“When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow I’m going to the bank at the far end of town, cashing the draft and getting my tickets. I’ll give you the exact date after that. I’ll have to plan it carefully if I don’t want my father to stop me from going, so I might need you to say I’m with you.”
“Oh Lord, you know how I hate lying,” Grace moaned. “My mother always gets it out of me.”
“I’ll do it,” Effie offered. “I’ll think of something.”
“Thank you both so much. I promise I’ll write and tell you everything as soon as I can.”
“You better or Effie and I will be on a train headed west,” Grace insisted with a watery smile.
“Good, then maybe I won’t write!” Amelia laughed as she pulled them close once again.
*
Early Wednesday morning, Amelia Westcott donned her dove gray traveling suit, pinned her smart new hat over her auburn curls and walked down the winding staircase, trailing her gloved hand along the banister. It was much more difficult than she’d expected and at the last minute she ran to the kitchen, pulling Mrs. Riley into her arms and giving her a heartfelt hug.
“Gracious girl,” the woman exclaimed, patting Amelia lovingly on the back. “You’re only going for a visit. I’ll still be here when you get back.”
“I know,” Amelia replied with a blush as she wiped away a tear. “It’s just that you’ve always been so good to me, and I want you to know how much I appreciate your kindness, especially after Mother died.”
“Oh, go on with you. A sweet girl like you, I couldn’t be anything but kind. Now you hurry along, and have a good time with Miss Effie in Albany.”
“I will. I’m going to miss you.”
“You’re going to miss your train,” Margaret Riley laughed, ushering Amelia out of the kitchen and down the wide hallway.
“Amelia, come on,” Effie called, bursting through the front door. The skirts of her rose traveling suit swirled around her ankles as she skidded to a stop, clutching her hat. “We’re going to miss it.”
“I’m sorry,” Amelia replied, hurrying to the door where Effie grabbed her arm and pulled her across the porch and down the stone steps.
“Just get in the carriage,” Effie hissed, waving to Mrs. Riley as she closed the door. “Oh,” she sighed as she shoved Amelia in, shut the door and collapsed on the seat. “I’m taking a big risk lying to my folks like this.”
“I know you are and I’m grateful. You do think I’m doing the right thing?” Amelia asked, nervously twisting her hands.
“Let me see the picture again,” Effie demanded.
Opening her reticule, Amelia pulled out the photograph and handed it to Effie. After studying it for several minutes while Amelia chewed her lower lip, Effie handed it back with a grin.
“Yes,” she said decisively. “He’s handsome, wealthy and ready for marriage. Besides, you get to go off on a grand adventure, while I get to visit my maiden aunt in Albany,” she continued with a grimace. “Don’t forget, I’m the first person you write to if he has a brother,” she insisted as they pulled up to the station.
*
The trip to Albany was not nearly long enough, Amelia thought as she said good-bye to her friend.
“How long do you think you’ll be able to stay with your Aunt Maude before someone gets suspicious?” she asked as she brushed Effie’s cheek with hers.
“I don’t know. I’ll stay as long as I can stand it, but I doubt it will be longer than a week. Of course, there won’t be any trouble until I return home and have to explain why you’re not with me. I may be able to get a couple of extra days if I plead exhaustion and am not seen in public. Your father is the only one, well aside from Grace, who knows you went with me. I’ll be in hot water over this for weeks when the truth comes out.”
“Blame it all on me,” Amelia insisted. “Tell them you knew nothing about me going west to marry until I refused to get off the train in Albany.”
“That won’t work. The first thing they’ll ask is why I didn’t notify them of your plans immediately when I became aware of them. Never mind. I’ll figure something out, and by the time I have to fess up, you’ll likely already be married and there won’t be a thing they can do about it. Don’t worry, Amelia. You just enjoy your trip. If things get too difficult, I’ll be on a train headed west myself,” she said earnestly.
“Oh, Effie, I love you. Thank you so much.”
