Patchwork Bride. Jillian Hart

considered a part of good society. We must not allow our conduct to slide.”

      Mama cared far too much what certain people thought about her. Life in St. Louis had been much different, and her mother had been happier with her numerous clubs and charities there. They had moved to take care of cousin Noelle when she had been blinded in a buggy accident, and her parents—Mama’s brother—killed. But what the Worthington girls had seen as an adventure, Mama had viewed as a necessary duty, a hardship she struggled to rise above.

      “I hope you do not rue the day you dropped out of that fine school.” Mama’s pronouncement was punctuated by another dollop of mashed potato hitting her plate. “Now, back to Lydia’s letter. Your dear sweet sister writes that she loves her teachers and her course-work this year is most enjoyable.”

      Meredith glanced over her shoulder again. The pathway was empty and all sight of Shane gone. She felt as if something important, something she couldn’t describe, had slipped away.

      The bunkhouse smelled like fresh lumber, coal smoke and boiling coffee. Shane pushed back his now-empty dinner plate on the plank table and took in his new home. Much better than their last place with separate rooms for sleeping and living, comfortable chairs near the generous windows and a woodstove. Cozy enough to spend a comfortable evening reading and plenty of room for at least a half-dozen hired men. The place echoed around them.

      “Looks like Worthington is hoping to be a major operation one day, judging by the size of this place.” Braden ambled over with the coffeepot and filled both ironware cups. “Good for him. I had a chance to ride around the spread. He’s got some prime land for raising horses.”

      “And plenty of it.” That took money, and judging by the looks of things, the Worthingtons were rolling in it. Memories of the life back home, the one he’d been dying to get away from, hit him like a slap to the face.

      “Tomorrow we look over the horses we’ve come to train.” Braden set the coffeepot on the stove with a clunk. “Caught sight of the two-year-olds in the paddock. Fine-looking bunch. Robert Worthington has a good eye. Shouldn’t be too hard of a job, if we can answer to Worthington only. That wife of his…” Braden didn’t finish the sentence, shaking his head.

      Shane didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what his boss was thinking. Braden had issues with women, especially the domineering type. Thinking of his own mother, who managed her family and alienated his father with her overbearing determination to have everything her way, Shane couldn’t blame him. It was the reason he’d chosen his own path in life. He pushed out of his chair and opened the door a crack. With the fire going full bore, the well-built house was sweltering. “At least we can leave when our work is done, and sooner if you decide to.”

      “There’s nothing better than freedom,” Braden agreed, swinging into his chair. He dug into the sugar bowl and stirred a couple teaspoonfuls into his coffee. “It’s why I’ll always be a bachelor.”

      “Always? That’s a mighty long time.”

      “And well worth it. I can come and go as I please, do what I want without being henpecked to death by a woman.” He slurped the steaming coffee, a man content with his life.

      “Or lied to.” Hard not to talk about what had been on his mind all afternoon, since they’d come upon the young ladies in the road. Just Meredith, she’d been then, pretty as a picture in her pretty yellow dress and gold locks tumbling down from her hood, flyaway curls that framed her beautiful heart-shaped face like a dream. She looked sweet with that swipe of mud on her peaches-and-cream cheek and wholesome, so determined she was to help free the buggy.

      Captivated, that was a word he might have used to describe her effect on him. That was before she’d gone from Just Meredith to a Worthington daughter, one of the richest families in the county and, according to Braden’s research, the territory. The way she’d tricked him taunted him now, reminding him of how easy it was to get the wrong impression about someone. He tugged the sugar bowl closer to his cup and stirred in a heaping spoonful. Coffee steamed and the strong rich brew tickled his nose.

      “You aren’t thinking about the Worthington girl, are you?” Braden stared at him over the rim. The rising steam gave his piercing look a menacing quality.

      “Don’t worry about it.” He had been, so he couldn’t lie. “It’s nothing.”

      “Make sure it is. This is the first time I’ve seen you show interest in a calico since I’ve known you.” Braden took another slurping sip. “I feel beholden to warn you to stay away from her. She’s the boss man’s daughter. That’s a brand of trouble you don’t want to get tangled up in.”

      “Not intending to.” The hot coffee scorched his tongue and seared his throat and shook him out of his reverie. He was here to work and to learn. Braden was one of the best trainers in the country and he wasn’t going to mess up this chance to work with him. “I suppose Meredith Worthington is eye-catching enough, but I’ve seen who she really is. Nothing she can do from this point on can make me see her differently. She’s not pretty enough to distract me from my work.”

      “Good to know.” Braden nodded once, turning the conversation to tomorrow’s workday, which was scheduled to start well before dawn.

      Shane didn’t hear the muffled gasp on the front step or the faint rustle of a petticoat. The gentle tap of the falling snow outside and the roar of the fire in the stove drowned out the quiet footsteps hurrying away through the storm.

      Chapter Four

      Meredith shook the snow from her cloak at the back door in the shelter of the lean-to before turning the handle. Clutching the covered plate, she eased into the busy kitchen, where Cook scrubbed pots at the steaming soapy basin and barked orders to their housemaid, Sadie, who scurried to comply.

      Sadie never missed anything and glanced at the full plate Meredith slid onto the edge of the worktable. “They don’t like cookies?” she asked.

      “Something like that.” Still smarting from the conversation she’d overheard, she numbly shrugged out of her wraps and hung them by the stove to dry. Shane’s words rang in her head, unstoppable. He wasn’t going to understand. He didn’t want to be friends. He didn’t think she was pretty.

      She squeezed her eyes shut, facing the wall, glad that her back was to the other people in the room so no one could see the pain traveling through her. It hurt to know what he thought of her.

      “Meredith?” The inner door swung open, shoes beat a cheerful rhythm on the hardwood and Minnie burst into sight, cheeks pink, fine shocks of dark hair escaping from her twin braids. “There you are! You are supposed to help me with my spelling. Mama said so.”

      “I’ll be right up.” Her voice sounded strained as she arranged the hem of her cloak. She could not fully face her sister. Pressure built behind her ribs like a terrible storm brewing. Shane’s tone—one of disdain and dismissal—was something she could not forget. He’d said terrible things about her. So, why did pieces of their afternoon together linger? The way he’d swiped mud from her cheek, leaned close to tuck his blanket around her and the steadying strength of his hand when he’d helped her from the buggy hurt doubly now. Why it tormented her was a mystery. She didn’t know why she cared. She no longer wanted to care. A man who would say that about her was off her friend list.

      “Meredith?” Minnie asked. “Are you all right?”

      “Couldn’t be better.” Fine, so it wasn’t the truth, but it would be. She was an independent type of girl, she didn’t go around moaning the loss of some boy’s opinion. She was strong, self-reliant and sure of her plans in life, and those plans had nothing to do with some horseman who was too quick to judge. He undoubtedly had a whole list of flaws and personality defects.

      “Good, because you looked really unhappy.” Minnie crept close and took her hand, her fingers small and timid. “Are you terribly upset at losing your driving privileges?”

      “A little.” A lot,