The Matrimony Plan. Christine Johnson

“I can’t draw a thing.”

      “Felicity,” Mother hissed.

      “I’m sure that’s not true,” Beatrice graciously said. “You did a lovely sketch of a horse when we were in school.”

      Mother did it. Mother always did Felicity’s sketches. Either the teachers didn’t know or they looked the other way.

      “That’s why my Felicity is the perfect chairwoman of the Beautification Committee,” Mother stated, deftly turning the conversation in a new direction.

      “Beautification Committee?” Gabriel asked.

      Beatrice raised guileless blue eyes. “The Beautification of the Sanctuary Committee.”

      Mother explained, “We’ve decided to replace the plate glass window inside the entry with stained glass.”

      “We?” Gabriel looked around the table. “Why haven’t I heard about this?”

      Felicity wanted to hide. Mother should have told him at the Ladies’ Aid Society meeting. She should have laid out all her plans to the new minister. It was just like her to settle the matter before he arrived to avoid any opposition.

      Mother waved off the question. “Don’t fret. You’ll hear all about it at our next meeting.”

      Gabriel gulped. “Are you telling me this is a Ladies’ Aid Society project?”

      “Of course, and my Felicity is chairing the committee.”

      Gabriel’s expression hardened. “I thought the Ladies’ Aid Society raised funds to help the poor.”

      Mother’s artificial smile tightened in preparation for a fight. “That is one of our missions. Helping our church is another.”

      “But the poor—”

      “Pardon me, Reverend, but you’ve been in Pearlman less than a day. I believe we know a bit more about our town than you do.” Though Mother spoke in a singsong tone, her words cut with the efficiency of a scalpel.

      Gabriel’s jaw dropped, and for a moment Felicity wanted to encourage him, but then she heard Robert snicker and realized what a fool Gabriel was making of himself. Mortified for him, she tried to think of another topic of conversation, but her mind had gone blank.

      Looking stricken, Beatrice took the lead. “Felicity, when is the first meeting? We can discuss this all then, not at dinner.”

      How could she answer? She didn’t know a thing about the project or the committee, not even who was on it, but she couldn’t admit ignorance. She lifted her jaw and squared her shoulders. “I will contact you when a date is set.”

      “But shouldn’t we begin soon?” Beatrice asked. “I understand it can take some time for a window to be constructed. Bad weather will be here before we realize it.”

      A lady always maintains her composure. Felicity kept her head high. “Everything is under control.” It clearly was not.

      Gabriel was upset with Mother’s project, and Robert had resumed talking about the airfield. If she didn’t do something quickly, she’d lose her chance to claim his attention.

      “I’m terribly hot,” she exclaimed, setting her napkin on the table. “May I be excused, Daddy? I’d like to take some air.” She didn’t wait for his approval to push her chair back.

      “May I escort you, Ms. Kensington?” Robert asked, setting aside his napkin. He held out a hand.

      Perfect. She beamed as she placed her hand on his. At last, her plan was underway.

      Gabriel itched to follow Felicity, but she could never care for a man who chased after her. So he waited anxiously for the meal to end.

      The Wellington lost its flavor, and he couldn’t ignore the empty places beside him. What would they say to each other? What would they do? No small part of him wanted to run out and protect her, for what kind of man spoke so carelessly of passion, equating it with lasting love? He knew the answer: a man who wanted to use a woman for his own pleasure.

      “It is hot in here,” Kensington said, interrupting Gabriel’s thoughts. “Let’s all take our dessert in the garden.”

      Though Gabriel eagerly assented, judging by the grim set of Eugenia Kensington’s lips, she supported her daughter’s withdrawal with Blevins. Thankfully her father had better sense.

      They caught up with the pair on the porch. A waning moon couldn’t compete with the bright gas lanterns lining the driveway. Moths fluttered against the globes, hopelessly attracted to what would kill them.

      Felicity still hung on Blevins’s arm, gazing into his ridiculous face with adoration.

      Peeved, Gabriel asked if she felt cooler now.

      Felicity ignored his question. “Founder’s Day,” she whispered to Blevins. “Remember, green satin ribbon.”

      Judging by Blevins’s grin, he understood what she meant, but instead of answering, he kissed her hand and broke away just as Kensington approached.

      “Mr. Blevins, join Blake and me in the study,” the patriarch said. “I have a question about your blueprints.”

      Blevins of course obeyed. He had little choice, since Kensington employed him, but that left Gabriel to reap the rewards of being alone with the ladies. He snared a crystal bowl of strawberries with cream and offered it to Felicity.

      “Would you care for dessert?”

      She hugged her arms and shivered. “No, thank you. I’m still a bit fatigued.” Without asking his pardon, she departed, leaving a faint scent of roses lingering in the air.

      Gabriel knew a brush-off when he saw one. Felicity Kensington not only preferred Blevins but she disliked him intensely. The feelings he had for her were not mutual.

      He gathered the remnants of his battered pride and faced the remaining women. Eugenia and Beatrice Kensington had watched the entire exchange. Felicity’s mother smirked, while Beatrice looked dismayed. Gabriel forced a smile. “Nice evening.”

      They exchanged small talk, but he could barely keep his mind on the conversation. He wondered what Felicity meant by those furtive instructions to Blevins. Clearly they’d planned to do something on Founder’s Day, whenever that was, but what did the green satin ribbon mean? Was it to indicate where they could meet in secret? Surely there was no need. Eugenia Kensington clearly supported a match between her daughter and Blevins. Clandestine meetings always led to no good. Gabriel had seen his share of unwed mothers, abandoned by their lovers as soon as they were with child. He shuddered to think that might happen to Felicity, but he didn’t trust Blevins. Something wasn’t right about the man.

      “Pastor, glad to see you’re still here.” The hearty greeting came from Branford Kensington, flanked by his son and Blevins. He shook Blevins’s hand. “Shall we call it a night? You’ll want to start first thing in the morning.”

      Blevins apparently understood a dismissal when he heard one, for he gathered his hat and cane and thanked Mrs. Kensington for a fine dinner. As the man passed, Gabriel smelled whiskey. That shouldn’t be—not with prohibition. Yet somehow he’d gotten liquor.

      Kensington’s intense gaze honed in on Gabriel. “You and I have a little unfinished business, Pastor. Let’s go to my study.”

      That was not a suggestion; it was a command. Gabriel swallowed a nut of worry. What had he done to upset Kensington? Had he been too forward with Felicity? Did Kensington suspect his interest in her? Every step down the long hall intensified his dread.

      The study was paneled in mahogany and filled with heavy furniture. A gun rack with nine hunting rifles spanned the wall behind him. A Cape buffalo head stared blankly with dark, glassy eyes while gazelle, moose and antelope mounts graced the other walls.

      Rather than sit in the low chair