He noticed that Sheridan’s shoulders slumped, and it was on the tip of his tongue to say that they had invited themselves to Serenity. Sheridan certainly hadn’t. In fact, he recalled her saying that she didn’t want to see them again. He certainly understood why. He watched her climb the porch steps, dejected, and his anger rose. He tamped it down, though why he should, he didn’t know. Odette DuBois, and her daughter, didn’t deserve any kindness, as far as he could see, but still, he tried.
For Sheridan.
“Grandmother,” he said, but instead of extending his hand to her to help her from the buggy, he simply reached beneath her legs and physically lifted her from her seat. She drew in a startled huff but said nothing as he placed her on her feet.
He looked at Estelle next. It gave him some satisfaction to see the stunned look on her face as she scrambled out of the buggy by herself. She pulled herself up to her full height, which was just a little shorter than Sheridan, tugged on the hem of her traveling jacket, gave an exaggerated ‘harrumph’ then climbed the stairs to stand beside her mother, who was still staring at him with a combination of surprise and disdain.
He glanced at Sheridan. Her hand was in front of her mouth. He narrowed his eyes and noticed that her shoulders were shaking just a bit and her eyes, which had been tear-filled just a moment ago, were now sparkling with humor.
He gave her a slight nod, then grabbed the first bag out of the buggy and placed it on the porch, just as the front door opened. Delilah and Royce stepped outside to stand beside Sheridan.
“I’d like to introduce you to Delilah and Royce Cabot, my mother and father.”
“Welcome.” Royce gave them each a little bow, then rushed down the steps to help empty the buggy of baggage.
“How do you do?” Delilah stepped forward and extended her hand. Odette looked at it for a moment, then stiffly extended her hand as well.
“A pleasure,” she said, but her voice and attitude did not match her words.
His mother, as gracious as this woman was rude, simply smiled. “I’ve made a nice pot of tea and some Madeleines for your arrival. I heard they were your favorite.”
If Odette was pleased, she didn’t show it. Instead, she glanced at her daughter. “Thank you, but we’ve had a horrible journey. We’d like to rest, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course. Please, let me show you to your rooms.”
She led them into the house, holding the door open wide. Sheridan followed, carrying one of the valises.
Royce grasped the handle of another portmanteau and handed it to Wyatt. “Sheridan wasn’t lying when she spoke of them.”
“No, she wasn’t.” He drew in his breath. “They’re rude and nasty and the things they said about her—and right to her face—is heartbreaking.” New appreciation for his mother and Royce flashed in his heart. Delilah would never dream of being so unloving, and that’s what these two women were. Unloving.Uncompromising. Beyond contemptible. “Let’s see if we can’t open their eyes a little.”
Royce laughed. “Not sure that will happen with those two, but I’m certainly willing to try.”
CHAPTER 14
The next morning, Sheridan knew she’d made a mistake—a big one—but living in Wyatt’s house with him, pretending to be married, sleeping beside him wasn’t it. That part, she enjoyed. Much too much. Delilah and Royce treated her like she really was a member of the family. And Wyatt? Sometimes she had trouble remembering that this idyllic moment would end when her folks left, as they had agreed.
Inviting her grandmother and aunt to stay with them. That was the mistake. What had she been thinking? She should have known better. She did know better. After all, she’d been raised by Odette and Estelle for the first six years of her life, before they shipped her off to school.
She knew how they were when she was younger, but they had changed since she had left New Orleans. And not for the better. They were meaner now, if that was possible. More rigid. Intolerant. Cruel. They disapproved of everything. Neither one was able to smile or even be pleasant, despite the effort everyone was making. And it was an effort.
Aunt Estelle was the worst. Her stinging barbs were razor sharp, like she practiced each and every day, and she aimed todraw blood. She constantly found reason to criticize the ranch and how hard Wyatt worked, telling him on more than one occasion that he was just a lowly, lazy cowboy without good prospects for the future. Asking her, more than once, why she’d married him. And asking him the same question, as if neither one of them deserved to be happy.
Despite it all, Wyatt remained pleasant, coddling her aunt and her grandmother, and she loved him for it, though she could see the toll it was taking on him. She saw his smile disappear, the muscle in his jaw tic as his teeth clenched together. She imagined he was biting his tongue, just as she was, and yet, he still poured on the charm, seeming to ignore each and every one of Estelle’s criticisms and taunts.
And he didn’t stop there. The more they disparaged her, the kinder and more solicitous Wyatt became—taking her hand, kissing her, holding her close whenever the opportunity presented itself, showing her aunt and her grandmother just how in love he was with her. She constantly had to remind herself that this was for show, that he was only pretending, but was he really? His actions seemed so honest and truthful, she was beginning to believe it was real.
Sheridan dried the last of the breakfast dishes and opened one of the cabinets. It was the wrong one. She glanced at the table where her grandmother and aunt sat, sipping their tea, eating Delilah’s Madeleines, though neither one seemed to appreciate the effort Delilah had shown in making them. They apparently hadn’t noticed her mistake, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing she needed or wanted right now was for them to say something, as she had already heard the relentless litany of things that weren’t up to their standards.
From the moment they arrived, they’d insulted or picked apart everything. Their bedrooms were too cold, too bare, the mattresses too lumpy or too hard or too soft. There seemedto be no satisfying either one of them. Neither one of them noticed how their words hurt Wyatt’s mother and, by extension, Wyatt, and herself. Even Royce, as sweet and gentle as he was, seemed to be having a tough time with their attitudes, especially when Odette and Estelle made snide comments about the dinner Delilah had prepared last night.
Truthfully, Sheridan hadn’t expected anything else from her grandmother and Estelle, but she thought, surely, they would be polite. Or, at the very least, civil. She was at her wits’ end with the both of them, tired of biting her tongue, sick of swallowing their demeaning comments, yet believing what they said to her just the same. She wasn’t good enough. Had never been good enough.
She folded the dish towel and started to leave the room, but the imperious voice of Aunt Estelle stopped her in her tracks. “Where are you going?”
“I thought I’d make the beds.”
“Don’t you have a maid? Or someone who comes in a couple times a week to clean for you? Is Wyatt so cheap, or so poor, he can’t provide that for you?”
