Isabel stormed into Reverend Thomas' office at the back of the church, tossed the bolt of linen onto his desk, and braced her hands on her hips. He lowered his quill pen ever so slowly and raised his gaze to hers, a grin appearing at the sight of her. Chuckling, he clasped hands above his head and leaned back in his chair. "Pray tell, what happened to you?"

"I will not suffer it, I tell you!" Isabel stomped her boot, splattering mud over the wooden floor. Frederick whimpered ...