The Bride’s Matchmaking Triplets

Elizabeth forced her shaking hand to steady on the spoon. How dare Brandon question her ability to care for the triplets? She was a good nanny, for all she had not imagined herself in the role. Anyone might have found three babies a little challenging.

Though, she had to admit, he looked remarkably comfortable dealing with the boys. He was rocking Eli back and forth, the baby gazing up at him as if he was the most important person in the world.

She’d looked at him that way once.

She would never forget the day they’d met. Her aunt Evangeline had been hosting one of her famous dinner parties. It was well-known around Cambridge that Mrs. Dumont, wife of the influential financier, welcomed only the most interesting people to her table, so an invitation was cause to preen. As her niece, Elizabeth had dined with senators, adventurers, novelists, artists and scientists. That evening, attendees around the white damask-draped table had included the mayor and his wife, a man who had invented some sort of circuit for conducting electricity, an award-winning poet and the dean of the divinity school with his most promising student.

Brandon Stillwater.

As the least most notable person in the room, besides her, he would have had every right to sit quietly, speak only when directly addressed. Indeed, he had been quiet the first part of the meal. Then the inventor, a Mr. Lombard, had begun a paean to man’s ingenuity.

“Why, even now, in New York, a pneumatic system brings warm air in winter and cool air in summer,” he boasted, the sleeve of his black dress coat coming perilously close to dipping into his creamed asparagus as he waved a hand.

“Amazing,” the mayor proclaimed. “We may have to rethink our futures, gentlemen. Science seems to have the upper hand.”

Brandon had merely offered them all a charming smile as he reached for his crystal glass. “I think I’ll stick with the Author of invention instead of the implementer.” And he’d calmly taken a sip as if giving them all a moment to think about what he’d said.

How could she not be drawn to such a man? He was only a year older than her, yet he seemed so confident, so sure of who he was and what he was meant to do. She’d envied him that.

“Ready for this little fellow?” he asked her now, smiling on the infant in his arms. She remembered how it felt to be cradled close, those strong arms around her, making her feel safe, loved.

Elizabeth scooped up a baby and shoved him at Brandon, anything to stop these memories. “Here,” she said. “I’ll take Eli. You take Jasper.”

If he was surprised by the urgency in her voice, he didn’t show it. But as they exchanged babies, his fingers brushed her sleeve and a tingle ran up her arm.

Why was she still so aware of him after all these years? Even as she began to feed Eli, Theo watching them, she felt Brandon beside her. He held each baby so gently, every movement effortless. No other man had ever made her feel that she could rely on him no matter what.

A shame that feeling had turned out to be false.

She offered Eli another spoonful of applesauce, which he gobbled down. The men she had counted on had proven singularly unreliable. Her uncle, legendary for making fortunes, had been exposed as a swindler, stealing from clients to increase his coffers. The men who had flocked to her aunt’s table had quickly distanced themselves from scandal. The gentlemen who had seemed interested in courting her had followed suit. And Brandon...

Really needed to leave her room before she forgot herself and gave him a piece of her mind!

“You needn’t wait around, Pastor,” she said without looking at him. “The triplets and I are fine. We have Mrs. Tyson to help. You’ve done your duty by looking in on us.”

Mrs. Tyson smiled at her as she went to hang up the dirty cleaning rag. Brandon didn’t say anything, but his arm brushed her shoulder as he set Jasper back into the high chair. She turned without thinking, and her gaze met his. His silver eyes should have looked cold, forbidding, but now they drew her in like cool water on a hot day.

“Seeing to the well-being of those we care about is never a duty, Miss Dumont,” he murmured. “It is a privilege.” He held her gaze a moment longer, as if making sure she heard him. Such a heartfelt look, with his lips turned down in sympathy. She should agree, smile back. But she knew his tricks now. She was neither an awestruck girl nor a member of his flock who needed schooling. Elizabeth turned her face resolutely toward the babies. A moment later, she heard the door close behind her.

Mrs. Tyson came to lay a hand on her shoulder. “Pastor Stillwater is a good man. I’m sure he was only trying to help.”

