Substitute Bride (Beaufort Brides Book 2) (2 page)

She’d taken a selfie at some trendy breakfast bistro, if the
background was any evidence. She’d evidently ordered a fancy fruit and yogurt
parfait in a tall crystal glass.

She looked beautiful and polished, as she always did with
her glossy blond hair and stylish clothes. But James rolled his eyes as he
glanced at the photo.

She’d taken to sending him selfies several times a day, and
each time she was at some other expensive establishment—restaurant, boutique,
health club, bar. He had no idea why she thought he would want to get a picture
of her everywhere she went, but it was sometimes annoying to see her out having
fun and spending money when he was busy at work or at home trying to take care
of his family.

He sent an immediate reply, though, since she would sulk if
he ignored her.

Looks good.

Her reply came quickly.
It is.

He rubbed his sore jaw and told himself it was ridiculous to
expect her to be anything other than what she was. She was a fun-loving,
social, and charming woman—just as his wife had been.

He’d spent the last year dating various woman, after coming
to the conclusion that his having another wife would be good for the girls.
They needed a female influence, and he was starting to dread their teenage
years, when he was sure he’d be absolutely clueless to help them.

Jill and Julie’s grandparents—the parents of Melissa, his
wife who had died—had introduced him to Genevieve about six months ago. She was
in their same social circle, and she and Melissa had evidently been friends in
school.

James had thought she was fun and gorgeous, and she reminded
him strongly of his wife. His mother and father-in-law also approved of her,
which was a huge plus, since they had a tendency to nag.

The relationship seemed to make sense. He was tired of
living alone, and the burden of raising two daughters on his own was sometimes
so heavy he could barely breathe. He had an empty slot in his life that was
labeled “Wife,” and Genevieve could fill it.

Things would be easier when that was taken care of.

He had turned back to his computer screen, still rubbing his
jaw, when he was surprised by a tap on the door.

“Yeah,” he muttered.

Rose came in carrying a small blue object.

“What is that?” he asked.

“A hot pad,” she explained. “For your jaw.”

He rolled his eyes, preferring for her not to know how much
his jaw was hurting. He didn’t like to be babied, and Rose was so composed and
competent all the time that he didn’t like her to think he needed taking care
of. “I said I was fine.”

“Don’t be grumpy,” she said with a smile. She held the hot
pad against his jaw. “This will help. The muscles get tight when you clench
your teeth at night, and the heat will help relax them. You hold this against
your jaw, or I’ll stand here and hold it for you.”

He grumbled under his breath, although he actually
appreciated the fact that she’d thought about him. It would be nice if
sometimes his own fiancée would have done the same.

Rose leaned against the desk and watched him, as if she’d
determined she wasn’t going to leave until she ensured he followed her
instructions.

“Thanks, Rosie,” he muttered.

He knew her name was Rose, but he’d mistakenly started
calling her Rosie when she first started working for him, and now he could
never remember to call her anything else. The girls called her Rosie too,
probably because he did.

She didn’t seem to mind.

“No problem. You know, they have mouth guards you can use at
night, to keep you from clenching,” she said quietly.

She was pretty in a curvy, brunette way, and he was so used
to her now she was part of the household, part of the family. The girls loved
her, and he wasn’t sure how he would have survived the last two years without
her.

Not that he’d ever tell her that. He wasn’t the kind of man
who did things like that. But he had a slot in his life for someone to take
care of his daughters—take care of the family—and Rosie filled that better than
anyone else could.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I said I’m fine.”

“It’s just going to get worse.”

“It’s just some temporary stress. It will get better soon.”
The heat was actually making his jaw feel better, and he breathed deeply in
relief. He should have thought of this himself.

Rose was quiet for a minute. Then she asked. “What are you
stressed about?”

She’d always been careful and professional in her dealings
with him. She’d never been intrusive or inappropriate—never going outside of
the boundaries of her given position. But they’d known each other for a long
time, and it didn’t feel strange or unnatural for her to ask such a question.