“I love you too, Amelia.” Effie hurried away to locate her bags and find a porter.
In Chicago, Amelia boarded a train for Omaha, glad that she’d paid the extra fare for a compartment. The journey wasn’t difficult, but it was lonely and she spent many agonizing hours wondering if she was doing the right thing as she stared out the window at the flat land of the Midwest.
She took her meals alone when the dining car was relatively quiet, wrote in her journal and read until her eyes crossed. By the time she boarded the train for California, she was beginning to get depressed, convinced she’d made a horrible mistake. When Theodore Thomas began to seem appealing, she pulled herself together and tried to enjoy the majestic scenery of the Rocky Mountains, noting their beauty in her journal and letters she’d started to Effie and Grace.
When the train pulled into the station in San Francisco, Amelia was filled with trepidation. Suppose he wasn’t there to meet her? What if he wasn’t who he said he was? What if he was a crusty old miner who’d sent someone else’s photograph?
Gathering her things, she waited until the crowd of departing passengers had exited the train before she slowly made her way to the steps. Standing on the top one, she looked around at the milling people, her eyes searching for his handsome face, praying it was there.
She saw him approaching. He was tall, very tall, nearly even with her as she waited on the top step. His eyes were a cloudy blue, his jaw firm and his lips unsmiling as he stopped and looked at her questioningly.
“Miss Westcott? Amelia?” he asked hesitantly, his hat in his large hand.
Amelia gave one tiny nod and felt her knees quaking. She raised her hand as if to reach out to him and then did something she could never have imagined in a million years. She launched herself into his arms. Wrapping her arms tightly around him she buried her face in the curve of his neck and began to cry as he instinctively caught her and tightened his hold.
Her slight weight still managed to have him taking a step back. “What is it? Are you ill?” he asked in concern as he held her close, her feet far from the platform.
Amelia shook her head, but refused to let go as she inhaled the faint scent of bay rum.
“Did something happen to hurt you?” he growled, looking around for a nefarious soul.
“No,” she whispered, her breath tickling his ear.
Ignoring the curious onlookers, he slipped his arm beneath her legs and held her against his chest as he strode to a bench and sat down, placing her on his lap. For several minutes he gently patted her back and tried to come up with something reassuring to say. Was she sorry she’d come? Did his looks disappoint? Was it fear that had her trembling in his arms, her hot tears wetting his collar? Finally he placed a finger beneath her chin and gently forced her to look at him.
“Amelia, if you don’t tell me what the trouble is, I have no way to fix it,” he said, frustration creeping into his voice as he took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at her tears. She was a beauty, he realized with a start as she raised her eyes to his. Gray in color, with tiny golden flecks, they glistened with tears. Her straw hat, trimmed with a band of dark gray sateen was askew on her head, the tiny bird nestled on the brim looked ready to fly away and he couldn’t control his grin.
Appalled at her behavior, Amelia stiffened her spine and took the handkerchief from his hand, wiping her eyes quite fiercely and blowing her nose before handing it back to him.
“Please forgive me, Mr. Jordon. I don’t know what came over me and I do apologize for making a spectacle
of myself, and you,” she said shakily.
When she made to hop off his lap, he tightened his arm around her waist, holding her in place. He quite enjoyed the weight of her on his lap and was loath to release her. Each little wiggle as she inched closer to his knees was extremely enjoyable as he was becoming painfully aware.
“Tell me what has upset you so?” he demanded firmly, making it clear he was not yet ready to let it go.
“It’s nothing really,” she replied softly with an embarrassing blush. “It was a long trip and I’ve left my family and my closest friends behind. I guess I was lonely and a bit scared.”
“And are you a woman given to tears? I’ve always found them hard to abide except under certain circumstances.”
“No, Mr. Jordon, absolutely not. Usually I’m quite eager to experience new things. As I said, I don’t know what came over me.”
Hugh sighed and easily lifted her to her feet before he rose, towering over her.
