by Keli Gwyn
He looked so serious, so sincere. “You’re a fine man, Stuart, and you deserve a woman who loves you.”
“We might not be in love, but we get on well. It wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” He reached out as though to take her hand but pulled his back before making contact. His gaze locked with hers, his green eyes conveying both hope and uncertainty. “I hold you in high regard, Lavinia, and would do my best to be a good and faithful husband.”
She grabbed her muff and stuffed her hands inside. “I have no doubt of that, but...” How could she consider Stuart’s offer when she felt the way she did about Henry? If only he cared as much about her as she did him.
“If you refuse to honor your father’s wishes, I would imagine you’d lose his support. I could provide a good living for you and the children.”
The reality of her situation set Lavinia’s stomach to swirling. She intended to win the court case. When she did, she would need money to pay for food, lodging and everything else. Her funds wouldn’t last long, and then where would she be?
Perhaps she’d been hasty in declaring her intention to stand up to her father and keep him from getting the children. She hadn’t had good results when challenging him in the past. What made her think this time would be any different? Stuart was offering a solution to her dilemma, but everything in her balked at the thought of accepting it.
The children’s laughter rang out, drawing her attention to where Henry was leading them in a game of Simon Says. They were mimicking his movements, and he wasn’t making it easy. He was hopping on one foot and turning in circles while patting the top of his head.
His love of the children knew no bounds. He would make a wonderful father. She could imagine him holding a baby, his tenderness evident in every look and loving touch. What would it be like to see him doting on an infant with his blue eyes and her curly hair?
Where had that thought come from? Henry didn’t care for her in that way. He wanted to provide a home for his nieces and nephew, but he’d never said anything about wanting more children. Or a wife.
“Lavinia?” Stuart’s voice reminded her of his presence.
“I’m sorry. I was woolgathering. The truth is, I don’t know what to say. This is all so sudden.” There must be some other way, Lord. Please, help me find it.
“You don’t need to answer today. Take time to pray about it. You can let me know what you’ve decided after the Christmas Eve service. If you choose to accept my proposal, we could announce our engagement on Christmas morning.”
Christmas? That only left her two days to make one of the most important decisions of her life.
* * *
Something significant had taken place between Lavinia and Stuart. Henry was sure of it. He’d forced himself to keep his attention on the game he was playing with the children while they waited to begin the trip back to Sutter Creek, but he hadn’t been able to keep from glancing at the couple in the distance every so often.
Lavinia had been pacing at one point, evidently troubled by something. When she and Stuart had returned to the wagon and taken their places on the bench seat, she’d put more distance between herself and Stuart than before and avoided looking his way—a fact that brought Henry a great deal of satisfaction.
As they traveled the rutted road down the mountain, she encouraged the children to tell her about the Christmases they’d spent with their parents, listening intently to their detailed recollections. The shift in her focus from showing them the kind of lavish celebrations they would enjoy back in Philadelphia to learning about the simple, small-town observances they’d experienced and enjoyed was as welcome as the sun on his face after three days of biting cold. He intended to find out what had caused the change.
They reached Sutter Creek two hours later, and Henry pulled up at the American House hotel, only too happy to drop off Stuart. He might be good with the children, but he’d upset Lavinia, which Henry couldn’t abide. He had half a mind to hop down and have a word with the interloper, but the thought of facing her afterward kept him in the driver’s seat. She’d probably claim he had no right to interfere. The truth was he didn’t, which irked him.
Stuart turned to Lavinia, took her hand in his and gazed at her with unmistakable interest. “I look forward to seeing you at the Christmas Eve service and talking with you afterward. I trust you’ll have an answer for me.”
Her “I will,” uttered in a breathy voice, had Henry gripping the reins so tightly his knuckles turned white. He kept his gaze forward, unable to stomach the scene playing out beside him.
“Good. I look forward to hearing it.” Stuart bid the children farewell, gave Henry a cursory nod and entered the hotel.
Henry urged the team forward, saying nothing as they traveled down Main and up Church Street. Lavinia remained quiet and reflective, although the children chatted excitedly about decorating the tree. He pulled in behind the house. Alex, Marcie and Dot clambered out of the wagon, followed by their aunt. He removed the Douglas Fir, grateful it was only seven feet tall instead of sixteen, as Lavinia had originally wanted. He had no idea what caused her to change her mind so quickly, but he was glad she had.
He carried the tree inside, set it in a large tub of sand, added some water and headed to the livery to return the wagon.
The familiar scents of horses, leather and stalls due for their nightly mucking out greeted him—along with the livery owner. “Evening, Henry. How did these lovely ladies do for you today?” The burly fellow patted the two mares in turn.
“Just fine. I’d take them out anytime.”
“Glad to hear they earned their oats. I’ll unhitch them, and you can settle up with Cyrus.”
Henry turned but stopped when he heard his name. “Yes?”
