It was a flippant-sounding note, written hurriedly without much thought because he knew he’d likely not receive a response. As soon as he wrote and sent it, he pushed the matter out of his mind, not wanting to get his hopes up and feeling rather silly for having any hopes at all.
He continued on with the activities of his life, feeling dull and uninspired, and on top of that displeased with himself for not being appreciative of his good fortune. He often wondered if there was a God looking down on him, mourning the fact that all the blessings he bestowed on one man were in no way returned with gratitude.
Roderick had achieved great success as an architect in New York City, having created original plans for beautiful buildings that were praised by architects throughout the country and abroad. His reason for going into architecture, besides having a knack for design, was because he liked studying buildings. That had been a source of pleasure for him, from as far back as he could remember. He especially like studying the various structures of houses, and he supposed that had something to do with never having a place to call home as a child. His parents died when he was very young, and though they left him with a generous inheritance, he effectively grew up in boarding school.
Now as an adult, he enjoyed owning his own house, which he’d designed. An attachment to it formed, since it was the first place he’d ever felt comfortable and settled into. The modern touches he gave the building served as symbols of his talent, but otherwise he did not like to flaunt his skills. He’d kept his architectural awards in a stack on his desk until his butler insisted on hanging them in the corridor next to the paintings of his deceased mother and father. It wasn’t that he didn’t take pride in his accomplishments, but he didn’t put much weight on them. They didn’t seem all that extraordinary to him, for he hadn’t achieved what he considered the most valuable and impressive accomplishment of all—love and a family to share his wealth with.
When his butler delivered a letter from Miss Blake to him in his study on a cold September morning, Roderick couldn’t contain his excitement. He set aside his tobacco pipe, grasped the envelope, and tore it open, eager to see what it held. He hadn’t experienced that kind of curiosity since childhood.
His heart leapt at first glance of the letter. It was two pages long and written in penmanship he would describe as sweet, with shorter strokes than someone on his side of the country would use. To his great pleasure, the letter was well-written with no obvious errors, even as it conveyed a sort of charming innocence flowing from the hand that wrote it.
I was delighted, sir, to read your telegram. Yours was the only note that made me laugh, and I thought that if you could make me laugh from thousands of miles away, in person you are likely to be a true merrymaker.
On it went, praising him for having manners and being able to dance. It was preposterous, but Roderick puffed up with pride at this stranger’s frank appreciation of his trifling note. Toward the end of the letter, she explained that she was the daughter of a ranch foreman, who everyone thought should marry a cowboy, but she wanted someone different from the rough-edged men around town, and that was why she had written an ad in the paper.
This pleased Roderick greatly, as he shared her desire for a new and exciting romance. He moved to his desk and penned a response, similar in length, telling her about himself and his interests. He told her that he too was looking for a different sort of woman than those in his neighborhood and that he was most impressed by her plain and honest communication with him. He finished the letter by making clear his intentions.
At the risk of sounding too forward, Miss Blake, I would like to make your acquaintance sooner rather than later. Provided that you respond to my wish favorably, I shall summarily set out for the west.
Awaiting your reply with much anticipation. Yours truly,
Roderick Mason
***
Six months later
The train screeched to a halt at the Virginia City stop. Roderick had never been so glad to arrive anywhere as he did at that station. It had been a long, arduous journey of more than two thousand miles, some of it by stagecoach, most by train, that in its entirety took nearly a month. He peered out the window, looking for a woman with long, dark hair, as Betsy had described herself in her second of three letters to him. His eyes fell on someone of her appearance, looking wide-eyed and terribly nervous, and he knew without a doubt it was her. He smiled as he observed her sweet flushed face and slender but womanly figure. She was even more beautiful than he’d imagined.
He stood with the other passengers. A weary but positive hum of voices surrounded him. All were relieved to be at Virginia City. For some, like him, it was their final destination. Others would enjoy a chance to stretch their legs before boarding again and heading to California. Roderick took quick inventory of his clothes and brushed off some lint from his trousers. Everything he wore was brand new. His shirt was crisp white under a black leather vest, a casual look made slightly more formal by the western-style tie around his neck that he’d never worn before that day.
He hoped he didn’t appear like too much of a greenhorn. He wanted to blend in with the other men, but he also wanted to stand out enough that Betsy would be impressed by him. Never before had he felt so nervous and excited as he did while walking to the front exit of the train. It struck him that he’d never before been nervous to meet a woman, no matter her status, but now a sweet little country girl was setting his heart a-racing.
Roderick stepped down to the platform and gave the porter a dollar to fetch his luggage. Betsy was staring straight at him with her mouth slightly agape. After gathering his courage, he removed his hat and walked toward her, his boots clicking against the wood of the platform. Her eyes grew wider the closer he got. What struck him immediately upon reaching her was how young and wholesome she looked. She wore a modest, light-blue satin dress. Tied about her slim waist was a navy-blue sash. Her dark hair was neatly plaited in one long braid that fell forward over her left shoulder.
