by Kit Morgan
Justin’s Runaway Bride
(Dalton Brides, Book Eight)
By
Kit Morgan
ANGEL CREEK PRESS
Justin’s Runaway Bride
(The Dalton Brides, Book Eight)
by Kit Morgan
© 2015 Kit Morgan
Justin’s Runaway Bride is the Eighth book in the Dalton Bride Series by Kit Morgan, Kirsten Osbourne and Cassie Hayes.
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Kit’s complete collection of stories
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without permission in writing from the publisher.
All characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people or livestock are purely coincidental.
Cover design by Angel Creek Press, The Killion Group and Hotdamndesigns.com
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Epilogue
The Dalton Brides Series
About the Author
Other books by Kit Morgan
Henry, this one’s for you …
One
Beckham, Massachusetts, March 1896
“At long last! You’re going to marry Hubert Pufpaff!”
Millie Porter stared at her mother in shock. Hubert Pufpaff? Her mind was too numb to think. She hadn’t planned on marrying anyone just yet. She was too focused on going to college. “Hubert …,” she mused aloud, then stopped breathing as recognition settled. “Hubert Pufpaff!”
“Yes, and it’s about time too!” her mother added. “You know how hard your father works – it’s only a matter of time before he worries himself into an early grave. Then what? We’ll be in the poorhouse for sure!”
“Poorhouse?” What on earth was her mother babbling about? Millie was still trying to remember what Hubert Puffstuff – no, Pufpaff – looked like. She hadn’t seen him in years.
“Yes – Porter and Company isn’t what it used to be.”
“What?” Millie said, shaking her head to clear it. “What do you mean? I thought things were fine at the factory.”
Her mother sat down and sighed. “You might as well know the truth, Millie. Those horrible men up in Marlborough are putting us out of business!”
Millie gasped at the news. Porter and Company had been a major force to be reckoned with, at least in Beckham and the surrounding area. She’d always known Marlborough was making a name for itself as a shoe-manufacturing center, but had no idea it had grown so huge. “Are you saying we have no money?”
“Not yet, but it’s coming.” Her mother stood again and began to pace the parlor. “By marrying Hubert your future is secured, not to mention our own. Your father and I are meeting with his parents tonight to discuss the wedding details.”
Millie blinked a few times. “Wedding?!”
“Of course, we have to get this taken care of right away.”
Millie was horrified. “What? Mother, you can’t expect me to marry Hubert Wigwag … Piffpaff … oh, whatever his name is! I won’t do it!”
Her mother stopped and got right in her face. “You will. You have no choice, Millie. It’s for our survival!”
Millie swallowed hard. “What about my survival?”
Mrs. Porter stared at her daughter in shock. “Do you hear yourself? How selfish can you be?”
“Selfish? You’re forcing me to marry someone I barely know! You might as well ship me off as a mail-order bride!”
“A mail-order bride isn’t going to marry a man as rich as Hubert Pufpaff. Mail-order brides end up with dirt farmers.”
Millie shook with rage, her green eyes blazing. “You can’t do this! You can’t force me to marry someone I don’t want to!”
“Your father and I have met with Hubert’s parents several times. It’s all been settled. Really, Millie, I don’t understand what all the fuss is about. Hubert is fine with the whole arrangement.”
Millie took two steps back and fell into a chair. “Fine with it?! How can he be fine with it? He doesn’t even know me! He’s what … six, seven years older than I am?”
“Yes, and just back from Europe, which makes him well-educated and cultured besides being rich. Let’s face it – you’d be marrying the most eligible bachelor in Beckham. Any girl would be clawing at the chance to have such a man!”
Millie sighed in exasperation. “Mother, I’m not in love with him.”
“What has love got to do with anything? We’ve arranged this with the Pifpoffs …” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “… the Pufpaffs to ensure we all survive. If shoes are taking such a hit, think of what might happen to the Pufpaff Paper Company?”
Millie closed her eyes a moment. The last thing she wanted to become was a toilet tissue queen. “If you’re so worried about the Pufpaffs going out of business, then why marry me off to Hubert?”
Mrs. Porter shook her head in resignation. “You’re too young to understand these things. We must think of the future. If one company fails, everyone can survive off the other. Progress is making it harder to make ends meet.”
“Making ends meet with Pufpaff Paper is what keeps Hubert’s family in business. I doubt they’ll be in financial ruin anytime soon.”
“Millie, don’t be impertinent.”
“I’m not being impertinent, I’m being practical.”
“Good, then you’ll have no problem marrying Hubert.”
“Mother!”
“Enough! This discussion is closed. Mrs. Pufpaff and I will see to all the details. You need not concern yourself with such matters. Read your silly books.” She studied her daughter, a hopeful gleam in her eye. “Unless you’d like to help with the arrangements …”
“No,” Millie replied, in a tone one might use were someone to ask “and would you like arsenic with that?”
