Love was a beautiful thing, regardless of age. Too bad those young women interested in him had viewed him only as Lord Cheatham’s third son, one who’d inherit nothing.
The front double doors were centered in the inn. Choosing the brass handle on the right, he held fast, hesitating. Should he go around to the back? Like the common servant he’d become?
Before he could choose, the door opened out on him, propelling him backward. He’d almost lost his footing, but recovered, a credit to his cotillion dance instructor, no doubt.
A beautiful young woman, with dark blond hair coiled atop her head, frowned at him. Her flashing brown eyes surveyed him from head to toe. “The auditions are over. The restaurant is closed while we prepare dinner.”
He raised his hands. “Auditions?”
Turtle Springs was, indeed, an unusual place. He should pull out his glasses so he could clearly read what was pasted to the door, but before he could do so, the pretty Kansan swiveled away and yanked the placard from it.
“Darned nuisance.”
“Pardon me, I’m …”
“You’re not here for a room, are you?” She crossed her arms over her black bombazine-covered chest.
“No, I fear not, Miss—”
Her chin lifted slightly, and her winsome features relaxed, but she didn’t offer her name.
Barden cleared his throat. “I’m here for Mrs. Caroline Kane.”
She eyed him warily. “Why?”
Was this Mrs. Kane? “I’m answering the advertisement.”
“Well, you’re a bit late.”
Uziah and Mary had said the inn owner needed assistance as had the Martinchek ranch owners, where he’d stopped outside of town. Barden’s bag seemed to grow heavier. What would he do if he found no work here?
“Did my sister send you?”
Was Mrs. Martinchek her sister? He couldn’t remember the Freemans saying so. “Looks very much like you, only a paler version?” He’d spoken briefly with the owner’s wife as he was leaving the Martinchek ranch. She’d just arrived home, and looked to be in a huff. But she had spoken with him briefly, encouraging him to seek out Mrs. Kane.
Guilt assailed Caroline at the flutters this stranger was bringing to her bruised heart. His delightful British accent was one Caroline had dreamed of when she’d read her mother’s stash of Jane Austen novels. And now he seemed to indicate he considered her to be the prettier sister, not Lorraine. She’d even overheard Frank confess that he considered her older sister to be loveliest of all the girls in town. Caroline ran her fingers along her buttoned-up collar, which suddenly felt too tight.
Would Lorraine carry through with her threat that if Caroline wouldn’t pick a suitor from the auction, she’d pick one for her?
“So someone sent you over here then?”
“Yes.” He averted his gaze. The sun illuminated the red in his auburn hair, but his gray eyes were what caught her attention. They were so clear, and fathomless as the deepest of still waters.
Exhaling in a whoosh, Caroline gestured to the side of the building. “Let’s go around to the bench and talk about this.”
“Indeed.”
He offered his arm to her. Caroline pulled back, surprised by the gesture. The last time she’d linked her arm with a man’s had been when Frank and she walked down Main Street for a final good-bye before he was to leave for war. When the man kept his arm extended, she gently rested her fingers atop his flannel-covered arm. Beneath the cloth she felt the sinewy strength of his muscles. He led her toward the wrought iron bench, a gift shipped from back East to her mother years earlier. They sat, each at the corner of the seat, angled in toward one another.
“What’s your name?” Would he have a dreadful last name that she’d have to take, if she caved in to Lorraine’s wishes?
“My pardons. Barden Granville the—” He clamped his mouth shut.
“Are you ashamed to admit your profession?” What type of job was he not wanting to admit to? Or was it some characteristic? Barden the criminal? From what she’d seen of the “audition men” who were staying at the inn, a few seemed to be ne’er-do-wells.
Mr. Granville rubbed his hand over his chin. “I most recently have been working as a chef, well, as a cook rather, at an establishment in Kansas City.”
“I see.” She couldn’t help smiling. This could be promising, if he really could cook. “Are you a sober man?”
His eyebrows rose. “Other than Eucharist wine, I don’t partake.”
