"Thanks," Jonas murmured to her departing back.
He couldn't be sure which room she'd meant to indicate--there were two doorways on the left and one on the right, so he peeked into each as he passed. Finally, he had no choice but to enter the room at the end of the hall.
So intent was he on locating the banker, Jonas didn't notice her at first. But as he tried to slip through the...crowd without bumping into any of the fine furnishings or well-dressed guests, he caught a glimpse of upswept copper curls, burnished to fire by the lamplight.
He'd only ever seen one person with that color hair in his entire life.
Jonas stopped moving, dumbstruck, as a tall man in a black jacket moved away and his view became unhindered. It was her, with the laughing blue eyes he remembered and wearing the frilliest, fanciest peach colored dress he'd ever seen.
The girl he'd admired from afar, back in Philadelphia. Penny Castlerock. He'd guessed from the unusual surname that she might be a relation to the wealthy banker, but never imagined he would see her here. He'd thought she would be married to a Philadelphia businessman by now. What was she doing in Wyoming?
Penny Castlerock caught sight of the farmer the moment he stepped into her father's study, where some of the guests had congregated. His dark suit was ill-fitting, in contrast to the tailored jackets worn by her father's acquaintances, but the suit's ugliness couldn't hide the muscled shoulders most likely earned through days of backbreaking labor in a field somewhere. His crown of blond hair showed a noticeable line where his hat must have rested earlier in the day.
And there was the hat. Clutched in one hand against the farmer's leg. The man appeared to be looking for someone, if his roving brown eyes were any indication.
The moment those intelligent brown eyes spotted her, he froze, a thunderstruck look on his face.
While he seemed vaguely familiar to her, she couldn't be sure she'd met the man before. And while she prided herself on the unusual shade of her hair and had taken extra pains to powder away the smattering of freckles she could never completely eliminate, she usually didn't elicit such a strong reaction upon a first meeting. It was quite flattering, even if he was only a farmer.
She moved to intercept him, breaking off a conversation with her dear friend Merritt Harding, the local schoolmarm. After all, a lady's duty was to ensure all guests' needs were met.
With advice from Mrs. Trimble's finishing school ringing in her ears, she greeted him with a warm, "Good evening," and the best smile she could procure after spending a long hour with her father's guests.
He emitted a strangled sound, not words, and gripped his hat in both hands, holding it almost as if it was a shield in front of him.
"There's punch on the serving buffet just through here, if you're thirsty." Penny extended her arm to indicate the dining room.
The man still didn't move, and she struggled to keep her smile in place. Common courtesy demanded he answer her, but he remained silent. And his stare was bordering on rude.
What was he doing here? Her father usually only included those he deemed "important" and she wasn't sure this farmer fit the bill.
"I'm sorry, have we met before? Perhaps you're one of my father's acquaintances?" she asked, when the silence between them became fraught with tension.
"Penelope, darling, there you are."
Penny half-turned at her father's booming voice, relieved for the interruption from the awkward one-sided conversation. Why didn't the farmer say anything?
"Father, I've just been greeting one of our guests. This is Mr…" She left off her sentence to allow the farmer to offer his name, but instead he moved past her and extended his hand toward her father.
"Sir, I need to talk to you in private, if you have a few moments."
So the farmer could speak. But she still didn't know his name.
Her father's face creased as if he couldn't quite place the man. "I don't believe we've met. What can I do for you?"
"It's a business matter, sir." The farmer glanced briefly at Penny, just a flash of his brown eyes.
Penny was used to being excluded from her father's business, but it was a matter of contention with her. She felt women were intelligent enough to be involved in business matters, but her mother had always deferred to her father, leaving Penny no choice but to do the same.
Her father chuckled, not a kind sound. "I'm sorry, son, but I don't discuss business matters during my private parties."
Penny knew that was an exaggeration. Her father often had an after dinner cigar or drink with his associates to talk business. Why didn't he want to speak to the farmer?
"You're welcome to make an appointment at the bank." Her father took her elbow, obviously considering the conversation finished, and began to guide Penny away from the farmer.
"Sir, I've been to the bank twice today, trying to see you." The farmer's statement was louder this time, drawing looks from others in the study.
Penny's father didn't stop, but she saw his face redden from the corner of her eye—a sign he was becoming irritated. "I'm sorry to hear that, but I'm a very busy man, you know."
Penny stifled a snicker. Yes, and her father was also full of his own self-importance. She almost felt sorry for the farmer, and probably would've if he hadn't caused an uncomfortable scene.
"I need a loan," the farmer called out as Penny and her father moved away, his voice becoming desperate, intense. "I've a homestead with a cabin and a barn to put up for it."
Her father's face was now crimson, indicating his mood had moved from simply irritated to angry. That did not bode well for the farmer.
"Son, you'll have to come to the bank and talk to me during business hours." With that final statement, her father swept from the room—as much as he could in the press of people now craning their necks to see what the raised voices were about—pulling her along with him.
"The nerve—" he sputtered, apparently unable to form coherent sentences. "Embarrassing me in front of guests—"
"You could've granted him a private audience," Penny admonished softly.
