Gabriel's Lady
Charlotte Hubbard
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Text copyright © 2008 Charlotte Hubbard
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance
P.O. Box 400818
Las Vegas, NV 89140
ISBN-13: 9781477833322
ISBN-10: 1477833323
For Rhonda and for Laney,
who prove love can be absolutely stunning the
second time around!
A TIME FOR TRUST
“Maybe now that I’ve told you a secret, you could share some with me. I wouldn’t tell a soul, you know.” She whistled to Rex, and then walked resolutely across the lawn without looking back.
Gabe sighed wistfully. Best to keep his own counsel, as far as revealing anything about his life with Letitia. What would a young lady like Solace know about such things? Did he want to discolor her rosy assumptions about love? About what it meant to marry for better or worse?
She’s wiser than you know. More mature than Letitia… less concerned about maintaining appearances.
He laughed aloud. Solace Monroe was anything but concerned about fitting society’s mold! But it was too soon. She held too many innocent assumptions.
Would she confide in you if she knew the truth? About how your wife died rather than bear your child?
Gabe’s smile faltered; his happiness drifted away on the evening breeze. Some secrets were too onerous to lift up to the light of day.
“Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.”
—Helen Keller
“What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, The Master calls a butterfly.”
—Richard Bach
Psalm 23
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the
paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the
shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art
with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the
presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my
head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the
house of the Lord for ever.
Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
A Time For Trust
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-two
Author’s Note
Praise
This title was previously published by Dorchester Publishing; this version has been reproduced from the Dorchester book archive files.
Prologue
St. Louis, Missouri. June, 1880
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your beautiful bride, Mr. Getty.”
Gabe Getty thought his heart might fly out of his chest like a wild bird set free—even though the delicate face before him represented a whole new kind of commitment: settling down into a new life. New family. New responsibilities.
He fumbled with the wispy veil that floated like a cloud around Letitia Bancroft—now Letitia Getty, his wife!—and raised it over her golden upswept hair. “You are beautiful, Letitia,” he whispered, “and I love you so much I-I can’t find the words.”
“So kiss me, Gabriel. It’s what everyone’s waiting for.”
Letitia’s blue eyes closed and her soft face radiated a surrender that made him want to gulp her down and swallow her whole. But they were in church, being observed by dozens of St. Louis’s most influential lawyers and captains of industry. Not to mention Arthur and Henrietta Bancroft, his bride’s protective parents. He dared not challenge propriety during this sacred, long-awaited moment.
Letitia’s lips parted. She gazed up at him. The tiny hands on his shoulders relaxed. He felt her pulse racing with his…inviting him into that primal mating dance with all its mysteries, for which he’d waited so long.
He kissed her eagerly, spanning her tiny waist with his hands. So fragile she felt in his embrace, despite the rigid bands of whalebone beneath her white dress. Gabe set aside thoughts of peeling away her layers of clothing….
Letitia’s lips slipped from his too soon. When he opened his eyes, her face looked deathly pale beneath her rouge. When she collapsed, he had to grab her.
“Letitia!” he rasped. “Somebody—”
Gabe glanced anxiously at the minister, and then at his best man, Billy Bristol. “She’s passed out! I don’t know what to—”
A frantic cry rose from the first pew as Billy steadied Letitia’s dead weight. “Better lay her on the floor to get some blood back to her head,” he murmured. “Then we’ll loosen that—”
“Letitia!” her mother squawked. “Wake up, sweetheart!”
Gabe winced at her shrill voice, and at the matron huffing up the chancel steps. The church filled with whispering as the minister spoke out.
“Just a case of the jitters,” he announced with a chuckle. “Happens quite often, actually, so—”
“You must not put her on the floor!” Henrietta Bancroft topped the steps and bustled toward him. “We can not soil that exquisitely expensive gown by—she can’t bend at the waist, you fool! What do you think smelling salts are for? If you weren’t so eager to satisfy your animal urges—”
Letitia’s mother plucked a small bottle from her reticule and doused her handkerchief with a foul-smelling liquid. Then she held it over her daughter’s nose.
Gabe’s eyes watered from the camphor fumes, yet he could see Billy trying not to laugh…could feel waves of indignation rolling off Mrs. Bancroft’s substantial body as she wedged herself between him and his unconscious bride.
Letitia coughed like a sick kitten.
“Wake up, darling!” Henrietta cooed. “Show everyone how a young lady of your upbringing carries on after a lapse of—Lord, it’s a hundred and ten degrees in here, Reverend Stilton! And you, Mr. Getty, are squ
eezing the breath from Letitia’s poor lungs!”
