Bride of Choice

Chapter XXVII: Warmth Among Family

~27~

The warmth of the fire wrapped around the small gathering at Garin's home one white frosted evening, toasting numb fingers and noses with its tender caresses. The host and his guests had retired to the drawing room for tea and conversation after Olga, his one help (who refused to speak a word of English!) had served a charming dinner which they finished with a delightful bit of Ptichye Moloko.

"It was so white and lovely and everyone knows how much I love sweet and white things," said an enthusiastic Lori to Garin's mother afterwards.

Margaret Louise Garin, a tender, frail-looking woman with a head of grey and startling topaz eyes, was drawn to Lori the moment she laid eyes on the child. Yet all were aware the woman possessed a reserved nature that made her relation to the doctor undeniable.

"And she's got such a lovely smile, his Olga, and gave me extra nothings when I peeped in at the kitchen," Lori was saying to her interested audience of one while her mother (who'd have been exasperated at her being near the kitchens in the first place) exchanged some words with Wade, her authoritative tone complimenting her deep purple gown and delicate jewels.

"Your father and I were confident we should see the day you settled down sensibly, though I might add it did not happen entirely how I imagined."

Garin and Miss Brightley exchanged secret smiles since they both knew what Mrs. Lambert had imagined!

She let her gaze wander over to her new daughter-in-law. Her mouth relaxed as the young woman's head leaned back and a trill of laughter escaped her.

Mrs. Lambert gave an absent nod as a smile slipped across her lips.

"Nevertheless, I am satisfied."

(Another truth, since she was no doubt growing fond of Lisabeth despite her growing nervousness that the girl was too lenient towards Lori, whom she still believed required a firm hand).

Wade Lambert, his wavy locks reflecting the burning candlelight, took a drink of his tea.

"Let's just be honest, I'd never have pursued marriage if it weren't for love of Bertha."

Lisabeth's sharp, surreptitious gaze shot over to her husband before she arched a brow.

And just who is this Bertha?"

Resting in the rustic armchair of his great-grandfather, Garin surveyed his guests with a twinkle in his startling blue eyes.

"I assure you it is nothing but an inn along the roads to Cairne."

"Consider it one of my successful investments, darling," said Lambert, raising his glass to his wife. "Freddie Burke's eyes nearly jumped from their sockets and sprint across the room last time we had words!"

"Don't gloat, dear," said Lisabeth, her features having reverted to their sweet innocence.

"Pride can be a dangerous thing when left unchecked," said Garin. "It's one of the three things that leads men to tomfoolery."

"And what are the other two?" asked Idrielle.

"Strong drink and love."

Lambert finished his tea and stretched lazily.

"You've forgotten one, old boy."

Garin gave him a derisive look.

"Enlighten me."

"Why you, of course!" and turning to his wife and her sister, "You can't imagine the times I've had with him. He speaks in blasted riddles!—as you'll soon find out," he added, with a nod in his sister-law's direction. "Can't understand a thing he says when he gets all philosophical!"