“Heaven gird your suitors, then,” he teased lightly.
Beatrice smiled. “You’ve seen the parlor. My sisters have no shortage of eligible visitors.”
Bradford thought it strange that she didn’t include herself in the statement; she was very nearly as pretty as Lily.
“We’ve already gotten off track,” Margaret said. “We have but a few miles to ask our questions.”
“Very well. I’m at your disposal,” Bradford said.
“You are widowed, are you not?”
Ah, right to the heart of the matter. “Yes.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Margaret said.
Beatrice nodded her agreement, and Bradford was surprised that they both appeared to mean it.
“And you have a daughter?” Beatrice asked.
“Rebecca. She’s six.”
“Is she dreadful?” Beatrice narrowed her eyes.
He laughed. “Not at all. Not unless she’s tired and hungry, that is.”
Margaret waved a hand dismissively. “That can be said of nearly any person, not just those aged six.”
“Do you chew with your mouth open?” Beatrice asked, her eyes narrowed.
“Only when I have a terrible cold. Though I have the sense to do so only in the privacy of my rooms, thank goodness.”
“Is your laugh ridiculous?” Margaret asked.
“If you keep asking silly questions, I’ve no doubt you’ll soon find out.”
“Thatwasa silly question,” Beatrice said with a nod. “No one on this earth realizes their laugh is ridiculous. Otherwise they’d change it.”
“That cannot possibly be true,” Margaret said, frowning. “Miss Pennington hee-haws like a donkey. Surely she realizes she sounds a fright.”
“I don’t think she does, or she’d stop laughing like that. A laugh isn’t like an unfortunate nose that cannot be changed.”
“How would you know?” Margaret said. “Have you ever tried to change your laugh?”
“I haven’t found the need—my laugh is unremarkable. But here, I shall demonstrate.” Beatrice took a deep breath and gave a lowhah-hah-hah.
Bradford couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous she sounded. Both sisters frowned in his direction.
“Well,” he said, grinning, “what is the verdict? Do I hee-haw like poor Miss Pennington?”
Beatrice sniffed. “You have an exceedingly pleasant laugh, as I’m sure you well know.”
Margaret turned to her sister. “It’s one thing to change one’s laugh momentarily. It’s quite another to do so on a consistent basis.”
“I’ll concede that it would take some concerted effort, but so does any meaningful change.”
“It’simpossible.”
Beatrice gave a sly smile. “What are you willing to wager?”
