Ainsbury in either Scotland or England.”
“Imposters?” Abigail cried out, putting her hand on her racing heart. “They stayed with us for nearly a month and we treated them like the royalty we thought they were. Claymore paid for everything, even their expenses home.”
McKenna leaned to the side a little so the footman could set her cup of tea on the table. “I suspect there are plenty of British royalty imposters in America and how could you know? How could anyone know the difference? I must ask my brother, Cameron, to send me a list of all the real royalty, and...”
“And post it in every hotel,” Abigail said. “My dear, I am so happy you are here. We’ll not be fooled again.”
It was finally down to business for Abigail’s sewing circle, and Pearl patiently showed McKenna how to put the blocks and wedges together to make designs. While she did, Pearl managed to ask a few more questions, “You have another brother, you say. Is he as handsome as Hannish?”
McKenna smiled. “I am hardly one to judge. He is married as well and I adore his wife. They hope to visit before the summer is out.”
Loretta, the only other single woman in the room, had a definite glint of excitement in her eyes. “Your brother is a real duke, is he not?”
“Aye, but it means nothing here in America,” McKenna said.
“It would mean a great deal to the woman who secures him. It would mean a very great deal,” said Pearl.
McKenna was not amused. “I caution you, my brother is not seeking a new wife, and certainly not one who is more interested in his title than in him.”
“Of course not,” Abigail soothed. “But you, my dear, are quite without a husband, and I hope to introduce you to several of our gentlemen friends soon. Perhaps we might manage to make you forget the man you left in Scotland. When is the next ball, Vivian?”
Vivian sighed. “The middle of next month and I’ve nothing to wear.”
“You will come, won’t you, McKenna? And bring your handsome brother?” Pearl asked.
“Oh yes, please do,” Loretta agreed.
“I shall ask him.”
Neither Pearl nor Loretta noticed Charlotte’s scowl.