Free Freedom For A Bride: A clean historical mail order bride romance (Montana Passion Book 2) by Amelia Rose Page B

Katia’s cheeks.
    “How strange,” Gretchen breathed quietly. “Crying so over a babe? She looks to be weeping, does she naw?”
    “Yes, ‘tis odd, I agree. You don’t think…” Moira let her question hang between them until Gretchen pestered her to continue. “You don’t think ‘tis possible she had a child of her own, do you? Or still has, for that matter?”
    “Oh, dear, that does change things if ‘tis be so.” They watched Katia for a moment, both of them turning and exchanging a worried look when she did the strangest thing, leaning forward and pressing her nose to Matthew’s forehead, breathing in the scent of the tiny child.
    “Now that’s surely a mother’s gesture if ever I saw one,” Gretchen said worriedly.
    There was no time for further speculation once the door opened and Pryor and Nathaniel came inside, stomping the dirt from their boots for good measure on the pan that Pryor kept by the door for such a purpose. They’d already washed up in the basin on the porch and now set about loading the rest of the supplies in the wagon. Pryor would ride his own horse alongside them, leaving the scant bit of room in the back of the wagon for Moira, Gretchen, and Matthew. Katia would sit on the seat beside Nathaniel, appropriate since there were other ladies along to serve as chaperones.
    Along the way, Gretchen and Moira continued their fearful conversation, slipping into Irish to keep their thoughts to themselves.
    “Are you two talking fancy so I don’t understand you?” Nathaniel asked jokingly. “I’d hate to think of what you might be saying about me!”
    Gretchen colored to the roots of her red hair at having been found out, but Moira recovered like the practiced lady that she was.
    “Oh, no, Mr. Russell, we’re only having our own little conversation so we can give you some privacy to speak to Miss Noryeva. We’d hate to be accused of eavesdropping, of course, so we’ve ensured that we’re otherwise occupied.”
    “What a cool liar you are!” Gretchen said in Irish, looking around guiltily with a wicked grin. Moira laughed.
    “Well, I’d hate for him to know what we were supposing!” she answered in the same. “But as long as we’re being gossiping like ugly old washer women, how do you imagine it could be true?”
    “I don’t know the answer to that myself, I thought to ask you! What if she had a child back home, and ‘tis why she came to America? To get away from the scandal?”
    “Oh, I think you’re putting too much stock in people’s reputations. The year ‘tis 1852, it’s not the same as it used to be. A girl may be ruined for a proper marriage, but she would naw have to flee for her life, I should naw think.”
    “You don’t think she might have been a wife and mother back in Russia? Remember the news in town, there’s a revolution coming to those people. Perhaps her husband was a soldier and was killed?” They both turned pale at the thought, and Moira unconsciously looked in Pryor’s direction to reassure herself that her husband was well.
    “It could be. But we may just be thinking too wrongly of the poor dear. For all we can know, maybe she had brothers and sisters that she once tended and was simply thinking back fondly to her childhood. There’s no need to assume she was wanton before agreeing to marry Mr. Russell.”
    “Uh oh, you’ve spoken his name. I think he knows we’re talking about him,” Gretchen said quietly, forcing an unconcerned smile on her face and shifting into English as she changed the subject. “So did you tell the MacAteers of the goodies we’ve brought along, Mr. Russell? There’s a pudding that I’m right proud of if it’s not too boastful to say!”
    Nathaniel shifted uncomfortably in his seat, knowing full well that the conversation they’d just been having couldn’t have been about puddings and cakes, not after the way they’d leaned close and lowered their voices. But there was no sense in causing dismay by