“Well, now that you’ve somewhat recovered, I suggest we make our way to our hotel where you can uh…freshen up or whatever it is women do after a long journey and rest until it’s time for dinner.” Taking her hand he tucked it securely in the curve of his arm.
“I am quite rested, Mr. Jordon,” Amelia insisted, gripping his arm tightly as he wove their way through the throng of passengers. “In fact, I would love to see some of the city as soon as I’ve gotten settled in my room.”
“All right, if that is your preference,” he agreed.
“Thank you, Mr. Jordon,” she said, looking up at him with a small smile.
“I think you’d better call me Hugh.”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” she gasped. “Not yet. After all, I hardly know you.”
“Amelia,” he began, his lips twisting in an ironic smile. “You jumped into my arms, cried all over my shirt, sat on my lap and blew you nose into my handkerchief. I believe we’ve moved beyond the formalities,” he teased, patting her hand.
“Yes, Hugh,” she whispered back. “I’m sorry if I caused you any embarrassment by my actions and I’ll understand if you want to withdraw your proposal.”
Hugh stopped and turned to her. Her dry eyes were now a beautiful clear gray as she slowly lifted her chin. There was a spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose he hadn’t noticed. She’d said she was small of stature, but that would be true standing next to a normal size man. Beside him, the top of her head didn’t reach his shoulder, but she was perfectly lovely.
Her pink lips formed a sweet bow and her curls spilled over her shoulder, having escaped from her cock-eyed hat. The faint scent of lilacs drifted past his nose, as he lowered his head to speak quietly in her ear.
“Not only do I not wish to withdraw my proposal, but I fear even if you should like to change your mind, I could not allow it. While you’re not quite what I expected, I am not at all disappointed. I will hold you to your promise, Amelia,” he said firmly. “When we board the ship for home, you will be my wife.”
Chapter Four
Hugh didn’t leave any room for discussion as he slipped his arm around her waist and proceeded to assist her into the closest carriage for hire. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, he was registering her at the hotel, escorting her to her room and unlocking the door.
“I will return for you in an hour,” he said, pulling a watch from his pocket. “Keep this door locked at all times. Despite the apparent grandeur of this hotel, San Francisco can be a dangerous place for a woman alone. I’m just down the hall in room 312. Should you need anything have the desk ring my room. Remember, door locked,” he repeated as he kissed her on the forehead.
Amelia stood, silently shocked, until he moved her backward into the room and closed her door. Reaching out, she turned the key, knowing he was still standing on the other side, waiting. Walking to the bureau, she unpinned her hat and promptly dropped it to the floor as soon as she saw her reflection.
Her hair was a tangled mess; there were streaks of dust and tears on her face and her traveling outfit looked downright rumpled and on the verge of disreputable. Good grief, and the man still wanted to marry her! She’d made a total fool of herself, flinging herself into his arms like a frightened child. How much worse could things get before he changed his mind and sent her packing? She couldn’t return home in disgrace, she just couldn’t, despite what she’d told her friends. Perhaps she could find employment here in San Francisco, she thought as she unbuttoned her jacket and peeled it off.
Another lone tear ran down her cheek as she pictured Effie and Grace in the secret garden discussing the situation. Effie was sure to be home by now; it had been eight days. Oh how she missed them and hoped Effie hadn’t gotten into too much trouble.
An hour later she was just pushing the last pin into her hair when he knocked on the door.
“Come in,” she called, checking her appearance for a final time. She’d washed, given her hair and her skirt a good brushing and felt immeasurably better. Her clean shirtwaist sported tiny pink rosebuds along the high collar and cuffs and she’d even managed to repair the bedraggled little bird on her hat.
“Do you think we could have a cup of tea in the dining room before we set out?” she asked, patting a curl into place. “I’m simply parched and…” As soon as she turned to look at him she knew something was dreadfully wrong. He stood for a moment in the open doorway, his scowl far surpassing anything she’d ever seen on her father’s face.
