The Substitute Bride. Janet DeanЧитать онлайн книгу.
now, he dallied when her stomach demanded speed. “I’m starved.”
“Getting married must give you an appetite,” he said, giving her a smile.
Mercy, the man set her off-kilter with that lopsided grin of his.
They walked up the street to Agnes’s café. Inside the spotless, simple dining room, he led the way to a table in the corner. He murmured greetings to the diners they passed, but didn’t stop to introduce her. The way people put their heads together, the room suddenly abuzz, Ted must have lost his wish for privacy.
He sat across from her, studying his menu while she studied him.
Ted looked up. Met her gaze. A baffled expression crossed his face. “What?”
Her face heated and she grabbed the menu. “I’m thinking about my order.”
“Good evening, Ted.” Carrying glasses of water, a round-faced, dark-eyed woman with black curly bangs smiled at Ted. When she looked at Elizabeth her warm smile faltered. “This must be your wife,” she said, stumbling over the word wife.
“News travels fast. Elizabeth, this is Agnes Baker, proprietor of this establishment and the best cook in town.”
Agnes and Elizabeth nodded a greeting while Ted scanned the single sheet as though he’d never laid eyes on a menu before. “What’s the special today?”
“Your favorite. Chicken and dumplings.”
“I’ll take a plate of that.” He turned to Elizabeth. “Know what you want?”
Elizabeth’s stomach rumbled. The cookies and tea had kept her on her feet, but her stomach had met her backbone a long time ago. “I’ll have the same.” She smiled at Agnes. “I’m glad to meet one of Ted’s friends.”
A sheen of sudden tears appeared in Agnes’s eyes. “It’ll only be a minute,” she said, then sped toward the kitchen.
Elizabeth glanced at Ted, who fidgeted with his silverware. Did he realize this woman adored him?
If so, why had he sought a bride by mail?
The gazes of their fellow diners burned into Elizabeth’s back. Apparently everyone knew everybody else in a town this size. Well, she’d rather be here, the topic of speculation, than on the way to the farm with Ted. And the night ahead.
Her heart lost its rhythm.
A tall man loped over to their table. “Reckon this is your missus, Ted. Johanna came in earlier, making her rounds.” He cackled. “Thought I’d say howdy to your bride, seeing I’m the mayor of sorts.” He looked at Elizabeth. “Not that I’m elected, but mayor’s what folks call me.” He stuck out a hand. “Name’s Cecil Moore.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Moore.”
Agnes arrived, two steaming plates in her hands.
“I’ll let you lovebirds eat in peace,” Cecil said, moseying on to the next table where the occupants looked their way, smiling.
Agnes set Ted’s plate in front of him. “Hot and piled high, the way you like it.”
“Thanks, Agnes.” Ted blushed, actually blushed, no doubt aware of Agnes’s devotion.
Then the proprietor plopped Elizabeth’s dish down on the table without a glance and returned to the kitchen.
Elizabeth’s gaze dropped to her food. Her portion didn’t measure up to Ted’s but, far too hungry to fuss about it, she attacked her food. Mmm, delicious.
She glanced at Ted’s untouched plate and lowered her fork.
“I’ll say grace,” he said, then bowed his head.
Cheeks aflame, Elizabeth bowed hers.
“Lord, thank You for this food. Walk with Elizabeth and me in our new life as man and wife. Amen.”
Elizabeth’s gaze collided with Ted’s. She quickly looked away. Not that Elizabeth had neglected praying about her problems, but God had withheld His answer.
Well, she’d found her own. And he sat across from her now.
Ted picked up his fork. “How long since you’ve eaten?”
His words reminded her to take dainty bites, not pig-at-the-trough gulps. “I had tea and cookies at the parsonage.”
His brow furrowed. “You didn’t eat on the train, did you?” he asked softly.
She stared at her plate. “No.”
“Look at me, Elizabeth.”
She raised her chin and looked into his eyes, which were now clouded. Was it with dismay?
“I may not have much in the way of money, but my cellar’s stocked. You won’t go hungry. At least if you’re a good cook,” he added with a chuckle.
She fiddled with her napkin. “I’m sure I can.”
“You’ve never tried?” he said, his tone laden with amazement.
Elizabeth took a swig of water. “I grew up in a home with maids, a cook, laundress, tutor, butler, even a nanny.”
Ted frowned. “You said you were destitute.”
“I am. Of late.”
“What happened?”
“What happened isn’t a topic for good digestion.”
She wanted to ask how long it had been since Rose had died, but it didn’t seem like the right time, either. Instead she returned to her food.
Ted took a bite, obviously enjoyed the tasty dish and ate every morsel, and didn’t end the meal with a belch.
Uninvited, a memory invaded her mind. Of the three red-faced, ho-humming, toe-tapping times she’d sat in the parlor with Reginald after dinner, swishing her fan until her arm ached, trying to dissipate the silent belches rocking his spindly body and the unpleasant odors chasing after them. She’d tried to be kind, to turn the other nostril, ah, cheek, but he’d been…distasteful.
Papa had said Reginald Parks was short on manners but long on cash so he had to be forgiven. Instead of forgiving Reginald, she’d defied her father. A heavy weight squeezed against her lungs. Would Papa find it in his heart to forgive her?
Would Ted forgive her once he knew about Robby?
She looked up to find Ted studying her in that quiet way of his. He wiped his lips on the napkin. Nice lips. Full. At the memory of Ted’s kiss at the end of the ceremony, Elizabeth’s pulse leaped. His lips had been soft. Gentle. Enticing.
The one time Reginald had lowered his whiskered face to hers, he’d triggered spasms in her throat that threatened to make her retch.
Another point in Ted’s favor.
Though, at the moment, her stomach tumbled. Too many uncertainties churned inside her.
The door burst open and in marched Mrs. Van Wyld, followed by a knot of ladies, beaming like sunshine. Johanna led the procession to their table.
“The folks of New Harmony, leastwise those I could round up, are here to give you newlyweds a party.” She gestured to Cecil Moore. “If I know the mayor, he’s got his harmonica. His brother will be along with his fiddle.”
Grinning, Cecil flipped the instrument out of his pocket and played a few merry notes. Ted looked as if he wished the floor would open up and swallow him, but Elizabeth’s toe tapped under her skirts.
People came over, shook Ted and Elizabeth’s hands, offering their congratulations.
“Would you like a piece of Agnes’s pie?” Johanna said, once the crowd cleared.
Ted took a step toward the door. “We really need to be going.”
“My