by Renee Ryan
If he didn’t encourage Callie to unburden herself with him, would she turn to someone else? With whom could she confide? None of her brothers were in town. Fanny was gone. The only support in Callie’s life was Mrs. Singletary. Her employer.
A frown tugged at Reese’s brow as he pondered how alone Callie was in the world right now, with only the widow to champion her.
And him. Callie had him, too. He badly wanted to give her his unwavering support, his unconditional acceptance. The trick would be convincing her to let him.
“Let’s sit down, over there.” With a jerk of his head, he indicated the far right corner, where two wing-back chairs were surrounded by large potted plants. The makeshift alcove was private, but not indecently so.
When Callie nodded her agreement, Reese took her arm and guided her across the marble floor, their footsteps striking in a shared rhythm like hammers to nails.
She sat primly, her spine perfectly erect. Regardless of her stiff posture, Reese was struck by the graceful way she entwined her fingers together in her lap. There was nothing hard about this woman, nothing coarse or brazen. She personified gentleness and goodness.
He placed his hand over hers. “Tell me what happened with Westgrove.”
Lowering her head, she held silent a moment. Then, slowly, she looked back up. Her gaze was full of unspeakable pain. “You’ll think differently of me once I do.”
She’d said much the same thing once before.
What had Westgrove done to her? “I meant what I said at the theater last evening. You’ll get no judgment from me, no condemnation.”
“I don’t know quite where to start.” Her voice was very low, very quiet. The sound called to mind broken trust and betrayed innocence.
Emotion wrapped around him, a bone-deep urgency to protect Callie—always. If Westgrove appeared again, Reese would likely beat the man to a pulp.
For now, he focused on earning Callie’s trust. One step at a time. “How did you meet him?”
“I met him in Boston. Fanny and I were in our final year at Miss Lindsey’s Select School for Women. I was mad for the theater back then, and went as often as I could.” She smiled ruefully, and a little sadly. “A friend of a friend worked at the theater and introduced me to Simon. I was instantly dazzled by his charm and wit. He seemed equally enamored and said all the right things to turn my head. I believed I was special in his eyes.”
With slow, deliberate movements Reese sat back in his chair. “You let him court you?”
“I suppose that’s what you could call it. He was very persistent, very convincing with his attentions, he...” She broke off, darted her gaze around the lobby.
“Go on,” he urged.
There was another moment of hesitation before she continued. Reese didn’t interrupt her again, but let her tell the tale of Westgrove’s treachery.
With each new piece of evidence pointing to the man’s despicable nature, anger stormed inside Reese. He tried not to show it, but the discovery that Callie had been lied to so completely—used so dishonestly—filled him with a protective fury unlike he’d ever experienced before.
Over the next part of the story Callie’s voice hitched. “When Simon asked me to run away with him, I thought he meant to marry me.”
She continued on, explaining in a halting tone all the events of that evening.
Reese’s hands balled into fists. “Westgrove should answer for his behavior.”
“Oh, Reese, I carry my own share of the blame.” She choked on a sob. “The part of me raised by Godly, Christian parents should have known not to agree to run away with him. I should have known not to meet him in a hotel.”
“You were young, Callie. He preyed on your innocence.”
“And I let him.” She dropped her gaze and then, as if determined to fight off her embarrassment, boldly lifted her chin. “Once I realized he had no plans to marry me, I immediately left the hotel lobby and returned to my dormitory.”
“He didn’t follow you?”
“No, and he never tried to contact me again. Ironic, isn’t it?” Her glassy-eyed gaze shifted around, landing in no particular spot. “After all these years, I cross paths with him in another hotel lobby?”
“I’m sorry, Callie.” It angered him that a woman who deserved only affection and tenderness had been treated with disrespect, with such ugly intent.
Reese had never been prone to violence, but he felt his temper rising with vicious force, urging him to crush the man who’d hurt this beautiful, special woman.
“Now you know my secret.” She met his gaze. “And the full extent of my shame.”
“You have no reason to be ashamed.” Reese carefully took her hands in his. “You were lied to and betrayed. But when the real test came, you resisted temptation. That doesn’t make you dishonorable, it makes you incredibly brave.”
“You...you think me brave?”
“Callie Mitchell.” He brought her hands to his lips, kissed both sets of knuckles. “You are the bravest person I know.”
Chapter Sixteen
Several days after her altercation with Simon, Callie’s emotions were still in turmoil. In truth, she didn’t know quite what she felt about the encounter. Relief, to be sure. She’d faced her past. Though she could have handled Simon on her own, Reese’s timely appearance had been a blessing. His kindness afterward had given Callie the confidence to set aside her shame and freely accept God’s grace.
Where did that leave her now?
She’d spent so much time looking back, allowing her past to define her present, that she didn’t know how to move forward.
Live your life. One day at a time.
Yes. Yes!
Drawing in a long breath, she looked around the overly decorated parlor in Polly Ferguson’s home. As usual, Callie had accompanied Mrs. Singletary to her weekly meeting of the Ladies League for Destitute Widows and Orphans. She attempted to focus on the earnest discussion about poverty among single, unattached women in Denver, but she’d lost the gist of the debate.