In fact, James was strongly tempted to tell her his whole
list of stresses, starting with Jill and her nightmares and ending with his
upcoming marriage which seemed to be looming up more every day.

He bit back the words, though. It wouldn’t be right for him
to confide in her. He was her employer, and he couldn’t take advantage of her
sweetness and sensitivity.

He wasn’t paying her to pour out his troubles to. He was
paying her to look after his daughters. That was her slot, and he was careful
not to let the categories of his life dissolve into each other.

Ever since his wife died, he’d managed his world by keeping
everything in its proper place.

When he didn’t answer, Rose said, “The girls are doing
fine.”

“How long has Jill been having nightmares?”

“Just a few times this week.” She opened her mouth, as if
she would add something—but then she didn’t.

Noticing her hesitance, he prompted rather gruffly, “What?”

“The dream was evidently about an evil stepmother.”

James thought about that, suddenly realizing what Rose
wasn’t saying. “You think she’s worried about Genevieve?”

“I think so.”

“What should I do?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t think the girls know her very
well, and that makes them afraid of the whole situation. Maybe they could be
given the opportunity to get to know her better? That might help.”

James nodded, relieved by this common-sense idea. Of course,
they’d be nervous about his marrying someone they didn’t really know. He’d
tried to get them to spend time together, but it hadn’t really worked out very
often. He’d talk to Genevieve. She would understand and then surely she’d make
some extra time for them, so the girls wouldn’t be so nervous about her.

He hated the idea of his sensitive little Jill so upset she
was dreaming about it.

“They’ll be fine,” Rose said, as if she’d read his mind.
“They love you, and they want you to be happy. Give them a little time, and
they’ll get used to it.”

“I don’t just want them to get used to it. I want them to
love her.” He wasn’t sure why he’d said such a thing, since it revealed far
more than he was used to revealing.

Something strange twisted on Rose’s face, but all she said
was, “Give them time.”

He knew she was right, so he nodded as he repositioned the
hot pad on his jaw. Rose was looking out the window in his office, and for some
reason his eyes lingered on her face.

She had beautiful ivory skin with pink cheeks, and for some
reason he particularly noticed how delicately clear her complexion was in the
morning light. Her lashes were thick and dark, even without any makeup, and his
eyes lowered to the curve of her neck, leading down to her shoulders.

It was strangely lush and graceful—for such an innocuous
part of her body. A section of hair had slipped out of her ponytail, and it
slid against her skin, accentuating the curve.

For no good reason—completely to his surprise—he felt an
entirely new surge of physical response to Rose. She wasn’t doing anything
provocative or sexual. Her body was totally covered with a loose T-shirt. But
something about the graceful line of her neck and the swing of her hair
provoked the most unexpected response from him.

He felt heat rush through him, and his groin tighten a
little. He was hard pressed not to reach out and touch her hair, her skin.

When he realized what he was feeling, he stiffened in his
chair. What the hell was wrong with him? Those kinds of thoughts were entirely
inappropriate—for more reasons than he could count.

It must have just been one of those random flukes. It was
part of being a man—being hit with lust occasionally, even when there was
nothing real underlying it.

He’d never been particularly attracted to Rose before. She
was just part of the background of his life. He was engaged to a beautiful
woman, and his whole life was mapped out for him accordingly.

If he let the various aspects of his life bleed into each
other, his world would turn back into chaos—the way it had when Melissa had
died and he’d barely been able to function at all. He wasn’t going to let that
happen again.

He shook the stray feeling away and lowered the hot pad.
“Okay. Thanks for this. I need to get some work done.”

Rose’s eyes widened, obviously surprised by his gruffness.
She took the hot pad, though, and lowered her eyes. “Of course. I need to get
the girls to school, anyway.”

He watched her leave, feeling another flicker of interest at
the sway of her full hips beneath the hemline of her T-shirt.

Shit, he needed to pull himself together. It was probably
just another outgrowth of the stress, but he had to get it under control
immediately.

He wasn’t the kind of man who lusted after his nanny, and
there was no way in hell he was going to take advantage of Rose.

