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9
Snowbound Soldiers—and Sisters
-One pair heeled men’s dress shoes, dated style (though what he would know about current fashion wouldn’t fill a snuffbox)
-1 linen neckcloth, starched but wrinkled
-1 pair buckskin breeches, worn…small hole along one seam
-2 muslin shirts, ecru, with ties at the wrists and neck
-1 shaving kit that has seen far better days, still usable
-3 plain handkerchiefs, no embroidery, no ornamentation
-1 well-worn Bible
-3 fiction books, all well read
What have we here?
Searching the depths of the valise, Phin’s questing fingertips met a small wad of bunched fabric crammed in one corner.
Curious about the small bundle, stashed so far down it would be easy to overlook, he scraped at it with his nails until it came free from the tight crevice. As he withdrew it, his hand fisted around the tiny, hard object wrapped within.
Placing the fabric upon his lap, he unwrapped the handkerchief, this one embroidered and old, thinner than the others but infused with so much love and care it made his chest hurt.
Phineas growled low in his throat when he unearthed the ring nestled inside, cursed, both himself and the fates, for ’twas inconceivable he render this particular treasure unreturned.
Yet another task to add to his growing list of things to accomplish—if speech ever returned to his lips. And the ability to maintain human form lasted beyond an hour or two…
Not plain, pretty Mary at all.
Not a potential mistress after all.
Definitely Not merry Anne, despite her sister’s claims, not given the glower, the battlefield-worthy daggers directed his way from stormy hazel eyes.
Eyes that had disappeared up the stairway—along with the rest of her—before he quite knew what to do. What to make of the astounding realization that was swiftly coming to light.
He took one step toward the staircase, ready to fight off Wilson and anyone else who might try to keep him from her but was hampered when two women of similar age—one his mother—rushed toward him.
“Son.” Defying her typical restraint in public situations, she came right up to embrace him in full view.
Holding him tight she put pressure on his shoulders till he dipped his knees and she could whisper in his ear. “Ward, how could you? Arriving in such a tardy fashion?”
Hearing the anxious concern in her voice, he felt ashamed for not journeying straight through. For using Warrick’s to escape all that he now must face.
She squeezed his shoulders before releasing him and leaning back, a tear dripping down her cheek that raddled him like a fiver to the gut.
“I did not mean to cause you worry.” He wiped away the damning moisture with the side of his palm.
“Comes with motherhood, my dear boy.” She bit her trembling lips once, blinked, and it was as though her angst vanished; once again she became the capable, affable parent he knew and loved.
Had her wrinkles been that plentiful, that deep, when he saw her last in London? Or had his delinquency aged her unnecessarily?
Unnecessarily? You would have missed meeting Mary? Anne?
Nay. To the devil with guilt and regrets, he wouldn’t have missed those kisses, those few hours for anything.