Though she had her own opinions on the subject, and cared a great deal about the plight of the poor, her efforts to sort through the various positions proved unsuccessful.
Her mind kept wandering back to the Hotel Dupree, to the makeshift alcove out of the main traffic area. Reese had been incredibly gentle with her and so sweetly outraged on her behalf. His defense of her had meant more than he could know.
He’d even called her brave.
Reese really was a wonderful man.
Now, she could not stop dreaming of him, of hoping one day he would see her as more than a friend, perhaps even consider her for his bride. Problem was, if he did propose to her, Callie couldn’t accept. Not as long as he insisted on avoiding a love match. She would accept nothing less.
They were at cross purposes, she and Reese, facing an obstacle perhaps even greater than his previous relationship with Fanny.
“Pass the scones, Miss Mitchell.”
“Oh.” She jerked at the command. “Yes. Of course, Mrs. Ferguson.”
After placing one of the buttery pastries on her own plate, she handed the serving tray to the woman sitting on her left.
In her role as hostess, Polly Ferguson presided over today’s meeting from a brocade settee on the opposite side of the room. The matriarch was bracketed by two younger copies of herself. Phoebe and Penelope even wore gowns in the same shade of pale pink as their mother.
Philomena Ferguson, the third oldest daughter, was also in attendance. She sat on Callie’s right. Barely twenty years old, Philomena was well-spoken, well-educated and, in Callie’s estimation, the most likeable of the Ferguson sisters. With her unusual hazel eyes and flawless complexion, she favored her brother Marshall in both looks and temperament.
Callie believed sh
e and Philomena could forge a friendship, given time. If pressed, she would also admit the girl suited most of Reese’s requirements for a wife. Her hair was a beautiful golden brown, with natural caramel streaks that complemented her pretty eyes. Or course, her name did start with the letter P.
“Is the rumor true, Beatrix?” Polly Ferguson eyed Mrs. Singletary with a stare that had a bit of cunning wrapped around the edges. “Is Reese Bennett Junior actively seeking a wife?”
Callie winced. While she’d been lost in thought the conversation had turned in a more gossipy direction.
Had someone overheard her conversation with Reese at the theater last week? No other explanation made sense. She groaned inwardly. She’d been careful to keep her voice low, barely above a whisper. Not careful enough.
Mrs. Singletary—bless her—deflected her friend’s question with ease. “Now, Polly, wherever did you hear such a tale?”
“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” Mrs. Ferguson leaned forward, her narrowed gaze giving her a hawklike appearance. “Mr. Bennett is the most eligible bachelor in town. And now that he’s in sole charge of his family’s law firm, he must be in search of a wife.”
“I have no doubt my attorney will make some young woman a wonderful husband.” Mrs. Singletary cast her gaze to the ceiling. “It’s certainly something to ponder, at any rate.”
Oh, Mrs. Singletary was good. She actually sounded as though this was the first time she’d considered Reese for one of her matchmaking schemes.
Clever ploy.
But her friend wasn’t fooled. “Now, Beatrix, I find it hard to believe you aren’t personally involved in Mr. Bennett’s search. Everyone knows you enjoy making a good match.”
The widow chuckled. “Everyone would be right. But, regrettably, I am not in league with Mr. Bennett.”
“Is that so? Well, according to my source, he was overheard discussing a list of qualifications he wishes in a bride. If he wasn’t speaking with you, Beatrix—” Mrs. Ferguson’s gaze turned shrewd “—then who?”
Mrs. Singletary cocked an eyebrow. “It’s quite the mystery, isn’t it?”
Pretending grave interest in her plate, Callie pinched off a small bite of scone. Oh, but her insides turned over, making knot upon knot upon knot. She’d inadvertently put Reese at the center of Denver’s gossip mill.
She must warn him.
“It would be a great coup—a feather in your matchmaking cap, if you will—to make a match for Mr. Bennett, especially if the bride was one of my lovely daughters.”
Phoebe and Penelope twittered among themselves, openly plotting how best to gain Reese’s attention. But as it so happened, their names started with P.
Now that the subject had been broached, a barrage of questions began. Callie almost felt sorry for her employer. Except Mrs. Singletary didn’t appear the least bit troubled by the verbal attack. In fact, she looked secretively amused as she fielded the onslaught of questions with her usual aplomb.
At one point, her delighted gaze caught Callie’s.
Callie frowned in return. She found none of this amusing. Every woman in the room was now speculating as to which young lady in town Reese would ultimately choose to marry.
He must be informed of this horrible turn of events, before the competition to win his heart began in earnest.
As Callie decided how best to approach the subject with him, Mrs. Singletary skillfully turned the conversation to her annual charity ball next month.
It was a smooth transition, aided by Philomena, who suggested a portion of the funds raised be used to buy winter coats for the destitute widows and orphans in town.
The group was debating which one of their members should head up the decoration committee when Laney Dupree entered the parlor. “Sorry we’re late.” She shoved her hair off her face. “A busy morning at the orphanage.”
