by Renee Ryan
He said a short prayer that sounded heartfelt, thanking the Lord for the food, for the hotel, for the present company. When he ended the prayer, Rosamond echoed his amen, feeling very much like a hypocrite herself.
“I do hope you enjoy the roast beef.” He gave a nod toward her plate, and she realized he was waiting for her to begin eating. “In the absence of our soon-to-arrive Chef Henri, Roberts has initiated our kitchen. He began his life in service as a boy in my uncle’s kitchen and learned many skills before Uncle’s butler elevated him to footman. And then, of course, he became my valet.”
“Mmm.” Rosamond savored the rich flavors of the tender meat and creamed potatoes. Roberts was an excellent chef. She knew he’d enjoyed working with Rita in the kitchen at Four Stones. Maybe that was his true calling. Had Uncle even asked Roberts which job he preferred? Had Mr. Wakefield demanded that he become his valet? “I’ll be sure to tell him how much I enjoy his cuisine.”
Mr. Wakefield spent more time talking than he did eating, although he still managed to clean his plate as well as any hard-working cowboy…of course, with better manners. But what good were superficial manners when a man’s heart harbored such unkindness? Rosamond’s stomach ached, but not because of the food.
“After we finish dining, I should like to take you on a tour of the guest accommodations.”
“I’d like that.” Not really, but she had a responsibility to inspect the hotel. Once she gave Father a report on the progress of his pet project, she could be done with it.
“I must say, Rosamond, you are a lady of few words today.” Mr. Wakefield gave her a look that puzzled her, as though he were suddenly shy. “I thought perhaps, with both of us being too busy to visit each other these past weeks, that we might have many things to discuss.”
To her relief, she didn’t have to answer him because Roberts approached the table. “Sir, may I bring dessert?”
“Ah. Yes, of course.” Mr. Wakefield turned to Rosamond. “That is, if the lady agrees.”
She smiled at the valet-turned-chef. “I’d like that very much.” She wouldn’t be so rude as to turn Roberts down, not when his hazel eyes exuded such enthusiasm.
“If you give me a moment to whip the cream, I shall bring it straightaway.” His returned to the kitchen with a decided bounce in his step, eager to display more of his culinary skills.
Mr. Wakefield cleared his throat. “Rosamond, you must permit me to tell you how much I ardently admire you.”
Rosamond stared at him, her pulse racing. What did he mean to say?
“From the moment I saw you in the Denver train station, I’ve been drawn to your beauty and goodness. Although I realize the disparity between our families and friends, my heart will not be denied. I am forced to admit that I love you, Rosamond. I’ve considered the differences in our upbringings, but you have somehow escaped the hoydenish behaviors of your friends and the hostility and tomfooleries of your younger brother. All of their flaws I will gladly overlook to win your hand. Although my income is small, I will find a position in one of my uncle’s enterprises to support you in a style that will not make you ashamed. We’ll have a good life, and you’ll do very well among my acquaintances. They’ll consider you an original, a true treasure. Please say that you have some small care for me and that my appeal to your heart is not in vain.
“Will you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?” He slipped from his chair to kneel beside her, taking her hand in his. “I don’t have a ring to offer to you today because none I’ve seen in this isolated wilderness are worthy of you. If you’ll be patient, I shall—”
“Enough!” Rosamond pulled her hand from his grasp and jumped to her feet, knocking over her chair in the process. “More than enough. Entirely too much.” She spun away from the table, vaguely aware that she should inspect the rest of the hotel before leaving. But Garrick Wakefield’s outrageous proposal was beyond insulting, and she couldn’t remain in his company. She stormed toward the lobby but then turned back. Why should he get away with such behavior without reprimand?
The astonishment on his face momentarily clouded her resolve. Did he truly not comprehend how he’d insulted everyone and everything she loved?
“Mr. Wakefield.” She strode back to the table, righted her chair and gripped its back for support. “If you think you have honored me in some grand way by your ill-conceived proposal, you could not be more in the wrong. How dare you speak of my family and friends and community in such a disparaging way, and then expect me to fall into your arms in gratitude that you deign to love a rustic American girl.
