She looked at the disaster on the table. The bacon wasn’t cooked, and the eggs dry, rubbery and brown. The biscuits, as Luke said, resembled rocks, and the coffee was full of grinds. Apparently sensing the tension in the air, the boys took what they could eat, and kept quiet.
Angel sat with her head bent, hands in her lap, and tried hard not to cry. Julia-Rose pounded the table with her biscuit. The burnt lump didn’t break.
“Bye, time for school,” Matt said as he jumped up and yanked on Mark’s sleeve.
Mark picked up his books. “Yeah, gotta go.”
Angel’s head jerked. “Wait, I made lunch for you.”
The boys reluctantly took the pails she handed them and raced out the door.
Angel sat again, her head resting on her elbows.
“Boys, why don’t you get your chores done?” Nate nodded to the twins.
“I’m still hungry, Papa,” John said.
“Here.” Nate took a couple biscuits, slathered jam on top, and handed them over. When each boy had a biscuit, they raced out the back door.
Nate peered at her just as two tears slid down her cheeks. He pushed his chair out from the table, and patting his leg, said, “Angel, come here.”
She swiped at her face, walked over to him and sat on his lap.
“Don’t worry about the breakfast, honey.” He wrapped his arms around her waist. “You’re probably just out of practice, what with the traveling, and being laid up. It’s a new stove, and strange kitchen. It will be better by tomorrow.”
Angel put her face in her hands and wailed. “No. No. It will never be better. I’m not out of practice. I never did anything to be out of practice for.”
Nate frowned. “What do you mean?”
Still holding her hands over her face, she peeked through her fingers. “I can’t tell you.”
“Yes, you can tell me. What are you talking about?”
Angel figured it was better to get it over with. Obviously, the time she’d spent with Mrs. Darby didn’t do anything to make her into a wife. This was merely the first of a string of ruined meals she would produce. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head, looked Nate in the eye and said, “I’m not a real wife.”
“I know, but don’t worry, tonight I plan to take care of that.” He laughed softly as she squirmed.
“No.” She felt the heat rise in her face. “That’s not what I meant.”
She placed shaky fingers over her mouth as if to keep the words in. “I’m an imposter.”
Chapter 8
Nate raised a brow. “I’m not sure I know what you mean. Could you explain?”
She peeked at him from under lowered eyelashes. “I’m not who you think I am.”
“You’re not Angel Hardwick Hale?” He grinned.
“Yes, I am, but I’m not a mail-order bride.” She wiped the sweat from her hands on her apron.
“Angel, you’re not making much sense. Now, tell me what the problem is. It’s getting late and I need to leave for work.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.
Oh Lord, this is not going to be easy. “All right.” She chewed her lower lip. “This is the first meal I’ve ever cooked in my life.” When he didn’t react, except to raise his eyebrows a bit more, she continued. “I come from a wealthy family. I grew up with servants. I think I fell out of the bathtub because I never took a bath by myself in my whole life.”
His expression didn’t change, but his eyes grew darker. He nodded. “Go on.”
She squirmed, and wished he would say more than that. “My father owned the bank where he worked. When he got sick, he left his assistant in charge, and he did something illegal. Papa trusted him, and signed all the papers Mr. Reynolds brought him. After Papa died, missing deposits were discovered, and all of Papa’s money, even the money from the sale of our house, went to the bank.”