"And 'tis still morning. Nearly eleven o'clock."
Thomas managed a lopsided grin. " Tis a wonder only a dozen women have paid a call, clamoring for a piece of you."
"Please, don't remind me. 'Twas terrifying." He immediately thought of his stepmother and the way she'd treated their father, all of them, draining the joy from every day and happiness from every aspect of life. Would this be his married fate?
"Will they bring more food, I wonder?" Andy bolted in the back door from the barn. "Since we lost cook we've had to get along on Thomas' cooking skills."
"When more women arrive, they will certainly bring more food." Jonah faced the window. Light filtered through low clouds. He would choose his wife today.
If she were kind, then she would be good enough.
A knock rattled through the silent house.
"Mayhap that is your future wife," Thomas teased with a wink. "Well, there's only one way to know for certain. Get on your feet and answer the door, man."
"I hope it isn't the widow with the warts," Andy mused. "I've tasted her biscuits at the husking bee last autumn. Terribly dry. 'Tis better to pick a wife who's a good cook, too."
Jonah gritted his teeth and stood to face his destiny.
"Tell me what the house is like," Violet demanded, her ardor not diminished by the splash of sudsy wash water.
"Just a house, 'tis all. Bigger than this one." Tessa rinsed the bowl and set it on the toweled table to dry.
"You're lying because you just don't want me to know. I bet the Hunters' parlor is a fine one. I've seen the huge windows and the clapboards so neat and cared for. Inside the parlor must be huge, with velvet everywhere."
"I was too busy to notice whether the chair was velvet or not" Tessa plunged her hands into the sink. The last man she wanted to talk about was Jonah Hunter.
"I bet there are glass lamps everywhere, with the candles inside. And crystal teardrops catching the light." Violet swelled up with great hope.
"I saw only candleholders, plain as glass. I was tending an ill man, not drooling over his material possessions." Tessa scrubbed hard at the iron kettle. Berry sauce darkened the wash water.
"I don't care about the old colonel. 'Tis Major Hunter I have an eye on."
"Just like every girl in the entire village." Tessa rinsed and set the kettle to dry. Exhaustion fogged her brain, yet she lifted a clean towel from the pile and began drying the dishes, the third set today.
"Do you think the pink ribbon's best?" Violet held up both a blue and a pink ribbon against her dress.
"I doubt Jonah Hunter is a man to notice a foolish girl's ribbons." She wasn't jealous, she was damn mad. After a long night of work with hardly any sleep, she'd done nothing but do her chores here. The barn, the meals, the dishes, care of the milk, the daily sweeping, and then making a batch of berry tarts for the silly chit to take to the Hunters' house.
To pay a call, as Charity said. But Tessa knew the truth. They wanted to show off Violet to Hunter and make him notice her youthful beauty and thoughtfulness in the gift of tarts.
What the colonel's illness had to do with pastry, Tessa did not understand. The old man needed clean sheets and a hearty soup broth he could sip and special tea to boost his recovery.
The berry tarts were for Jonah.
A knock rattled on the door, startling her. A knife slipped from her hands to the floor.
"Clumsy," Violet scolded.
Tessa tossed the dishtowel on the table. "Oh, go bat your eyes at Jonah Hunter. You ought to be perfect for him. You both are so in love with yourselves, neither of you could love anyone else."
"Why you low-down, dried-up-"
A baby's cry shrilled through the room.
Violet paled.
Tessa turned, dread filling her heart. Horace Walling stood in the doorway, holding an outstretched basket in one arm and an infant in the other.
His rotten teeth flashed when he talked. "Your grandfather said you would see to some of the daily work. I brought by the family's clothes for you to wash. Guess you might as well get accustomed to it. By this time next week, it'll be your lot in life."
Tessa took one look at Charity's and Violet's triumphant smiles and bit her lip.
There is no way on this green earth, she wanted to say but held her tongue. Temper stirred in her chest, and she fought it.
Be his wife? Not on her life.
"A lovely caller to see you, Jonah," Andy yodeled from the base of the stairs.
Jonah turned from the fire in his father's room, the stick of wood in hand. "Another caller?" he muttered wearily to his other brother.
Thomas stood from the low bedside stool, studied the slumbering face of the man lying there, and stretched. "At least we will not be in danger of starving.
"Aye. I have never seen so many breads, stews, soups and puddings gathered together in my life." Weariness rolled over him like an ocean wave. "So many visitors and not one offer to help with Father. All the young ladies have offered calculated smiles, their plates of food, and sometimes a shy offer of something else."
It was that something else that soured his stomach.
Thomas fidgeted on the chair. "I see how you worry. 'Tis fearsome, after growing up watching our stepmother use Father."
"Aye." It saddened him to think he could be in the same position.
"Father couldn't see that our stepmother did not want love and passion, but to live in his fine house and drain dry the coffers buying enough silk dresses to clothe every living subject in all of the colonies."
"I'll not make the same mistake." Jonah rubbed his brow. "And it makes me afraid to see what manner of female will greet me next at the door."
"Be brave, brother. Andy and I will protect you from any forward virgins." Humor sparkled in Thomas' dark eyes.
"Fie, you are a scoundrel to tease me." Jonah strode from the room, listening to his brother's laughter.
He was a fool for making such a vow, this promise of marriage. It seemed his faith in females fell even lower today. 'Twas nearly suppertime and not one of his fourteen visitors had offered to help him tend Father.
What would he do then?
Voices rumbled, growing clearer as he approached. He strode into the lit parlor, and his gaze froze on the two female forms huddling before the fire. One was dressed in pink and blue, dressed and groomed and smiling so hugely. Far too young for his taste.
The other female was skinny. Black curls tumbled over the back of her tattered shawl. Simple blue homespun skirts rustled as she turned from the hearth to face him.
Tessa Bradford had come to call on him?
"Jonah. Did you brew the tea I left for your father?" Her voice held a low bite.
But he remembered the softness in her eyes, the vulnerability. And the gentleness he'd witnessed behind the terrifying spinster mask.
"Father hated the tea and told me next time you were to leave something more palatable or he would come after you himself."
"Tell the stubborn old man he's no match for me." A sweetness warmed her eyes, even if the tight line of her mouth did not ease. "I'll head upstairs and check on him."
So, she hadn't come to call, but to keep her promise. Why his gaze followed her through the parlor, he couldn't begin to speculate. She was a completely disagreeable female, but his blood thickened simply watching her. He remembered her hot kisses and an unspoken promise of seductive passion, and his breeches grew tighter.
He wondered about her lover, the man she'd been meeting on the night he fired on the wolves. Was she passionate and wild with him? Jonah could see it, could sense beneath the unbending primness that Tessa Bradford could drive a man beyond all control.
"Major Hunter?" a low voice rose and fell over his name like a caress.
He snapped his head around. Plump and pretty Violet Bradford looked up at him through her lashes.
"I baked berry tarts just for you." She held out the wooden platter, probably the best the family owned, and dipped her chin.