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instead to focus on Ermintrude’s turnaround. “Daisy is my cousin, you see.”
    â€œIs she, now? Marge—short for Marguerite, yes?” A raspy laugh greeted her nod of acknowledgement. “Would this cousin of yours happen to be ... oh, at a guess ... a petite, green-eyed charmer with black ringlets?”
    â€œDoes it matter?” The angry burst from Gavin sent the fine hairs on the back of Marge’s neck prickling.
    â€œI’m not sure.” Suddenly, it felt as though Marge were watching herself speak from over in the corner. “Why did you ask me where Daisy was after I got off the stage? I assumed you thought she’d accompany me, but that’s not the reason, is it?”
    The look on his face provided all the answer she needed. Shame, disappointment, anger—they chased one another across his features until they burrowed their way into her heart.
    â€œI did say she had a mind.” Ermintrude’s voice bore into the descending blackness. “I’ll bet Marge here is a better choice than that Daisy you wanted in the first place.”
    ***
    â€œMarge!” Gavin slid one arm around her surprisingly slim waist and cupped her too-pale cheek with his free hand. At Grandma’s words, she’d closed her eyes and swayed slightly.
    â€œOoh.” A small moan, almost a whimper, broke through her lips—lips that bore the only color in her face aside from the dark fans of her lashes.
    â€œDon’t faint.” He put the words to the panic gripping his chest. What would he do with a fainting female?
    Her eyes flew open, two small palms pressed to his chest, and she pushed him away with a strength belying her sudden pallor. “I am not,” she seethed, “the type of ninny who faints.”
    â€œBravo!” Grandma Ermintrude thumped her cane in a show of approval. “I’ve seen enough ninnies to last a lifetime.”
    â€œWell, the world has seen enough liars.” Hazel eyes suspiciously bright, Marge made as though to push past him and out the door.
    â€œWhere are you going?” He caught her elbow to bring her up short. It wasn’t as though she could just flounce out of his sight and march back home.
    â€œI need some time.” She jerked her arm away. “To think.”
    â€œThat’s the one problem with those gals who have minds. They think on things.” Grandma’s delighted commentary made a muscle in Gavin’s jaw twitch.
    If the old bat had kept her mouth shut, I wouldn’t have this problem.
    â€œThere’s nothing to think about. We’ll get married as soon as you’re ready.”
    â€œReady?” Her eyes grew even brighter as a strange, flat laugh hitched from deep inside her. “You’ll have a long wait for that.”
    â€œYou changed your mind?” The hot sting of wounded pride whipped around his throat, making the words tight.
    â€œYou change yours?” She tossed the challenge over her shoulder as she sailed out the front door.
    â€œNo.” He stalked after her, anger fueling his steps so that he caught up to her just outside the mill. “I set out to marry Marguerite Chandler, and that’s what I intend to do.” He snagged her wrist this time, and the force of her halted momentum made her turn to face him.
    â€œYou set out to marry Daisy Chandler.” Those long eyelashes of hers had gotten darker—and belatedly Gavin registered they were damp. Her eyes went so shiny because she held back tears.
    The breath left him as fast and painful as if he’d been kicked in the gut. I made her cry.
    Hurt angled her brows as she whispered her question. “And you weren’t even going to tell me about the mistake?”
    â€œMarge...” He wanted to say something to make it better but couldn’t. “I didn’t want you to know.”
    â€œYou would have made me live a lie!” Fury blazed away the tears—a welcome