“Will your friends indeed consider me an original? I know what that means. They’ll flatter me to my face, but snicker behind their fans. They’ll tell each other that I was all you could manage to get for a wife after the loss of your expectations. And you would subject me to that sort of cruelty? But then, why not? You who have been beyond cruel to my brother and to my dearest friend.”
His mouth hung open, and he stared at her as if she were some strange creature. She had no trouble continuing to scold.
“I would never live in England or raise my children in any country where one’s wealth or social position is more important than character or initiative, preventing both personal aspirations and one’s ability to follow God’s will. What arrogance! If you even lightly study the history between our two countries, you’ll see that is exactly what my ancestors left behind. They were no aristocrats. They were indentured servants, some who came willingly and some who were torn from their loved ones and sentenced to a life here for some imagined offense against one of your precious kings. In spite of that, on these shores alone of any land in this world, they made their own success, their own position. That is the American way.”
In the corner of her eye, Rosamond saw Roberts holding two cream-covered pastries, his eyes wide. Beside him, Adam wore the same horrified expression. Yet she could feel no regret for her outburst. She snatched her bonnet and gloves from a nearby chair and raised a scolding finger to add one last verbal jab.
“Furthermore—”
“Don’t bother, Miss Northam.” Mr. Wakefield stood rigid, his chin raised in a defiant pose, his brown eyes now blazing. “You’ve made yourself perfectly clear. I’ll gladly withdraw my ‘ill-conceived proposal.’”
She glared at him for three long seconds. “Good.” She spun around and strode from the dining hall. To her surprise, several of the workmen stood in the lobby gawking at her. Had they heard every word she’d said to Mr. Wakefield? If so, she’d shamed him in front of those who worked for him, admired him. Yet she could feel no regret. He was the one who’d plotted to propose to her where others could hear what was said. And because he’d destroyed the happiness of her brother and friend, she’d merely given him exactly what he deserved.
*
Garrick watched Rosamond march away from him, and with her went his anger…and his heart. How could he have been so mistaken? How could he have failed to notice her change of feelings toward him? He’d thought her polite reserve these past weeks was merely her way of respecting his wish to give him time to finish the hotel. He’d returned the favor by not claiming her time while she completed her school. In her absence, his love had grown stronger.
How did he fail to see the anger she harbored against him? Perhaps even hatred. And with just cause. Even a cursory review of his proposal mortified him. Why had he tried to explain the complications of the life he offered her? The considerations he’d made in overlooking what always appeared to him as inferior? No wonder she was enraged. If another man addressed her thus, Garrick would call him out for a round of fisticuffs. What a blithering numbskull he was.
“Sir?” Roberts placed on a sideboard the desserts he’d been holding. “May I help you in any way?”
The compassion in his voice cut into Garrick almost as much as the anger in Rosamond’s tirade. Servants should never observe their masters being humiliated. Yet his valet, his young protégé, Adam, and
several of the workmen had seen everything.
“Me, too, sir.” Adam approached the table, his face pale beneath his tan. “What can I do?”
Garrick cleared his throat, which, oddly, felt thick and tight. “Roberts, kindly tell the workmen I said they are to resume their labors.” He took great pains to speak casually, as though this were just another ordinary day on the job. But it wasn’t, and he doubted any day in his future would be ordinary again. Without question, losing Rosamond’s regard utterly and profoundly eclipsed losing his place as Uncle’s heir. He couldn’t even care that his humiliation had happened in public. That, too, was his own fault. What arrogance had possessed him to assume she returned his affections?
Suddenly, he couldn’t catch his breath. He must get out of this place. “Adam, kindly remove these dishes and help Roberts clean the kitchen when he returns.”
“Yessir.” The lad hastened to obey.
No matter how he longed to escape, he mustn’t neglect his duty. He found Mr. Schmidt on the second floor and instructed him to continue the work as planned for the next few days.
“Ja, Herr Wakefield. Ve vill manage it gut. You go on holiday, ja?” The German carpenter’s response was a bit too cheery. He must have seen everything, too, or at the least heard the tale from one of the other men.