She’d been so good to him and the girls over the last couple
of years, and he simply couldn’t lose her.

Later that morning, Rose spread out
the thick silk of a mid-nineteenth-century ivory ball gown that had ostensibly
belonged to one of her long-dead ancestors. She scanned the folds of the
fabric, checking its condition.

“This one is in good shape,” she said, glancing back at her
older sister Deanna, who was inspecting an ornate black gown that must have
been made for someone in full mourning. “I think it just needs to be cleaned.”

 “It looks like this one was water-damaged when the basement
flooded,” Deanna said, her pale green eyes serious as she double-checked the
doorway to the dining room of their historic family house in one of the oldest
districts in Savannah.

After Rose had taken the girls to school, Deanna had picked
her up to bring her over the house so they could work on these old clothes.
Rose was pretty much free until she had to pick up Julie at twelve-thirty, when
her kindergarten class ended.

“Don’t tell Grandmama,” Rose murmured, checking the door
just like Deanna had. “Maybe we can hide the damage when we get these all organized.”

Their grandmother was obsessed with the family’s past,
treating all vestiges of their history—this old house, the eighteenth and
nineteenth century garments that had been saved, and other heirlooms such as
furniture, clocks, and vases—like they were part of the family.

Thanks to the funding of Deanna’s new husband, they had
recently had the old house restored, so now their grandmother wanted to have
all her “treasures” fixed up and displayed throughout the newly beautified
rooms of the house.

Deanna was twenty-seven, two years older than Rose, and she
was a practical, good-humored person nearly all of the time. Like the other two
Beaufort sisters, she was long-accustomed to putting up with their
grandmother’s eccentricities, even when, less than a year ago, those
eccentricities had landed her in a marriage-of-convenience.

She’d ended up falling in love with Mitchell, her husband,
and Rose had never seen her sister as happy as she’d been for the last several
months. But just because that situation had a happy ending didn’t mean their
grandmother’s stubborn attachment to history didn’t cause them continual
inconvenience.

“You know,” Rose said, an idea coming to her as she brushed
at the folds of the silk ball gown, “what if we were to get a few dress forms—you
know the kind that dressmakers use—to display some of these outfits that are in
really good condition. That would take up a lot of room and would make the
clothes look really good. Then maybe we could just put away the rest of
them—the ones that aren’t in such great shape.”

“She’s going to want all of them here in the house somewhere
where she can get at them.”

“We could put them in the closets of all those empty
bedrooms upstairs,” Rose said. “Then they’d be here but not in sight all the
time, and the ones that are damaged wouldn’t be such eyesores.”

Deanna nodded, obviously thinking it through. “Yeah. That’s
a good idea. We could pull out some of the prettier handkerchiefs, gloves, and
scarves and maybe get them framed behind glass. They would look kind of good
that way, and it would be better than just heaping them in a big pile.”

“That would be perfect.” Rose was perking up at the idea of
doing something both sensible and attractive with all these old clothes. She’d
had visions of her grandmother wanting them hanging all over the walls on
hooks, and she’d been trying to plan out an argument against such a scheme. “So
we’d just need to buy some frames and the forms for the dresses and then
probably pay to get some of the nicer ones cleaned.”

“Yeah.” Deanna stood up, shaking out the black mourning
dress as she did and wrinkling her nose. She was a few inches shorter than Rose
and had always been slimmer. Rose used to be jealous of her sister’s figure,
but now she simply didn’t have the time or energy to worry about her excessive
curves. “These clothes always did smell kind of musty, and if they’re going to
be sitting out as part of the décor, we probably want them to smell nicer.”

“Well, all of that shouldn’t be too expensive,” Rose said,
trying to work out a financial estimate in her head. “I’ve got some in savings
I can chip in, and Kelly said they actually had a little extra in their budget
this month, since you and Mitchell have been helping out.”

Kelly was their youngest sister, the only one still living
at home. She had another year left of college, but she handled most of the
daily running of the house as well, since their grandmother mostly just
presided and didn’t actually work very much anymore.