Giving him a tentative smile, she noticed he’d also changed his shirt and as her eyes traveled the length of him, the recently polished boots. It wasn’t until he sighed and closed the door behind him that she began to tremble slightly.
“I think we should leave the door open, Mr. Jordon,” she stammered. “For propriety’s sake,” she continued, forcing a firmer tone.
“Hugh.”
“Hugh,” she repeated, taking a tiny step back as he approached her and tossed his hat on the bed.
“We’ll need the door closed for this discussion,” he assured her as he took her upper arms gently in his hands. “Did I or did I not instruct you to keep the door locked?” he questioned softly.
“Yes, you certainly did,” she replied crisply.
“Then why wasn’t it locked now?”
“I did have it locked, the entire time,” she insisted. “I just unlocked it a few minutes ago as I knew you’d be coming to get me.”
“Amelia, locked means locked. I don’t issue orders for no good reason.”
“Was it an order?”
“It most certainly was. It is now my duty and responsibility to ensure your safety. When you are alone and someone knocks, you don’t unlock your door until you know who is on the other side, especially when you are not familiar with your environment.”
“I’m sorry,” she said with a somewhat indignant sniff, her shoulders stiff. “I didn’t realize how serious you were.”
“Yes, I can see that,” Hugh sighed. At first he was only going to scold her, but her tone struck a chord that was strangely reminiscent of one he’d heard his mother take with his father a thousand times. While not exactly argumentative, it did have a bite of sarcasm. Clearly she was affronted and it bordered on disrespectful. It was a recipe for a marriage full of constant bickering and was not on his agenda, now or ever. He would not put up with having his authority constantly challenged. Releasing one arm he picked up her hairbrush and hefted it in his hand.
“I’m sorry you did not understand how serious I am about your wellbeing. I’m about to remedy that right now,” he told her as he pulled her to the bed.
Amelia didn’t resist. It wasn’t until he sat down and pulled her over his knees with ridiculous ease that it dawned on her what his intentions were.
“You can’t be serious, Mr. Jordon,” she squeaked out, too stunned to struggle.
“Hugh,” he reminded her as he gathered both of her wrists at the back of her waist. “Because we are not yet wed, I’m going to emphasize my feelin
gs over your skirt. Once you become my wife, should this be necessary in the future, rest assured it will be on your bare bottom.”
Amelia couldn’t help it, she began to laugh.
The hand that held the hairbrush stopped in mid-air as soon as he heard it.
“Are you laughing?” he demanded incredulously.
“No, oh no,” she replied before more snickers escaped.
Hugh’s arm dropped to her back, still holding the brush.
“Would you mind telling me what’s so all fired funny about this?” he asked, stunned.
Amelia laughed harder and turned to look at him over her shoulder.
“Mr. Jordon, I mean Hugh,” she began, her eyes twinkling. “I am a young woman on my own for the first time. I’ve traveled thousands of miles, slipped away from my family and some very dear friends, all in my quest for adventure and independence. I clearly stated in my letter that I believed in the emancipation of women. I’ve known you approximately two hours, and in that time, I’ve made of fool of myself in front of hordes of strangers, made my prospective husband think I’m incapable of following the simplest instructions and am about to get spanked for the first time in my life. I find the absurdity of the situation remarkably amusing.”
“Well let me see if I can take some of the amusement out of the situation for you,” he growled, raising the brush and bringing it down smartly on her backside.
“Ouch!”
“First and foremost, are you telling me you left without telling your family where you were going?” he asked after smacking her again.
“Ouch,” she squealed. “That hurts.”
“It’s supposed to and it’s likely to get worse if you don’t answer my question.”
“My mother passed away a few years ago and my father would have tried to stop me,” she panted, twisting to get her hands free. “He’s been trying to marry me off for months.”
“Settle down,” Hugh warned, giving her two more robust spanks as she yipped. “What was wrong with the men he presented that you would travel this far to marry a virtual stranger?” he asked, truly curious.
Amelia (The Marriage Market Book 1) Page 3