Had she looked as if she was about to breathe fire at the minister? She certainly felt as if she could. Instead, Elizabeth gave the lady a bright smile. “But why should I trouble your pastor when I have all you lovely ladies to help?”

Mrs. Tyson’s round face turned a pleased pink. “We are delighted to help you, dear.” She bent and picked up Theo, whose eyes were already drifting closed. “Such darling boys. They make me miss my own sons.”

Elizabeth was almost afraid to ask, but it seemed the right thing to do. “What happened to your boys?”

Mrs. Tyson straightened slowly, then carried the baby toward the nearby crib. “They are grown men now. They had to leave to find work during the drought, but I have hopes they might return soon. In the meantime, if you need anything, please send word.” She laid Theo in the crib and smiled down at him a moment before helping Elizabeth transfer the other two into the crib as well. Then Elizabeth saw her out.

As she shut the door behind Mrs. Tyson, Elizabeth drew in a breath. At least that was over. Glancing back, she saw that all three boys had dozed off. In the silence, she could hear the clock ticking on the dresser.

Peace. Quiet.

Normally, that would be a blessing. Caring for the triplets was exhilarating and exhausting. She appreciated the moments when she could relax. But now all she could think about was Brandon Stillwater and the life she had once known.

Not for the first time, she wished Aunt Evangeline was still alive. Her aunt, who had raised Elizabeth after her parents’ death when she was a toddler, had always encouraged her to dream big.

“You could be an explorer, discovering new plants and animals,” she’d said, excitement dancing in her green eyes. “Or a novelist, unleashing the potential of the human heart. Only the best for you, my dear Elizabeth.”

Sometimes, sitting around the dinner table with people so famous and talented, she had thought she had found her calling, to be a society hostess like her aunt, bringing people together, sharing knowledge, encouragement. Other times, she wondered. Why must she be the one to listen to other people’s adventures? Why couldn’t she have adventures of her own as her aunt suggested?

Brandon had seemed to understand when she’d emboldened herself to confess her yearnings. After that first dinner, he had called whenever he could slip away from his studies. Studying, it seemed, wasn’t too difficult for him. They’d talk in her aunt’s opulent sitting room, take walks in the nearby park. They had been strolling beside an ornamental pond in the center of the park one Sunday afternoon when she’d told him she wished she might do something more.

“My brother, Bo, says the same thing,” he’d answered, bending to pick up a stone from the path and toss it into the pond.

She hadn’t met his brother yet. She hadn’t met anyone in his family, although she knew his mother had passed away and his father was an invalid. Aunt Evangeline said Mr. Stillwater senior was a fine gentleman who had run a prosperous business in Cambridge. Elizabeth had wondered why Brandon hadn’t introduced her, but she was certain it was only a matter of time.

“And what sort of adventures does your brother want to have?” she asked, lifting her green silk skirts away from a puddle in the path.

Brandon smiled. “He wants to move to Texas and build a cattle ranch. He’s been studying under a rancher here, and he thinks he’s ready to take on the frontier.”

“Like a cowboy in the dime novels?” Elizabeth grinned. “How marvelous! What could be more thrilling than fighting desperadoes to carve a home in the wilderness?”

Brandon tossed another rock in the pond with a plunk. “Well, the Texas Rangers make short work of any desperadoes, from what I understand. But Bo will certainly be carving at the wilderness.” He glanced her way. “He wants me to go with him.”

To Texas? The image that came to mind, of a woman in gingham skirts shooting her own dinner as she rode across the plains, was brave and bold and a little scary. She wanted adventure, but perhaps she ought to start with something more tame.

She’d linked arms with Brandon. “Too bad you’re already being considered for a position at St. Matthew’s. We can cheer your brother on from here. Just think how much fun it will be to sit around the hearth and read his postcards.”

She’d never dreamed necessity would drive her to this Texas town, or that she’d discover Brandon here as well.

She went to the window now and gazed out at Little Horn. The boardinghouse was near the end of Second Street, with the church and school among the buildings opposite. She could see the doctor’s house between them. Louisa, the doctor’s daughter who had first cared for the triplets, had married Brandon’s brother, Bo. The two men were twins, it seemed. Why hadn’t she known that? Why hadn’t she been good enough to meet his family?

Why hadn’t she been good enough to be his wife?