She knew her words were a mistake as her father's face purpled. He opened his mouth to rebuke her, when they were interrupted.
"Ah, Penelope. You look positively striking this evening." A familiar, nasally voice silenced what her father would've said, giving Penny a reprieve. For now. She knew her father would have much to say to her—probably in a tirade—once the guests had taken their leave. However, this interruption wasn't one she particularly desired.
She forced a smile, knowing her father was also schooling his own features. The Castlerock family was nothing if not proper when in public. Her father's position on the town council demanded no less. Nor did the man himself.
Her father's business associate, Herman Abbott, half-bowed over her wrist, and Penny couldn't help but note the clamminess of his grip—much like a limp, dead fish. She reclaimed her hand and tucked it into the folds of her gown, wishing she could wipe away the disgusting feeling but not daring to.
She couldn't help a glance over Mr. Abbott's skinny shoulders to the long case clock to gauge how much longer she had to participate in tonight's event.
"I was hoping to speak to you tonight," Mr. Abbott went on, apparently not noticing her inattention. "With your father's permission, I'd like to take you on a buggy ride tomorrow morning. I've just had the carriage resprung," he said as an aside with a proud look at Penny's father.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible," she inserted before the men could decide for her. "I'm going to help Mr. Silverton at the bank. Mrs. Shannon—the bank teller—" she explained for Mr. Abbott's benefit, "just had her baby and he has not been able to find a replacement yet."
She hadn't promised any such thing, but the bank manager would indulge her if she arrived early enough. She had no desire to spend time with her father's associate. Not only was he older, much closer to her father's age than Penny's, but there was something about him that made her uncomfortable…
Penny gritted her teeth, hoping her facial muscles approximated a smile while the two men chuckled. While she enjoyed the fine things her father's money bought, such as the taffeta gown she wore this very moment, she didn't think that same wealth gave her father reason to lord it over those around him.
The men's arrogant posturing bothered her, and she allowed her mind to wander. Why had her father dismissed the farmer so abruptly? The man seemed familiar to her, though she couldn't recall a name. Had her father been in such a hurry to partner her with Abbott that he'd been unnecessarily rude to the man?
And why couldn't her father sense that she had no interest in Mr. Abbott? Of all her father's associates, there was something about Mr. Abbott that unnerved her. It wasn't that he looked at her inappropriately, per se. But something behind his eyes…
A man in a resplendent dark jacket approached, and Mr. Castlerock was drawn into conversation, leaving Penny and Mr. Abbott standing together.
"It seems a shame to waste the morning," he said, turning his glittering gaze on her. "Are you sure you can't get out of your commitment to the bank?"
Penny managed to keep her smile in place, but it was a near thing. "I'm certain."
"Perhaps we can arrange for a buggy ride in the evening, then," he pressed.
"Perhaps," Penny hedged. She knew an outright refusal would be considered rude, but she didn't want to encourage the man.
"I'm most interested in deepening our acquaintance—"
Why must he push so?
"Oh!" She glimpsed a flash of fuchsia skirt passing the doorway. "I've just seen a friend I absolutely must speak to. Will you excuse me?" She inclined her head and scooted away before he could respond.
Emerging in the hallway, Penny spied her sixteen-year-old brother Sam sneaking into the kitchen and changed her course to follow him. She slipped through the door, one hand against her midsection as she tried to catch her breath. That had been entirely too close for comfort—she had no wish to spend any more time with Mr. Herman Abbott.
Sam's head jerked up from his station behind the fancy chocolate cake that Ethel, the family's combined cook and maid, had spent all morning baking.
"Sam, you'd better not be thinking of disturbing the food for our guests. You know Papa is still angry about the nasty words you painted on the side of the schoolhouse."
At her admonishment, her brother's expression changed from guilt to something colder. "I told you that was Billy, not me."
She didn't know whether to believe him or not. He'd been in plenty of trouble all on his own, including the horse he'd tried to steal right off Main Street, and as of late she had difficulty identifying if he was lying or not.
"Just don't do anything to cause trouble tonight," she chided him.
"We just want a taste of cake, that's all."
Her eyebrows went up. "We?"
"Me 'n Louie." Sam tipped his head to the side and Penny's gaze followed to the window, where the shadow of a head and shoulders could be seen.
"Papa wouldn't let him come to the party—" And no wonder. She'd never seen Sam's friend wear anything but torn, stained clothing. He probably didn't own a Sunday suit and wouldn't have fit with her father's associates.
The comparison made her think of the farmer, who hadn't fit in at all, but there had been something about him that had drawn her…
"—and we just want a taste, anyway."
"Sam…" she warned. She had a bad feeling that this would lead to trouble for her brother.
"Aw, why don't you go back to your beau and leave me alone?"
Penny hoped he wasn't talking about Mr. Abbott. The stubborn tilt of her brother's chin told her he wasn't going to listen, so she turned to leave. She spared him one more glance as she returned to the gathering. Sam motioned his friend to come in the back door.
