The Bareknuckle Groom - Holly Bush Page 0,56

a married woman. May as well begin now.”

She shook her head. “I have no plans to marry at this time.”

“No plans to marry? I was hoping to announce an engagement at this ball, but if you need more time to get to know him, I suppose we’ll just have to announce it in the papers, although I find that practice gauche.”

Aunt opened her mouth to speak, but Lucinda stopped her. “Papa,” she said and waited until he looked at her. “I have no plans to marry at this time, and I can tell you, with certainty, I never intend to marry Carlton Young.”

“Lucinda,” he said, his voice rising.

“Papa,” she spoke over his words. “I will never marry Carlton Young. There is no more to discuss on the subject.” She rose from her chair and laid her linen napkin beside her plate. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

Lucinda slowly climbed the steps to her room. She was sure that at sometime in the future, she would have to accept that she may be separating herself permanently from her father. She recognized his single-mindedness on the subject of marriage for her and knew that he would not relent. That he would continue his campaign until she took an irretrievable step. Her aunt followed her to her bedroom.

Lucinda closed the door behind Aunt Louisa. “Mr. Delgado is buying a house in Philadelphia?”

“Yes. He’s had an agent searching ever since he sailed back to Spain to close up his offices and sell his home there.”

“Do you think you’ll be joining him in his new house?”

Aunt Louisa blushed. “Renaldo has proposed, and I have accepted, although we won’t be married until you are settled. Don’t worry about that.”

“Would he consider allowing me to reside with his family, with you, once you are married?”

Aunt rushed to her and held her hands. “There is nothing that would give me greater joy, but I worry that it may cause a permanent rift between you and your father. When did you begin thinking about this?”

“I’m almost twenty-five. Truthfully, I don’t really want to join your and Mr. Delgado’s household, although I think the both of you would make it very comfortable for me.” She looked up at her aunt with a wry smile. “I’m going to tell Papa that I want a home of my own. He has several properties that would be suitable. I have monies from Mother’s family coming to me on my next birthday that should keep me fed and clothed with suitable servants.”

Aunt Louisa dropped into a chair. “You are going to ask your father for one of these homes, and when he refuses, you’re going to tell him you’re moving in with Renaldo and I.”

Lucinda nodded. “I am.”

“You tricky girl! He will sign over a property in an instant rather than have you under Renaldo’s roof.”

“That is the plan.” Lucinda smiled. “You are free to marry Mr. Delgado at your leisure.”

“You’re going to kill me, MacAvoy,” James sputtered as he dragged a wagon loaded with lumber down the alley. He’d put his arms through the ropes for the horse harnesses at the front of the cart and moved forward inch by precious inch. He’d made it down the alley once and turned it, now making his way back toward number 75.

“We’re going to increase your stamina, James. I want you to get to exhaustion and have the strength to go on. Think about that wagon as if it were Jackson’s face. Fight through it,” MacAvoy said, walking beside him.

“I’d rather . . . think of it . . . as yours. As I drag your . . . nose through this gravel,” James said.

“Think of it anyway you’d like. You’ve not far now. I can see your back gate.”

James pulled his shaking arms out of the harness and bent at his waist, taking deep breaths.

“Come on,” MacAvoy said. “Let’s take one walk down the alley and back. We’ll be done for the day then.”

“Did you talk to Chambliss?”

MacAvoy nodded. “Set for the twenty-fourth.”

“After your wedding?”

“Hell yes, James. I don’t want you standing at the altar beside me with two black eyes. And Elspeth has engaged someone to take pictures of us. Have you seen any of them? Of the daguerreotypes? There are pictures of the battlefields at Gettysburg at the Philadelphia Museum. Rows upon rows of dead men.”

“And you’re worried about me with a black eye?”

MacAvoy laughed and then sobered. “You’re going to be there, right? At my wedding?”

“I’m standing up for you. Of course I’ll

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