Heaven Sent (24 page)

Of all the women present, only Callie
dared don the skates herself, although she offered skates to anyone
who wanted them. She’d even smiled brightly at Bilgewater and held
out a pair of skates in invitation.

“
Don’t be absurd,” the old
hag had said tartly.

Callie hadn’t pressed the issue, but
only smiled sweetly.

Watching from under his tree, Aubrey
had to give her credit. She wasn’t intimidated by Becky’s
great-aunt. Bilgewater hated her for it, too. Her detestation was
as plain as the huge beaked nose on her face.

It seemed that Callie didn’t care an
iota what Bilgewater thought of her. “I haven’t done this since I
was twelve years old,” she announced with a laugh as she sat on a
bench and plied her skate key.

“
That’s almost twice as old
as I am,” Becky told her.

Aubrey grinned, cheered to discover
that a child of his loins could do her sums so well. Becky was good
with her numbers and her letters, and she made Aubrey proud.
Imagine that. For months, he’d been ready to vow he’d never be
happy about anything again—but he was happy about Becky. And he was
even sort of happy about this nonsensical birthday party, except
for Bilgewater.

Callie, wobbling a little on her
skates, lined the children up. “We’re going to practice before we
hold any races. I don’t want anybody getting a skinned knee or a
broken arm.”

The children laughed, although Aubrey
was pretty sure he heard a couple of horrified gasps from the
mothers and Bilgewater sitting under the tent. He eyed them and
thought how pleasant it was to have Callie in charge of Becky.
Callie never succumbed to fits of the vapors or irrational
fears.

Good God. Had he honestly just thought
what he thought he’d thought? Directing his attention at Callie and
her group of skate-encumbered children, he amazed himself by
acknowledging that he had. And, what’s more, his thought had been
not only correct, but enlightening.

He supposed—although it was far too
early in the game to make any decisions about the matter—that if he
did choose to remarry, he might do worse than to select Miss
Callida Prophet as his bride.

Aubrey frowned. He was beginning to
frighten himself.

Although, it was true, by marrying her
he’d be precluding her exit from Becky’s life on the arm of another
man. Mark Henderson, for example.

Such a sensible notion eased Aubrey’s
misgivings considerably. Yes, indeed, Becky was the only
reason—Becky, and the honest acknowledgment that he was a young man
who had certain physical needs—he’d ever consider marrying Miss
Callida Prophet. Absolutely.

“
All right, everybody, here
we go!”

Callie’s merry voice jolted Aubrey
back to the here and now. He watched as a dozen or more children
skated, with various degrees of agility and ability, on the paved
drive that made a half circle in front of his house. A rose bed,
the roses having been chosen years earlier by Anne, decorated the
center of the curve. Even though it was October, some of the roses
still bloomed. Seeing them reminded Aubrey of his late wife, and he
started to feel guilty.

Even if he remarried, he’d never
forget Anne. He swore it, to himself and to her.

He got the feeling Anne was looking
down from heaven and rolling her eyes in exasperation.

“
Look, Papa!”

Becky’s excited shout jerked him out
of the beginnings of the mood he’d been poised to sink into. He
waved at her. “You’re doing very well, Becky!”

“
This is such fun, Papa!
It’s
super
!”

“
I can see it
is!”

Aubrey noticed several of the ladies
under the tent glancing at him and then putting their heads
together. Bilgewater was in the center of the group. Damn it, he
knew what that meant: They were gossiping about him. Because of his
money and his personal loss, the fact that he’d hired a local young
lady to serve as Becky’s nanny, not to mention the fact that
Bilgewater hated him, he was undoubtedly a hot topic of
conversation in Santa Angelica.

Because he didn’t like the idea of
being the subject of idle chatter, he decided to put a stop to it.
Deliberately, he rose from his comfortable, shady bench under the
tree and walked over to the tent.

