The Bachelor's Bride (The Thompsons of Locust Street #1) - Holly Bush Page 0,60

do not get second chances.”

“You seem certain this will come to a conclusion soon and that one of us will be challenged.” Elspeth looked at her eldest sister, her serious face devoid of compassion.

“We’ll be eating soon. Leave the mending for another day,” Muireall said and left the room.

But would it come to the conclusion they wished? Would they be safe? Would Payden be safe? And traitorously, she wondered what would happen if they were victorious and the Thompson family returned to their rightful place in Scotland. Well, she would be where she had been for years. Alone.

Alexander’s mother and father stood near the entrance to their home, greeting guests and directing them with the help of a vast number of servants: to the ballroom, to the retiring room for the ladies to freshen lip rouge or leave wraps, or to the rooms adjoining the ballroom, where elaborate buffets contained sculptures of ice holding shrimp, servants carved meats and passed finger-sized crepes, and tables had been set up where wine and champagne were poured.

Alexander was nearby, being assessed by his father’s sister-in-law. “And who is the young lady who has caught your eye, Alexander? I must meet her. Gwen said you are smitten.”

“You mustn’t let my mother’s hopeful wishes intrude on the truth, Aunt Isadora,” he said with a smile. “Where is Benjamin? And Ralph? I’m sure they need your guidance when looking for a bride.”

She tapped him on the arm with her folded fan. “My sons will not even introduce me to any of their friends. I pin all of my matchmaking schemes on you and your sister.”

He began to walk toward his parents and smiled at the pitiful face she made. “Here comes Uncle Nathan to be your escort. Mother is nodding to me rather vigorously.”

“And there’s my very best employee,” Schmitt said in his booming voice as he shook his father’s hand. Alexander put out his hand, relieving his father of the duty, while Mrs. Schmitt, the least delicate woman in the city of Philadelphia, engaged his mother in a lengthy to-do concerning how much she was paying her servants. Mother’s eyebrows rose and lowered as Berta commiserated over their laziness. He could see her cheeks getting pink. She spoke in a low voice meant for Mrs. Schmitt alone, a smile on her face. Mrs. Schmitt’s eyes widened, and she clutched her husband’s arm.

“Well, yes, of course,” she said. “Come along now, Henry. The Pendergasts have other guests to see to.”

“Another success, Mother,” Alexander said as the Schmitts walked down the long, wide hallway, Berta glancing over her shoulder at him, or at his mother and father, he could not tell. It made him wonder what his mother had said to her. He was still looking down the hallway when he heard his mother’s voice.

“And here are the Thompsons. Welcome to our home.”

He turned quickly and noted the boy, Payden, was first, his Aunt Murdoch holding his arm. He held himself straight, whether out of nervousness or the fact that he had centuries of blue blood running in his veins, Alexander could not be sure. He was wearing a fashionable dark suit with a plaid handkerchief sticking out of the pocket over a bright red vest. He was already a handsome young man, ruddy cheeks and all, with the promise of more height to come. Aunt Murdoch looked at his parents with her normal hauteur.

“Mother, Father, this is Mr. Payden Thompson and his great aunt, Mrs. Murdoch, as I’m sure you remember. My parents, Mr. and Mrs. Andrew Pendergast.”

“Of course we remember, although I will admit I was rather focused on Alexander that day. How thrilled we are that you chose to join us this evening,” his mother said and shook Payden’s hand.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Payden said. He turned to the rest of his family. “My eldest sister, Miss Muireall Thompson, with my brother, Mr. James Thompson.”

Payden stepped back, intending to reacquaint his parents with his other two sisters, and that was when Alexander saw her, and the noise of excited chatter and the click of heels on the marble floors faded. She was looking at him, not a hint of a smile, looking a little nervous, holding a small bag at her waist. Her dress was the palest blue silk with dark blue trim, exposing her shoulders. A string of pearls was wrapped around her neck twice, the long strand dropping over her cleavage. He walked past her family, heard the young boy as if he