Love Inspired Historical July 2015 Box Set: The Marriage AgreementCowgirl for KeepsThe Lawman's RedemptionCaptive on the High Seas

by Renee Ryan

  Chapter Eight

  When Jonathon was eight years old, and still new to the survival game, he’d picked the pocket of a man three times his size. To this day, he still remembered the fury in his quarry’s eyes.

  That same look was replicated in all but one of the four Mitchell men. Fanny’s father simply observed the scene in cold, stark silence, arms crossed over his chest, expression inscrutable. With his back propped against the door, Cyrus Mitchell was either blocking the exit or allowing his sons to have their say before he intervened.

  The three brothers stood shoulder to shoulder facing Jonathon. Their dark scowls and rigid stances indicated their mood. Even dressed in formal attire, each man projected intense, unyielding resolve to get answers.

  Jonathon got straight to the point. “I will make this right for Fanny.”

  Unfortunately, the right thing by society’s standards might very well be the wrong thing for her. A hard rock of remorse settled in the pit of his stomach. There could be no happy ending for Fanny. She wanted more than Jonathon had to offer. He wondered if she would grow to resent him one day.

  How could she not?

  She was all that was light and good and true. Jonathon was a mix of dark layers and murky complexities. He would ultimately let Fanny down.

  Eyes hard, Hunter stalked up to him, going toe-to-toe, a move meant to antagonize. Jonathon strained to keep his hands loose by his sides. He no longer solved problems with his fists. He would not be induced into forgetting that he knew how to keep his temper in check.

  “Tell me this, Hawkins.” Hunter spat out his name as if tasting something foul. “Did you intentionally set out to ruin our sister? Was it part of some devious plan to get your hands on our land?”

  A deep red haze fell over Jonathon’s vision, momentarily blinding him. Of all the evils that could be laid at his feet, Hunter’s indictment was the most insulting of all.

  In a precise, cold tempo Jonathon ground out his response. “I would never use Fanny, or any woman, for my own personal gain.”

  The idea made him sick, a sensation that turned to a hot ball of revulsion in his gut. Using women was his father’s modus operandi. Jonathon had thought himself better than the man who’d sired him.

  Yet he’d followed in his father’s footsteps and caused a woman’s downfall. Not just any woman, either, but one he cared about above all others. Dark emotions pulled at him.

  He clasped his hands behind his back.

  “I’ll marry Fanny as soon as we can make the arrangements.” The instant the words left his mouth, he realized he’d made the decision long before this moment. He’d known what he would do even before he’d escorted her back inside the ballroom.

  No turning back for either of them now.

  Fanny would be trapped with him the rest of her life. Knowing she wanted things he couldn’t give her, he felt his throat burn with self-recrimination. He wished there was another way, but there could be no other solution to save her reputation at this point.

  The Ferguson sisters had made sure of that.

  “Not so fast, Hawkins.” Taking over for his brother, Logan shoved his face inches close to Jonathon’s. “We haven’t yet decided if you’re worthy of marrying our sister.”

  Voice low and rough, Jonathon pointed out the obvious. “You would rather she face ruin?”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “You would have her denied access to public businesses, her favorite shops, perhaps even her friends’ parlors? You would have her whispered about on the streets, pointed out as a cautionary tale by mothers of young girls?”

  “Of course that’s not what we want.” Logan bellowed louder this time. “But even you must agree. Marriage to a man such as yourself may be an equally devastating fate as the one you just described.”

  The insult hit home, a solid punch to his gut.

  Jonathon blinked hard, his guilt a tangible thing, gnawing at him like tiny little rat claws. He’d made a terrible mistake out on that terrace, and now Fanny would suffer.

  Still, resentment formed in the depths of his soul. All three of Fanny’s brothers were married to women with similar backgrounds as his. “The circumstances of my birth—”

  “Are not in question.” Garrett dragged his older brother a few steps back, then took his place in front of Jonathon. “Our concern has nothing to do with who your mother was, or the childhood you endured. That sort of bias would make us hypocrites.”