Soon everyone in Esperanza would know their beloved Miss Rosamond Northam had spurned the arrogant Englishman. And most of them would probably think he deserved it.
He waited behind the hotel’s glass front doors until he saw Rosamond ride south on the road to Four Stones Ranch. As he waited, Dub Staley approached him.
“Mr. Wakefield, sir?” The troubled expression on the young workman’s face sent a nervous jolt through Garrick.
“Yes, Dub? Is everything all right?” What more could go wrong this day?
“Yessir. No, sir.” Dub shuffled from one foot to the other. “Sir, I have to tell you something.”
Impatient to leave now that Rosamond was out of sight, Garrick nonetheless gave him a nod of encouragement. “What is it?”
“Ain’t no way to say it ’cept right out. My girl’s been after me since the fire to fess up, so I’d best do it.” His face took on a sickly look, and he twisted his porkpie hat in his hands.
A cold chill swept down Garrick’s back. “Go on.”
“That night, I took Sally Anne to the hotel to show off the work I done. It was dark, and I lit a candle.” His face flushed red. “I set it down so’s I could give her a kiss. I was planning to propose, y’see. Got so plum nervous, I knocked the candle into a pile of canvas tarpaulins. They lit up in a flash, I guess ’cause of the paint thinner on ’em.” He swiped at the sweat running down his face, along with a few tears. “If’n you want to have me arrested, I’ll understand. So will Sally Anne.”
Garrick stared at him. Tolley hadn’t set the fire at all. Yes, he’d used that lariat to trip Garrick as he danced with Rosamond—a mean trick, but not life-threatening or destructive. Garrick had earned the comeuppance for the way he’d goaded Tolley at the shooting match.
“Sir?” Dub’s miserable expression mirrored the emotions churning through Garrick.
“Go on, now, Dub. Marry your Sally Anne. No one needs to know who started the fire but the three of us.” He forced a smile and a wink. “And I’m prone to being forgetful.”
“Thank you, sir.” A large grin split the lad’s face. He grabbed Garrick’s hand and shook vigorously. “I won’t forget this. You ask me anything, and I’ll do it for you.”
As he watched Dub bound happily away, Garrick felt an envious ache in his soul. At least one man would soon marry his ladylove.
Making his way to Mrs. Foster’s house, he pushed his feet forward on wooden legs. With each step, he felt the eyes of the community on him, although the few people who passed him offered pleasant greetings. Reverend Thomas hailed him from a half block away, but Garrick had no wish to be tempted to bare his soul to the minister, so he merely waved and kept walking.
As he entered the boarding house, Percy met him in the hallway. “Garrick, old boy. You look terrible.”
“Percy.” Garrick felt a glimmer of normalcy returning to his soul. With his cousin here, he could face anything. Percy had been with him through all of his losses. He’d stand by him, support him. “When did you get back? How was your trip?”
“Just arrived an hour ago in time for Mrs. Foster’s fine dinner.” Percy wore a sheepish grin, as though he hid a secret. “The trip was nothing short of extraordinary. I, um, grubstaked an old prospector in a place called Wagon Wheel Gap, and he found a vein of silver. We made a pretty penny on it. Increased my fortune by half.” He shook his head. “Whatever will I do with all that money?” He sounded as though the windfall were a dreadful burden.
His jaw slack, Garrick could only stare at Percy. Everything his cousin did added to his wealth, while Garrick suffered loss after loss. When he could finally move, he clapped Percy on the shoulder.
“Congratulations. Well done.”
“I say, old boy, you look a little pale. Is everything all right? Perhaps Mrs. Foster has some of that fine stew left for you.”
“I’ve eaten, thank you.” And even though he hadn’t partaken of Roberts’s cream-covered pastry, he felt certain he’d gotten his just deserts. If his heart weren’t breaking at this moment, he’d laugh at his own wordplay, at his own rotten circumstances. What more in this life would the Lord take away from him?
“If you’re not occupied at the moment, could we have a little chat?” Percy lifted a hand toward the parlor door.