She could still see Florence’s face as her friend had relayed the hurtful message a few days after the scandal about her uncle had become common knowledge.

“He releases you from any agreement you might have thought the two of you had,” she’d said, pretty face scrunched as if she’d felt Elizabeth’s pain. “As a minister, he must protect his reputation. He hopes you’ll understand.”

But she hadn’t. He’d claimed to love her. Though he hadn’t proposed yet, he’d given her every indication that he would do so soon. They’d shared a tender kiss that had left her breathless.

She was still the same person, for all her uncle had been sent to prison, his properties foreclosed to pay off those he’d swindled. Why must she be punished for his actions?

She’d wanted to go to Brandon, beg him to reconsider. If there were those who would condemn him for associating with the family of a convict, surely there were others who would praise him for his charity. But Florence had convinced her that Brandon would not see her, so she had soldiered on alone.

And Brandon had headed west to become pastor of the church in Little Horn. His reputation must have remained spotless, for everyone in the area seemed to adore him.

Eli whimpered in his sleep, recalling her to her duty. The little sweetheart was growing another tooth on the bottom, the pearly nub just breaking through, and she knew his tender gums kept him from sleeping soundly.

Her heart, it seemed, was just as tender when it came to Brandon Stillwater. Only this time, she would listen to her head instead, and it cautioned her to keep her distance.

* * *

How was he supposed to keep his distance? Brandon’s legs ate up the dusty ground as he headed for his next appointment at the railway station. By word and deed, Elizabeth made it clear she had no use for him. But he was the minister. Having no parents, Jasper, Theo and Eli were under his care, for all he could not see to their needs on a moment-by-moment basis. He had every right and responsibility to check on them, to make sure they were safe and well cared for.

He couldn’t deny she was doing a good job. The boys seemed content in her company, happy even, especially after being shuttled between houses since their mother had abandoned them. Elizabeth was good to them, efficient, yet gentle, taking the time to talk to and touch her little charges as if she were their mother.

She’d make a marvelous mother and a wonderful wife.

A wife for someone other than him. He had to remember that.

The best thing he could do was keep busy, which shouldn’t be hard. He had a long list of tasks today. Amos Crenshaw had asked him to stop by to discuss the house the railway was building for the stationmaster and his family. Brandon ought to check on Tug Coleman and see how the widowed rancher was faring after the wildfire that had destroyed part of his spread. Then he’d swing over to Dorothy Hill’s to make sure the feisty widow and her brood were helping repair the damage as she’d promised. He had a sermon to develop before Sunday and the Harvest Festival to plan.

But even after Amos gave him some excellent news he knew would make David McKay rejoice, Brandon’s feet drew him back to the boardinghouse that afternoon. This time, he didn’t even have to go inside, for Elizabeth and the babies were out front. She’d managed to wrestle the handcart down the stairs and was just rearranging the babies inside it, back bent and glorious hair hidden under a straw hat. But it was the person standing next to her that had Brandon hurrying forward to help.

Constance Hickey, church pianist and all-around busybody, was lecturing Elizabeth as he reached their sides.

“And cod-liver oil,” she said, shaking a bony finger at the babies as if scolding them. “One dose in the morning and one at night. It will help them develop strong constitutions.”

The babies all nodded, but Brandon thought it was more likely they were following the movement of Mrs. Hickey’s finger than agreeing with her recommendation.

“I’ll be sure to bear that in mind,” Elizabeth said. Brandon thought he might be the only person in Little Horn who would have detected the annoyance under the polite response.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Hickey,” he greeted the older lady. “How kind of you to take an interest in our triplets.”

The thin woman raised her head, aiming her pointed nose in his direction. “And did not our Lord demand that we help the poor and lowly like Miss Dumont?”

Elizabeth’s lovely lips tightened. It had to have been one of the first times she’d heard herself referred to as either poor or lowly.

“Oh, I doubt our Lord would have considered Miss Dumont in need of our charity,” he told the older woman. “Her skills in caring for the triplets are notable.”

Mrs. Hickey frowned. “And exactly where did she learn, a young lady like herself? Has no one checked her references?”