“Almost forgot to tell you. Mr. Little was in this morning. Since he usually takes these girls, your name came up. He asked me to let you know that he has a telegram waiting for you.”
“Thanks.”
Henry strode up Main to the American House and went inside. Thankfully, Worthington was nowhere to be seen.
The desk clerk looked up and smiled. “Afternoon, Mr. Hawthorn. Come for this, I presume?” He held out an envelope bearing the Alta California Telegraph Company name.
Henry opened it quickly, read the brief message and frowned.
“Bad news, is it?”
“Not terrible, but I’d hoped for better.” He’d finally received an offer on his hotel up in Marysville, but the amount the buyer was willing to pay was even less than what Henry had hoped to get, despite having lowered the price.
He returned to the house minutes later to find Lavinia and the children seated on the front porch steps, stringing popcorn and cranberries. “What are you doing out here?”
She looked up and smiled. “Making the garlands.”
“I can see that, but why aren’t you inside?” Lavinia generally spent most of her time in the house.
“It’s been so cold lately that we couldn’t be outdoors for very long. I thought it would be nice to enjoy a little more time in the fresh air.”
“And here I thought it was because the birds would clean things up for you.” He toed some broken bits of popcorn.
She chuckled. “I can’t keep anything from you, can I?”
Yes, she could. He had yet to come up with a way to ask her what had happened with Stuart that didn’t sound like prying.
“Uncle Henry, look how long my popcorn string is already.” Marcie held up a three-foot section.
“You’re off to a good start.”
“Mine’s short.” Dot dangled a string with only a few inches covered. “The popcorn breaks when I put the needle in.”
“Would you like some help, Dimples?”
She bobbed her head, her curls bouncing. He plopped down on the step beside Lavinia, pulled Dot o
nto his lap and gave her a lesson. She soon got the feel for how much pressure to exert and was happily threading popcorn on her string while singing her favorite carol in her adorable little girl voice.
Lavinia and Alex were stringing cranberries and had the red-tipped fingers to prove it. She joined in the singing, as did Alex and Marcie. Henry added his voice to the mix, reveling in the family scene. He’d spent years bouncing from one venture to another, but this was the life he’d dreamed of.
There was only one problem—the beautiful woman next to him was determined to leave and take the children with her. He could prevent the latter, since he was their legal guardian, but he could do nothing to keep Lavinia from walking out of his life. Or could he?
The carol ended, and Dot shivered. “Brr. I’m cold. Can we go in the house?”
Lavinia jerked to attention. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how chilly it had gotten. We’ll move into the parlor and maybe, if you children ask nicely, your uncle will make us some hot chocolate.”
“Please, Uncle Henry, will you?” Marcie asked.
Her brother and sister echoed her request.
He grinned. “Of course.”
Minutes later, he entered the parlor bearing a tray filled with steaming mugs. The children and their lovely aunt had created garlands aplenty. He set the tray on the table. “Here you are, but be careful. The chocolate’s hot. While we’re waiting for it to cool, I have something for you to do. Just a moment.” He left and returned with a pasteboard box he’d pulled from the attic.
Alex took it, whipped off the lid and shouted. “Look! These are the ornaments we made with Mama.”
The girls peered inside. Dot pulled out a five-sided star made of twigs tied with twine.
Marcie cradled a snowflake fashioned from cinnamon sticks in her hands. She stared at it with trembling lips. Twin tears trailed down her cheeks.
Henry squatted before her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“I remember watching Mama make this. She was artistic, just like me, wasn’t she?”
“Yes. You take after her that way.”
Marcie wiped away her tears with the back of a hand and sniffed. “I miss Mama and Papa so much.”
“We all do, Muffin. I think that ornament deserves a special place on the tree, don’t you? I’m sure you can find one.”
The grieving girl nodded. She padded over to the tree, hung the snowflake and fingered the cinnamon-scented creation.
Henry joined Lavinia on the settee across the room from the tree, where she sat watching the children eagerly hanging ornaments. He kept his voice low so the children wouldn’t hear them. “That box brings back memories. I can almost hear Pauline calling the children to come help her when she’d carry it in each year. Her excitement was contagious.”
“She must have been in her element.” Lavinia spoke softly. “One of her biggest disappointments when we were girls was that Father refused to let us decorate the tree. He said that was a job for the servants. But it wasn’t a job. It would have been fun, and yet he kept us from it like he did so many things.”
Lavinia’s gaze had grown distant, as though she was no longer there but had traveled back in time. He said nothing, eager to see if she’d continue.
She did, although her voice wavered. “I’ve told myself he meant well, but I wonder about that now. It seems he does what suits him with little thought of others. I don’t understand how he could even think of sending Alex off with a total stranger right after he arrives.”
Henry spoke in a heated whisper. “What? He plans to send Alex away?”
Lavinia turned to him and stared deeply into his eyes, as though searching for something. Her probing look continued for several seconds, giving way to sadness. “He wrote to Stuart and said he’s hired a tutor up in Boston. I couldn’t believe it, but I saw the words myself.”