“Good. And since you mention communion, I assume you are a Christian.”
Eyelashes a tad too thick for a man closed over his pale eyes for a long moment, almost as though he was praying. “I am.”
This man was too good to be true. But Caroline wasn’t about to jump into a marriage with a complete stranger. Frank and she had grown up together—but he’d not made her stomach do the strange things it was doing now. Maybe it was the punch. She smoothed out some creases in her dress.
“I fear I’ve taken you by surprise, Mrs. Kane. Please accept my apologies for arriving after the auditions.” His rich baritone voice warmed her.
Her sister must have coached this man in his lovely, but fake, British accent, knowing that would appeal to Caroline. But she’d find out. Give it time and the truth revealed itself. “You’re here now, and we’ll see what needs to be done.”
“It has been my every intention to aid you in any conceivable way that I might.” He nibbled his lower lip and frowned.
Was he lying about something?
“What exactly do you mean?”
“I spent some time working at the Freemans’ place.”
“With Mary and Uziah?” Such good people.
“Yes. They are well and send their greetings.” When he grinned, an adorable dimple formed in one cheek.
She mustn’t stare. “Well good. I haven’t laid eyes on them in far too long.”
“If I say so, myself, I’ve become a jolly good cook under their tutelage.”
Who spoke like that? “How long have you been in America?”
“Not long.”
That could be a good thing, because if he became homesick for British soil then Caroline could in good conscience send him packing. Something about him fascinated her and had her breath seemingly stuck in her throat.
“Fortunately the Freemans took me in when I came upon some misfortune.”
Oh no, was this some kind of song and dance he did? Was Barden a swindler? But Mary and Uziah wouldn’t have sent him on if he was.
“Both send their condolences as well.” His voice dropped and held genuine sympathy.
Caroline blinked back unshed tears. “Well then.”
Goodness, the ladies must have paid a pretty penny to even place an advertisement in Kansas City. For Mary and Uziah to have seen the ad for the auditions and thought of Caroline touched her. They must have thought highly of this man—if he was telling the truth. She’d send them a missive to find out. But she had her sisters and brothers to protect, too. She mustn’t let her hammering heart direct her brain. “Let me tell you how this will work.”
“Pray do.” His lips twitched. From the way he sat erect at the end of the bench, Mr. Granville reminded her of one of those portraits of lords of the manor. But this wasn’t his manor. This was her inn.
“How do you feel about sharing responsibility for my five siblings? Granted, they aren’t young children, but they do yet require oversight.”
His features tugged in puzzlement. “I will certainly pitch in. Mary didn’t mention them.”
“I would think that would be rather important in you making your decision.” And why had he claimed to not be there for the auditions? Puzzling. But likely Joel had told him he was too late, and then her sister probably jumped on the chance to send Mr. Granville their way. How triumphant she must be feeling at this moment.
“It doesn’t deter me in the slightest.” He beamed in such an angelic way, she believed him.
“And there will b
e no decisions made until at least six weeks have passed.” She wasn’t about to jump into marriage with a stranger, even if he was handsome and spoke with an accent that sent thrills through her. Not even if he had clear gray eyes that one could disappear into. Not even if that dimple near his perfect lips was completely adorable. Not even if he might chase off the memories of her beloved Frank.
“That suits me fine, Mrs. Kane.”
Mrs. Kane. The way he said her name, so stiffly, certainly didn’t imply any lascivious intent, but she should make things clear. “You’ll have a room on the top floor. You’ll not reference yourself as anything other than our hired man.”
She would not be made a laughing stock. She’d said she wouldn’t audition a man for husband and she hadn’t. Then what do you call this?
“Of course.” His brows drew together, forming a line on his smooth brow.
He was taking things well. A good sign for a potential spouse. Perhaps there was hope after all. Frank hadn’t been malleable at all. He’d always been the kind of boy who would do exactly what he wanted, when he wanted.
“I need the most help with dinner. Especially with all the men here in town for the auditions and the coach now stopping here more frequently.”
