Finding Hope (Mail Order Bride: Brides And Promises Book 1)

by Ruby Hill

  Jane said, “I feel terrible for hurting you.”

  “No, I should not have been so sensitive.”

  They both laughed softly.

  She felt as if she could have flown up into the ceiling and never have come down. It was more than she could have ever hoped for, more than she could have ever wanted as a response from him. She did not know whether she should continue to laugh or to burst into tears.

  “I am so pleased that you understand.”

  “When you told me about your encounters with Lord Hays, I should have listened to what you wished to tell me. Not every woman would be so forthcoming with the truth. I had time to think about what you said. Lord Hays never deserved my jealousy, and you did not deserve any more pain. I hope that you can forgive me for turning my back to you, as you did not deserve my reaction. I imagine that I caused you a great deal of distress when I left the night I did.”

  Jane felt her lip tremble, so she resorted to nodding in reply.

  She felt tears well in her eyes. “I had hoped that you could forgive me.”

  “Of course I forgive you, my darling,” he replied softly, his hands grasping her shoulders. He squeezed them gently. “Of course. I always will.”

  “I had forgiven you as soon as you left. I thought you had every right to be as upset as you were.”

  “No, I never have the right to be that upset. And never will I again unless you are in danger or someone has wronged you.”

  They looked into each other’s faces, and she wondered, not for the first time, why she had ever looked anywhere else.

  “Now,” he said, taking a step back from her, and straightening his jacket. “All of that unpleasantness aside, I have come here with a singular purpose. It was the same purpose for which I came last time, and I do hope that you will allow me to discuss such matters with you.”

  His propriety brought joy to her heart. She had spent so many years training and learning how to be a proper lady for this very moment, when a man of high stature would choose her. She squared her shoulders and looked at him with all of the grace and poise she could muster.

  “Of course, my lord.”

  He smiled. “I had hoped to ask for your hand in marriage. I suppose that my intentions are not a mystery to you, and I dearly hope that you can forgive me for my delay. When I left, I had wondered if it was still the right choice.”

  He looked at her in the eye, and held her gaze. “Asking you to marry me was always the right choice. I knew it the moment I walked out of the house, I would still choose you. In every situation, in every way, I shall always choose you, regardless of how I may feel in the moment. I will never be able to forget you, and I shall never be able to move past you. You have been the object of my affections since the moment I met you, and I hope that you know that I have adored the very ground you have walked upon.”

  Her body warmed from his touch, as it gave her much comfort. Jane could not take her eyes from his.

  “If you will have me, my offer still stands.”

  She forced herself to become still again, and she grinned up at him.

  “Lord Greenshire, it would be my absolute pleasure to be your wife.”

  * * *

  THE END

  Historical Western & Mail Order Bride Romances

  Part I

  A Heart’s Westward Journey

  1

  Pennsylvania, 1872

  It was a rather gloomy day in Philadelphia. Late April, and the rains were as cold as they were fierce. For days, it pounded against the windows with such ferocity that those who heard it feared to step out into it. The world became quiet as it waited for the storm to subside.

  Rose Samson rather liked the rain. She found comfort in the solitary time it brought. No one would disturb her. Not that they often would anyway. Even for meals, the servants would comply and bring the food to her room, so she could eat in peace. On days like that, she used every excuse to remain alone.

  It was also the sort of day for reading. Rose had shelves upon shelves of great tomes, filled to the brim with classics and poetry, fiction and history, romance and mystery. She loved her books dearly, for she believed that she belonged in those worlds, and not her own. She was never happy to live her own life. She would much rather live the lives of others.

  As she finished a story that she had read a thousand times, she regretfully laid the book down on her side table, rose to her feet, and crossed to the window.

  The clouds were so dark and thick overhead it was as if it were night. The soothing, repetitive sound of the rain rapping on the glass filled the room, and the distant rumbles of thunder drew her eye out into the surrounding town.

  But she could see very little, aside from her own reflection.

  She was a taller woman that most, with narrow shoulders, a broad smile, and a pointed chin. Her hair was nothing special, the same color as the dirt on the ground, and her eyes no clearer than a murky lake. She never felt that she was much to behold, and that was perhaps why, at twenty-three, she was still unmarried.

  She shook her hair, her long, flowing locks gliding across the top of her back. It would do no good to dwell on the stories she read, of valor and chivalry, of romance and heartbreak. Those were not her life. She must never forget that.

  Sighing, she returned to her shelf, sliding the book back into its proper home.

  What if she were to dream of a life like in her stories? What if she could escape the mundane world in which she lived, for something more adventurous? Something…different?

  Her heart began to beat faster as she trailed her fingers along the spines of all her wonderful books. Something like that was possible, surely. There may have been those who would doubt, those who would mock her and scold her. Surely there must be a way where she could live a different life?

  Because a life locked in her small room with nothing but the rain for company would be a life poorly lived.

  But how? What must she do to accomplish such a feat? Were such things even possible?

