Authors: The Other Groom
Screaming again, Phoebe scrambled to her feet, whirling to find the source of the shot.
It was Louisa who stood mere feet away, still sighting down the length of a tiny derringer. As Gabe rushed to her side, she lowered the weapon, then lifted her skirts and returned it to a delicate kidskin holster strapped to the top of her boot. Then, collapsing into her husband’s arms, she declared in a trembling voice, “No one hurts my sister. No one.”
August 12, 1870
Dearest Diary, Our journey west to Oregon was made in the Winslow private car. With no schedules to meet or appointments to keep, we took what Neil called the “scenic route,” indulging in the beauty to be found along the way.
It has been a leisurely honeymoon—just as I’d requested. Neil had suggested that we journey with Evie and Boyd and “take a season” in Europe, much like newlyweds of “quality,” but I quickly refused. For one thing, the expense would be frightful and I do not wish to tax my husband’s income so severely. But more important, I no longer feel a need to chase the whims of fashion. My only wish is to spend time with the man I love. Moreover, I’ve lost any desire to roam from pillar to post. I simply want to go home.
Besides my marriage to Neil, my greatest joy is having my name back. I no longer have a desire to look or act a certain way in order to please others. Through my experiences I’ve learned to appreciate those things that make me who I am. Indeed, rather than writing a romance—since I have had my fill of gothic adventures—I am seriously considering a volume expounding on the “home arts,” with young ladies of Evie’s age in mind.
Closing her eyes, Phoebe paused in her writing as she was flooded with memories.
So much has happened since the attack in the church. Chloe revealed on her deathbed that she once tried to kill me at the railway station in New York. She began poisoning me soon after that—accounting for the way my stomach seemed continually unsettled. The poison was administered in the tea that I had requested while we were in New York. It was only when she caught Beatrice spooning rat poison into the “cocoa mix” that she stopped.
When I marveled at the way both women had used the same methods to harm me, Neil merely shrugged and said that poison was a woman’s weapon.
Before she died, Chloe also revealed where Horace would dock upon arriving in Boston. With only a few hours to spare, Gabe and Neil organized a contingent of men to meet him there.
In my mind’s eye I can still see Horace’s astonishment when he realized his plots were spoiled before he’d even set foot on American soil. He was immediately taken into custody. I had to feel some pity for the man. He had exchanged the prison of a deserted island for that of a prison cell.
It was days later—and only after Neil was assured of my safety—that we were we able to return to the church to be married.
Phoebe smiled at that particular memory. She and Neil had been so intent on solemnizing their vows that they had awakened the rattled pastor at an indecent hour so that the ceremony could be performed and they could return home to Phoebe’s bedroom as man and wife.
After our marriage, Neil and I did not reappear from our suite until well into the second day of our honeymoon.
A blush stained her cheeks at writing even that much in her diary.
We emerged just in time to see a carriage rattling through the gate, the distinctive crest of Lord Haversham on the door.
Knowing instinctively how to handle the situation, I waited at the top of the stairs as my father appeared.
I don’t know what I had expected. How was a great titled man supposed to look—especially one who had hurt so many people in so many ways? I thought I would react to him in anger or remembered girlish hurt. But when I saw him, I felt nothing but pity. This man had been so intent on having a son that he had denied himself the love he could have received.
As I walked down the stairs, I offered him my haughtiest stare. Then, pulling Neil close, I introduced Lord Haversham to my husband.
My pleasure grew tenfold when my father realized that it wasn’t Charles Winslow who stood before him, but a total stranger. When Louisa and Gabe Cutter appeared next, Oscar Haversham’s defeat was complete. He grew pale, stumbling and clinging to his valet for support. It gave me great pleasure to inform him that neither of his daughters had married into wealth.
I suppose that I should have felt sorry for the man, but I didn’t. It was his fault that my mother was forced to steal one of her own children and run away. It was his fault that my sister and I were raised apart. Moreover, it was Oscar Haversham who put us in danger by sabotaging his own brother and forcing Horace to seek his own revenge.
With Louisa at my side, I told Oscar Haversham of his brother’s machinations and our own marriages to men completely “unsuitable to his needs.” Bit by bit, it became apparent that our father finally understood the extent of his daughters’ “betrayal.” Without the Winslow fortune in the family, he was ruined. Worse yet, I knew that the scandal of his treatment of his own daughters and his brother would destroy him socially. It was only a matter of time.
And now…now I am savoring my last taste of luxury. This morning Neil and I will arrive at our destination, and my real life will begin in earnest. Boyd and Evie generously allowed us to use the private Winslow railcar, but from this point on, I will be the wife of a humble homesteader….
“What are you doing, sweetheart?”
Phoebe smiled as a pair of strong hands curled around her shoulders. “Merely adding to my…memoirs.”
“Am I featured in your writing?”
“Of course.”