“Miss Betsy Blake?” Roderick asked.
She closed her mouth, gulped, and nodded, then opened her mouth as though to speak, but no words came out. Her nervousness endeared her to him. The women he’d courted in New York seemed to know immediately all the right words to say to try to charm him. But here was someone who was inexperienced in the art of snagging a man and she’d already managed to charm him, just by being tongue-tied and staring at him with those big, hazel eyes.
My oh my, he would enjoy that wide-eyed expression on her face as he pleasured her body in ways she couldn’t dream of. He imagined her on her back with his manhood fully inside of her, stretching her core and claiming her as his as she enjoyed an earth-shattering orgasm. He would be gentle as he deflowered her but, by the end of their lovemaking, there would be no question as to who that pretty little face belonged to.
He pushed his lustful thoughts aside, smiled kindly, and attempted to put her at ease. “I’m Roderick Mason. It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Blake.”
After a bit more struggling, she found her tongue. She held out a dainty hand and said shyly, “I’m very pleased to meet you too, Roderick.”
A zip of pleasure shot through him. Sweet Jesus! That’s her voice? Roderick didn’t think he’d ever heard a voice quite so lovely. It was soft and musical, a slow drawl so different from the clipped speech patterns in New York, and the way she said his name caused a stirring in his trousers. It was very unusual for a woman to speak a man’s Christian name upon first meeting him, especially without permission, but her ignorance in that particular etiquette pleased him greatly.
He enclosed her small hand in his. Her delicate, slim fingers and palm fit so neatly in his hand that he didn’t want to let it go right away. “Since you’re calling me Roderick, might I call you Betsy?”
She blushed. “Y-yes, of course. I’m sorry, I should have asked—“
“Nonsense, Betsy,” he said, squeezing her hand before releasing it. “I’m very happy to have you c
all me by my given name. We are not strangers, after all.”
“Thank you,” she said softly, her cheeks still pink. She gave him a shy, grateful smile.
It dawned on him suddenly that she was there without a chaperone. Surely her father or a male relative would have wanted to be on the platform with her to ensure her safety upon meeting him?
He cleared his throat. “I would love the pleasure of your company this evening, my dear, after I unpack and refresh myself at the hotel. Might we eat together somewhere?”
A darker blush crept up her cheeks. She fluttered her long, delicate lashes a few times, but unlike the women he’d courted previously, there was no artfulness in the motion. “Mary’s Restaurant is open late. W-we could eat there,” she suggested.
“That would be just fine, though now I feel like a bit of a scoundrel. I had hoped to make the acquaintance of your father or other chaperone so that I might tell him my intentions and ask permission before courting you. I know it would only be a gesture, since you are of an age to make your own decisions, but it’s the courteous thing to do.”
A flash of worry crossed her face. She looked down at her feet and swirled the toe of her boot around some sand on the platform.
“Is that not pleasing to you?” Roderick asked, confused by her reaction to something he assumed would be as customary in the west as it was in the east.
“It’s just that….” She paused and reluctantly looked at him, blinking rapidly. “My parents are in the next town buying grain and….” She drew a deep breath. “I didn’t tell them about my newspaper advertisement or about you coming here.”
That news shocked him. Did she not realize how inappropriate it was to meet a man like this, not to mention potentially dangerous?
She must have noticed the censure in his gaze because her worried look deepened. He continued to give her an inquisitive stare, knowing he might appear severe, but he wasn’t entirely sure what to do next. She seemed so young and vulnerable, and he felt inclined to set her straight about proper behavior, but it surely wasn’t his place. If her father were around, he would discuss the matter with him. Of course, if her father were there, it wouldn’t be an issue in the first place.
It turned out that he didn’t need to decide what to do next, for Betsy made the decision for him. Her eyes suddenly sparkled with tears. Without saying another word, she grasped her skirts in both hands, turned, and dashed away from him. He watched her flee until she was no longer in sight.
Well, he thought to himself wryly. I wanted challenge and adventure. Looks like I found it.
He wondered if she would return to meet him at Mary’s Restaurant in the evening. He guessed not. Later, he would need to figure out where she lived and set out to call on her. By that time, he hoped to have figured out how to approach the matter of her not telling her family about him.
What he wanted to do was turn her over his knee and spank her for that bit of foolishness. He hated to think what might have happened to her if she’d secretly met a man with less-than-honorable intentions. His inclination to discipline her surprised him. He’d engaged in spanking several women in the boudoir, but this was different. His desire to punish her came from another place inside of him, a protective, serious place that had never been stirred so strongly.
