Dacey: Bride of North Carolina (Amercan Mail-Order Bride 12) by Shanna Hatfield

I’ve had in a long while, so allow me to enjoy it. Please?”
    For a long moment, Dacey remained silent. Finally, she released a resigned sigh. “Okay, but surely this is enough.”
    Beatrice laughed and looped her hand around Dacey’s arm. “For now. I do believe I worked up an appetite with all that shopping. While Mrs. Vander wraps our purchases, I believe we should partake of some sustenance. There’s a delightful little restaurant just down the street. After we eat, we shall see about getting you some shoes.”
    Three hours later, Dacey watched as Harry loaded the last of their purchases next to her trunk and they started the drive home.
    She had no idea how she’d ever earn enough money to repay the Douglas family for their generosity or kindness. From her estimation, she’d have to work in their stables until she was old and gray and the debt would probably still loom over her head.
    Unsettled by what she viewed as charity, she decided to write to Josephine. Her friend might offer insight into the matter. Now that she no longer had the prospect of marriage to save her from her troubles, she had to formulate a plan for her future.

Chapter Six
     
    “How is she doing, Tom?” Braxton asked his head groom as they watched Dacey ride a gelding around a pen. The horse was one Braxton hoped to break and sell quickly.
    A few weeks ago, he’d picked up three horses for practically nothing. Two of them were good, solid mounts. The third horse, however, had proved to be a dangerous mixture of jittery, stubborn, and crazy. The animal had thrown every man that climbed on his back and seemed inclined to be foul-tempered. A horse like that had no place in the herd he was building.
    Tom studied Braxton for a moment before responding to his question. “Better than most. She’s a natural with the horses if I ever saw one.” He offered his employer a teasing grin. “I don’t know where you found her, but if I were you, I wouldn’t let a girl like that get away.”
    “Yes. Well, um… thank you for sharing your thoughts on the matter.” Braxton struggled to keep his wits about him as sunshine spread golden rays across Dacey’s autumn-toned tresses. The loose braid she’d created to confine her curls bounced on her back with every step the horse took.
    His gaze dropped to her brown leather boots and traveled up her dark blue riding skirt. The ruffled pink blouse she wore with a short navy jacket made her appear entirely feminine despite the fact she rode the horse astride.
    Even if she hadn’t been so utterly enchanting in her appearance, Braxton thoroughly enjoyed observing her skill with the horses.
    In the three weeks she’d stayed at Bramble Hall, Dacey had blended so seamlessly into their lives, it seemed as if she’d always been there.
    Braxton had come to anticipate seeing her bright smile each morning and listened for the sound of her laughter. Often, he found himself looking for her as he worked, hoping to catch a glimpse of her riding.
    Loath to admit it, he even enjoyed hearing her twang when she excitedly discussed something that stirred her interest. For the most part, Dacey had subdued most of her western slang words. He hadn’t heard her say “ain’t” or “dang” for more than a week.
    Despite his mother’s insistence that Dacey was a guest, the girl refused to sit around the house. She’d given herself a list of chores to see to every day and completed them with an enthusiasm that often made the staff smile.
     Regardless of her efforts to work at Bramble Hall and pay her way, Beatrice won the argument that Dacey needed to learn additional skills in preparation of the upcoming Harvest Ball.
    Beatrice engaged the services of a tutor to enhance the girl’s knowledge of proper comportment and the fine art of dancing. Afternoons, the tutor helped polish her already fine manners and taught her intricate dance steps.
    Evenings found Braxton admiring their guest. She was smart, witty, and often