Putting her diary away, she allowed herself to be pulled into her husband’s arms. Despite the proximity of their destination, they were soon wrapped in an embraced, enjoying the passion that inevitably ignited between them.
When Neil pulled her onto the bed, she did not resist. Instead, she reveled in the familiar joy of being together. He brought her to the very pinnacle of passion, then joined her in ecstasy.
It was much later, after the train had been at the station for some time, when she and Neil reluctantly dressed. Outside, they loaded her trunks—filled with all of the clothing and accessories she’d purchased as Mrs. Charles Winslow III—into a rough wagon.
Climbing onto the bench beside Neil, she took his hand.
“Ready?” he asked her.
“Yes.”
Neil eyed her with concern. “Are you sure you’re well enough to make the journey today? We could spend the night in town if you’d like.”
Phoebe shook her head. “I feel fine.”
Recovering from being poisoned was taking much longer than she had ever supposed. She still had frequent bouts of weariness and her strength was limited. But in time, Dr. Browne had assured her, she would make a full recovery. He’d prescribed lots of broth, as well as a special diet rich in fruits and vegetables and grains.
As she melted against Neil’s side and his arm slid around her waist, she absorbed the intense green of the Oregon countryside. Although she was accustomed to the rolling green hills of Scotland, she had never seen such tall, towering pine trees jutting up against rugged mountains.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured.
Neil’s embrace tightened. “I hope you’ll be happy here.”
“I know I will be.”
She marveled at how much she had changed since leaving England. During her voyage she’d dreaded all thought of Oregon, considering it a heathen land. Now she welcomed the peace and beauty that surrounded her. Although she knew that a rough cabin and a wilderness in need of taming awaited her at the end of her journey, she wasn’t the slightest bit disappointed. In fact, she relished the challenge that lay ahead.
Nearly an hour passed before she felt Neil tense. Looking up, she saw that his features had sharpened in anticipation.
“Are we here?”
“Just over that rise.”
Although she was already beginning to tire, she felt a fresh wave of energy. Straightening, she eagerly watched as the horses reached the top of the hill and she could finally glimpse the sprawling valley below.
A gasp lodged in her throat. “Neil? This is yours?”
“Yes.”
“All of it?”
He laughed. “Yes, all of it.”
Her eyes swept down the winding track of road to the compound below. Hundreds of cattle grazed on the verdant pastures as far as the eye could see. Fenced paddocks housed several dozen horses—and even from a distance, Phoebe could discern the quality of the animals’ bloodlines. There were stables, two barns and a half-dozen outbuildings. A large pond glistened in the sunlight, and at the far end, nestled amid a shady stand of pine trees, was a sprawling ranch house made of rough-hewn logs and river rock.
“
That
is our home?”
Neil nodded in evident pride. “Do you like it?”
“Like it? I…” She waved a hand, unable to summon words to describe her astonishment. “I was expecting a cabin.”
“It began as a cabin.”
“But—”
He laughed, hugging her close. “I suppose I didn’t tell you the whole truth because I wanted to see your face when you saw what I’d done with my life.”
“B-but you told me I would be helping you to run your household.”
“I need someone to oversee the staff.”
“Staff?” When Phoebe had originally agreed to marry Neil, she’d feared she would become nothing more than a servant. She’d had no idea that he would be so…so…
“But you’re rich!”
Neil laughed again. “I can assure you that my bank balance pales in comparison to Charles Winslow’s.”
Stunned, Phoebe realized that she had married a man of great wealth. Yet now that a life of ease was within her grasp, she discovered that such things didn’t really matter anymore. With all that had happened, she’d learned that happiness was not dependent on a healthy bank ledger. Instead, what mattered most was giving and receiving love.
Turning to Neil, she threw her arms around his neck. “I didn’t marry you for money. I didn’t know that you…that we…”
Neil smiled, holding her close, his hand caressing her back. “I know. You married me because you adore me.”
Her laughter joined his.
When he bent to place a soft kiss on her lips, then another and another, her worry disappeared. In that instant she realized that Neil already knew the depth of her love. He had encountered his own brand of suspicion and self-growth during their misadventures in Boston. Together, they had emerged stronger and more appreciative of the miraculous gifts of life and love that they’d been given.
“I love you more than life itself,” Phoebe whispered against his lips.
“As do I.” He offered her a smile filled with happiness and devotion. “I think it’s time I showed you your new home. I have the strongest desire to carry you over the threshold—” his voice deepened “—especially the one to the master suite.”
Neil spurred the team into a brisk walk. Phoebe rested her head on his shoulder and sighed in utter bliss as the wagon wound its way downhill, taking them closer and closer to their future.
And when the looming shape of the house came into focus, she snuggled deeper into Neil’s embrace, realizing that she had finally found a home. It wasn’t a rambling ranch house or a castle.
It was here…wrapped tightly in her husband’s love.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-3571-7
THE OTHER GROOM
Copyright © 2003 by Lisa Bingham
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