“Mitchell and I can cover the costs,” Deanna said with a
frown. “There’s no reason for you to use up your savings.”

“I’m not going to use them up.” Rose had actually very
little in savings, since she’d been sending most of her income home to help out
since she’d started working. James paid her a more-than-fair salary and she had
no living expenses herself, but until Deanna had gotten married, there had been
almost no money between them to keep food on her grandmother’s table and the
old house not falling down around their heads. “There’s no reason why you and
Mitchell have to pay for everything. It’s your money. Not family money. We
don’t want to be leeches on you.”

“You’re not going to be leeches,” Deanna said with a scowl.
“Why on earth wouldn’t we want to contribute to the family?”

“You can contribute. You
do
contribute. But we
shouldn’t get used to just relying on you. It’s not fair.” Rose was serious
about this, since she’d been thinking a lot about it recently, and her voice
broke slightly in her earnestness. “I know Grandmama will take everything you give
her, since she prides herself on getting you and Mitchell together in the first
place, but it’s not right. I’m not going to let us take advantage of your
generosity.”

“But Mitchell doesn’t care! I know he was kind of snotty at
first, working out the limits of the budget he was willing to spend on the
house. But he’s different now. He loves us. He wants us to use his resources.”

“I don’t care. Of course, we’ll let you help out, but you
shouldn’t have to pay for everything. If you’re going to contribute to the cost
of taking care of these clothes, then I’m going to contribute too.”

Deanna rolled her eyes and shook her head, looking annoyed,
but she didn’t continue to argue. It was always that way growing up. Rose was
always the milder and quieter of the two, but she was also the most stubborn.
Deanna might be more forceful in arguments, but Rose held out the longest—which
meant she usually won.

“So let’s pick out the prettiest dresses to put on the
forms, so we’ll know how many we need.” Rose’s tone was light and friendly, and
as usual, their argument was forgotten almost immediately.

Deanna started rooting through clothes that were piled up on
the floor. “The lace wedding dress is gorgeous, and it’s still in good
condition. And what about that green flapper dress?”

“I love that one. And also the gold empire waist gown. Those
three and this ball gown here would make four. Surely that’s enough.”

They kept working for another hour, and Rose was in a good
mood when she and Deanna went out to grab a sandwich for lunch.

She’d often felt a little distanced from her family, since
the Harwoods lived in an upscale suburb on the outskirts of town, and her life
with James and the girls felt so different than her upbringing with her
grandmother and sisters.

She liked to be able to help as much as she could. And she
liked to spend time with her sisters, who had always been her best friends.

Occasionally, someone would ask her how long she planned to
be a nanny, and she’d never had an answer for them. She assumed she wouldn’t be
a nanny all her life, but doing something else would mean leaving James and the
girls.

And she wasn’t ready to do that yet.

***

“But I wanted to go the skating rink
and have strawberry cupcakes,” Julie wailed, leaning back in her seat in the
car, her small face crumpling.

“I know,” Rose said calmly. She’d picked them up from dance
practice with the unfortunate news of the birthday party being canceled because
the birthday girl had caught a stomach bug. “You’ll still get to do it. They’re
going to reschedule the party in a few days, as soon as Mya feels better
again.”

“It won’t be the same!”

Rose used the same light tone she always did when Julie
bemoaned the world not being perfect. “Yes, life is tragically hard, isn’t it?
But better to reschedule than going to skate tonight and have poor Mya throw up
all over the place.”

“Gross,” Jill said, with a little giggle.

“Gross!” Julie agreed, her woe the moment before
considerably lessened. “When will it be?”

“Mya’s mom didn’t know. Maybe Thursday or Friday. She said
the strawberry cupcakes would definitely be there for the taking, though.”

Julie let out a long-suffering sigh. “Oh. So what will we do
tonight?”

Rose glanced out the window at the cars passing them on the
highway. James always had her and the girls driven around in a hired car,
something Rose appreciated. She didn’t own a car herself, since she’d never
been able to afford one. She did have a license, but she hadn’t driven in
years. She would have hated having the stress of getting used to driving again
while being responsible for two little girls.

