Dacey: Bride of North Carolina (Amercan Mail-Order Bride 12) (4 page)

“And so intelligent. She responded to my commands better than many horses I’ve ridden.”

“Where did you find a bridle or saddle?” Beatrice asked, slightly perplexed.

Dacey ducked her head. “I rode her bareback.” At Beatrice’s astonished look, she hurried to explain. “I’ve done that hundreds of time at home on our ranch. That’s why I mostly wear these skirts. It makes it easy to ride, if I take a notion to jump on the back of a horse.”

Beatrice rose and motioned for Dacey to join her. “You may ride anytime you wish, and despite what others might say, ride however you like. Now, tell me more about your skirt.”

Dacey showed the older woman how the skirt’s front placket unbuttoned to allow her to straddle a horse. As they walked into the entry hall, Beatrice noticed Dacey’s bag and hat on the floor.

“Where is your trunk, dear? Did Harry forget to carry it inside?”

“No, ma’am. It seems my trunk jumped off the train back in Raleigh. Mr. Jones at the depot said he’d make sure it arrived tomorrow.”

“I see,” Beatrice said, while her mind plotted ways to dress Dacey like a living doll. She assumed most of the girl’s clothes would be far too plain and simple for her social circles. A visit to the dressmaker would be essential, particularly with the annual Harvest Ball taking place at Bramble Hall in a few weeks.

Determined to aid Dacey in adjusting to her new surroundings, Beatrice would do everything in her power to help the young woman not only fit in, but turn Braxton’s stubborn head.

Beatrice picked up Dacey’s hat while the girl grasped the handles of her valise. “Let’s get you settled into your room, darling.” The older woman led the way up a curving staircase to the third floor.

Overwhelmed by the grandeur of the home, Dacey tried not to gawk. Her gaze took in the elaborate tapestries hanging on the walls and the sparkling chandeliers overhead as she followed Beatrice up the plush carpeted steps.

At the top of the stairs, they took a few steps down a hall before Beatrice opened a door to her left. She ushered Dacey into a room that was nearly as big as the house where she grew up.

A huge four-poster bed with rich cream-colored damask coverings dominated one wall. A marble fireplace, writing desk, side chairs, fainting couch, and a bookshelf rounded out the room’s furnishings.

Awed, Dacey stepped inside, admiring the soothing pale green tones of the walls and draperies. She set her valise down near the door and walked over to a window. Gently, she pushed back the lace covering the glass, admiring a sight that showcased the river meandering through the property. A long, thin door opened onto a balcony that offered additional spectacular views.

Intrigued by the landscape below her that included an elaborate flower garden with a fountain and walking paths, she jumped when Beatrice settled a hand on her back.

“You’re welcome to explore the grounds all you like. Just be careful if you go wandering. We do have some poisonous snakes in the area.”

A shiver of dread slithered down her spine. She could deal with vermin of all types. Spiders didn’t make her flinch. She’d even faced down a bear that wandered out of the mountains onto the ranch one summer, but she couldn’t abide snakes.

“It’s okay, darling. Most often, they stay in the wooded areas, near rocks, or along the water.” Beatrice hugged her shoulders. “No need to fret.”

The woman spun her around and led her back inside. They crossed to a far wall where Beatrice led her across the room and to a space that made Dacey’s mouth hang open in surprise.

“We added these to most of the bedrooms in the last few years,” Beatrice said, motioning to a large bathtub in the private bathroom. “You might like to take a hot bath before we dine this evening.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. I surely would.” Dacey considered how good it would feel to sink into a tub of hot water and soak her weary body.

When she’d responded to the advertisement for a mail-order bride in North Carolina, she never imagined she’d find herself in a place of such luxury. In her mind, she’d agreed to marry a simple farmer, not the only child of a family with a prosperous plantation.

She refused to dwell on the fact Braxton Douglas had no interest in marrying her. Instead, she focused her attention on making the most of her time at Bramble Hall. If she had a few minutes before dinner, she’d write letters to her roommates Josephine and Chevonne, letting them know she’d safely arrived.

