Free Trinity: Bride of West Virginia (Amercan Mail-Order Bride 35) by Carré White Page B

then.”
    “Are you happy being my wife?”
    That question startled me, my mouth pursing. “I … of course I am. You’ve been far too kind and generous. You’ve saved me from an uncertain future.”
    “I wonder sometimes that the age difference might be a hardship for you.”
    “No. I don’t mind.” Other things were of grave concern—Nathanial, but I pushed it aside.
    Federal style row houses filled my vision, the architecture new looking and elegant. Well-dressed men and women strolled on brick sidewalks, some walking dogs. We weren’t far from the Charles River, the Esplanade a few streets away. The leaves had fallen from the trees, the air brisk. Our driver directed the carriage towards a five-story row house, the windows bordered by black shutters.
    A moment later, the door opened, the steps having been let down. My husband alighted first, offering a hand, which I took. “Thank you.” I gazed at the house, seeing lace curtains in the second floor windows. “It’s pretty.”
    The front door opened, revealing a man dressed in livery. He waited for us, as the driver took our bags. “Good afternoon. Welcome. I’m Gregory Land. I’m Mr. Witherspoon’s butler.”
    “There, good chap.” Mr. Witherspoon beamed. “I hope we didn’t catch Nathanial out.”
    “He’s here, sir.”
    The butler directed us into the entryway, the floors black and white marble, with a staircase to the right. The driver deposited our bags, leaving them inside the doorway. A chandelier illuminated the space, casting light on polished furniture and expensive-looking artwork. A man appeared at the top of the steps, and I recognized him instantly, my belly flipping over in anxious knots.
    Nathanial grinned, descending slowly, wearing a fawn-colored suit with a black necktie. Not having seen him for several weeks, I wasn’t sure how I would feel at this moment, hoping the attraction between us to have diminished. His eyes lingered on me.
    “I see you made it in one piece.”
    “Indeed we have.” Mr. Witherspoon patted him on the back. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen the place. The remodel is quite handsome. You’ve done a fine job, son.”
    “Thank you.” He took my hand, kissing my gloved fingers. “You look lovely, Mrs. Witherspoon. Pregnancy becomes you.”
    “Stop it,” I giggled. “I’m not even showing yet.”
    “I do believe I recognize that traveling outfit.”
    All the clothes I wore he had chosen. “You should.”
    “Congratulations on the engagement. It’s about time, Nathanial. Where is the lovely Victoria?”
    “She’ll be along for supper. Do you wish to see your rooms?”
    “Indeed.” Mr. Witherspoon glanced up. “I imagine they’re at the top of those stairs, eh?”
    “I’ve one bedroom on this floor. You may use it, if you like.”
    “That’s a capital idea, Nate. My leg’s still not as it should be.” He gripped a cane. “However, I’ve a great deal more energy now than before. Having a young wife’s given me the incentive to look after my health. I do have to keep up with her, after all.”
    Nathanial gazed at me. “I can imagine.”
    I had hoped whatever attraction there had been would have faded. I had even prayed on it, asking God to remove any romantic feelings I might have had. As I stood there in Nathanial’s house, staring at his handsome visage, it became clear God had not heard or answered that particular prayer.
    “Gregory, why don’t you bring Mr. Witherspoon’s things to the guest bedroom on this floor.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Is there a water closet down here?” My husband asked.
    “Yes, sir,” said the butler. “I can take you there directly.”
    “Thank you.”
    “I’ll be happy to entertain Trinity.” Nathanial grinned. “Some refreshment is waiting in the parlor.”
    “That sounds nice.” As Mr. Witherspoon departed, I found myself alone with Nathanial, the foyer suddenly empty. “Your house is … beautiful.”
    “The house is functional.