The Convenient Bride Collection: 9 Romances Grow from Marriage Partnerships Formed Out of Necessity

She hadn’t expected him to be so gracious. Didn’t deserve it even. Still, he seemed to forget about the incident as he showed her around the clinic and later, as they had dinner with her father.

While the men discussed politics, Grace slipped from the room and went upstairs. She opened the second door down the hall and stepped into her room. Everything remained unchanged. Her girlish patchwork quilt lay across the bed, and the worn rag rug covered the polished wood floor. She moved toward her armoire and pulled the remaining dresses off their hangers. Taking a carpetbag from the depths of the closet, she packed the dresses neatly inside and closed the clasp, breathing in the lemon peel sachets she kept among her frocks.

The door opened and Mrs. Ackerman entered. She still wore her grease-splattered apron from dinner and kept her hands behind her back.

“Can I help you with something?” Grace faced the woman. A nervous furrow knit the cook’s brow, and her gaze darted to and fro.

“This came for you in today’s mail. I didn’t show it to your father.” Mrs. Ackerman held out an envelope. One glance at the script sucked the breath from Grace’s lungs, bringing with it a gust of doubts and fears. Audrey’s handwriting.

Grace,

Word has reached me of your marriage to the gentleman that was to have been mine. Knowing you, I suspect you did it out of your elevated sense of duty and responsibility. Be that as it may, I thought it only fair to warn you that though you may share his name, you will never have his heart. That still belongs to me. And though my own affections lay with another, his shall always remain fixed on me alone. You with your few or, may I say, no advantages whatsoever could never hope to win the heart of such a man. I write this not to discourage you, but to deter you from wasting your time trying. Be his housekeeper, sister mine, but don’t attempt to be his wife.

Your Most Devoted Sister,

Audrey

Grace lowered the letter, her entire body shaking. She closed her eyes and drew in a sharp breath. Leave it to Audrey to write such words. Her, with her cadre of men. Would she not rest until every one of their hearts belonged to her? How had she found out? Why couldn’t she simply wish them well?

“Does she say she’s coming back?” Mrs. Ackerman twisted her hands in her apron.

“No.” Grace balled the letter and threw it into the cold hearth. “I don’t care if I ever see her again.” The vehemence of her own words shook her. She had no reason to care. Audrey had never considered her. Never loved her. Thought of her only as a commodity to be used for her own purposes. Like one of those newfangled vending machines that dispensed notepaper whenever one put in a coin. It should be different between sisters. Yet it had gone on for too long to hope for anything else.

“Why, you don’t mean that, Miss Grace. Surely not.” Mrs. Ackerman’s eyes widened.

Grace stood and picked up the carpetbag. “I hate to admit it, but I do. And if she had been your sister, you might agree with me.”

“Well, I can understand you not wanting her back now that you’re wed to her beau. As a matter of interest, how are things between you two?”

Best to dodge that and keep things within Mrs. Ackerman’s province. “They’d be a sight better if I knew my way around a kitchen. Do you have any cookbooks I might borrow?” Despite Audrey’s words, she wouldn’t stop trying. Not so soon anyway. It wouldn’t be fair to herself or Dr. McNair. And for once in her life, she wanted to prove her sister wrong.

“Why didn’t you say so in the first place? Cookbooks? Bah! I can do one better than that. If you come over tomorrow morning first thing, I can teach you to cook a roast sure to win any man’s heart. Lots of other things, too. Everyone knows my pies are the finest in all of Bristol. And it was only just last year I won a blue ribbon for my blackberry jam.”

“Pshaw. You don’t even have to ask. If cooking a fine meal is all that stands between you and wedded bliss, there I can help you.”

A sigh found its way to her lips. “If only that were all, Mrs. Ackerman. If only that were all.”

Though her cooking had improved in the past two weeks, everything else in their marriage had stayed much the same. Near silence at every meal. Late nights coming home to find dinner on the stove, and his wife already asleep. Sitting across from her at breakfast as she wore a plain dress, her hair in a severe knot that did nothing to accentuate her quietly pretty features.

