His Most Suitable Bride

by Renee Ryan

  “Coming,” she called.

  The moment she opened the door, Mrs. Singletary grabbed her by the shoulders and stared into her face. After several seconds of intense scrutiny, she released a slow exhale. “You’re all right.”

  “Of course I’m all right.”

  “You left so abruptly I wasn’t entirely sure.” She looked over Callie’s shoulder. “May I come in?”

  “Yes.” Callie stepped back and let her pass.

  After a brief glance around the room, Mrs. Singletary chose to perch herself on the edge of Callie’s bed. “Won’t you tell me what’s upset you?”

  Surprisingly close to tears, she sank down beside her employer and drew in a steadying breath. “It’s hopeless.”

  “Nothing is ever hopeless.” The widow draped her arm around her shoulders. “With God all things are possible.”

  Then why did her situation feel so completely impossible?

  “I’m in love with Reese.” She was astonished at how easy the admission came.

  “I know.” Mrs. Singletary removed her arm from around Callie’s shoulders and took her hands. “Love is a marvelous thing. A treasured gift from God. Something to be celebrated.”

  Not when it was one-sided. Giving in to her sorrow, she buried her face in her hands and let the tears come at last.

  “Oh, dear. Those aren’t tears of joy.”

  Callie had never cried in front of her employer, but now that she’d begun she couldn’t seem to stop the flow. “I’m in love with Reese, but he’s not in love with me.”

  “Well, that’s just silly. Of course he loves you. I dare say he’s besotted.”

  The woman sounded so confident that Callie experienced a small flutter of hope. “Why... How...?” She dropped her hands and gaped at her employer. “How do you know?”

  “It’s quite simple, dear. I’ve watched him watching you. He does it all the time, especially when he thinks no one is paying attention.” The widow leaned in close. “I always pay attention.”

  Something tugged at Callie’s heart, something new and wonderful. Something that felt like anticipation. “He—” she swiped at her cheeks “—watches me?”

  “Indeed, yes. He can’t keep his eyes off you. At the theater he watches you instead of the play. Moreover, you’re the first person he seeks out at any gathering and the last he speaks to before he departs.”

  If half of what the widow claimed was true, Reese could very well ask her to marry him soon. It was a gloriously wonderful thought and so horribly terrible.

  She knew he cared for her, perhaps even deeply. But that wasn’t the same as loving her. “He was married once before. Did you know that, Mrs. Singletary?”

  Her words were met with several beats of silence. “You jest.”

  “Fourteen years ago.”

  “How did I not know about this?”

  “The marriage lasted only a month before his wife died in a riding accident. He was only eighteen at the time, and...” Callie blinked rapidly to stave off another onslaught of tears. She’d cried enough. “His wife was the love of his life.”

  They both fell silent, staring at one another. Callie saw the widow processing this new piece of information, saw that keen mind of hers evaluating what it all meant. “You are sure about this?”

  “He told me himself.” I’ve already loved once in my lifetime. Once was enough.

  “Well, hmm. That certainly explains a lot.” The widow rose, then began to pace through the room, following nearly the same route Callie had taken.

  Eyes burning with unshed tears, she tracked the woman’s progress until she could stand the suspense no longer. “Do you now understand why the situation is hopeless?”

  Mrs. Singletary held up a hand. “Hush, dear. I need a moment.”

  Callie gave her two. Then said, “But, Mrs. Singletary, you have always claimed that we each have only one true soul mate.”

  “I know what I said. But perhaps it’s time I reevaluated my opinion on the matter.” She halted at the writing desk, picked up the miniature portrait Callie had made of her and Reese. “Did you paint this, dear?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s quite lovely.” She set the portrait back on the desk and returned to sit beside Callie. “Despite his previous marriage, I still believe Mr. Bennett is in love with you.”

  Callie squeeze her eyes tightly shut, trying desperately to hold back the burst of hope spreading through her. “I want to believe you.”

  “It seems you have an important decision ahead of you.”

  Callie opened her eyes. “I...do?”

  The widow rose, peered out into the hallway, then came back to stand over her. “You can either let your fears determine your future and thus live the rest of your life alone. Or you can take a leap of faith and seize a lifetime of happiness with the man you love. The choice is yours.”

  “But even if Reese does love me—”

  “Oh, he does.”

  “How can I trust it’s enough? How will I know if I’m enough? What if Reese...” She broke off, unable to finish the rest her thought.

  No, she must continue. She must speak aloud her greatest fear. “Mrs. Singletary, what if Reese grows to resent me?”

  “For what, dear?”

  “For being alive?” She swallowed. “For not being Miranda.”

  “There are no guarantees in life, or in love. That’s where faith comes in. You must allow the Lord to direct your path. In the meantime, let’s get you dressed.” Mrs. Singletary stuck her head back in the hallway. “Julia. Hurry, hurry, our time is running short.”

  The maid popped into the room, breathing harder than usual, as though she’d run the entire length of the long corridor.

  “My companion must look her very best this evening.” Mrs. Singletary took the maid’s hand and dragged her toward Callie. “She should wear her hair up, I think, with perhaps a few tendrils hanging loose around her face.”

