Trinity: Bride of West Virginia (Amercan Mail-Order Bride 35) by Carré White Read Free Book Online Page B

grasped my hand, leading me away from Nathanial to the center of the hall. A chorus of chatter resounded, people staring at us. “This is Witherspoon Mansion’s new mistress.”
    Thrust into the spotlight, I met dozens of people then, their faces swimming before me. Someone gave me a glass of wine, which I gratefully took, the alcohol easing the tension within me. I smiled and conversed with women and men, the introductions continuing until my head swam. We migrated into the ballroom, a room I did not even know we had. Stunned, I gazed at the cavernous space, although many people milled about. Tables of refreshments stood at the back, while the orchestra played the refrains of a waltz, bringing couples out to dance.
    “Nathanial,” called Mr. Witherspoon. “Come dance with my wife. I’m sure Trinity’s eager to take a turn.”
    Before I could say anything, I found myself in Nathanial’s arms, his lead helping me to remember the steps, as we gracefully wound our way around the room, spinning and spinning. A blur of faces and the colors of satiny dresses flew in the background, people laughing and dancing about us.
    “You’re the most beautiful woman here.”
    “Oh, stop it. That’s not true.” The wine had made me giddy, my spirits high. “You’re quite handsome yourself.”
    He turned me around, his look inscrutable. “I stand by my earlier assessment.”
    “You paid for my dresses today.”
    “I did.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I chose what I liked. It was a purely selfish act.”
    That confused me. I tilted my head to one side. “I couldn't have done it better. I would’ve chosen some hideous things, if you hadn’t been with me.”
    “I know.”
    “It’s because of you I feel prepared to face these people. All evening I’ve been pretending to be a princess from some far off country. It’s the only way I’m able to stand here like this. I’m actually terrified.”
    “I can tell.”
    “Does it show?” I frowned. “I was trying so hard to hide it. Drat.”
    “You hid it well. I’m good at reading you.”
    We turned again, my skirts brushing his legs. “I thought you hated me?”
    He blinked. “Why would you say that?”
    “When we first met. You accused me of marrying your father for his money. I didn’t know he was … wealthy. He never mentioned it in the ad. The matchmaker, Elizabeth Miller, never implied it either. She just said he was an older man, who lived comfortably.” I glanced around the room, eyeing several chandeliers overhead. “I say; this is very comfortable.”
    “The verdict is still out, but … I might’ve changed my mind about that earlier assessment. It was rash.”
    I met his gaze, feeling as if I could trust him. “If I’d come here to marry you … everything would be different.”
    An eyebrow lifted. “Really? How so?” His grip increased marginally, fingers pressing into my back.
    “I think … I would’ve liked that very much. I think I could’ve been happy.”

Chapter Eight
     
     
    The wine, the dancing, the dinner … feeling like a princess, being the center of attention … I could not remember a better night. Even when my husband insisted on joining me in my bedchamber, I let him have his way, slipping from the bed after he had succumbed to sleep. It was strange that I never slept in my own room. In the morning, I found my head pounding, the effects of having too much wine the night before.
    “Hello,” said a voice softly.
    “Ugh.”
    “I’ve something for the pain, Mrs. Witherspoon. An old concoction that should do the trick.”
    Knowing Mrs. Dexter had arrived with a tray, I peered at her through a half-closed eye. “I feel dreadful.”
    “I’m sure most of the guests are in a similar predicament.” She smiled kindheartedly.
    Struggling to sit, I gazed at my surroundings, finding a masculine looking room, the drapes drawn shut. “All right. I hope it works. I feel … truly ill.”
    She set the tray in my lap. “This will fix you