me—have you ever met the Corbin family?”
Fancy shuddered. Jeff had not pursued her relationship with Temple Royce, but that was no guarantee that his family wouldn’t. Come to that, they probably wouldn’t approve of her in any case, given her brief career in show business. “No, I haven’t.” She didn’t add that she hoped she never would.
“They’re all coming here for the wedding, you know,” Amelie reflected innocently, as they entered the house through the screened porch at the back. “I declare, I’m so nervous I could just perish! Mrs. Corbin is an important woman.”
“Undoubtedly,” said Fancy, feeling just as nervous. How stupid she’d been not to anticipate this, not to realize that the rest of the Corbins would attend Keith’s wedding! How in heaven’s name would she face them?
But then, she thought, as she and Amelie trekked past a silent Alva on their way to the main parlor, she was little more than a servant in this house. She would not have to suffer formal introductions or take any real part in the celebration.
Amelie sat down in a chair near a massive, white-rock fireplace and distractedly removed her gloves and then her fetching Sunday bonnet. “I’ll die if they don’t like me,” she said.
Fancy was suddenly filled with sympathy for the bride-to-be; she could well imagine how Amelie felt. After all, the Corbins were an imposing group. “I don’t see why they wouldn’t,” she said honestly, sitting opposite Miss Rogers and folding her hands in her lap.
The distant echo of angry masculine voices reached the parlor and disrupted Fancy’s train of thought. Amelie looked concerned.
“What do you suppose they’re arguing about?”
Fancy was afraid she knew—there had been an angry, knowing look in Keith’s eyes when he’d arrived. A new thought occurred to her: that the reverend, in righteous outrage, would send her away. She was amazed at how badly she wanted to stay.
She lifted her chin and tried to look placid. “I think they just naturally argue a great deal,” she said.
Amelie arched perfect, raven-black eyebrows. “You may be right.”
In that moment, Fancy craved solitude more than she ever had in her life. Her thoughts were spinning and she needed to be alone to grapple with them. She did not know whether to stay or to go and worst of all, she had a nagging suspicion that she might be falling in love with Jeff Corbin. That, despite what had happened between them, would be disastrous.
Furthermore, how was she going to face Keith from day to day? How was she going to live under the same roof with Jeff and escape having the events of that morning repeat themselves over and over again?
She sighed. Keith and Amelie would soon be married, and she would be very much in the way when that happened. So, for that matter, would Jeff.
“What are you thinking?” Amelie asked, with gentle directness. “You look so sad.”
Fancy was sad. Sad because she could no longer pull rabbits out of hats. Sad because her virginity was gone forever. Sad because there was such a vast difference between Amelie’s future and her own.
“I’m only tired,” she lied.
The future Mrs. Keith Corbin clearly didn’t believe her, but she didn’t press. When Keith strode abruptly into the room, Amelie’s face lit up and they might have been the only two people in the whole world.
Fancy slipped out, unnoticed, and left the house by the front door. She walked around to the side yard, approaching the gazebo where she had been so roundly humiliated only the day before. She plopped despondently down on its top step.
The grounds bore no trace of yesterday’s celebration, except for one: Ribbons, now forlorn-looking, trembled in the gentle spring breeze, hanging forgotten from the boughs of the apple tree that had looked so glorious during the lawn party.
Suddenly, Fancy felt as denuded as that tree, and she lowered her forehead to her upraised knees in total despair.
Chapter Four
F
Fancy shuddered. Jeff had not pursued her relationship with Temple Royce, but that was no guarantee that his family wouldn’t. Come to that, they probably wouldn’t approve of her in any case, given her brief career in show business. “No, I haven’t.” She didn’t add that she hoped she never would.
“They’re all coming here for the wedding, you know,” Amelie reflected innocently, as they entered the house through the screened porch at the back. “I declare, I’m so nervous I could just perish! Mrs. Corbin is an important woman.”
“Undoubtedly,” said Fancy, feeling just as nervous. How stupid she’d been not to anticipate this, not to realize that the rest of the Corbins would attend Keith’s wedding! How in heaven’s name would she face them?
But then, she thought, as she and Amelie trekked past a silent Alva on their way to the main parlor, she was little more than a servant in this house. She would not have to suffer formal introductions or take any real part in the celebration.
Amelie sat down in a chair near a massive, white-rock fireplace and distractedly removed her gloves and then her fetching Sunday bonnet. “I’ll die if they don’t like me,” she said.
Fancy was suddenly filled with sympathy for the bride-to-be; she could well imagine how Amelie felt. After all, the Corbins were an imposing group. “I don’t see why they wouldn’t,” she said honestly, sitting opposite Miss Rogers and folding her hands in her lap.
The distant echo of angry masculine voices reached the parlor and disrupted Fancy’s train of thought. Amelie looked concerned.
“What do you suppose they’re arguing about?”
Fancy was afraid she knew—there had been an angry, knowing look in Keith’s eyes when he’d arrived. A new thought occurred to her: that the reverend, in righteous outrage, would send her away. She was amazed at how badly she wanted to stay.
She lifted her chin and tried to look placid. “I think they just naturally argue a great deal,” she said.
Amelie arched perfect, raven-black eyebrows. “You may be right.”
In that moment, Fancy craved solitude more than she ever had in her life. Her thoughts were spinning and she needed to be alone to grapple with them. She did not know whether to stay or to go and worst of all, she had a nagging suspicion that she might be falling in love with Jeff Corbin. That, despite what had happened between them, would be disastrous.
Furthermore, how was she going to face Keith from day to day? How was she going to live under the same roof with Jeff and escape having the events of that morning repeat themselves over and over again?
She sighed. Keith and Amelie would soon be married, and she would be very much in the way when that happened. So, for that matter, would Jeff.
“What are you thinking?” Amelie asked, with gentle directness. “You look so sad.”
Fancy was sad. Sad because she could no longer pull rabbits out of hats. Sad because her virginity was gone forever. Sad because there was such a vast difference between Amelie’s future and her own.
“I’m only tired,” she lied.
The future Mrs. Keith Corbin clearly didn’t believe her, but she didn’t press. When Keith strode abruptly into the room, Amelie’s face lit up and they might have been the only two people in the whole world.
Fancy slipped out, unnoticed, and left the house by the front door. She walked around to the side yard, approaching the gazebo where she had been so roundly humiliated only the day before. She plopped despondently down on its top step.
The grounds bore no trace of yesterday’s celebration, except for one: Ribbons, now forlorn-looking, trembled in the gentle spring breeze, hanging forgotten from the boughs of the apple tree that had looked so glorious during the lawn party.
Suddenly, Fancy felt as denuded as that tree, and she lowered her forehead to her upraised knees in total despair.
Chapter Four
F
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