“Well, you are here now.” Mrs. Singletary patted the empty seat beside her. “Come, sit by me.”
Laney hesitated, perhaps because she wasn’t alone. A young woman about Callie’s age accompanied her. The newcomer was quite beautiful. Her black hair offset her pale white skin and heart-shaped face, while her eyes were an unusual shade of blue, nearly lavender. Callie had only read about such a color in books.
Laney made the introductions. “This is Miss Temperance Evans, our newly appointed headmistress for the Charity House School.”
Miss Evans’s responding smile was dazzling. “Thank you for including me in your meeting. I look forward to helping your cause however possible.”
The cultured British accent fit the beautiful face to perfection, as did the yellow silk organza gown.
“We were just discussing my annual charity ball before you arrived.” Mrs. Singletary directed her words at Laney. “You have such an eye for detail, I wonder if we can lure you into heading up the decorations this year.”
“I’d love to take on the duty.” Laney claimed the seat next to the widow. “I already have several ideas.”
“As do I,” one of the older women declared.
A shuffling of seats followed.
While the older women deliberated over the benefits of roses versus lilies, and gold accent over silver, Penelope and Phoebe eyed Temperance Evans with suspicion.
Proving herself the more gracious of the Ferguson daughters, Philomena scooted over to make room for Temperance next to her.
Once she took her seat, Callie offered the woman a scone.
“Thank you.”
Callie smiled. “Tell me, Miss Evans, what made you decide to settle in Denver?”
“My parents brought me here as a child so I could experience the great American West. I fell in love with the area, especially the mountains. When I learned about the headmistress position at Charity House, I decided to leave London—” she lifted her hands in a show of surrender “—and here I am.”
There was more to Temperance’s story. Callie heard it in her overformal tone.
So, apparently, did Phoebe Ferguson. “You traveled halfway across the world to run a school for prostitutes’ children?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“I have a fondness for children.” Miss Evans did not explain herself further.
Penelope took over the interrogation, screwing up her face into a disbelieving scowl. Not a becoming expression on the girl. “You seem awfully young to run a school.”
“I am twenty-three.”
“I would have guessed eighteen.”
“That’s quite enough.” Philomena didn’t actually snort, but she came perilously close. “Leave the poor woman alone.”
An argument immediately broke out among the three sisters, the two oldest joining forces against the younger. Philomena held her ground throughout the fray. Clearly, she harbored a quiet strength and a spine of steel beneath the serene expression she usually wore.
When Phoebe stomped out of the room, and Penelope followed her in a near identical display, Callie gave in to a sigh.
“Good riddance,” Philomena mumbled.
With Miss Evans leading the way, conversation turned to the rigors of sea travel during the rainy season. Philomena warmed to the subject.
Callie listened in silence. Both women made excellent observations and seemed perfectly levelheaded. If she presented their names to Reese as potential candidates in his bride search, would he seriously consider them?
Or would he find a reason to reject them as he had all the others? A prayer flashed through her mind, coming straight from her heart. Oh, please, Lord, let him find fault with every woman I present.
* * *
Unable to focus on the contract beneath his hand, Reese swiveled in his chair and looked out his office window. People of every shape and size hurried along the sidewalks en route to their respective
destinations.
There was a rhythm to their steps. Not so, inside his head. Thoughts buzzed around chaotically, with no apparent destination to drive them in a satisfying direction.
Shutting his eyes, he attempted to clear his mind. But his thoughts kept circling back to Callie. And the trauma Simon Westgrove had put her through.
After discovering the full extent of the actor’s treachery, Reese had been tempted to hunt down the man and make him pay for what he’d done to her. Fortunately for Westgrove, the acting troupe had left Denver that very afternoon. Reese had missed the train’s departure by a full hour.
At least the man couldn’t hurt Callie anymore. Reese hoped she would forever let go of the shame she’d been carrying through the years. Her only mistake had been to fall in love with the wrong man.
Callie’s situation was additional proof that love was a dangerous prospect, especially when deeply felt. For Reese, the emotion had been so strong he’d nearly gone mad when he lost Miranda.
Loving like that couldn’t be good. Of course, love came in many forms. It didn’t have to hurt, or end in tragedy, or bring about pain.
Perhaps he could even love his wife, as long as he kept the emotion from growing too deep, or becoming too fervent.
If his head ruled his heart, he would find a suitable woman to marry—a woman who would make a good wife, a proper partner in life and a devoted mother to their children.
Was he being overly optimistic?
Ever since holding Callie in his arms, he’d felt something shift inside him, urging him to expect more from his wife than companionship.
Looking back, Reese could admit his feelings for Miranda had been entirely too strong, while his feelings for Fanny had not been enough.
He needed to find a balance.
In that regard, the bride list made practical sense.
Then why did the thought of checking off qualifications until he found the most suitable candidate not seem as wise as it had before?
Blowing out a hiss of frustration, he stood and moved closer to the window. Leaning an arm on the frame, he looked out unseeingly over the city then focused on the mountains beyond.