“Please, Dacey, make yourself at home. I want you to feel welcome here at Bramble Hall.” Beatrice hugged her again then moved to the door. “I’ll send someone up to help you while I find a dress suitable for you to wear this evening.”

“Thank you, kindly, ma’am.”

Beatrice grasped her chin in her hand and smiled. “None of that, now. Call me Beatrice.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Dacey grinned when Beatrice winked at her and exited the room in rustle of silk.

With no idea what she’d gotten herself into, part of her thrilled at the plethora of possibilities awaiting her.

Chapter Four

Dacey stood on a rug in the bathroom, drying herself with a soft towel that smelled of flowers and sunshine when she heard someone in her room.

Grateful her valise held a clean change of underclothes, she hurried to slip them on. Quickly wrapping a towel around her wet hair, she cracked open the door. A maid dressed in a crisp black uniform with a starched white apron hung a gown on a hook inside the open closet door.

Entranced by the elaborate gown, Dacey forgot to be shy. She stepped into the bedroom and hurried over to inspect the dress. Cream chiffon floated in airy layers over white figured silk while vertical rows of black velvet ribbon and lace created a striking effect.

“Good golly! That’s about the fanciest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said in awe. She reached out to touch the fabric then drew back her hand at the last moment.

“You may touch it, miss. Mrs. Douglas said the gown is yours to keep.” The maid adjusted the gown on the hanger then turned to stand with her eyes on her feet.

Dacey smiled at the young woman who appeared close to her age. “I’m Dacey Butler. Nice to meet you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss,” the maid said, dropping into a curtsey.

Impulsively, Dacey took her hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. “What’s your name?”

“Cornelia, miss.” The maid kept her eyes averted, but the freckles dotting her nose and the smile lingering on her mouth hinted at a happy countenance.

“Skip the miss, part, Cornelia. I have a feeling we’ll be good friends and I’m about as plain and simple as they come. No need to be formal around me.”

“Yes, miss.”

Dacey frowned and the girl smiled sheepishly. “I mean, Dacey. I’m not supposed to be on friendly terms with our employers or their guests, or at least that’s what Caroline says.”

“Who’s Caroline?” Dacey asked, working the water out of her hair with the towel she’d wrapped around it.

“She’s Mrs. Douglas’ maid.” Cornelia maneuvered Dacey in front of a dressing table and picked up a comb, carefully working out the tangles in her damp hair.

“You have such wonderful hair.”

Dacey grinned at her in the mirror then made a silly face. “Most often it looks like a dust devil whipped it into a snarled mess, but I did make an effort to tame it this morning.”

A quiet giggle escaped Cornelia as she finished combing Dacey’s long, auburn hair and shook it out to dry. “While your hair dries, perhaps you’d like to begin dressing.”

Dacey looked from Cornelia to the dress hanging on the door. “Begin dressing?”

“Yes, miss. It will require a bit of time.” Cornelia motioned to a corset, hip pad, stockings, garters, and pile of petticoats on the bed.

“Oh,” Dacey said, picking up the corset and fingering the pale pink damask fabric. “I reckon we better get started. I’m not accustomed to wearing all this falderol.”

Cornelia bit back a grin and nodded her head. “I reckon,” she said, perfectly mimicking Dacey’s rural drawl.

The two girls laughed and talked as Cornelia helped Dacey dress and style her hair.

When she finished, she positioned Dacey in front of a floor-length mirror in the corner of the room.

“My stars!” Dacey gaped at her reflection. Cinched so tightly she could barely breathe, the corset  made her waist appear impossibly small in the gown. As she turned in front of the mirror, she marveled at the black and white striped silk fabric falling in perfect pleats from waist to floor at the back of her gown.

Cornelia had somehow managed to corral her hair in a fashionable style on top of her head with curls caressing her neck.

“You look so lovely, miss,” Cornelia said, tucking a pink rose into Dacey’s hair.

“Well, I’ve got you to thank for that, Cornelia. You must be part magic to take an old cowhand like me and somehow manage to make me look like a lady.”

