Women.
Eventually Prout actually peered through her quizzing glass, and Lace felt like a bug beneath a lens, while Prout’s audience nodded and threw their own suspicious looks.
Lace figured she could cower or give them something to talk about, so she approached them. “Not only an inmate. I graduated to teaching there. And I loved it.”
Oblivious to the undercurrents of devil’s talk, Gabriel ran from his church to the carriage house carrying benches, definitely no t betwee n the raindrops. Lace checked on Bridget, Tweenie on a leash, a line of children behind her, and wondered who was having more fun, Bridget or Ivy, who was watching her. Every so often, he’d point from Bridget to Lacey as if to say, “Look at her, she’s just like you were.”
As the object of such conjecture, Lace enjoyed Ivy’s tease more than Prout’s tattle, so she changed course and ran to help Gabriel.
By the time there were benches enough, they were soaked. Gabriel took one good look at her wet gown up front and transferred his mackintosh to Lacey to warm her and hide the evidence of her budding womanhood, going so far as to button her bodice from the neck down, while Bridget buttoned her from the hem up. How must this look to Prout?
The thought made Lacey laugh rather effervescently because that’s how she felt—decadent and proud of it.
She set her shoes and Gabe’s to dry near the rustic hearth at the back of the carriage house, leaving Gabriel looking like a water-slick predator in stockinged feet, she the willing and besotted captive. So be it.
Julian Gorham, a boyhood friend, dapper as ever, came right over to take Lacey’s hands. “My dear girl, how good it is to see you. Ho w hav e you been?”
“Missing home, Julian, but I’m doing better now that I’m back.”
They both heard Gabriel growl and Prout hiss as Julian tucked her arm in his to walk her about the room and regale her with four years of gossip.
Watching, Prout began to tattle anew, Gabriel to frown the more.
Ivy told everyone the show was about to begin, so Lacey took a seat. Bridget claimed her lap as if she’d had the use of it forever.
Soon Tweenie the dachshund appeared, the brim of a bottoms-up top hat between her teeth, to collect the children’s admission pennies.
Gabriel sat beside her and Bridget but got right back up to help a boy frightened by the dog’s antics. “Put your penny in Tweenie’s hat,” Gabe told the child. “She won’t hurt you.”
When the boy failed to respond, Gabriel picked him up and set him on his lap, one bench over.
Bridget sat forward to watch the boy who’d taken the place in her father’s lap that she was presently shunning but might want after all.
Lacey smiled inwardly.
When the boy finally reached toward the hat, Tweenie dropped it and lunged. The boy screamed but the pup growled as she grabbed the toe of Gabe’s sock between her teeth and began a tug-of-war with his foot.
Lacey knew the winner beforehand. Ivy kept a score of women employed knitting socks to replace the ones Tweenie stole. His pup’s stocking-stash was legendary.
Gabriel laughed so hard, he was roaring by the time Tweenie raced away with her prize, while Bridget had slipped from her lap to go and stand beside him, her eyes big as five pence.
Half of Gabriel’s flock laughed with him, the rest were in shock. Lacey expected that Gabe laughed in public about as often as Tweenie relinquished her prize.
Ivy tossed him a new pair of socks, which Gabriel donned with dispatch, chuckling as he did.
When he got himself under control, he tugged Bridget over and perched her on his other knee. “Did you see that, Cricket?” He tweaked her nose and chuckled, then whispered something in her ear.
Lacey watched Bridget slide off his knee. While she was sorry Bridget didn’t stay with her father, Lacey was also glad she was coming back. She didn’t like sitting alone with Prout and so many others watching.
“C’mon,” Bridget said,
Eventually Prout actually peered through her quizzing glass, and Lace felt like a bug beneath a lens, while Prout’s audience nodded and threw their own suspicious looks.
Lace figured she could cower or give them something to talk about, so she approached them. “Not only an inmate. I graduated to teaching there. And I loved it.”
Oblivious to the undercurrents of devil’s talk, Gabriel ran from his church to the carriage house carrying benches, definitely no t betwee n the raindrops. Lace checked on Bridget, Tweenie on a leash, a line of children behind her, and wondered who was having more fun, Bridget or Ivy, who was watching her. Every so often, he’d point from Bridget to Lacey as if to say, “Look at her, she’s just like you were.”
As the object of such conjecture, Lace enjoyed Ivy’s tease more than Prout’s tattle, so she changed course and ran to help Gabriel.
By the time there were benches enough, they were soaked. Gabriel took one good look at her wet gown up front and transferred his mackintosh to Lacey to warm her and hide the evidence of her budding womanhood, going so far as to button her bodice from the neck down, while Bridget buttoned her from the hem up. How must this look to Prout?
The thought made Lacey laugh rather effervescently because that’s how she felt—decadent and proud of it.
She set her shoes and Gabe’s to dry near the rustic hearth at the back of the carriage house, leaving Gabriel looking like a water-slick predator in stockinged feet, she the willing and besotted captive. So be it.
Julian Gorham, a boyhood friend, dapper as ever, came right over to take Lacey’s hands. “My dear girl, how good it is to see you. Ho w hav e you been?”
“Missing home, Julian, but I’m doing better now that I’m back.”
They both heard Gabriel growl and Prout hiss as Julian tucked her arm in his to walk her about the room and regale her with four years of gossip.
Watching, Prout began to tattle anew, Gabriel to frown the more.
Ivy told everyone the show was about to begin, so Lacey took a seat. Bridget claimed her lap as if she’d had the use of it forever.
Soon Tweenie the dachshund appeared, the brim of a bottoms-up top hat between her teeth, to collect the children’s admission pennies.
Gabriel sat beside her and Bridget but got right back up to help a boy frightened by the dog’s antics. “Put your penny in Tweenie’s hat,” Gabe told the child. “She won’t hurt you.”
When the boy failed to respond, Gabriel picked him up and set him on his lap, one bench over.
Bridget sat forward to watch the boy who’d taken the place in her father’s lap that she was presently shunning but might want after all.
Lacey smiled inwardly.
When the boy finally reached toward the hat, Tweenie dropped it and lunged. The boy screamed but the pup growled as she grabbed the toe of Gabe’s sock between her teeth and began a tug-of-war with his foot.
Lacey knew the winner beforehand. Ivy kept a score of women employed knitting socks to replace the ones Tweenie stole. His pup’s stocking-stash was legendary.
Gabriel laughed so hard, he was roaring by the time Tweenie raced away with her prize, while Bridget had slipped from her lap to go and stand beside him, her eyes big as five pence.
Half of Gabriel’s flock laughed with him, the rest were in shock. Lacey expected that Gabe laughed in public about as often as Tweenie relinquished her prize.
Ivy tossed him a new pair of socks, which Gabriel donned with dispatch, chuckling as he did.
When he got himself under control, he tugged Bridget over and perched her on his other knee. “Did you see that, Cricket?” He tweaked her nose and chuckled, then whispered something in her ear.
Lacey watched Bridget slide off his knee. While she was sorry Bridget didn’t stay with her father, Lacey was also glad she was coming back. She didn’t like sitting alone with Prout and so many others watching.
“C’mon,” Bridget said,
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