  “Whatever you think best, Mrs. Singletary.”

  “Then up it shall be.” She headed toward the door, paused. “Think about what I said, Callie. The only way you will lose this battle is if you refuse to fight.”

  With those sage words, the widow swept out of the room.

  * * *

  Reese entered Mrs. Singletary’s home behind an unfamiliar couple. It seemed all of Denver had been invited to the widow’s annual charity ball.

  Handing his hat and gloves to one of the hired butlers, he entered the crowded foyer and looked around. Women were dressed in formal gowns made of colorful silks or satins. They wore elbow-length white gloves and fancy adornments in their hair. Jewels glittered around their necks.

  In contrast, the gentlemen wore formal black tailcoats and trousers with white vests and matching white bow ties.

  Looking for one woman in particular, Reese scanned all the female faces but didn’t find the one he wanted most to see.

  Shouldering his way through the bulk of humanity lingering in the open foyer, he continued searching for the only woman he wanted to see tonight. The crowded drawing room on his right was filled to capacity with clusters of people chatting among themselves.

  No Callie.

  Although, he had to admit, there were an uncommon number of attractive young women in attendance tonight. He felt the bulk of their gazes following him as he moved on to the next room. The overabundance of female interest in him had failed to die down in the weeks since news had gotten out of his bride search.

  It seemed everyone wanted to know who he would marry.

  He planned to end the speculation tonight.

  He had his final list tucked inside an interior pocket of his jacket. After weeks of writing and rewriting, agonizing over what to put in and what to take out, he was ready to prese
nt his requirements to Callie.

  He needed to find her first.

  Music floated through the house. Tables draped in gold-and-silver satin lined nearly every room. Trays of fruit and cheeses were surrounded by piles of smoked fish, roasted fowl and thinly sliced cuts of beef. Several tables were dedicated to desserts.

  At last, he caught sight of Callie in the grand ballroom. She was dressed in a gossamer gown that was neither blue nor green but a mesmerizing combination of the two. The bodice was form-fitting, trimmed with lace, while the skirt draped in flowing waves of fabric past her slippered feet. Her hair was piled on top of her head with a loose waterfall of curls hanging around her face.

  As he’d seen her do countless times in the past, she watched the dance floor from a discreet distance. The sight made his gut twist. She should be taking a turn around the ballroom with the other couples, with him as her partner.

  Easy enough to rectify.

  She must have sensed his gaze on her because she turned her head and smiled at him. She was different tonight, bolder, more sure of herself. As inevitable as the day giving way to night, his heart picked up speed. His blood raced through his veins.

  His throat seized over an unsteady breath.

  He set out in her direction.

  She set out in his.

  They met halfway and he took her hand. “You are a vision tonight.”

  Though she boldly held his stare, the slight tremble in her fingers spoke of her nervousness. “Thank you, Reese. You’re looking quite handsome yourself.”

  “I look like every other man in the room.”

  She smiled again, an expression of infinite caring and affection. “Perhaps in what you are wearing, that is true. But you stand out above all others, in looks and character.”

  He’d asked himself many times over the past few weeks, why this woman was the one he wanted to marry. Why her?

  Now, as he stood entrapped in her gaze, he wondered why he’d ever doubted his decision to pursue her.

  “Shall we dance?”

  She bit her lip. Even without that telltale sign, he could sense her hesitation. He silently willed her to say yes.

  Her answer came in a brief nod. He drew her into his arms and spun her out onto the dance floor.

  Gazes locked, they danced in silence for most of the song. It came to an end all too soon and they stepped apart.

  Reese wasn’t through holding her. “Dance one more with me.”

  “I have been tasked with refilling the dessert tables whenever they fall low. I cannot neglect my duties.” She sighed. “Nor can I monopolize you all evening.”

  The strains of the next waltz filled the air. “Once more,” he insisted.

  “People may misunderstand your intentions.”

  “My intentions are wholly honorable.” Sweeping her into his arms, he gave her no more chance to argue. “Besides, you owe me a respite.”

  Her eyebrows arched at haughty angle. Ah, there she was. His Callie.

  “Countless women have been showing up at my law firm all week with the sole purpose of insisting I dance with them at the ball this evening.”

  Letting out a delighted laugh, she shook her head. Then, as if concerned he might actually be telling the truth, her eyes rounded. “Surely not.”

  “I might have exaggerated the number.” His tone came out more amused than he’d felt at the time. “It wasn’t countless women, just two.”

  Eyes narrowed, head titled, she considered this a moment. “Let me guess, their names begin with the letter P.”

  “Right on the first try.” He spun her in a circle.

  She matched him step for step. “I forbid you to dance with either Phoebe or Penelope Ferguson tonight.”

  He drew back in laughing surprise. “You forbid me?”

  “Don’t think you can defy me on this, either.” The mock scowl she gave him was as endearing as the rest of her. “I will make a scene if you do.”

  “I wouldn’t dare risk a scene.”

  They danced the next twelve notes in companionable silence.

