The Bride’s Matchmaking Triplets

So she could still dream. He remembered the hopes she used to share—visiting Europe, opening a school for girls, driving a carriage across the whole country.

“What happened, Elizabeth?” he asked. “Why did you become a governess in Cambridge? I thought you wanted to marry.”

Her sunny smile turned stormy. “I did want to marry. The man I’d hoped would be my groom abandoned me. Or don’t you remember telling me your reputation was more important than I was, Mr. Stillwater?”

Chapter Three (#u00a166ff-16ad-5726-8f7f-ccf03e558a42)

She must have looked as angry as she felt, for Brandon recoiled from her. So did the triplets. Jasper’s face puckered. Eli curled next to him. Theo stuck his thumb in his mouth, a tear rolling down one chubby cheek.

Brandon reached out and scooped him onto his lap. “Easy there, Theo. Elizabeth isn’t angry with you. She couldn’t be. She thinks you’re going to grow into a fine man. I’m the one she doesn’t like. She said she couldn’t marry a country parson.”

Elizabeth stared at him. His eyes looked as sad as Theo’s.

“I never said I didn’t want to marry you,” she protested. “And I certainly never called you a country parson. You were going to serve at St. Matthew’s, a fine respectable position.”

Theo leaned against him as if ready to defend him. Brandon patted his shoulder. “You knew I wanted to go to Texas with Bo. And Texas wasn’t good enough for you.”

She spread her hands. “Look at me, Brandon. Here I am, in Texas!”

Her voice was rising again. Jasper let out a squawk as if determined to be louder. Eli’s gaze darted between her and Brandon. Theo plastered himself against Brandon’s chest. Even the bushes at the edge of the lawn rustled as if in agitation.

She forced herself to calm, to speak quietly and evenly. “I don’t understand why you have that impression of me. I never said money and position were important.”

He raised a brow. “That’s not how John Hood’s sister explained it.”

Poor Florence, to be caught in the middle of such a difficult situation. She’d been as caring as her brother, who had been in Brandon’s class at the divinity school.

“I’m sure it wasn’t easy for her,” Elizabeth said. “When my uncle was arrested, everything changed. I was so caught up in caring for Aunt Evangeline that I couldn’t do more than survive each day. Some of Aunt Evangeline’s more colorful acquaintances stuck by our side, but Florence was the only person who came by regularly.”

He nodded. “She was the one who brought me the news about your uncle’s arrest and your aunt’s stroke. I was surprised you didn’t come yourself.”

There was more pain than censure in his voice. Just thinking about that dark time made an ache rise inside her. She reached for Eli and pulled him onto her lap. The baby rested his head against her, a comforting bundle.

“I couldn’t leave Aunt’s side, so I asked Florence to help me reach you. I thought you would want to know what was happening, that you’d want to help. But Florence said you couldn’t risk being seen with me.”

He frowned. “Why would there have been any risk to me by being seen in your company? You weren’t the criminal. Your uncle was.”

She could not have misunderstood Florence. Her friend had been quite clear on the message. Her face had been anguished, dark curls trembling, and she’d barely been able to force the words from her lips.

“You were hoping for an appointment at a prestigious church, Brandon,” Elizabeth reminded him. “Having a wife associated with scandal might have hindered that.”

“I never considered that,” he insisted. “I wanted to go to you, help you any way I could, but Florence said you refused to see me. Because of the funds needed to pay for your aunt’s care, you had no choice but to marry a better connected, wealthier man. It sounded as if you had him all picked out. With your aunt’s parties, you had plenty of candidates to choose from, each more eligible than me.”

What was he talking about? Hadn’t he realized she had looked at no one else once she’d seen him? “I didn’t have another groom in mind. Florence knew that.”

He cocked his head. “I thought you needed money to pay for your aunt’s care.”

“I did. That’s why I became a governess. All my income went to fund nurses.”

Now all three babies were watching her, and Eli’s and Theo’s lips were trembling as if in sympathy. Jasper looked more as if he wanted to fight her battles instead, little hands fisted.

Brandon straightened, rubbing his free hand along his pant leg. “I don’t understand. You needed me. I wanted to help. What went wrong?”

What indeed? It was easy for him to claim all innocence now. Yet she could not convince herself he would lie to her face. No member of his congregation was present. The triplets weren’t likely to remember this conversation by the time they could speak enough to tell anyone about it. And no one in Little Horn would believe her over their beloved pastor. Why posture?