Suffice it to say, Grace wasn’t Audrey. And Raymond was no closer to finding out who she truly was. He’d tried. But the most he got out of her was a few sentences. He’d never been partial to chattering females. Except Audrey, of course. Still, sometimes he wished she’d take a lesson or two from the typical woman and just talk. He didn’t care about what, any subject would do. Just as long as she said something.

He dried his hands and hung the towel neatly on its peg. Tonight, there was no way he’d sit in the parlor feeling like a trapped animal, watching her mend or read. He simply couldn’t do it. After a long day at the clinic and on house calls, a bit of relaxation for him and his wife was well deserved. What to do? Oh, yes. Why didn’t he think of it before? A picnic dinner on Lake Compton. They could go and watch the sun setting over the lake, enjoy the fresh air. He’d taken Audrey before, and she loved it—

He opened the door. Grace sat on the sofa, head bent over a piece of mending. Was that one of his shirts? It sure looked like it.

“Oh!” She glanced up with a start. “One of your shirts. I was doing laundry and I noticed it had a hole in it. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind? Of course not. Thanks very much. I can’t sew worth a darn.” He grinned.

“What have you done today?” He stretched his legs out and rested his arm on the back of the sofa.

“I visited Father at the store and helped him with the books. I hope you don’t mind. I made certain all the housework was done beforehand.” That frightened sparrow look again. Like a child cowering under blows. What did she think he’d do? Beat her because she hadn’t stayed home all day?

“Why would you think I’d mind? You’re my wife, Gracie, not a prisoner.” Gracie? Where had that come from? Yet somehow, it fit her better than Grace.

Blast it all. He stood and strode across the room, opened the door. Mr. Cooper stood outside, bent over, round cheeks puffing from exertion.

“It’s Muriel. It’s her time! You’d better come quick.” Mr. Cooper looked at him like a drowning man clinging to a rope, his eyes two huge fear-filled disks.

“I’m right behind you.” He turned. Grace sat on the sofa, motionless. For saints’ sake, couldn’t Mrs. Cooper have picked another evening to have her babe? Why had she chosen the very night he hoped to spend time with his wife? Not that the expectant mother had much choice in the matter. Yet why did crises always come at the worst times?

“I don’t know when I’ll be home,” he called over his shoulder, following Mr. Cooper down the stairs, half running to keep up with the man’s loping strides.

He grabbed his bag and supplies then jumped into the empty seat in Mr. Cooper’s wagon. The man whipped his horses into a gallop, and Raymond gripped the seat. Was it wise to drive this ancient conveyance at madcap speed? He didn’t exactly relish being thrown from his perch and into a ditch.

“Hurry, boys! Hurry, Star! We’ve got to get back to Muriel!” Mr. Cooper snapped the reins. Wind whooshed past them, the chill evening air seeping into Raymond’s bones. Mr. Cooper glanced at him.

“Will she be all right? Her and the baby?” His large farmer’s hands white-knuckled the reins.

“She’ll be fine. Childbirth is a perfectly normal and natural experience. Women have babies every day.” Raymond put on his best bedside manner voice.

“But you don’t understand, Doc. This ain’t just any woman. This is Muriel, my wife. Boy, do I love that little gal.” A smile split Mr. Cooper’s work-worn face. “She’s … she’s like the sugar to my spice, the bread to my butter, the Jill to my Jack. My one and only. Honestly, I can’t imagine my little old life without her. And if something were to happen, I’d just die inside. Am I making any sense?”

Raymond nodded slowly. Mr. and Mrs. Cooper shared a once in a lifetime love. What he’d known with Audrey had been infatuation, that he now realized. With Grace? He couldn’t describe the complicated mix of emotions that went through his brain when he thought of her.

More than anything else, he wanted a once in a lifetime love. Someone to share hopes and dreams with, coffee in the morning and their bed at night. Someone he couldn’t imagine existing without.