“I won’t allow that to happen.”
“Neither will I.”
He stared at her, although he had a hard time focusing. “What are you saying?”
She picked up a piece of popcorn, pulled off the three fluffy white flakes and placed them on her palm. “Father expects me to deliver the children so he can take charge of them, but I can’t do that.” She crushed the rounded core in her other hand.
“So you’ve realized I was right?”
She threw the hard ball into the popcorn bowl and rubbed a finger over each of the flakes. “I have. The children are happy, so I’m going to do everything in my power to keep them here.”
He’d waited weeks to hear those words. He could rest easy knowing the children’s future was no longer in question, but Lavinia leaving was something he didn’t want to think about. “I’m relieved, of course, but your father won’t take kindly to having his plans disregarded.”
She held her hand over the bowl, brushed the remaining pieces of popcorn into it and faced him, determination making her brown eyes even darker. “He won’t, but I’m not going to let that stop me. The children’s needs come first.”
“What about you? What will you do?”
“Stuart’s made me an offer that would enable me to stay here with the children.”
The hairs on the back of Henry’s neck stood at attention. “What kind of offer?” He dreaded the answer, but he had to know.
Lavinia took a sudden interest in the bottom button on her bodice. “A marriage proposal.”
“What? But I thought—” He clamped his lips together to keep his protest from pouring out and fought to regain control, not an easy task when he felt like punching something.
Her shoulders rose and fell as she drew in a series of deep breaths. “This would be more of a business arrangement, if you will. My father seems to have settled on the idea of accepting Alex as his heir. When he finds out I won’t be delivering him, I fully expect my father to retaliate as he did when Pauline defied him.”
A business arrangement? She was talking about a marriage of convenience. How could she consider such a thing? A woman as wonderful as Lavinia deserved all the love a man had to give—and then some.
She continued in a halting voice, twisting the button so hard that Henry expected to see it pop off. “If I was to form an alliance with Stuart, I’d be in a better position to provide for them.”
“What do you mean? I’m their guardian. I’ll take care of them.”
“You are now, but I love them, too, Henry. You’ve touted all California has to offer. I could give them that myself in San Francisco.”
The weight that had lifted from his shoulders fell back in place with a jarring heaviness. She wasn’t giving up her fight after all, but it appeared she was considering giving up her dreams for the sake of the children. While that was admirable, the possibility of her marrying Stuart sickened him. “You haven’t given Mr. Worthington an answer, have you?”
She shook her head. “He’s expecting it after the Christmas Eve service.”
There was still time for her to change her mind. If only he was in a position to tell her how much she’d come to mean to him. He couldn’t stomach the thought of her as another man’s wife, but he wasn’t free to declare his feelings when he couldn’t care for her properly. His finances were precarious. He wasn’t even sure how he was going to make the mortgage payment that was due at the end of the year since the prospective buyer for his hotel had made such a low offer. Unless he accepted it, he didn’t have enough money.
Worthington could give Lavinia the kind of life she was used to, but what kind of life would that be without love? She wanted it. She deserved it. “What will you tell him?”
“I’m not sure. My options are limited. Stuart’s given me one, and I feel compelled to consider it.”
“So you’re willing to settle for a loveless marriage, after all?”
“I’m willing to make the sacrifice if that’s what it takes to get what I want. Can you give me a good reason why I shouldn’t?”
“No.” Although he desperately wished he could, he was unable to. Not yet, anyhow.
But he could make a sacrifice of his own, too. Would it be enough?
Chapter Fifteen
Lavinia sat at her dressing table, pinned her curls in place and pinched her cheeks to add some color. She reached for her perfume. Perhaps the rich rose scent would lift her spirits.
Caroling had seemed like a great idea when Henry suggested it weeks ago, but that was before Stuart had arrived in town and changed everything. Ever since she’d told Henry about the proposal, she’d been in a state of turmoil.
Despite her hope that he would protest or beg her not to settle for a loveless marriage, he’d said nothing. Even when she’d asked him straight out if there was a good reason why she shouldn’t consider Stuart’s offer, Henry hadn’t said anything to indicate that he had feelings for her.
How could she have misread things so badly? His kindness? His helpfulness? His kiss? She’d relived that incredible experience many times, and every time she’d come to the same conclusion—Henry might have given in to the children’s mistletoe ploy at the school party two nights ago, but he’d wanted to kiss her. He’d said as much afterward. Surely, that had to mean something.
Things between them had been strained ever since their talk while the children were decorating the tree the day before. She’d asked him what was troubling him. All he’d said was that the mortgage was weighing on his mind.
The way he’d been watching her when he thought she wasn’t looking, his handsome features downcast, said there was more to it than that. He bristled whenever Stuart was mentioned, making it clear he was the cause of Henry’s ill humor. Although that gave her hope, his stony silence ate at her.