Elizabeth made herself shrug, then snuggled Eli closer. “It seems to have been very easy for us to believe the worst of each other. I’d say our attachment was never meant to be.”

He frowned as if unwilling to believe that. How could he deny it? Back then, she’d been unsure of herself, awed by everyone she had met at her aunt’s table. Why would the marvelous Brandon Stillwater find her worthy to be his wife?

But she was no longer that wide-eyed girl with dreams bigger than her capabilities. Now she knew just what she was made of, had been tested and survived. Now she knew what she needed.

A steady position or a steady husband. Brandon Stillwater would be willing to offer neither.

* * *

Once again she was calm, composed, the baby cradled in her arms, but this time Brandon thought Eli was more of a shield to keep him at a distance. Jasper, leaning on her legs, made another attempt to crawl over them for the freedom beyond, and Brandon grabbed the baby’s foot and pulled him into the scope of his arms. All the while he tried to orient himself to a world that had shifted.

Our attachment was never meant to be.

Though he’d thought he’d put it all behind him four years ago, though he was certain he’d moved forward with his life, something inside him rebelled. He’d believed her need for position and privilege had driven them apart. She seemed to think his need for a spotless reputation was to blame.

She was right—it had been easy to believe those statements and to think the worst of each other. Only, he knew that her assumptions about him were false.

Florence had been anguished when she’d brought him Elizabeth’s answer to his plea to reconsider her decision to throw him over. A slender, dark-haired girl with the appropriately pious attitude of the daughter and sister of clergy, she’d gazed up at him, blue eyes shining with tears, fingers pressed against his arm.

“I’m so sorry, Brandon, but Elizabeth is adamant that you will not suit. She needs a man of wealth and position to counter this scandal if she is to regain her place in society. Knowing how she was raised, I’m sure you understand.”

He’d understood. His family did not take part in society, for all his father had once been considered a gentleman. Marcus Stillwater had managed his affairs well. Everyone who met him at civic functions and during business considered him a determined, successful man.

But his father had doubted himself—his abilities, his place in other people’s affections. Brandon had never been sure why. His grandfather had died when he and Bo were little, but family stories told of a harsh man. Or perhaps the responsibility of building his business had weighed on their father. Either way, to bolster his flagging confidence, his father had cut down every other member of the family. Nothing Brandon’s mother could do was good enough. Nothing Brandon and Bo did was acceptable. It seemed only by making others feel small had his father been able to feel big. If Brandon had had a nickel for every time his father had called him worthless, he might actually have been the wealthy man Elizabeth had needed.

Given that upbringing, Brandon could well imagine he wasn’t good enough for her. Even while they were courting he’d wondered why she would settle for a divinity student when the very best of Boston society came to call. Still, he’d thought himself genuinely in love, had convinced himself she felt the same way. Florence had tried to console him, but he had pushed her and everyone else away, determined only to finish his studies and escape the stifling confines of Cambridge.

“I don’t believe our love was never meant to be, Elizabeth,” he told her, alternating his gaze between the babies he jostled in his arms. Both were regarding him as if fascinated to hear how his story would end. “Circumstances prevented it from continuing. That’s all.”

He could hear her sigh. “Perhaps you’re right. But those circumstances haven’t changed. I still need a way to support myself, and you still have a responsibility to your congregation.”

A responsibility he took seriously. His kitchen was stocked by well-meaning young ladies who had hopes of one day changing their name to Stillwater. But he had an inkling that being married to the local minister would not be the glorious position they all envisioned. His wife would have to be willing to have her life interrupted for the illness, injury and death of others, the destruction of other people’s hopes, their property. She’d have to celebrate every wedding, birth and civic commemoration, be part of planning each church activity and contribute to every charitable cause. Women for miles around would call on her, expecting to find her house perfect, her life perfect.

He’d seen his mother wilt under impossible expectations, although of a different kind. He did not feel comfortable foisting that burden on another.

“For the moment, you have a way to support yourself,” he said, nodding to the babies. “But I’ll ask around, see if there’s another family in the area who needs a governess.”

Some of the fire seemed to have left her. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

“It would be my pleasure. And I hope, Elizabeth, that, whatever our differences in the past, we can be cordial now.”

He chanced a glance her way to find himself slipping into the blue-green depths of her eyes.