Page 98 of I Do, I Do, I Do
“Please.” Marie appealed to them with a smile. “Return with me to the vineyard. We’ll have tea and a lovely chat.”
Zoe jerked as if an invisible hand had tightened the strings holding her upright. “Ah, thank you, Mrs.… Mrs. Villette, but…” Helplessly, she sent a desperate signal to Clara.
Clara wet her lips. “We would love to know you better, but you see…well, we…” She turned pleading eyes on Juliette.
“We must decline with regret. We interrupted a rather urgent journey to pay our respects at our cousin’s graveside,” Juliette said smoothly. “Perhaps the next time we find ourselves in this lovely area, we can accept your kind invitation.” It seemed a bit bizarre that they had come this far to end by protecting Jean Jacques. Or perhaps it was Marie and the little Jean Jacqueses they protected. But she knew it was absolutely the right thing to do. Moving as if in a dream, she stepped forward and clasped Marie Villette’s gloved hands. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Villette.”
Clara and Zoe gaped at her, then swallowed hard and followed her lead. They stepped forward to express their condolences.
“He was a dear, good man,” Marie Villette whispered, tears filling her eyes. “A good husband and a wonderful father.”
“And I’m sure he was a generous provider,” Clara said, her tone grim.
“Indeed. Mr. Villette left us in comfortable circumstances.”
Before Clara could expand on Jean Jacques’s methods of providing, Zoe elbowed her aside.
“You have my deepest sympathy,” Zoe murmured. She meant it sincerely. She felt sorry for Marie Villette. No good woman should ever be married to a man with so many “cousins.”
“Truly, I wish you would come to the vineyard. Couldn’t you spare a few minutes? It would mean—”
“My, my, look at the time,” Juliette said. “Mr. Glascon, we really must…that is, if you wouldn’t mind.” Mr. Glascon nodded. Then came a flurry of pressed hands and pressed cheeks, good-byes and false promises to remain in touch. Finally Juliette, Clara, and Zoe climbed into the carriage, and Mr. Glascon stepped up to the driver’s perch.
“Well,” Juliette said in a dulled voice. “That’s that.”
Clara scowled. “I’ve changed my mind again. He was a no-good worthless snake in the grass! How could he treat her so badly? And us, too!”
“I wonder just how many cousins he had,” Zoe said, speaking loudly enough that Mr. Glascon would hear. But Mr. Glascon didn’t respond. They would never know how many women would appear in Loma Grande wearing the one-of-a-kind wedding ring.
“I feel almost as bad as I did when I realized Jean Jacques was not coming home.” Juliette touched her gloved fingertips to her temples. “Maybe worse.”
“You can’t mean it!” Clara stared. “I cannot believe you hold an ounce of feeling for that miserable weasel.”
“I don’t. I’m missing Ben,” she said simply. “If only we’d known that Jean Jacques had died.…”
They fell silent, and then Zoe whispered, “I’d give anything in the world to see Tom again. Even for one minute.”
“Stop it, both of you, or I’m going to cry.”
Mr. Glascon called to them over his shoulder. “Turn your faces, ladies. A group of horsemen are riding this way and kicking up a cloud of dust.”
Zoe started to turn aside—then her head snapped back and she blinked. “My Lord.” Peering out the carriage window, she gasped. “I must be seeing things!”
“You sound—” Clara leaned over Zoe to look outside. “It’s them! Good heavens, that’s Bear! It’s really them!”
“And Ben? Is Ben with them?” Juliette practically climbed over them to have a look. “Oh, my heavens!” She called to Mr. Glascon. “Stop the carriage, sir. We know these gentlemen.”
Four men reined in close, as fine a sight as any female eyes ever looked upon. All had been freshly barbered and trimmed. They wore spanking new three-piece suits protected by tan dusters. They were armed to the teeth.
Clara didn’t recognize the fourth gentleman, but it didn’t matter. She treated her eyes to a brown-bear mirage before it disappeared.
“Is it really you?” she whispered.
“It took us a week, honey girl.” Bear gave her a lopsided, sheepish smile. “Then Tom said, ‘What the hell were we thinking of?’ And Ben said, ‘We’ve got to find them.’ And I said, ‘We’ll solve this problem by killing the son of a bitch. Then they’re widows and free to be courted.’”
Ben stared at Juliette, drinking in the sight of her. “Where is Villette?”
“Keep going along this road, then turn left at the tall iron gates.”