Cornelia blushed, pleased by the words of praise. “You’re a beautiful woman, Dacey.”

“I sure feel like one in this getup.” Dacey stepped away from the mirror and grinned at the maid. “Instead of admiring myself, I suppose I better find my way to the dining room.”

“I’ll show you, miss.”

Dacey followed Cornelia down the stairs and through a doorway to a hallway she hadn’t noticed earlier. They turned left and then right down another hall. Cornelia stopped outside the double doors of a large room and motioned for her to enter. “Enjoy your meal,” she whispered.

“I plan to. Thank you, Cornelia.”

“You’re welcome.” Before Dacey could say another word, the girl silently glided away, leaving her alone to enter the dining room.

After taking a fortifying breath, or as much of one as she could draw with the corset cutting off her air supply, Dacey stepped into the dining room.

Pale yellow walls appeared welcoming in the evening light. Yellow velvet drapes covered the long windows while yellow silk fabric cushioned the chairs placed around the long table. Ornate chandeliers twinkled overhead.

Dacey took a moment to stare in wonder at the lights, transfixed by their sparkle. Beatrice rushed to her side and took her hand then led her over to the table.

“Darling, I want you to meet my husband, Daniel Douglas.” Beatrice beamed at her as Dacey bowed her head politely to Mr. Douglas. “Daniel, this is Dacey Butler, our special guest.”

As Daniel approached her, Dacey could see where Braxton got his height and broad shoulders. The two men bore a striking resemblance, even if Braxton did share his mother’s dark hair and gray eyes. There was no doubt in her mind that Daniel Douglas had been an extremely handsome man in his day since he still appeared quite attractive.

“Welcome, my dear. My wife says you’ll be staying on for a while. I do hope you’ll be here for the holidays. The house just comes alive at Christmastime.”

“Thank you, Mr. Douglas. I haven’t made plans that far into the future, but I do appreciate your invitation, sir.”

Daniel took her elbow and led her to a chair at the table, seating her before turning to seat Beatrice. “Please, call me Daniel. We don’t stand on a lot of formal nonsense around here.”

Dacey enjoyed a pleasant meal with the couple. After dinner, they adjourned to a room filled with musical instruments. While she and Daniel listened, Beatrice played a few selections on a harp.

In all her life, Dacey didn’t think she’d ever heard anything as soothing or divine. Thoroughly intrigued, she sat on the edge of her seat, raptly listening. Beatrice expertly coaxed the strings to release haunting notes that sounded almost ethereal. Goosebumps broke out on Dacey’s arms as she lost herself in the music.

As Beatrice finished her performance, clapping at the doorway drew Dacey’s gaze to where Braxton casually lounged against the frame.

“That was lovely as always, Mother.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Beatrice rose from her seat at the harp and held her hand out to her son. After a moment of hesitation, he walked to her and took it, leading her over to a settee positioned near the fireplace where Dacey sat, unable to mask her open look of curiosity.

 “You missed dinner.” Beatrice surreptitiously studied the way her son’s gaze lingered on their guest.

“I wasn’t hungry,” Braxton lied. He’d been starving, but the last thing he wanted to do was sit across the table from Dacey, staring into her lovely eyes and wondering if the creamy curve of her cheek would feel like smooth satin beneath his fingers.

Instead, he’d gone to the kitchen and begged Cook to fix him a plate of food that he ate outside on the back porch.

In the solitude there, he mulled over his options.

He could hide out the entire time his mother insisted on Dacey staying at Bramble Hall, skulking around corners and cowering in the shadows.

Alternatively, he could boldly go through his days as he normally would, be polite to the poor girl, but maintain his stance that marriage was not for him.

Honestly, he had no idea what had gotten into his mother. He supposed he was partially to blame. In the spring, he’d spent a few weeks courting a young woman from a wealthy family his father lauded as marriageable material.

Pretty and charming on the surface, Miranda was also manipulative and one of the most mean-spirited individuals he’d ever met.