  Indeed.

  “It is the way you earned your fortune that gives us cause for concern,” Hunter added, his mouth as flat and hard as before. “Your past is not exactly that of a godly man.”

  “Interesting argument,” Jonathon said, leveling an ironic gaze over the other man, “coming from you.”

  Hunter inclined his head. “Point taken. However, my wife has suffered because of her connection to me. If she marries you, Fanny will also face unnecessary censure simply because she carries your name.”

  It was Jonathon’s turn to incline his head. Fanny claimed she didn’t care about his past, but polite society was not so forgiving. Oh, the good people of Denver loved his rags-to-riches story. That didn’t mean they considered him one of them.

  Beneath his outward control, Jonathon burned with regret. He’d had several opportunities to walk away from Fanny tonight. Instead, he’d given in to temptation. A single moment’s indiscretion had brought life-altering consequences. Yet he wasn’t sorry he’d kissed Fanny. He was only sorry she would have to marry a man such as him.

  Her brothers flung more questions at him, most concerning his motives for throwing Fanny in the middle of another scandal. When the land deal came up once again, Jonathon chose his words very carefully. There could be no misunderstanding on this matter.

  “For the entire time I was out on the terrace with Fanny, your land never once crossed my mind.”

  “And yet here we are, one day after turning down your offer, all but forced to welcome you into the family.” Logan curled his lip. “Rather convenient, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I would not.”

  More questions came at him, most about his motives, some concerning his intentions, his plans for the future.

  Jonathon kept his responses clear and concise, even as his mind circled back to the same reality. If he acquired the piece of property from the Mitchell brothers now, his legacy would be forever tainted. And still he wanted to build something out of nothing. He wanted to create jobs for women like his mother, women with few choices available to them in the untamed West.

  He did what he could now, gave many of them jobs at the hotel when a position came open, but it wasn’t enough. Not nearly.

  Cyrus Mitchell shoved away from the door and held up his hand to stop the questions.

  Silence fell over the room.

  “Boys, you have made your positions clear. I would now like a word with Mr. Hawkins alone.”

  The three brothers made no move to leave the room.

  “Out.”

  His sons headed for the door. Before exiting, they each tossed a silent warning in Jonathon’s direction. He acknowledged them with a single nod of his head.

  Once just the two of them were left in the room, Jonathon focused his full attention on the older man. Cyrus Mitchell stared back at him with the eyes of a concerned father.

  Jonathon cleared his throat. “I meant what I said, sir. I will do right by your daughter.”

  He wouldn’t rest easy until Fanny’s reputation was restored, if not completely, then as much as possible given the situation.

  “I appreciate that.” The other man shifted his stance. “This is your chance, Mr. Hawkins, to tell me what really happened out on that terrace between you and my daughter.”

  Jonathon hadn’t expected an opportunity to explain himself. He kept his gaze as neutral as his tone. “We walked outside for some fresh air. We talked for several minutes. We kissed. We came back inside.”

  For several beats, the ot
her man stared at him in stony silence, his face a landscape of hard planes and angles. “I sense you have glossed over several of the important details.”

  Perceptive man. “I provided the relevant information.”

  “Save for one key point. Do you care about my daughter?”

  “I do.”

  The man’s entire body seemed to relax, and Jonathon felt as though he’d passed a difficult test. But he knew that Cyrus Mitchell was not yet through with him. “Did you intentionally set out to ruin my daughter’s reputation for a piece of land?”

  “I did not.”

  Jonathon held steady while Fanny’s father took his measure. “I believe you.”

  Unexpected relief nearly buckled his knees. The rest of the conversation would go easier now that this man knew where Jonathon stood. Or so he hoped. “Mr. Mitchell, I would like your permission to ask Fanny for her hand in marriage.”

  “You are asking for my blessing?”

  “I am,” Jonathon said without hesitation. “I would consider it an honor to call you my fatherin-law.”

