Chapter 2

Her next words would tear this man’s world apart. Unravel it completely, link by link, strand by strand. Grace couldn’t bear to think of it. But she had to tell him. She’d already revealed the worst. The rest was just detail.

Her father chose that exact moment to lumber into the kitchen, glasses perched on his nose, paper beneath his arm. Like so many other mornings, he wore his faded velvet dressing gown over his vest and trousers. Unlike so many mornings, his carefully laid plans were about to change.

“More coffee in the dining room, if you please, Mrs. Ackerman.” Then his gaze landed on Dr. McNair. “What are you doing here, my boy? You should be at home. Not here where my daughter could come in and see you.”

“Father.” Grace did her best to steady her tone and speak with authority. “Audrey isn’t here.”

“What do you mean she isn’t here?” Her father’s brow knit until it seemed as if the two salt-and-pepper caterpillars under his forehead would plow into each other.

“She ran away. I found this.” Grace pulled the letter from her apron pocket. Audrey had left it in her chamber. Next to her wedding gown.

The contents had already stamped themselves indelibly on her brain, but she forced herself to listen as her father read aloud.

To my family,

Once you have received this letter, you will have already discovered my absence. I hope it shall not come as much of a surprise to you. Please do not take the trouble to search me out, as I have no desire for anyone to do so. I have grasped my future with both hands and have no intention of letting it go. Perhaps you may guess with whom I have thrown in my lot.

Please give Ray my sincerest apologies, and my dearest hopes for his health and happiness. Although he is not the man I love, I wish him only the best.

Love to all,

Audrey

The letter fluttered to the ground. Her father’s face reddened. Grace glanced from him to Dr. McNair. He stared into space, jaw clenched. Emotions battled in his formerly warm eyes, now cold as iron.

“Ungrateful little hussy. I know just where she’s gone. That traveling theater manager she’s talked so much about. Well, I hope she’s wretched indeed. Bringing this disgrace upon the family. The very day of her wedding to a decent, honest man.” Her father paced the room, arms swinging wildly. Mrs. Ackerman stood motionless by the cake, icing dripping off her spoon and pooling onto the floor.

Dr. McNair sank into his seat. He leaned his arms on the table, his strong, broad shoulders now crumpled in defeat. Grace’s own eyes filled with tears. Only moments ago, there had been so much happiness, such anticipation. Now it lay in a heap at their feet, a cold, dead pile of ashes.

Audrey was flighty, of course. Had flirted and flitted from beau to beau for years. It had been a relief to them all when she’d at last settled upon the new town doctor. She seemed so happy with him. No one would have ever dreamed she would do such a thing.

Except Grace. She’d seen the signs. The blushes whenever Mr. Ransom was mentioned. The excuses to stop by the theater company’s encampment whenever they passed that way. She should’ve known. Warned someone. Perhaps if she had, this never would have happened.

Her heart squeezed. Now this good, upright man had to pay the price. She was used to picking up the pieces after Audrey scattered them around. Dr. McNair wasn’t. How would he endure the shame and humiliation of being left at the altar? Would his medical practice suffer? Would the townspeople still look at him with the respect he had received so far?

No. Plain and simple. No.

Dr. McNair straightened his stance, as if drawing from deep within an ounce of courage. “I’m sorry about this, Mr. Whittaker, sure I am. Please let me know what I can do to assist you through this difficult time. I’ll go to the church and tell Reverend Hansen there will be no wedding.”

“Not so fast, young man.” Her father wheeled around. The same determination that had taken a simple country store and turned it into the best establishment in town now lined his features. “Why shouldn’t there still be a wedding?”

“But, sir.” Dr. McNair shifted in his seat, raw pain in his face. “How can there be? I have no bride.”

“Why not?” Her father strode across the room and stopped directly in front of her. Grace swallowed hard. “You forget, my boy. I have more than one daughter.”

The air choked from her lungs. Father couldn’t mean …? He couldn’t be suggesting …? He couldn’t actually be offering …?

Herself as Audrey’s replacement.

“Sir?” Dr. McNair stiffened. “I haven’t the pleasure of quite understanding you. What can you be meaning?”

“I mean that since my eldest daughter is ungrateful enough to reject your suit, my youngest will take her place.”

The world she’d known crashed down again. She, wed Dr. McNair? Little, unremarkable Grace? Had her father lost his mind? As a replacement for Audrey, she was laughable. Dr. McNair would never agree. Nor would she. Would she?

“You wish to give me Miss Grace’s hand in marriage?” Dr. McNair looked ready to bolt out of the room. She didn’t blame him. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to crawl back under the covers and forget this terrible morning ever happened.

“Why not? Grace is all of nineteen years of age. Although she may not be as … well … as noticeable, she is just as capable as Audrey in running a house. The man who weds her will be most fortunate. And after all the trouble and expense I’ve been put to, it seems shameful for it all to go to waste.”