"I can't believe you embarrassed me like that. Herman said you just ran off and left him."
"I saw someone I needed to talk to—" Penny tried to explain, but her father spoke over her words.
"While your impulsiveness might be charming to your friends, I'm not certain it is a trait Herman is looking for in a wife."
Penny opened her mouth to tell her father that was just fine with her as she had no desire to have Mr. Abbott for a suitor, when her father continued.
"Herman has asked for my permission to pay court. It is his intention to marry soon. We've talked and decided you'd make an excellent match."
Her mother's eyes came up from the afghan bunched in her lap, but she remained still and silent on the parlor sofa.
Penny couldn't contain a gasp. "Am I to be settled like a business deal, then?" Agitated, she rose and paced to the front window. "I don't like Mr. Abbott. I have no wish to be courted by him or to consider marriage to him."
She didn't have to look in the reflection of the glass panes to know her father's face was going red. "Herman is one of my closest associates—"
"And that has nothing to do with whether he would be an acceptable husband." Penny whirled to face her father. "He is arrogant, speaks only of his own interests all the time. Why, I doubt he even knows I like to paint!"
"Those things will come as he gets to know you. You will allow him to come courting—"
"I won't—"
"You will, or you'll see your clothing allowance severely curtailed. I have given Herman my word."
Penny shook all over, her anger was so great.
"Darling, why don't you go up to bed?" her mother suggested, ever the peacemaker. "Perhaps we can discuss things further in the morning."
"There is nothing further to discuss—"
"Papa, can't I go to bed?" Sam interrupted from his slouched position on the other settee.
"No! I'm not through with you, boy. I can't believe you ruined a whole cake—there was no dessert to serve to my guests—"
Penny turned and stomped away, knowing she'd get no further with her father while he was in the midst of one of his tirades. Thankfully, his attention had turned to Sam, but what was she going to do?
Her mother followed her out of the parlor. "I'll come up and help you unpin your hair."
Upstairs in her room, Penny fumed as she nudged aside the romantic dime novel she'd been reading earlier and settled on the chair in front of her looking glass.
How could her father do this to her?
Her mother appeared behind her in the reflection and began removing the pins holding the intricate style in place. Her fingers in Penny's hair were a comfort—as they'd been throughout Penny's youth, whenever her father had lost his temper over something insignificant. Like a grass stain on the knees of her dress—the reason she was careful to look perfect at all times.
"I can't believe Papa would do this…"
"Your father and I want what's best for you, darling," came her mother's voice, muffled by pins pressed between her lips.
"Well, it isn't Herman Abbott, no matter what Father thinks."
"How can you know?" her mother asked, again with her unending patience. "You should get to know him, allow him to court."
I don't want to know him. Penny didn't voice the thought. It seemed as if her mother already agreed with her father's decision.
"But several weeks ago, I overheard him telling Papa he didn't think our church should support the needy." At the time, his words had shocked her in their callousness.
"Perhaps you misunderstood," came her mother's unruffled response.
"But—"
"Your father and I want to see you settled. You had a chance to make a match of your own when you were away at finishing school. And when you came back from
Philadelphia without a husband three years ago, we didn't push…"
The reminder of Penny's failure to land a wealthy Eastern husband rankled. She'd known her father had been disappointed, but none of the men she'd met had caught her interest. She was only twenty-three, not an old maid yet.
"Give Mr. Abbott a chance."
"But—" Penny grasped onto the first thing she could think of. "What about love?" She tapped the romance novel with her index finger.
Her mother's expression flickered in the looking glass. "Love comes later."
"Like it did for you?" Penny asked. She immediately regretted the impertinent question. Why couldn't she control her impulsive tongue better?
"I'm sorry, Mama. I didn't mean that."
Her mother was silent.
"But…what about—don't you remember what it was like between Grandfather and Grandmother?"
As a child, Penny had been allowed to spend summers with her maternal grandparents, who lived on a homestead a day's ride away. Even in the reduced circumstances they'd lived in, Penny had been awed by the love her grandparents had shared. They never seemed to argue, always put each other's needs first.
It had been a stark contrast to the relationship her parents shared, where her father made constant demands and her mother never stood up for herself.
Her mother finished removing the pins and shook out Penny's long, curly tresses. She reached for the silver-plated hairbrush on Penny's dressing table.
"Your father has not always been the easiest man to live with," she finally said.
Penny thought of the tirades, her father's unmercifully high expectations. She knew the Good Book said to honor thy father and mother, but didn't it also say fathers, provoke not your children?
"But neither was your grandfather."
Her mother's surprising statement brought Penny's eyes back up to meet hers in the looking glass. She couldn't imagine her gentle, quiet grandfather in a temper.
"Never having enough money for new dresses, or boots…" Her voice trailed off, obviously she was lost in the past.
Penny gazed at the skirt of the beautiful peach gown her father had allowed her to have for tonight's event. She fingered the soft lace at her wrist. It was an exquisite gown. And she had several more, just as fine…
Happily Ever Afters Guaranteed Page 15