Braxton quickly tired of her incessant chatter about matters of little importance and the nasty comments she uttered about everyone. When he tried to break things off, she accused him of nefarious deeds, attempting to create a scandal. In the wake of that disaster, his father had paraded an endless stream of eligible young women past him in hopes he’d meet one that struck his fancy.

The girl currently sitting next to his mother was the only one who had struck it with such force, he still reeled from the impact.

Enthralled with Dacey, he admired the way the light from the fire created a fiery glow around her head of rich auburn curls.

Frustrated by the amorous thoughts that filled his head, Braxton shifted restlessly on the seat he’d taken near his father, scrambling for an excuse to leave the room.

Before he had the opportunity, his mother jumped to her feet and grabbed his father’s hand. “Oh, Daniel, it completely slipped my mind that we need to go over the guest list for the Harvest Ball. We must send out the invitations right away.”

“Let’s see to it, then, Bea.” Daniel stood and smiled solicitously at Dacey before he turned to Braxton. “I trust you will entertain our guest the remainder of the evening, son.”

Braxton glowered at his mother but nodded his head. He knew for a fact the list had been finalized last week and the invitations sent because he’d personally gone over every detail with Beatrice.

Annoyed by her continued scheming to push Dacey at him, he simply couldn’t abandon the girl on her first night in their home.

He also knew he couldn’t continue to ogle her as the firelight cast a spell around her, leaving him bewitched by her beauty and rustic charm.

Abruptly getting to his feet, he offered her his hand. “If I’m not mistaken, we failed to give you a proper tour of the house earlier.”

Dacey smiled and took his hand, gracefully rising to her feet. “I’m to blame for that since I keeled over on your front step. I’m mighty sorry about that, Mr. Douglas.”

“Please, call me Braxton.” Disturbed by the charged sensations racing up his arm at the slightest contact with the girl, he released her hand and motioned for her to precede him out of the room. As she walked, he admired the fetching way the gown swayed around her hips. “If anyone should be sorry about this misfortunate misunderstanding, it’s my mother for involving you in her subterfuge.”

“Don’t be angry with her. She’s such a dear, and she means well.” Dacey stopped in the hallway and placed a hand on Braxton’s arm. The heat of her fingers threatened to burn through the fabric of his jacket and shirt right down to his skin.

He stared at her hand as she suddenly jerked it back. Although he wanted to take her fingers in his, mesh their palms together, he stepped away. Common sense dictated he keep as much distance from her as possible.

“She’s a calculating, plotting fraud full of chicanery,” he said with a flicker of amusement in his gray eyes. “Even if her heart is in the right place, Mother’s methods could use some work.”

Dacey grinned and followed Braxton as he strode to the end of the hall then turned right. He showed her the library and encouraged her to read from the extensive collection of books housed there.

They walked past the office he and his mother used to maintain the plantation’s business affairs. Dacey admired the twin oak desks and a bank of windows that lit the room with light from the setting sun.

“It’s so beautiful here, so different,” Dacey said as she gazed outside. The last of the daylight faded into the horizon in streaks of gold and coral.

“Different?” Braxton asked, stepping beside her, transfixed by the way the gilded light softened the contours of her face.

“There are so many trees here, and everything is so green, even though it’s early autumn. Back home, everything is brown this time of year. Out on the ranch, we don’t have many trees, except some cottonwoods by the creek.”

“If you were to count them, you’d find more than a hundred different species of trees in North Carolina.” He pointed out the window to the distant hills.

Dacey’s eyes widened and she turned from the window. “Perhaps I can count a few while I’m here.” She took a few steps toward the door of the room then stopped and looked back at Braxton. “I know you had no knowledge of my arrival or the reason for it. I won’t hold you to the agreement your mother made. I intend to secure a position and will leave here as quickly as possible.”

“There is no need to get in a rush or entertain notions of doing something brash,” Braxton said, concerned about Dacey’s welfare. The girl wasn’t at fault for accepting the offer his mother made. She had no way to know a meddling, busybody placed the advertisement and not a man truly interested in finding a wife.

For the length of several heartbeats, she held his gaze. Braxton had never been so fascinated by a female in his entire life.