“Glad to be of service, Mrs. Kane.”
His voice was softer this time, and he leaned toward her.
How would Mrs. Granville sound on his lips? Her cheeks heated at the thought. “I could use a hand with the wood throughout the day, keeping the stove going, too.”
“I am at your beck and call.” He raised his hands as though in surrender and smiled in a slow, satisfied way, his eyelids slipping to half closed.
Caroline’s heartbeat raced. No man had ever had this effect upon her, not even her husband. She stood and wiped at her skirt. “Follow me and I’ll show you to your room.”
Before he could respond, she turned on her heel and headed to the back entrance.
Lord, I don’t know what You’re up to, but it better be good.
Chapter 3
Barden followed Mrs. Kane’s shapely form up narrow stairs for two flights, stopping at a dusty landing with cobweb-strewn windows at each end. “Don’t the cleaning girls tidy up on this floor?” Nor on the other landings as far as he could see.
“Mrs. Reed isn’t able to reach that high, nor is Mr. Woodson.” She didn’t offer to explain who Mrs. Reed or Mr. Woodson were.
Barden trailed her down the stuffy hall. First chance he had, he’d open the windows to let in fresh air.
A scream erupted from down the hall. “Give that back!” A chestnut-haired youth ran down the corridor toward them, clutching a stuffed rabbit and laughing.
“Stop!” Mrs. Kane expertly snatched the toy from the miscreant’s hands.
“Pa gave me that!” A young lady dressed in a coffee-colored calico dress covered with a white ruffled pinafore, raced toward them, her light brown braid bobbing against her back. “I’m going to kill him if he does that again.”
Barden stepped between the boy and girl. “No, you shan’t. The Lord frowns upon murder.”
The dark-haired youth came alongside Mrs. Kane. “You a preacher, mister?”
Before Barden could reply, his new employer shook her head. “No, Leonard. He’s our new—”
“Did you get him at the auction, Sis?” The green-eyed young lady grinned up at Barden.
“No! And it wasn’t an auction, Deanna. You make it sound like buying cattle.” She made a motion as though swatting away a fly. “I’ll talk to you all later about this.”
Auctions, cattle, getting him—it all sounded rather Alice in Wonderlandish. And they even had a rabbit, albeit stuffed with sawdust.
“I’m Barden Granville, and I’ll be responsible for dinner preparations here.” He gave them what he hoped was a winning smile. “For the next six weeks at least.”
Leonard scratched his cheek. “Where are you from, Bardy?”
He winced. His eldest brother, who would one day inherit Father’s title, often teased him with that name. “I prefer to be called Barden, or if you must Americanize it, please call me Bard.”
“Bard? That’s what they called Shakespeare, ain’t it, Sis?” Leonard tapped the side of his head. “I’m soon to be graduated, and some of Miss Green’s teaching must have stuck.”
“How about you all address me as Barden?” He checked with Mrs. Kane who gave him a noncommittal shrug.
Deanna rolled her eyes at her brother. “What town in England are you from, Barden? Are you from London?”
“Please, Deanna, let the poor man get settled. Leonard, go show him where the water pump is.”
“Quite all right. I saw one.”
“Good then.” She opened the door to what was to be his room.
Dust covered almost every surface. “And I expect I shall require a great many trips up and down the stairs to put this room to rights.”
From her shocked expression, he knew he’d been impertinent. If one of his servants had spoken to him in such a manner at home… “Please forgive my lack of manners.”
“Since Pa died … I regret the deplorable condition of this room.”
She was apologizing to him? To her new servant? Things certainly were different here in America.
Saturday night was their family meeting time, after the restaurant had closed for the evening. With the auditions over, the cleanup done, coping with all the guests, and introducing their new worker, the inn had been busy. Caroline and her siblings pushed the four middle tables together, grabbed their favorite chairs, and arranged them. Henry and Leonard had theirs close together and slumped into them. Virginia and Deanna chose seats far apart, and they began to arrange their skirts so they could sit.