“Mama?” Letitia’s eyes widened with mortification. “Oh, my stars—Gabriel, don’t you dare let me fall! I’ll never get up!”
“Easy now. We’ve got you covered,” Billy said. “Find your feet and take a few deep breaths to make the room stop spinnin’. Gabe would never let you fall—or let you down, either. Some punch and cake’ll bring you ’round, so’s all these folks can congratulate you, Mrs. Getty.”
“Oh, I couldn’t dream of eating—”
Letitia realized then that dozens of eyes were focused on her. Dozens of ears followed her every halting word. So she rose to the challenge: stood upright and lifted her head in that fetching yet determined tilt Gabe had always found captivating.
“You’re right, Mr. Bristol,” Letitia whispered. “I am Mrs. Gabriel Getty. I should act the part.”
She took a deep breath—as deep as her gown would allow, anyway—and focused her blue eyes on her hundreds of admirers. “I’m fine now—really I am! Thank you all for your concern,” she said in a lilting voice. “Shall we proceed to the reception?”
As Gabe flashed a grateful smile at his red-haired best friend, the organist struck up a triumphant recessional. Billy had the same way with skittish women as he did with the Morgan horses he raised; the same down-to-earth, unruffled manner he’d had when they were kids.
Gabe had a sobering thought as he slipped his bride’s tiny hand into the crook of his elbow: what would he do once it was just himself and Letitia, and she had one of her fainting spells? Or if she refused to eat? What if he couldn’t tease her out of her dark moods when things didn’t go her way?
Mrs. Bancroft urged him forward with a jab of her finger.
“Oh, Letitia, you swooned at his kiss—”
“How romantic that he caught you and—”
“You look like an absolute queen in that gown! And he’d better treat you like one every single day!”
Gabe smiled at these remarks from beside the punch bowl, a safe distance from Letitia’s highly excitable bridesmaids. He’d known them all at Miss Vanderbilt’s Academy for Young Ladies, where he’d lodged while serving out an apprenticeship in Arthur Bancroft’s law practice. He could’ve chosen any one of them as his bride, but Letitia had caught his eye and captured his heart from the beginning.
“Congratulations, Gabe.” Billy’s husky voice broke into his thoughts. “Won’t be long before you’re actin’ like an old married man and chasin’ after your kids. Just like me.”
“You’ve always made that look so easy, Billy. You’re a hard act to follow.” His best man cradled a redheaded baby on his shoulder as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Meanwhile, his eyes seldom strayed from his four-year-old daughter Olivia, who whirled in a gleeful circle to make her new dress billow out around her legs.
“You’ll do fine, Gabe. Gotcha a good job and a nice house. Pretty bride to make life worthwhile.” Billy sidled closer, nuzzling his son’s temple. “You’ve done right well for a kid who lost his family to Injuns and grew up in a two-room log house. Who’d’ve ever dreamed you’d be practicin’ the law and hobnobbin’ with the likes of these folks?”
Gabe smiled at the roomful of tuxedoed gentlemen and bejeweled ladies. He was indeed a fortunate man. “Agatha Vanderbilt handed me the opportunity of a lifetime when she introduced me to Arthur Bancroft,” he agreed. “I-I just hope I’m ready to—”
“Oh, you’ll never feel ready,” Billy teased. “You gotta jump in feet first and pray a lot. Somehow, it all works out.”
As though he already recognized the wisdom of this, little Owen raised his downy head to flash his daddy a toothless grin. Billy chuckled back, totally enthralled by the son who looked just like him.
Something tightened in his chest, and Gabe glanced away. Such love was written on his best friend’s face, he envied Billy Bristol in more ways than he could count. And yet, when he glanced back at the gaggle of young women around Letitia—his wife, and the beginning of his own dreams come true—he wondered if he would ever share that all-engrossing devotion so evident between Billy and Eve Bristol. They’d married in turmoil: Eve had birthed Olivia out of wedlock because Billy’s outlaw twin had abandoned her. Yet they made a shining example of how love could climb the highest mountains.
Maybe it was wedding-day jitters making his stomach roll…maybe his bride was still shaken from fainting at the altar…so maybe she wouldn’t always depend on that little silver flask she’d just tipped to her lips. Once the wedding was behind them…once they settled into their fine new home just four doors down from Letitia’s parents, everything would be all right. Wouldn’t it?
From a few yards away, surrounded by her matronly friends, Henrietta Bancroft glared at him. Did she never intend to smile upon his happiness? How was it that even in this reception hall abuzz with happy conversations—two hundred people come to share this day—he felt singled out for Mrs. Bancroft’s disapproval?