All talk among the matrons ceased, as
he’d figured it would. “Good afternoon, ladies.” He even nodded
politely at Mrs. Bridgewater. “Are you and your children enjoying
my daughter’s party?”

A moment of absolute silence, broken
only by the happy shrieks and squeals of the gaggle of children,
greeted his question. Then pandemonium broke out as every single
one of the mothers hastened to assure him that both they and their
sons and daughters were delighted to have been invited to the
Lockhart mansion for Becky’s party. Bilgewater, he noticed,
maintained a stony silence.

He gave a savage internal snort of
derision. She only wanted to talk about him behind his back. She’d
never say anything nice, about him or his daughter’s birthday
party, to his face.

“
For, you know, Mr.
Lockhart, that we all think Becky is such a dear child,” one
woman—Aubrey thought she was Mrs. Hurst, mother of a chubby boy
with a surly disposition who was a terrible skater—told
him.

Several bonneted heads bobbed up and
down as other women nodded agreement.

“
Indeed, she’s a particular
friend of my Sylvia,” another woman said.

Squinting at her, Aubrey tried to
remember her name and failed. He didn’t recollect Becky talking
about anyone named Sylvia. Nevertheless, he smiled at her. “Becky
is enjoying school and meeting other children.”

“
She’s a darling child, too.
Callie’s been so good for her. Don’t you think so, Mr.
Lockhart?”

Aubrey knew who
that
was. He smiled at
Mrs. Frederick Watson, otherwise known as Alta, one of Callie’s
older sisters. He’d be damned if he’d admit that Callie’d been good
for Becky, even though such an admission would irk Bilgewater and
might be worthwhile on that account. Also, he didn’t quite know the
cause of his reluctance.

However, he honored it and said,
“Becky’s enjoyed getting to know Johnny and Jane, Mrs. Watson. I
believe they’ve become quite close. And I know they were helpful to
her during her first few days at school.”

“
Yes, I believe so. Jane is
always talking about what she and Becky did in school.”

The air of serene complacency with
which Callie’s sister said this annoyed Aubrey. He felt rather as
if he and his daughter were being used by the matrons of Santa
Angelica as some sort of prize to be flaunted. He cast a stern
glance at Bilgewater, who ignored him and made a show of looking at
the swarm of skating children.

“
I do hope there won’t be
any accidents, Aubrey,” Becky’s great-aunt said in chilly accents.
“They’re awfully young to be roller-skating.”

“
I’m sure Callie knows what
she’s doing,” Alta said, instantly jumping to her sister’s
defense.

Aubrey was curious to note
that she’d evidently taken Bilgewater in dislike. He wondered if
her reaction to the older woman was prompted by sincere feeling or
by having been told about her by Callie. It didn’t much matter, he
reckoned. Anyone who
liked
Mrs. Bridgewater had to be foolish beyond
imagining.

“
Do you?” Bilgewater asked
Alta in a faux sweet voice.

“
Yes. I do.”

Because he didn’t particularly want to
get involved in a cat fight, Aubrey said, “I’ll wander down there
and see what I can do to help Miss Prophet. There are a lot of
children to keep track of.”

Mrs. Bridgewater sniffed.

Alta smiled at him.

As he strode over to the circular
drive, he wondered if the entire Prophet family was made up of imps
and busybodies. He didn’t appreciate the look of knowing
intelligence on Alta Watson’s face.

Damn them all.

“
Look, Papa!”

Becky’s happy shout captured his
attention—thank God—and Aubrey turned to seek out Becky among the
swarm of children. She was skating quite well, considering she’d
never done so before. Her arms were flailing like the blades of a
windmill, but she was rolling along nicely and without wobbling as
many of the other children were doing.

“
Don’t forget that if you
think you’re going to fall, head for the grass!”

This sensible piece of advice had been
screeched by Callie, who looked and sounded as if she was having
every bit as much fun as her charges. “Good job!” Aubrey called to
his daughter, even as he glanced around to find Callie.