Mrs. Porter sighed, patted her graying locks and straightened. “Very well. If that’s how you prefer it, Mrs. Pufpaff and I will take care of it.”
Millie sat in shock, still unable to believe her parents would do such a thing to her. Was her father’s shoe company really that bad off? Couldn’t they find another way? On the one hand, being a smart girl (a lot smarter than her parents gave her credit for), she could see their logic. On the other hand, who was being selfish? They were asking her to sacrifice her life to ensure their financial survival. By not going along, was she the selfish one, as her mother claimed?
The whole thing was giving her a horrible headache. “I’m going for a walk,” she announced.
“You’ll be back in time for tea,” her mother instructed. “Hubert is coming to call.”
Millie cringed. “Lovely.”
Mrs. Porter put a hand on Millie’s shoulder. “I know this must have come as a shock.”
Millie raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing.
“But it’s for the best, you’ll see.”
Millie brushed her hand away, stood without a word and began to leave the parlor.
“I hear Hubert turned out to be quite handsome,” her mother called after her.
“Good for Hubert.” Millie went through the foyer and out the front door
.
* * *
Millie sat on a park bench and stared at a flock of pigeons at her feet. She felt bad she had nothing for them, but that’s what happens when one leaves the house in a huff. If she’d been smart, she’d have run upstairs and fetched her reticule and shawl. But it was all she could do to stomach the news her mother had heaped on her, and now the weight of it was beginning to crush all her hopes and dreams.
She threw her face into her hands. “I can’t get married, I just can’t!”
“What’s the matter?”
Millie jumped on the bench, startling the pigeons. As they took flight, she looked up to see her best friend Jessamine Goodwin staring down at her in concern. “Oh, just everything.”
Jessa sat on the bench next to her. “You’re not kidding – you look awful. Have you been crying?”
“One would think, all things considered, but no. I’ve just been rubbing my eyes a lot. I’ve got a horrible headache.”
“What’s wrong?”
Millie rubbed her temples with her fingers. “My parents have decided it’s time for me to marry.”
“Oh, that. Mine too, but I haven’t any prospects. Of course they’d love it if set my cap for that Hubert Pufpaff, he being so rich and all. But I have other aspirations.”
Millie groaned. “Yes, well, dear Hubert is coming to my house for tea this afternoon.”
“Really?” Jessa said, eyes wide. “Why?”
Millie gave her a sardonic look. “Because my parents have decided Hubert and I should marry.”
Jessa gasped. “Has anyone told Hubert?”
“Oh yes,” Millie stated with a wave of her hand. “It’s all arranged.”
“What?!”
Millie nodded. “I have no say in any of it. This was done behind my back.”
“Millie! That’s wonderful … I mean, that’s … wait a minute. You mean you don’t want to marry Hubert? But he has everything!”
Millie looked at her. “No, he doesn’t.”
Jessa gave her a quizzical look. “What do you mean? My parents would die if Hubert even so much as called on me.”
“I’m not in love with him, Jessa. I don’t even know him!”
“Oh, that.”
“Yes, that! And I agree, he has everything, but then so do I. I certainly don’t need to marry him for his money.”
“I do.”
Millie laughed. “Your family isn’t that bad off.”
“No, but we don’t have as much money as yours or the Pufpaffs. Let’s face it, there’s only so much money to be made in bookbinding.”
“No, I guess not. Maybe you should marry Hubert.”
“I might if I had a chance to get to know him.”
Millie sat up and looked at her friend, a smile forming on her face. “Maybe I’m looking at this all wrong …”
“How so?”
“I don’t know Hubert at all. I can’t even remember what he looks like. But I suppose I could give him a chance, get to know him a little.”
“Does he know what you look like?”
“How can he if he hasn’t come to call? This afternoon will be the first time we’ve seen each other in years.”
“You should give him a chance. For all you know, it’ll be love at first sight.”
“You’re right,” she said and straightened. “He could turn out to be absolutely wonderful.” The thought bolstered her courage and she smiled.
“If you marry Hubert, you’ll be the most hated woman in Beckham!” Jessa laughed.
Millie frowned. “Thanks a lot, friend.”
“Because you’ll have landed the catch of the decade! Won’t the other girls be jealous? My goodness, the streets will run green with their envy!”
Millie’s face softened. “What about you? Are you going to bleed green?”
Jessa stared at her hands. “No – I’ll be happy for you.” She sighed. “I don’t think I want to marry anyone from Beckham.” She glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot. “To tell you the truth, I’m thinking about becoming a mail-order bride.”
“What?!”
“Shhhh!” Jessa said and put a hand over Millie’s mouth. “Someone might hear you.” She looked around again, then pulled something out of her reticule. “They’re absolutely desperate for young women out West. And I have the address of a matchmaker.”
“Matchmaker? Who?”