Gabe pasted on a smile. It was time to take his place beside his bride—to let her delicate perfume tease him while she still wore that voluminous gown of virginal white. In a few hours, he could finally tell Letitia how much he longed for her. He could tell her how lovely and wonderful she was, without parental ears or tattletale domestics listening in.
“Excuse me while I steal a kiss,” he murmured to Billy.
He caught his bride’s gaze—so elegant she was, with her blue eyes and creamy complexion…golden hair he longed to unpin. Letitia graced him with a flirtatious grin and his heart soared. He surged toward her, barely aware of the couples who stepped out of his way with their raised punch cups.
With lips pressed together and a protective lift of her eyebrow, Henrietta arrived at her daughter’s side first. “Come along, dear! We mustn’t ignore the ladies from the Literary Club, who so graciously hosted your shower last week.”
Letitia glanced at Gabe, her smile wavering. “Yes, Mother. You’re right, of course.”
“Didn’t Letitia look lovely in that gown? So perfect she could’ve been a doll!” Ten-year-old Grace let out a languid sigh, pointing her pinkie as she sipped her punch. “I’m going to look that beautiful when I’m a bride, too!”
Solace Monroe rolled her eyes at her youngest sister, forking up the last crumbs of her cake. “Hope you’ll let Asa or Temple make your wedding cake, though. This may be fancy fare, but it’s got no taste.”
“Solace!” their sister, Lily, hissed, “you shouldn’t make such remarks where the bride or her mother might hear you! We’re fortunate to be here, and to be considered Gabe’s family.”
“Say what you want, but I’ll never truss myself up so tight I pass out! Matter of fact, I never intend to wear a corset at all!” Solace announced. “Letitia didn’t even taste her wedding cake! Embarrassed poor Gabe—and worried him, too—when he tried to feed her a bite and she turned away.”
Lily, looking like a princess in her frilly pink frock, raised an eyebrow. “You’ll change your tune if somebody as handsome as Gabe looks your way! You’re so caught up in your horses—”
“You’ll have to change completely to interest anyone like Gabe!” Gracie chimed in. “Me, I’ll be the perfect wife someday! Daddy says so!”
Solace bit back a retort when she saw their mother coming. Why did Gracie do her lessons and household chores so effortlessly, at ten, and get away with telling everyone how wonderful she was, too? And Lily had always looked picture perfect—like that parlor portrait Billy’s wife had painted. Her singing had distinguished her, too, since she was even younger than Grace.
Solace whirled on her heel. Once again she felt dowdy and outdone, like a sparrow among swans. Once again her sisters’ words had stabbed her like spears. She threw open the social hall’s back door to escape to the small garden behind the church. The shade of the old maple trees and the nickering of the horses, tied beyond the carriages, brought welcome relief from the savage inner pain that welled up without war
ning these days.
As she drew a deep breath of the hot June afternoon, the door opened behind her. Solace sighed, willing away her tears.
“Are you all right, dear? I was just coming over to say how proud I am of my three pretty girls and the way they’ve behaved—”
“Mama, you shouldn’t lie. Especially in church.” Solace kept her back turned, detesting the way her throat tightened in anticipation of her mother’s little talk. Why couldn’t people just leave her alone when she felt this way?
“What do you mean? You girls seemed to be having such a nice time—”
“Yeah, but that was before Saint Grace reminded me that I’ll never be smart and lovable and perfect, like her,” she retorted. “Then Princess Lily turned up her pretty little nose as though I’d stepped in some horse hockey. They act like no man’ll have me because I’m socially unacceptable and so—so ugly!”
Mama stopped behind her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Did they come right out and say those things, Solace?”
“No, but a deaf idiot couldn’t miss their meaning!” She swiped at a tear. “Just standing in the same room with ’em makes me feel homely and worthless, Mama! I wish I could live at Billy’s, so’s I could help train his horses without those—those paragons telling me how rude and crude I am!”
Mama gently turned her around. Here it came—another mother-daughter talk that was supposed to make her feel special. But such advice made her bite her tongue nearly in two, trying not to argue back. Life would be so much easier if she’d been a boy!
Mama gazed at her. She started to smooth back a wavy lock of hair that had escaped her ribbon, but thought better of it. “You probably tire of me saying this, Solace, but every time I look at you I see your father. And though I never let on in front of the others, I feel such an overwhelming love I nearly cry with pride.”
Gabriel's Lady (Leisure Historical Romance) Page 1