  The way her life was then, no, it was not possible. She would meet too much resistance, too much caterwauling from those around her. She must allow someone outside to help her. Someone who would happily take her from where she was to a place where she could be happy and find her own stories.

  Perhaps…even her own story of love.

  Her cheeks colored as she looked around the room. She had never loved a man, and she was certain a man had never loved her. But there certainly must have been a man somewhere in that great, wide world who could love her.

  How was she to find such a man?

  Her eyes fell onto a story titled The Bride of Edinburgh. A woman who lived in London moved to Edinburg to be with the man who she had been betrothed to marry. But she had only corresponded with him through letters during their entire relationship. It was not until the day they were to marry that they met.

  It was one of her favorites. She found it terribly romantic. People who grew to love one another by the words they wrote to one another, pouring their hearts out onto the page.

  She froze where she stood, her hands just grasping the spine of the book when she realized what she could do.

  Frantically, she ran out to the hall, calling for a servant to assist her. A maid appeared almost at once, apparently concerned with the fever with which Rose was speaking. She urged the maid to find her the newspaper, insisted that they bring it to her immediately. The maid nodded and departed, likely pleased to be rid of her.

  She returned to her room, and the maid appeared not ten minutes later. She thanked her, and then closed herself in once more.

  Tearing through the pages, she found what she was looking for.

  An entire page was dedicated to men and women who were searching for a spouse, with small advertisements with nothing more than a few words about themselves and the people they were searching for.

  They were from all over the country, and all different ages. Each with a story of their own, a history, a dr
eam.

  “Perfect…” she murmured, and then she set right to work.

  She wrote a few different versions of what she wanted to say down before she was pleased. She wanted the most accurate representation of herself, as clear and concise as possible. Whoever the man was that chose her would know her before he ever spoke to her. She wanted it that way. It was to be her story after all, not some fictional woman’s.

  She submitted her own advertisement before the week was out, and spent the next few weeks checking the paper every day. Whenever she saw her own small square, she would beam, knowing that somewhere, somehow, her future husband would be reading it any day now.

  It was early June when a letter appeared for her, the first letter she had received from anyone in months.

  Eagerly, she took it to her room to read in privacy. Her fingers trembled, her heart raced. What would it say? Who would it be from?

  With a knot in her chest, she broke the seal, and opened the letter.

  Dear Miss Samson,

  I was pleased to read your advertisement this week. I was sent the newspaper from a distant relative who lives out east. I am a young man, twenty-six, living in Colorado on my ranch. I have been looking for the right woman to call my wife for some time, but as this is such a new town, there haven’t been many options, unless I wanted to marry someone twice my age, or far too closely related to me.

  She laughed.

  My name is Travis. I am a simple man with simple wants. I would love a woman who is kind-hearted, someone who is gentle and understanding. I come home mighty tired some evenings, and nothing would please me more than having a wife to come home to and share a meal with. I greatly enjoy reading, and would love a wife who loves the same. Otherwise, she might not appreciate the rather large collection of books I have.

  Her heart fluttered. He was a reader, too? He was becoming more and more perfect every second!

  I also enjoy traveling. While it’s tough to with the ranch, I love to explore the areas around my new home here. The mountains are vast, and there is plenty to explore. Who knows? Maybe we would stumble upon a gold mine!

  He wrote like a story teller. She was fascinated. How was it possible that such a man actually existed? It seemed almost too good to be true!

  I will be very plain and say that Miss Rose, if you are still looking for a husband, and these things about me seem agreeable to you, I’d be more than pleased to take you as my wife. No sense in beating around the bush. I will wait for your next reply.

  Sincerely,

  Travis Ross

  She sighed happily as she came to the end.

  How could she not accept? God Himself must have made this man with Rose in mind. She could not have created a better man in her own mind. She could not have hoped for as much. And yet…here it was, staring at her in the face. She had not said a thing about her own interests in her advertisement. And yet, there were a list of his, entirely without her prompting, and all aligned with her own.

  Without another moment wasted, she dashed to her desk to write a response. She had intended it to be short, to the point, so she could get it sent back to him as quickly as possible. But she ended up divulging a great deal about herself in it, telling him how very excited she was to be meeting a man with the very same interests that she had. She even asked if it was all right if she brought some of her own great collections when she moved to Colorado. She wrote down a list of some of her favorite titles, excited and eager to hear more about him.

  For the next month, she and Travis wrote back and forth to each other often. Almost every day. She planned to move out there just before the leaves began to change, which she knew would make it difficult for her to travel out west. They both seemed to want her to be out in Colorado as soon as she possibly could be.

  Her family was unperturbed about her choice. They all had thought she would end up a spinster, so the idea of her getting married and out of the house seemed to please them. She would no longer be a burden to them. It was pleasing to her as well, knowing she would soon be rid of that wretched place.