Brandon knew David McKay must have some knowledge, or he would never have sent for her when he’d thought he needed a mail-order bride to help raise his daughter, Maggie. But Brandon hadn’t been able to figure out a way to ask without raising questions.

Elizabeth cast Mrs. Hickey a glance. “I was a governess in Boston, and the household had two younger children along with my older charges. The nanny and I often assisted each other.”

Mrs. Hickey blinked her blue eyes. “A shame you were discharged.”

Where had that rumor started? Brandon frowned, and the babies gurgled as if in protest, but Elizabeth raised her head.

“I wasn’t discharged,” she told Mrs. Hickey, voice as tight as her look. “My charges were about to go off to school, and the youngest ones were not yet ready for a governess. And then my only living relative, my aunt Evangeline, died, and I simply wanted to be somewhere else.”

So she truly was alone in the world, like the triplets.

“I’m sorry to hear about your aunt,” Brandon murmured. “She was a grand lady.”

Mrs. Hickey turned to him, gaze avid. “Oh, did you know her, Pastor?”

“No!” Jasper declared.

While Mrs. Hickey frowned at the baby, Elizabeth’s look shot to Brandon, panicked. So she didn’t want the town to know about their past. He hadn’t been overly eager to share either. How did you admit that the only woman you’d ever wanted to marry had refused you? The fact called his character into question, or hers.

“Everyone from the Boston area knew Mrs. Evangeline Dumont,” Brandon said, and he felt Elizabeth relax. “The lady set a fine table, with only the best on it and around it.”

Elizabeth returned her gaze to the babies, who beamed at her. “She never lost her interest in people, even though the stroke left her unable to do the things she loved most.”

The stroke hadn’t just affected her aunt. It seemed to him Elizabeth had chosen a path much narrower than she’d once dreamed. All of society had been open to her, yet here she was, focused on three little boys. Why?

No way to ask that question with Mrs. Hickey watching them both so eagerly.

“Ah, I fear I have detained you, my dear Mrs. Hickey,” Brandon told her. “I’m sure you had business elsewhere this afternoon, industrious lady that you are.”

Her smile wavered. She couldn’t very well admit she had nothing better to do than vex Elizabeth. “Yes, well,” she said, taking a step back. “I am very busy. You will heed my warning about the cod-liver oil, won’t you, Miss Dumont?”

“I will give it due consideration,” Elizabeth promised her.

With another glance between Elizabeth and Brandon, the pianist turned and headed toward the doctor’s office, very likely intending to instruct the physician on some point now. The boys waved their fists in farewell.

“Do not tell me she means well,” Elizabeth threatened Brandon, “for I won’t believe it.”

“She delights in knowing more than anyone else, about everything,” he said. “So long as you remember that, you won’t have any trouble with her.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “You must not have noticed the way she looked at you. You better watch your reputation, Pastor. You wouldn’t want to be seen with a discharged governess who was left at the altar. People might talk.”

“I’ve never been particularly concerned about what anonymous people have to say,” Brandon told her. He bent and seized the handles on the cart, and the triplets started bouncing up and down in anticipation of the ride. “Now, where can I take you and the boys?”

That look in her eyes told him she would have preferred to tell him where to go, and it was as far away from her as possible. But she nodded across the street. “The triplets and I have been cooped up in the boardinghouse for three days now. I was hoping to cross to the grass and let them out on the quilt. If you would be so kind, Reverend?”

Of course she wouldn’t call him Brandon. They were supposed to be strangers. Besides, times had changed since they’d last known each other. They had changed. He wasn’t a man bent on courting her. He was her minister, just as he was the minister for everyone in Little Horn. His only concern should be for her spiritual growth and comfort. If she had been anyone else, he would have done his best to charm her, putting her at ease. But his winning ways no longer seemed to work on Elizabeth.

So he trundled the cart across the rutted street for the grassy field between the parsonage and the church, the creak of the wheels playing them along.

The good citizens of Little Horn had designed the church grounds, like the church and parsonage, with the community’s needs in mind. Between the two buildings lay a sweep of grass, wildflowers nodding here and there, just waiting for a church picnic or baseball game. Amos Crenshaw kept it in order, even going so far as to carry water to it during the drought so the grass wouldn’t dry out. Brandon positioned the cart in the shade of an old live oak and helped her spread the large brightly colored quilt beside it. Then they arranged the triplets in the middle.