Ah, there she was. She was going
strong and looked as though she were keeping an eye on all the
children at once. In spite of himself, Aubrey was impressed.
Perhaps some people just had a way with children.

Anne seemed to have had a way with
Becky, although, thanks to the miserable Fates, Aubrey had never
seen her in any milieu larger than their very small family. He’d
bet Anne would have loved to have hosted parties for
Becky.

He couldn’t quite imagine her dealing
with a couple of dozen small children with the ease and stamina
Callie displayed. No sooner had that thought struck him than guilt
struck, too.

But, honestly, the fact that Callie
possessed a stronger constitution and, therefore, more vitality
than Anne wasn’t something that shouldn’t be acknowledged. If he
was to be brutally honest with himself, Aubrey resented Anne’s
fragility like fire. If she’d had more stamina, she’d still be here
and in charge of this birthday party. And Callie Prophet would
still be driving her rural postal route.

He didn’t know how he felt about that,
but the twinge of pain that assailed him at the notion of losing
Callie bothered him a trifle. Fortunately, perhaps, he didn’t have
time to dwell on it, because he was struck a great blow to his back
in the very next instant.

“
Good Lord! Oh, Mr.
Lockhart! I’m so sorry!”

Aubrey, who had wheeled around so as
not to lose his balance and fall on the concrete drive, discovered
Callie Prophet in his arms. He stared down at her, unable to
speak.

She stared up at him and seemed
likewise stricken. She was also gasping audibly.

“
Oh!” she cried after a
second of doing nothing but residing there in his arms.

She felt quite good there, too, Aubrey
noticed instantly, as she had when they’d danced together. Then,
naturally, he was nearly overwhelmed with guilt and frowned at
her.

“
Miss Prophet.” His voice
was stern.

“
Mr. Lockhart.”

She couldn’t seem to get her footing,
perhaps because her feet were now strapped to roller skates. “I’m
so sorry.”

“
Think nothing of it.”
Aubrey wondered if he looked as sour as he felt.

The fact was that having Callie in his
arms fitted exactly into the train of thought he’d been riding all
day long. And she also fitted exactly into his arms the way a woman
should. At least, he thought grimly, the way a wife
should.

“
Dash it, stand up, will
you?” he barked.

At once, her face lost its dazed
expression. “I’m trying to stand up, blast you! I can’t get the
stupid roller skates to stop sliding out from under me.”

“
Oh, look at Miss Prophet
and Papa!” came a trilling voice, full of laughter.

“
Damn it, try harder,”
Aubrey commanded through clenched teeth.

“
I
am
trying!” Callie said, obviously
feeling abused and mistreated. “It’s the stupid roller
skates.”

“
Here.” Aubrey allowed his
hands to slide down her body until he gripped her waist. Although
it had seemed a necessary maneuver when he did it, he regretted it.
Her body was one he’d like to explore in more depth. If, of course,
he were free to do so.

Because he was angry with himself and
her, he gripped her waist perhaps too tightly. “Can you stand up
now, dash it?”

“
I can’t get my feet to stay
still,” she said. Her teeth, too, were gritted together. Her cheeks
had flushed a brilliant pink. Aubrey didn’t know whether they’d
done so from embarrassment or anger, although he suspected a
combination of the two.

After they’d stood there, locked
together, for entirely too many moments, Callie said, “All right. I
think you can let me go now.”

“
Thank God,” Aubrey
grumbled. He didn’t mean it.

“
Miss Prophet! You bumped
into Papa!”

Becky skated up to them, grinning
broadly. She seemed to find the situation funny,

Aubrey didn’t. He did, however, have
enough sense not to show his irritation to his daughter, who was a
total innocent.

“
I think she broke my back
when she bumped into me.”

Another peal of laughter issued from
his daughter. Other children had started to surround them. Aubrey
felt like a sacrificial lamb.