Noticeable? Just say it, Father. Audrey is ten times more likely to capture a man’s attentions than I. The words burned deep within her throat.

“Do you not care to ask the lass if she be willing?” Dr. McNair’s gaze sought hers.

A tingle spiraled down her spine. His chocolate-brown eyes. His chiseled features. Strength and masculinity. He couldn’t actually be considering … her?

“Why, of course she’s willing. What better offer could there be for her?”

The words stung, more because of their truth than anything else. Father was right. She would get no other offers. Except perhaps from some desperate widower who simply wanted a housekeeper.

But of course, she would never be anything more to Dr. McNair. He’d chosen her sister.

“I want to hear what she has to say.” The doctor looked down at her. Nothing resembling ardor filled his gaze. Only deep, heartrending sorrow.

“I would do anything to make amends for what my sister has done.” Tears swam in her eyes. For this man who her sister had so carelessly wounded. He’d given her his heart. She’d tossed it in the rubbish heap.

“There you have it. Now, Dr. McNair. What do you say? Shall you take my Grace in her sister’s place?” Her father laid a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him. Instead of the usual censure in his eyes, something else lingered. As if he might, for a moment, think her special. Something valuable.

“Well? Will there be a wedding today or not?”

If only one could reel in events as easily as fishing line. Raymond would reel it all back, starting with yesterday evening. If he’d known of Audrey’s plans, surely he could have convinced her to stay, work things out. Somehow. Then he’d take back the events of the morning from the moment Grace had stepped into the kitchen. The letter. Mr. Whittaker’s anger. His substitute arrangement.

Had Mr. Whittaker taken leave of his senses? Women weren’t horses. You couldn’t simply exchange one for another. Audrey was the woman he’d fallen in love with. Not Grace. How could he, in good conscience, marry a girl he didn’t love? He couldn’t. Could he?

Still, he needed a wife. Every respectable doctor did. Someone to run the house and assist in the practice. That, along with his attraction to her, was the reason he’d decided to tie the knot with Audrey. Now she’d jilted him for some slick theater manager. No doubt he’d have her in his act soon enough. She’d like that. Audrey did enjoy putting on a show. Apparently including one that, up until yesterday, had cast her in the role of a devoted bride-to-be.

He chanced a glance at Grace. She studied him, her large gray eyes troubled. He’d always thought her a sweet lass. Quiet and mousey, but sweet. But to make her his wife?

Yet, he must have a wife. He’d thought to have one of his choosing, someone he loved and who loved him in return. Now love was no longer a consideration. After his heart had been tossed in the dirt and trod upon, how could it be? If he married Grace, he would gain a respectable wife. One with whom he could form a successful partnership. Omitting romance, he would still get exactly what he wanted.

“Come now, my boy. We’re waiting.” For a man whose daughter had committed such a transgression, Mr. Whittaker’s tone was a wee bit over-impatient.

Raymond swallowed, the roof of his mouth dry and gritty as plaster. “No … yes.” Yes? Where had that come from? As if some force outside of himself had taken hold of his tongue and spoken the words for him.

“You’re agreed then?”

Every ounce of good sense he possessed begged him to retract the words. He glanced at Grace. A shy gleam lit her eyes, like the hesitant flicker of a candle.

He’d chosen Audrey. But she wasn’t here. He still needed a wife. Though he didn’t love Grace, perhaps they could make things work. A convenient arrangement of sorts.

“If Grace is willing, then yes. I’m agreed.” He tried to sound firmer than he felt.

“It’s all settled. I’ll go down and speak to the minster. He should have no objections. Since your sister is unworthy of the honor, Grace, you, instead of her, may wear your mother’s wedding gown. I know she’d be proud to see you in it, if the Lord in His Providence hadn’t taken her from us.” His eyes took on a faraway look for a brief moment. “You’d better go and finish your preparations, my boy.” Mr. Whittaker clapped his hands together and hurried from the room.

Raymond cleared his throat. Grace clasped her hands behind her back, seeming at a loss for words. Something her sister never had difficulty with.

“I’ll do my level best to be a kind husband for you, lass.” He offered her a smile. “Though we haven’t had time to get properly acquainted, we can be friends at least, can we not?”

“I’d like that.” She returned his smile tentatively. So timid. Like a little sparrow afraid to venture far from home. Contrast that with Audrey’s butterfly brightness. He should have known better than to trust a butterfly. Too many others were attracted to her color and beauty.

He nodded. “Later then?”

Her only answer was another smile, before she ducked her head and flitted from the room.

Fire and thunder be on your head, Audrey Whittaker. Faithless, faithless lass!

The Holy Word demanded he forgive her. He’d promised to obey God as a young lad and wouldn’t stop now. Sometimes though, when one’s heart had been trod upon and smashed to bits, fighting back seemed so much more satisfactory than turning the other cheek. For a hot-blooded man like himself, anyway.

He made his way out into the mocking sunlight. Why should it shine when inside his heart blew a cold drizzle of rain?