Marblestone Mansion, Book 8 by Marti Talbott

Author:Marti Talbott [Talbott, Marti]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: M T Creations
Published: 2014-04-29T04:00:00+00:00

*

It was Sunday morning. The ball had lasted into the wee hours the night before and breakfast was served late. Gloria and her parents chatted about the entertainment, the gowns, the refreshments and the little tidbits of gossip Abigail managed to gather from the guests.

“Daughter, has Ben proposed yet?” Claymore finally asked.

“What?” Gloria asked.

“It is a simple question. Has he gotten up the courage to ask for your hand yet or not?”

“Claymore, is it not obvious they quarreled last night?” Abigail asked.

“About what?” Claymore wanted to know.

“We did not quarrel,” said Gloria.

Claymore did not hide his relief. “I am glad of that. Therefore, I am asking again if he means to marry you anytime soon. It is apparent he is in love with you, and I think you love him too. You know how your mother has her heart set on planning your wedding, and I am simply asking for a bit of advanced warning.”

“Father, Ben and I…I mean, I cannot marry Ben even if he does love me.”

“Why not?” Abigail demanded.

“Because, I am already engaged.”

Abigail was speechless. Her mouth dropped, her shoulders slumped and she dropped her fork in her plate.

It took Claymore a while too, before he finally asked, “To whom?”

“A man I met in Baltimore. His name is Nate Harrington. He owns a factory, or rather he is part owner of a factory in New York, and several coal mines in Pennsylvania.”

“Why are we just now hearing about this, daughter?” Claymore asked.

“Oh, Father, I so wanted to tell you, but Ben and I were having great fun waiting to see what our mothers would do next. And…”

“And what?” Abigail asked.

“And, I knew it would break your hearts to learn I was going to live so far away.” She waited, but her parents just stared at her. “I have dreaded this moment so.”

“And here it is anyway?” Claymore said. He set his plate aside, put his elbows on the table and strummed the fingers of one hand against the fingers of his other hand. “When is this wedding to take place?”

“In June.”

“Here or in New York?” Abigail asked.

“Mr. Harrington says he cannot get away long enough to have the wedding here.” Again, Gloria tried to gracefully endure the tense silence between them. She thought to take another bite of her eggs, but they suddenly looked very unappealing.

At last, Claymore said, “I find that rather unusual. Traditionally, a bride is given away by her father in a place of his choosing, if not his own home.”

“I know, and I am so sorry,” said Gloria. “I wish it were otherwise, truly I do.”

“Can you not convince your…Mr. Harrington otherwise?” Abigail asked.

“I do not imagine I can, but I shall try, Mother.”

The deed was done then, and Gloria felt relieved having said it, but she found their stares unbearable. Perhaps she expected yelling or in the very least, her mother’s tears, but there was nothing. She wanted to scream—to admit she knew she was making a terrible mistake. Instead, she waited.

“Well,”

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