At nearly eleven months old, they were crawling well. Jasper, as usual, was the most adventurous. Elizabeth must have realized it, for she positioned herself between the tree and the edge of the quilt as if to prevent his escape. Rolling over on his side, Eli tugged at a block of red gingham on the quilt as if eager to get to the grass beneath. Theo sat and regarded the nearby daisies as if suspecting they had designs on his brothers. Jasper set off across the quilt and paused a moment beside Elizabeth before attempting to scale her lap.

She smiled at him, making the day brighter. “Clever boy. You wait and see, Pastor. Jasper will turn out to be an explorer.”

Brandon smiled. “I think Eli’s going to end up mayor of Little Horn by the way he manages his brothers.”

She laughed, and the sound bathed his heart in light. “Can’t you just see them,” she asked, “tall and strong, crowding in the doorway with daisies from the fields, come to wish their mother happy birthday?”

So she could still dream. He remembered the hopes she used to share—visiting Europe, opening a school for girls, driving a carriage across the whole country.

“What happened, Elizabeth?” he asked. “Why did you become a governess in Cambridge? I thought you wanted to marry.”

Her sunny smile turned stormy. “I did want to marry. The man I’d hoped would be my groom abandoned me. Or don’t you remember telling me your reputation was more important than I was, Mr. Stillwater?”

Chapter Three

She must have looked as angry as she felt, for Brandon recoiled from her. So did the triplets. Jasper’s face puckered. Eli curled next to him. Theo stuck his thumb in his mouth, a tear rolling down one chubby cheek.

Brandon reached out and scooped him onto his lap. “Easy there, Theo. Elizabeth isn’t angry with you. She couldn’t be. She thinks you’re going to grow into a fine man. I’m the one she doesn’t like. She said she couldn’t marry a country parson.”

Elizabeth stared at him. His eyes looked as sad as Theo’s.

“I never said I didn’t want to marry you,” she protested. “And I certainly never called you a country parson. You were going to serve at St. Matthew’s, a fine respectable position.”

Theo leaned against him as if ready to defend him. Brandon patted his shoulder. “You knew I wanted to go to Texas with Bo. And Texas wasn’t good enough for you.”

She spread her hands. “Look at me, Brandon. Here I am, in Texas!”

Her voice was rising again. Jasper let out a squawk as if determined to be louder. Eli’s gaze darted between her and Brandon. Theo plastered himself against Brandon’s chest. Even the bushes at the edge of the lawn rustled as if in agitation.

She forced herself to calm, to speak quietly and evenly. “I don’t understand why you have that impression of me. I never said money and position were important.”

He raised a brow. “That’s not how John Hood’s sister explained it.”

Poor Florence, to be caught in the middle of such a difficult situation. She’d been as caring as her brother, who had been in Brandon’s class at the divinity school.

“I’m sure it wasn’t easy for her,” Elizabeth said. “When my uncle was arrested, everything changed. I was so caught up in caring for Aunt Evangeline that I couldn’t do more than survive each day. Some of Aunt Evangeline’s more colorful acquaintances stuck by our side, but Florence was the only person who came by regularly.”

He nodded. “She was the one who brought me the news about your uncle’s arrest and your aunt’s stroke. I was surprised you didn’t come yourself.”

There was more pain than censure in his voice. Just thinking about that dark time made an ache rise inside her. She reached for Eli and pulled him onto her lap. The baby rested his head against her, a comforting bundle.

“I couldn’t leave Aunt’s side, so I asked Florence to help me reach you. I thought you would want to know what was happening, that you’d want to help. But Florence said you couldn’t risk being seen with me.”

He frowned. “Why would there have been any risk to me by being seen in your company? You weren’t the criminal. Your uncle was.”

She could not have misunderstood Florence. Her friend had been quite clear on the message. Her face had been anguished, dark curls trembling, and she’d barely been able to force the words from her lips.

“You were hoping for an appointment at a prestigious church, Brandon,” Elizabeth reminded him. “Having a wife associated with scandal might have hindered that.”