  “I’ve made up a new bride list,” he said.

  Her feet stumbled to a halt and she blinked up at him in horrified silence.

  It was hardly the response he’d expected.

  At last, she found her voice. “You did what?”

  “I have designed a new list. I brought it with me.” He took her arm and guided her off the dance floor. “I thought we might review it together later, perhaps when the ball is winding down.”

  “You have revised your list,” she repeated.

  “You’ll be pleased to discover that I put much thought into this last and final one. It’s very detailed. I’m hoping you’ll approve of the changes.”

  She glanced at him without smiling. “So you are still seeking a bride?”

  “Not precisely.” He was attempting to tell her he’d picked out his bride—her—but he was making a hash of it. “I’ve already made my decision. You see, Callie, I—”

  A small commotion at the front of the ballroom cut off the rest of his words. Reese swiveled his head and, for a perilous moment, his mind went blank.

  He’d expected this evening to be memorable. Had hoped and planned for it to be so.

  But he hadn’t foreseen this shocking twist.

  After months of being gone, after innumerable unanswered letters from her sister, Fanny Mitchell had chosen tonight to make her return to Denver.

  As she took the dance floor with her partner, Reese clasped Callie’s hand and watched his ex-fiancée waltz back into their lives.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Fanny looked spectacular, Callie thought glumly. She was poised and sophisticated beyond her twenty-two years, and even more beautiful than when she’d left town. The blue silk gown she wore complemented her delicate beauty, while the artfully arranged mass of blond curls set off her exquisite face and startling amber eyes.

  As if she didn’t know—or perhaps didn’t care—that she was the center of attention, she twirled around the dance floor in Jonathon Hawkins’s arms. A triumphant return, timed for utmost effect.

  But to what end?

  If Fanny had come to the ball in an effort to halt any remaining gossip over her broken engagement, she’d failed. The ballroom buzzed with whispers and speculation. Gazes swung between Fanny and Reese.

  Callie thought she might be sick.

  Not wishing to add substance to the rumors already circulating through the ballroom, she discreetly tugged her hand free of Reese’s.

  He continued staring straight ahead. “Did you know she was coming tonight?”

  “No. Did you?”

  Reese shook his head.

  They fell silent again, both of them watching Fanny, as were most of the other party guests.

  Callie stared blankly at the spinning couple, her thoughts in turmoil. Why had her sister chosen tonight to make her long-awaited return? Why had she not let Callie know she was coming home?

  Was Reese happy to see Fanny? His stiff posture hinted that he was more taken aback than pleased. Callie couldn’t drum up the courage to look at him to find out one way or the other.

  The whispering intensified around them, turning into open speculation. She thought she heard her name linked with Reese’s, followed by an unfounded conjecture that she’d played a role in her sister’s broken engagement.

  Now gazes were turning to study her and Reese, making a connection that wasn’t there. Or hadn’t been there until recently.

  The music played on and Fanny continued whirling around the dance floor with Mr. Hawkins.

  Callie’s stomach churned in perfect rhythm with their steps. She wanted to be glad her sister was home, truly she did, but did Fanny not realize that her s
udden appearance would generate talk, much of it ugly? Did she not hear the whispers following her across the dance floor?

  “Why did she have to come back tonight?”

  Reese shook his head, obviously as baffled by Fanny’s behavior as Callie. “Your sister has interesting timing.”

  Indeed.

  If Fanny had arrived even hours before the ball had begun, Callie would have been better prepared for the whispers. She would have found a way to temper the gossip...somehow. She loved her sister—she did. Hadn’t she sent innumerable letters begging Fanny to come home?

  Now that her sister was here, Callie wished she would have stayed away.

  Guilt washed through her at the thought, turning her heart bleak. Where was the joy over seeing Fanny again?

  Her sister was her best friend, the woman who knew her better than any other. Yet, Callie still wanted her gone.

  This time, a spark of resentment followed the thought, leaving an unattractive blight on her soul. This insight into her character was not a pretty one.

  “I must greet her properly,” she said, mostly to herself, but Reese responded, anyway.

  “As should I.” He shook his head in resignation. “She’s given us little choice.”

  They shared a bleak smile.

  “Come.” He took her hand and set it on his arm. “The waltz is drawing to a close. We’ll catch up with her as soon as she steps off the dance floor.”

  More than a few curious glances followed their progress across the room.

  They approached Fanny and Mr. Hawkins on the very edge of the parquet floor. Neither seemed to notice their arrival. They were each looking steadily into one another’s eyes, a silent message flowing between them. With a shaky smile, Fanny lowered her head.

  Mr. Hawkins cleared his throat. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Mitchell.”

  Fanny continued staring at her toes. “It is I who should thank you, Mr. Hawkins. I’m afraid I didn’t sufficiently think through my actions. Had you not asked me to dance I don’t know what I would have done. You saved me from certain humiliation.”

  “I’m glad I could help.” He started to say more, but caught sight of Callie and Reese. “Ah, Miss Mitchell. Mr. Bennett.” He divided a look between them. “Always a pleasure to see you both.”