  A look of respect came and went in the older man’s eyes. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, son. My daughter hasn’t said yes yet.”

  With the faintest trace of amusement shadowing his mouth, Fanny’s father opened the door and waited for Jonathon to join him on the threshold. “Fanny has a mind of her own and can be as stubborn as they come. You may be up against a tougher opponent than my sons.”

  Jonathon couldn’t argue with the truth. “But if she does accept my proposal?”

  “Then I will happily welcome you into the family.”

  *

  By the time Fanny returned to the ballroom, the majority of the guests had left. A spattering of hangers-on milled about, perhaps hoping to see how the latest scandal would play out.

  Fanny would like to know that herself.

  She caught sight of Jonathon standing in the far corner of the room near the buffet tables, talking to Callie and Reese.

  For a moment, Fanny studied her sister and brother-in-law. Marriage suited them both, but Callie positively glowed with happiness. Dressed in a delicate gown a lovely shade of green that matched her eyes, she kept smiling up at her husband, who seemed equally mesmerized with her.

  The two were so obviously in love, Fanny’s heart sighed with pleasure.

  She wondered what people saw when they looked at her and Jonathon. Did they see two friends? Amicable business associates? Or something else entirely?

  He caught her watching him and slowly, with casual effort, reached out his hand to her, as if asking her to join him while also giving her the opportunity to make the decision on her own.

  She heeded his silent call and set out in his direction.

  Whispers followed her as she made her way across the ballroom floor. She ignored them. Or rather, she tried to ignore them. Hard to do when speculation about her was so…profoundly…vocal.

  She wanted to pretend she and Jonathon had done nothing wrong. But they had behaved inappropriately. The resulting scandal would not disappear easily. Fanny would give it her best effort, anyway.

  Marriage was the obvious option, and one Fanny refused to entertain, even in the privacy of her own mind. Unfortunately, her mother’s words came back to haunt her. You may not have a choice.

  There was always a choice.

  Finally, she arrived at her destination.

  Jonathon took her hand, then laced their fingers together. The simple gesture gave her renewed strength.

  She turned to her sister. Callie smiled at her, as did Reese, their unconditional support evident in their sympathetic gazes. Fanny was reminded of Mrs. Singletary’s ball a year ago. They’d looked at her much the same way when she’d shown up unannounced, with no warning of her return to Denver.

  Fanny still remembered her sister’s shock at seeing her from across the room. She still remembered her own shock at seeing Callie with Reese.

  Reese had taken Callie’s hand and, together, they’d approached Fanny. By then, Jonathon had come to stand by her side. The four of them had exchanged awkward glances.

  Just as she’d done that night a year ago, Callie broke the silence. “Well, here we are again.”

  It was the perfect thing to say to alleviate the tension, and Fanny finally found her smile.

  She dared a glance in Jonathon’s direction.

  He stood silently beside her. He was so tall, strong and vigilant, ever watchful and protective of her. A little flutter took flight in her stomach.

  Callie seized control of the moment, speaking of nothing in particular. Fanny was grateful for the easy conversation. Reese and Jonathon fell into their own side discussion, something about a contract negotiation that had gone bad. Apparently Reese had drawn up the initial agreement that had been summarily turned down.

  The two men were of an equal height and build, their hair nearly the same color. Why had Fanny not noticed the similarities before?

  Jonathon took advantage of a conversation lull. “Fanny, I’m afraid I have a handful of duties yet to tackle before the night is through. Will you join me?”

  His gaze was so intense, so full of hidden meaning that she drew in a sharp breath. “Yes, of course.”

  They said their farewells to Callie and Reese.

  As they strolled along the perimeter of the room an expectant hush fell over the remaining party guests. It was as if the entire room was poised in anticipation, eager to witness firsthand what she and Jonathon would do next.

  Suddenly fatigued of the entire business of scandal, Fanny wanted nothing more than to retreat to her room and sleep for a solid week. There was still a very large issue that needed addressing first. “I hope my brothers weren’t too hard on you.”

