Heaven Sent by Duncan Alice

Author:Duncan, Alice
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: san francisco, historical romance, 1890s, northern california, alice duncan, rachel wilson, sweet historical romance
Publisher: Alice Duncan

Chapter Twelve

Callie’s heart rattled like a kettledrum, her mouth had gone as dry as the Sahara, and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Her gaze flickered from Aubrey’s back, where it wanted to remain, to the group of gabbling women under the tent.

They were talking about her. Her or Aubrey. Perhaps her and Aubrey. And for no good reason. Merely because she’d practically swooned with ecstasy when she’d found herself in his arms didn’t mean anybody watching should have known about it. Even if they had known about it, they most certainly shouldn’t be talking about it now.

If they were talking about it.

Another glance at the herd of mothers and Mrs. Bridgewater confirmed her unhappy assumption that they were talking about something fascinating. Callie knew that gossip about men and women was the most fascinating kind and, since there hadn’t been any other couples to gossip about recently, she assumed she and Aubrey were the one on today’s menu. What’s more, they were being chewed and digested with great relish. Drat it.

She tried to arrange her face to show nothing but amiability, and hoped to heaven she didn’t look as though she’d just undergone a religious experience. If her face told the tale her insides were singing, it would be all over town in a day or two that she was hopelessly in love with her employer, That, while true, would be too humiliating to be borne.

In order to nip scuttlebutt in the bud, and in an effort to get her hammering heart to settle down, Callie hummed a merry tune as she skated toward the chattering matrons who were at present buzzing like a hive of honey bees being besieged by a bear.

“Oh, Mrs. Bridgewater, I’m sure there’s nothing shady going on between them.”

Callie’s eyes widened and her cheeks caught fire when she caught this comment, uttered by a woman in a yellow polka-dot morning wrapper. Callie had always mistrusted polka dots. It didn’t make her feel any better to know her mistrust had not been unmerited.

“Of course, there isn’t. Callie’s much too respectable and high-principled to do anything like that,” Alta announced staunchly.

Thank God for sisters.

“Well, I have reason to believe you’re both wrong. It’s improper for a young woman her age to be living under the same roof with a single gentleman—if he is a gentleman. I’ve always had my doubts.”

Callie stopped humming when Mrs. Bridgewater’s voice, full of quivering malice and self-righteous indignation, smote her ears. She glanced up from the driveway—she’d been keeping her eyes on the pavement because she didn’t want to take a tumble—and saw the elderly woman plying her fan with one hand and her lorgnette with the other. Her bilious green bombazine bosom had swelled to alarming proportions, and the gaze of every matron was fixed upon her face.

Bilgewater went on, “There’s something obscene going on between them, and I think it’s scandalous.” The other women were so fascinated, they didn’t notice Callie’s approach.

The horrid old cow! Callie’s heart stopped trilling instantly, and any slight remaining fear of swooning vanished like smoke.

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