“I don’t know what we’ll do,” she said cheerfully. “Your
daddy has a business dinner, so we’ll have to think of something fun to do.”

“Can we go to a movie?” Jill asked.

“Maybe. Let’s think about it and see what’s playing.”

“Oh, can we go try on dresses at your grandma’s house?” Jill
asked, the idea obviously coming to her unexpectedly. Rose had told the girls
about what she’d done that morning earlier in the afternoon, and they’d been
intrigued by all her descriptions of the long dresses and full skirts.

Julie’s face beamed. “Yes, yes, please!”

“Oh, and we can see the Pride,” Jill added, thinking of a
new reason for excitement.

“The Pride!” Julie repeated.

Rose’s grandmother had the macabre habit of stuffing her
Siamese cats after they died, and she had a large collection of them that she
liked to display with her other treasures. Rose had told the girls about the
stuffed cats several times, and they’d been fascinated.

Rose was sure her grandmother would be happy to show off the
Pride, but she wasn’t sure she would allow the little girls to play with her
family costumes. Then she remembered something. “Oh, I know. My sisters and I
used to play dress-up with some old dresses. I think they’re still up in the
attic. I could call up my grandmama and see if we could come over for a little
while this evening and play with them.”

Both girls greeted this suggestion with loud enthusiasm that
made Rose smile.

The dresses were rather threadbare and had never been as
nice as the ball gowns and wedding dresses that her grandmother collected, but
they were definitely old-fashioned, and there were hats and gloves to go with
them.

Rose was sure the old trunk would still be there. The girls
would have a grand time playing dress-up with them.

James gave them everything they could possible want, and he
made a point of always spending as much time with them as he possibly could.
But Rose sometimes felt like the little girls were missing something.

They could really use a mother who would think about things
they might enjoy like playing dress-up.

***

Rose called up her sister Kelly, who
informed her that the trunk was still in the attic and it still held all the
old clothes they used to play with. Their grandmother had said it was
“perfectly acceptable” for the girls to come over. So they went out to eat hamburgers
and fries, and then they’d headed downtown to visit the Beaufort home.

The girls had a wonderful time playing with the old clothes
for over an hour in the parlour, while Rose, Kelly, and their grandmother sat
around, drinking lemonade and smiling at them.

“Rosie, Rosie!” Julie exclaimed, coming over to where Rose
was sitting. The girl had on a long cotton dress with ruffles on the sleeves
and skirt. With it, she’d paired a little hat covered with flowers and a bird,
a crocheted shawl, elbow-length gloves, a feather boa, and pince-nez, which
kept falling off her small nose. “Can you dress up with us too? We’re going to
go to a ball!”

“That sounds like lots of fun,” Rose said, “but I don’t
think any of those clothes will fit me.”

“Do you have other big person clothes, Mrs. Beau-fort?”
Julie asked, running over to where Rose’s grandmother was sitting in a rocking
chair, looking as stern and forbidding as ever in her black dress, tight gray
bun, and frown.

The old woman looked down on the little girl without
smiling. “I have many clothes for big people. What kind of clothes do you
want?”

“A ball gown!”

Her grandmother shifted her eyes over to where Rose was
sitting. Rose couldn’t imagine what her grandmother was thinking. She’d never
seemed particularly fond of children, although she’d immediately stepped
forward to take care of her three orphaned grandchildren when their parents died
unexpectedly. She hoped her grandmother wouldn’t be rude to sweet little Julie,
although it was certainly possible.

The woman said exactly what she wanted, whenever she wanted
to say it.

Before she could start to worry, her phone chirped, and she
glanced down at her phone.

It was James.
My dinner finished early, so I’ll come by
the house.

She assumed he meant this house, since she’d sent him a text
to let him know the change of plans for the evening. Her heartbeat sped up
foolishly at the idea of his coming by her family’s home and meeting her sister
and grandmother. She texted,
Okay
, and sent him the address, since he
would have had no reason to know it.