“Her name is Elizabeth Tandy and she lives over on Rock Creek Road. Here’s the address,” she said and showed Millie the paper. “I was on my way there when I saw you sitting here.”
“Jessa, do your parents know?”
“Of course not,” she laughed.
“Are you sure this is such a good idea? My mother says mail-order brides end up with dirt farmers.”
“And you believed her? No, they don’t – not unless they want to. Plenty of girls around here have become mail-order brides. Remember the Blue sisters? They all did.”
“You mean of Blue’s Mercantile? But they went out of business a few years ago.”
“Yes, but the daughters left before that. The whole family eventually moved, I think to join the girls …”
“But Jessa, to leave your home and family and marry a stranger …”
“… is part of the adventure!” Jessa finished.
Millie closed her eyes a moment and tried not to start counting to ten. Jessa had spirit, true, but it got her into trouble most of the time. This didn’t seem like an exception. “Maybe you ought to stick around. After all, Hubert might come knocking on your door.”
Jessa laughed. “That’s not about to happen and you know it. The Pufpaffs aren’t likely to align themselves with us – we’re not rich enough for them.”
“Well, if all they care about is money, what hope do I have for love?”
Jessa’s face fell. “Hmm. I see your point.”
“By the same token, what guarantee do you have that you’ll end up with a man who’ll love you if you become a mail-order bride? Don’t you want to marry someone you’ve gotten to know first?”
Jessa stared at the paper in her hand. “But Millie, I … I don’t think there’s anyone here in Beckham for me.”
“Give it time. It’s spring. The boys will be coming home from college soon. Hubert won’t be the only bachelor in town.”
“No, but he’s the only bachelor with a fortune to be had.”
“Money isn’t everything.”
“Easy for you to say.”
Millie sighed. She couldn’t argue with her friend there. But then, if her mother was right, the Porters wouldn’t be so well off in the near future. Why else would she be so desperate for her to marry Hubert? “I’d best be getting back.”
“Me too,” Jessa agreed as she stuffed the paper with Elizabeth Tandy’s address into her reticule.
“You leave this matchmaker business be for a time, okay?” Millie asked her.
Jessa sighed and rolled her eyes at her. “Okay.”
Millie hugged her, then got up from the bench. “Besides, if Hubert isn’t my cup of tea, I’ll steer him your way.”
“Won’t do a bit of good. That’d be like pairing that cup of tea with a bowl of watery, cold porridge.”
Millie grimaced at the image, then hugged her again. “You’re not cold porridge, you’re a feast.”
Jessa ignored the compliment. “You’ll let me know what happens?”
Millie nodded. “Maybe I can come to your house tomorrow.”
“Mother would love to see you. Especially if it means we’re the first to hear if you and Hubert are getting married.”
Millie stiffened. “Or not.”
“Either way, Mother loves being first with these things. You know how she gossips.”
Millie nodded. Mrs. Goodwin could spread news faster than the Boston Herald. Thank heavens Jessa didn’t have the same vice. “I may have nothing to give her.”
“She won’t mind.”
Millie blinked at her in surprise.<
br />
“Not unless I tell her about your tea this afternoon,” Jessa said with a smile. “Which I won’t.”
“Thank you,” Millie said in relief. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“You can count on it.” They hugged one last time, then each headed for home.
Millie pondered Jessa’s plan to become a mail-order bride as she walked. She had the guts for it – of course she’d embraced the notion with gusto. Millie, on the other hand, didn’t possess the same drive, and envied Jessa’s initiative to seek out another way to find a husband. But surely the girl could find someone right in Beckham. There were some men still unattached – they were just all away at school.
School. The word sent shivers up her spine. How she wanted to go to college! It was all she thought about. And marriage, to any man, would steal that from her. If she really wanted to follow her dreams, marriage was going to have to wait.
But maybe Jessa was right and Hubert was wonderful. What if she discovered he was the man of her dreams? What if she saw him that afternoon and it was love at first sight? Heavens, what if he embraced her dreams and let her attend classes?
Millie sighed heavily. The only way she was going to find out was to get home.
* * *
Hubert Pufpaff sat across from Millie with a thin smile, which was just the start. His body was thin, his hair was thin, his nose, his face. And his patience was thinnest of all. “You’ll not need a trousseau,” he snapped. “There isn’t time.”
Millie gawked at his haughtiness. “What do you mean, there isn’t time?”
He absently rubbed his nose, as if he was about to sneeze. “We’re to be married, nothing more. It will satisfy both families and my parents will be off my back.”
Millie swallowed hard. The man was infuriating. When she’d come down the stairs and saw him in the foyer, she’d been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Looks weren’t everything, after all. Maybe the man possessed a heart of gold and not just a bank full of it. But when he’d tossed his hat and gloves at her instead of the maid, followed by the statement, “You might as well get used to this” … well, that had told her what was what.