  She packed up a great deal of her books as her greatest and most valuable possessions to take with her. She knew she could always buy more clothing, but her books were irreplaceable. She knew she could not take them all, however, and left some of her duplicates and more tired tomes that wouldn’t make the trip with her cousin’s children. She knew they would be put to good use one day.

  Then it was August, and her day of departure was upon her. Colorado called to her, and she answered it whole heartedly. She was to meet the man who was to be her husband. A man who she was quickly becoming fond of already. A man who would help her to write her very own life story, one filled with adventure and romance.

  As she stepped onto the train, her heart overflowing with joy, she felt for the first time in her entire life that she was glad she was living it.

  2

  Rose was aboard the train to Colorado for nearly two weeks. In that time, she saw all manner of weather; rain, sunshine, great windstorms that shook the whole carriage. But it mattered not. She was on her way, the start of her very own adventure.

  She also met all manner of people. A woman from London traveling to California. A man with six daughters who had been serving in the military. An elderly couple who were celebrating their fortieth wedding anniversary. She was full to bursting with anticipation of what was to come for her. And she would tell anyone who would listen.

  The last letter she had received from Travis told her that she was to take a carriage to Moss Lake, which was where he was living. There she should make her way to the saloon, ask for Charlie, and he would point her in the direction of his sister, Dorothy’s house. From there, she would be able to take her to see him. He said that he had been waiting so long for her to arrive, and that he knew he was going to be overjoyed when they finally met.

  She knew that they both would be.

  Obediently following his directions, she found her way to Moss Lake, and what a lovely town it was.

  The main road ran right down to a great lake, the bottom of the valley between two large mountains. The town itself stood elevated above the lake, but it’s shimmering waters and cool breeze could be felt even from where she stood staring at it, easily miles away. There were ample trees, plenty of blue sky, and a newness to everything around her that she felt as if she had stepped right into a book.

  There were only a few buildings in the middle of town. A large church, recently constructed of both stone and wood, stood proudly at the center. A few small homes were tucked into the trees around. A large, log building with the sign General Store above the door stood further down the road, and beside that, the inn with the saloon on the bottom floor.

  She could hear the rustle of the leaves in the trees, and the cries of the birds as they flew overhead.

  Charlie was a kind man, with a large, long moustache and grey eyes. He told Rose that Dorothy and her husband George lived in the very last home on the street, before it began its descent down toward the lake, where others had also built their homes. According to Charlie, they had the very best view of all the homes in town.

  Her heart was in her throat as she wandered down the street toward Dorothy’s house. What was she going to say? She hoped that Dorothy was expecting her. She hoped that this wasn’t all some great farce.

  She froze. What if that was all it was? A farce? What if some foolish man had led her on this wild goose chase just to…

  To what? Everything he had said had been right so far, hadn’t it? All the instructions he had told her had been genuine, even the part about Charlie. And Charlie knew exactly who Rose had been speaking of. Surely this was all real…wasn’t it?

  She squared her shoulders. Well. She certainly wasn’t going to find out just standing out there, wondering about it all.

  She reached the home that Charlie had instructed her to, and stared up at it. A lovely rose garden was planted out in front, and the pathway had been filled with wi
ldflowers. A low fence surrounded the yard, and she assumed it was to prevent pests from eating the flowers. She could see the lake very well, like a large, blue sapphire, glittering in the sunlight.

  Their home was made from stones and planks, with large windows and a rather handsome front door, wrought with iron.

  She lifted the cool knocker in her sweating hand, and knocked three times.

  It wasn’t long before the door was pulled open, and a lovely woman with dark eyes and pale, cornflower hair was there.

  Her eyes grew wide as she stared up at Rose, who was nearly a head taller than she was.

  “Oh, my heavens!” Dorothy squealed excitedly, clapping her hands to either side of her face. “You must be Miss Rose Samson!”

  Rose smiled, her cheeks turning pink. “I am, yes. Are you Miss Dorothy Ross?”

  “Dorothy Simmons, but I used to be a Ross, yes!” she said. She was nearly dancing on her toes. “Come in, come in, please! We are so excited you are here!”

  “Thank you,” Rose said, and with Dorothy’s help, she pulled and tugged her trunk and bags inside.

  “My, you are quite the beauty,” Dorothy said as she led Rose in through to a comfortable sitting room that had a large window overlooking the lake. “Your letters didn’t do you justice!”

  “My letters?” Rose asked, a flush of embarrassment making her face burn even more.

  Dorothy’s face paled for a moment. “Oh, it’s…well, never mind all that. Come, let me show you to the room where you will be staying!”

  Their home was beautiful. Dorothy seemed to have an eye for pleasing decorations, and Rose was surprised to see a number of paintings on the walls.

  “Did you paint these?” Rose asked, lingering in front of a painting of the sun setting over a wide lake, presumably the one just out the windows.

  Dorothy wandered back to where she stood. “I did, yes. I find painting brings me great peace, and allows me to see the world as it really is.”