Alvin still stood, solo, peering down at her. When had he gotten so tall? “You sure you trust that Englishman back there in the kitchen by himself?”
“Someone has to cover for us.” Virginia shrugged. “With all these extra folks here.”
Grimacing, Alvin slumped into his chair. “Luke’s been helping out an awful lot. We ought to hire him on.”
“I agree.” Caroline sank onto her oak chair. “We have a lot more to discuss, too.” Deanna beamed. “Yes, like how Barden is handsomer than anyone around these parts.”
“What about me?” Leonard feigned a slap across the table.
The fifteen-year-old swatted at the air near him. “You’re my brother.”
Caroline cleared her throat. “Before we discuss Mr. Granville …”
“He said to call him Barden.” Deanna squared her shoulders.
“Yeah.” Leonard lifted his chin.
“Told me that, too.” Eighteen-year-old Virginia examined her fingernails.
Alvin simply grunted.
Was it really worth arguing over?
“Besides—don’t you mean we’ll discuss your future husband?” Virginia drawled. When she batted her eyelashes, the others laughed—except Caroline.
Deanna rested her head on her hands and sighed. “Mrs. Barden Granville has a nice ring to it.”
“A ring.” Henry slapped the table. “Is that a pun?”
“A good one.” Leonard clapped.
Giggles erupted from the girls.
“A big gold ring with an English crest on it, I bet.” Virginia’s face took on a dreamy expression.
The sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen quieted them all.
Alvin groaned. “Wonder how many more this Barden fellow just broke?”
“He hasn’t broken anything.” Not yet. And especially not Caroline’s heart. “Anyway, let’s discuss the letter first.”
Deanna scowled. “Why did Lorraine have it anyway?”
Good point. Caroline shook her head as she opened the missive. She hesitated, something niggling at her soul. “First, let’s pray.”
Although they all bowed their heads, she knew Henry would likely poke at Leonard, and Alvin wouldn’t keep his eyes closed. Deanna likely wouldn’t listen to the pra
yer. But God knew all these things. “Heavenly Father, we ask Your guidance as we discuss this letter from our”—did she refer to them as grandparents? She’d never even met them—“kin. May our hearts hear what You wish for us to know. Lord, guide us. We trust You and love You. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Alvin had one eye pressed closed and the other fixed on her. “Just who are these kin?”
A lump formed in her throat. How would she manage if they all wanted to go? She’d be alone. She’d have no help. And Pa had wanted her to do right by her brothers and sisters. Wouldn’t letting them go, if they wished, be disregarding Pa’s wishes? “Our grandparents in Virginia.”
Deanna’s brown eyebrows rose to her bangs. “In Virginia?”
“Yes.”
They all looked at one another before fixing their gazes on her. Alvin assumed an air of nonchalance, leaning one arm around his chair back.
Leonard shoved a hand through his dark hair. “We don’t know them.”
“This would be one way to do that.” Caroline hoped her tone of voice conveyed a conviction she lacked.
“Pa hated them.” Virginia may have spoken the truth, but it sounded so harsh coming from her pretty sister.
Caroline cringed. She didn’t want to sugarcoat things, but … “Pa didn’t exactly hate them. They’d cut off relations with Ma after she married Pa.”
“He very much didn’t like them then.” Virginia’s lips curled into a pout, as though she was challenging Caroline to refute that.
“Pa didn’t like what they did. It hurt Ma real bad.” How many times had Ma said she wished she could have contact with her family but she knew it would upset Pa? Too many times to count.
All at once her sisters and brothers began chattering on top of one another, and Caroline couldn’t make out words other than the repetitive “Ma said” and “Pa said.”
“Hush!”
“Do you want us to go?” Moisture pooled in her youngest sister’s eyes.
“Of course not, Deanna. But some of you are getting to the age where you might want more than I … than life can give you here in Kansas.”
Alvin muttered an oath.
“Alvin!”
“Sorry.” The tone of his mumbled apology was anything but sorrowful.
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