Mccavett's Bride

Saint Louis, 1890Prudence Perkins paced the parlor of her home, mentally preparing for the inevitable clash with her father. Her grandmother, selfappointed ruler of the Perkins family, had been pressuring Pru's father to contract a marriage. Pru knew that her father had a history of bowing to Gram's wishes. It amazed Pru that Horatio Perkins, who was widely known for his tough business skills and his ability to steadily increase the profits of Perkins Fur Company, had never learned to stand up to his own mother. Sighing heavily, Pru reversed direction to wear a few more ruts in the Aubusson carpet that Gram had ordered from Europe the previous year. She stopped short and glanced around the expensively furnished room, as if seeing it for the first time. It dawned on Pru that the furnishings and dÉcorright down to the grandfather clock in the corner, the original oil paintings on the walls and the ornately carved clock on the mantelhad all been selected and delivered at Gram's decree. This wasn't Pru and her father's home. It certainly didn't reflect Pru's tastes. This was the proverbial castle that Gram had created to flaunt the Perkins wealth. Pru had become one of Gram's projects years ago and now she was to be thrust into a marriage she didn't want. The thought caused Pru to halt abruptly, leaving her full skirts whirling about her legs. It suddenly occurred to her that her widowed grandmother had created this elaborately decorated dollhouse for her only son. Now she was railroading Pru into an unwanted marriage so she could assume the task of constructing a new dollhouse for Pru to live in. No doubt, Gram still intended to lord over Pru as she had for a dozen years. A surging sense of panic overcame Pru. Her thoughts whirring, she took up pacing again and nervously wrung her hands. For the twentythree years of her existence, she had been dragged to social events and taught to behave with the decorum befitting the high and mighty Perkins familyGram's perception, not Pru's. She had managed to ditch every suitor who bore Gram's stamp of approval, but time was running out. Gram was on a relentless mission to get Pru married so construction could begin on a new, lifesize dollhouse. The impulsive urge to flee provoked Pru to lurch toward the door. Unfortunately, she was too late. Her father strode through the arched entryway. His hands were clasped behind his back. His brown hair, which was showing signs of gray and receding a bit, was combed back from his forehead. His facial expression and the intensity of his blue eyes indicated that he was deep in thought. At fiftytwo, Horatio, a widower, was still a fine figure of a man. He was also one of the most soughtafter men in Saint Louis' high society. Horatio halted in the middle of the room, adjusted his wirerimmed spectacles and flicked a piece of lint from his custommade jacketone of the many Gram had ordered for him. Then he gestured toward the tufted sofa that Gram had purchased last Christmas. "Pru, take a seat, please." "I prefer to stand." She tilted her chin and met his gaze headon. "Why have you summoned me, Papa?" As if she didn't know. "Your grandmother thinks it's time to make the formal wedding arrangements so we can get your life squared away." Pru tilted her chin up another notch, causing her curly blond hair to ripple over her rigid shoulders. "I haven't found a man interesting enough to spend the rest of my life with," she replied. "It would be premature to plan a wedding until I have selected a groom." "Your grandmother has been using her connections to find a suitable match." Her father's gaze narrowed as he added pointedly. "She doesn't think you've put much effort into finding a husband. She says that all your noble causes occupy so much of your time that your social lFinch, Carol is the author of 'Mccavett's Bride ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373294527 and ISBN 0373294522.