“Of course.” Grateful to have someone else’s concerns to divert him, Garrick preceded his cousin and settled on the settee beside Mrs. Foster’s sleeping cat. He reached out to pet the black-and-white creature, but as usual when he tried to befriend the beast, Pepper roused from his sleep, stretched in his feline way and jumped to the floor to scurry out to the kitchen. Garrick’s heart sank lower. Even the cat rejected him. He sighed wearily and forced his attention to Percy, who sat across from him looking rather pleased with himself.
“You must tell me about your silver prospecting.”
Percy waved away the question. “If you don’t mind, there’s another matter I must discuss with you. Or, rather, I must tell you about.”
Garrick had never seen him so resolute. “Yes, of course.”
Percy cleared his throat. “I’ve decided to court Miss Beryl Eberly and give that cowboy some competition. He may be an old friend, but after all the time she and I spent together, I cannot believe he has entirely won her heart.”
Garrick’s heart sank another inch. If he couldn’t succeed in his own life, at least he could prevent his cousin from ruining his. “Percy, we’ve discussed this. Didn’t you agree that Miss Eberly wouldn’t be the best choice of wife for a man with ambitions to rise in Society? With this added wealth from your silver mine, you’ll be all the more attractive to well-connected young ladies in London. Think of the good works—”
“When did I ever say I harbored ambitions to rise in Society?” Percy’s innocent confusion startled Garrick. “Or agree that Beryl wouldn’t make the best wife for me?”
“Why, often.” He searched his mind for specific incidents but could think of none.
“Dear cousin.” Percy stared down at his hands and chewed his lip. Then he gave Garrick a little smile. “While on my trip, I’ve come to realize that you are the one who has those ambitions for me. My ambition is to buy a farm in the English countryside and raise cattle and children with a wife who loves me for myself and whose desires are the same as mine. You’ve spoken of the good works I can do from a position of prominence, but why must a man be well-known in Society in order to do them? Wouldn’t our Lord be more pleased with anonymous good works? The right hand not knowing what the left hand is doing and all that?” He chewed his lip again, as though uncertain how to proceed. “I know you’ve always meant it for my good. Can you forgive me for disappointing you?�
��
Forgive him? Garrick could only grant him a brief nod as another devastating reality slammed into his mind. Percy was too kind in suggesting Garrick’s ambitions for him had been without a selfish motive. He’d wanted his cousin to have the place he himself lost with the birth of Uncle’s eldest son. Of course, Percy couldn’t have a title, but with his wealth and a well-connected wife, he could rise as high as he wished in social influence. Garrick had tried to make Percy into himself, perhaps so he could live vicariously the life that he’d lost. He’d envisioned Percy being elected as an MP to the House of Commons, with Garrick at his side to advise him. The horror of his own selfishness made Garrick ill. There was only one thing for it.
“Well, then. What’s keeping you?” He could hear the false cheer in his own voice. “Go straightaway and visit Miss Eberly’s father to ask for her hand.”
Clearly unaware of Garrick’s distress, Percy brightened. “Truly? Do you mean it? You won’t refuse to receive us when we return home? That is, if she chooses me instead of her cowboy, and will live in England with me. If she won’t go to England, I’ll have no choice but to buy my farm right here in America. In Colorado, near her family.”
Emotion once again almost choked Garrick. “I’d never refuse to see you. How can you even think I would? Don’t answer. I’ve been a complete cad.” His lifelong friendship with his good cousin demanded more. “You have no competition for Beryl’s affections. That cowboy was merely a friend. I’ve observed him sitting with another young lady at church these past weeks.” This confession was painful in the extreme. Perhaps one day he’d confess the entirety of it: that he’d come near to lying to prevent Percy from marrying Beryl.
“Aha!” Percy laughed. “And I didn’t even give you the opportunity to tell me that bit of good news before I blathered on about farms and wives and cattle and all that.” He jumped to his feet and strode toward the parlor door. “I shall do as you say and go straightaway to see Beryl’s father.” He turned back and grasped Garrick’s hand. “Thank you, cousin. You’ve always had my best interests at heart.”