  “We’ll talk about it later.” He smiled at a cluster of guests passing by on their right.

  Fanny waited until they were alone again, then asked, “Will you at least tell me if they were reasonable?”

  “As reasonable as the situation warranted.”

  She opened her mouth to ask him to clarify. At the same moment Mrs. Singletary hurried over to them, her skirts making a soft whooshing sound as she came to an abrupt halt. “I officially declare the evening a success.”

  Fanny nearly choked on her own breath.

  Jonathon gave the widow a sardonic smirk. “I believe your definition of success, Mrs. Singletary, is at odds with mine.”

  “Now, Mr. Hawkins, there’s no need to be distressed over tonight’s doings. You simply need to reframe the evening’s events from the proper perspective.”

  “And what perspective would you suggest?”

  “The positive one, of course.” She tapped him on the arm, as if scolding him for asking such a ridiculous question. “Not only did we raise a considerable amount of money for a very worthy cause, but tonight’s ball will be remembered for a good long time to come.”

  “This is a true statement.” Jonathon shot Fanny an apologetic grimace. “But for all the wrong reasons.”

  “On the contrary.” The widow blessed them both with a self-satisfied smile. “The Lord has once again used me as His vessel to bring together two worthy people. My reputation as a successful matchmaker has been confirmed once again.”

  The woman certainly had nerve, Fanny thought, unable to hold silent any longer. “Mrs. Singletary, you cannot seriously think to take credit for…for our…our…”

  She didn’t quite know how to put the events of the evening into words.

  “But of course I can take credit.” The widow twirled her hand in the air. “You and Mr. Hawkins are well suited, and, I dare say, perfect for one another. I knew it all along.”

  Fanny shared a baffled look with Jonathon. “Might I remind you,” she said, “that just three days ago you attempted to match Jonathon with your companion, Philomena.”

  The widow lifted a silk clad shoulder. “All part of the bigger plan, my dear. I am very good, am I not?”

  “Good is not th
e first word that comes immediately to mind,” Jonathon muttered.

  She laughed, clearly delighted by his grumbled remark. “I believe, Mr. Hawkins, you have something important to ask Miss Mitchell. I shall leave you to it.”

  In a whirl of skirts, the widow exited the ballroom.

  Fanny gaped after her. Surely she didn’t mean what Fanny thought she meant.

  Shaking his head, Jonathon pulled out his watch from his vest pocket and frowned. “It’s later than I realized. The sun will be up soon.”

  “Very soon,” Fanny agreed, glancing outside the wall of windows. The gray light of dawn had replaced the deep purple of night. Heavy mist rolled in off the mountains, slinking across the terrace floor.

  “Come with me.” Jonathon took her hand and towed her to the west corner of the room, where no one could see them. They might as well be completely alone. That wasn’t what bothered her, though. He was entirely too serious for her peace of mind.

  “Take a seat.”

  She reluctantly lowered herself onto the padded, straight-back chair nearest the terrace doors.

  Fearful of what was about to come, she kept her gaze averted. She smoothed out her skirts with surprisingly shaky fingers.

  “Fanny.” He said her name in a whisper, the word a sweet caress. “You have no cause for nerves around me.”

  “I…I know.” She balled her hands into fists to still their trembling. This man was so familiar, and yet a complete stranger in so many ways.

  He sat beside her. “We are in this together, you and I, and will face the future together.”

  Not daring to look him in the eyes, Fanny kept her gaze trained on the toes of her slippers. She didn’t like where this was going, not one bit.

  Jonathon closed his hand over hers. “There is only one option at our disposal.”

  Her heart dipped at the gravity in his tone. When she looked up, she went hot all over. “No, Jonathon, don’t say anything else. Please,” she pleaded. “Not another word.”

  He stood, then dropped to one knee.

  “Fanny Mitchell. Will you…” His shoulders shifted, flexed, then went perfectly still. “Will you marry me?”