Chapter Three
Betsy sprinted as fast as her legs would carry her, all the way to the Harringtons’ cabin. She’d been spending most of her time there for several days, ever since her parents had left at Adam’s behest to buy grain in the next town. When she burst through the door, huffing and puffing, Susannah jumped to her feet from her chair in the sitting room. “Betsy! Whatever is the matter?”
“Oh, Mrs. Harrington,” she panted. “I’ve done something so foolish.” She rushed into Susannah’s arms.
Susannah held her tightly. “Good heavens. What happened?”
Betsy only whimpered and breathed hard, clinging to Susannah for comfort.
“Everything will be all right, honey. Just catch your breath a moment.” She guided her to a chair. “Sit right here while I get you some tea.”
Betsy tried to compose herself as Susannah brewed the tea. By the time she began to sip the warm drink, she’d calmed down and was breathing normally, though she was still overcome with consternation.
“Now,” Susannah said, taking a seat next to her. “Tell me what happened.”
Betsy explained how she’d secretly posted an advertisement in the paper, thinking it would be a good idea to find a husband in that way, since it had worked out so well for Susannah. Her older friend’s expression changed often during Betsy’s account of the details, but her most frequent look was one of surprise.
“I met him on the platform, and all of a sudden it became… real. He’s so very proper and handsome, everything I want. And I thought to myself, there is no way he could ever want a simple country girl like me. I panicked and ran away.”
Susannah leaned back in her chair. “Land’s sake, Betsy. Did he come expecting to marry you?”
“I don’t know,” Betsy said with dismay. “He never asked me, but my advertisement in the paper did say I was looking for a husband. In his first letter to me, he said he wanted to make my acquaintance in person. The two other letters he sent me did not discuss marriage. They only expressed excitement over meeting me and how well he thought we would get along.”
A look of relief infused Susannah’s features. “All right, that’s good. I think it’s best to get to know him a little bit and find out what he expects to do here. Did he mention his occupation?”
“Yes,” Betsy said, feeling more foolish by the minute. “He’s an architect.” She’d had to ask her former schoolteacher what that was, since she’d never heard of such a job before reading Roderick’s telegram.
“Hm. Don’t reckon there’s much need for architects out here. And your parents know nothing of this?”
She shook her head. “I knew they would disapprove. That’s why I didn’t say anything.” A tear slid down her face.
Susannah reached out and squeezed her hand. “It’s a little frightening, I know, but now you must make the best of it. He wants to get to know you, and you ran away without giving him the opportunity.”
Betsy looked down. “He looked displeased that my father wasn’t escorting me. I couldn’t bear to see the disappointment on his face.”
“Ah!” Susannah said, releasing her hand and leaning back in her chair. She smiled. “Another good sign. He is a man of honor, if he wishes to speak to your father.”
Betsy felt a glimmer of hope over Susannah’s approval. “You think so?”
She nodded. “That would be my guess. Since your pa isn’t here, I think Adam should take you to town and make sure you’re safe when you meet this gentleman again. In fact, I think he’ll insist on it. I know he feels protective of you, especially after the incidents with Johnny.”
Betsy looked away. Susannah’s mention of Johnny caused a shiver to go through her body. No one knew it, but she’d received two more notes from Johnny since the first one left on her pillow. The notes were short but scary. One listed all the places she’d been on that particular day, leaving no doubt that he was following her. The other letter expressed anger, blaming her for him losing his job at the ranch. He said it was her fault he was strapped for cash and the least she could do was spend a few hours with him.
Both notes contained dead butterflies like the first. The butterfly’s wings in the second note were ripped, and the butterfly in the third note was missing a wing entirely. Betsy wasn’t sure whether including mutilated butterflies was intentional on Johnny’s part, or if the damage had happened somehow in transit, but it scared her nonetheless.
She hadn’t mentioned these latest notes to the Harringtons or to her parents because she worried that if Johnny found out that she’d told them, he’d harass her even more. He’d already lost his job. Wouldn’t he be even angrier if he got in trouble again? She could only hope that if she avoid
ed him for long enough, he’d eventually lose interest and leave her alone.
***
Adam returned home in the late afternoon and listened to Susannah recount Betsy’s predicament. His face remained impassive until she explained that Betsy’s parents didn’t know anything about the advertisement or that the gentleman was in town to court her. He glanced at Betsy with a stern look that made her want to run for the hills once again.
When Susannah finished the story by suggesting that Adam go with her to meet Roderick again, he said with a frown, “I don’t know about that, darlin’. Perhaps Betsy should wait until Timothy gets back from Caston. If I had a daughter who did such a thing, I’d want to be around while she got to know the fellow.”
Betsy felt very small and ridiculous as the two of them continued the conversation as though she wasn’t there.
“We can’t just ignore him, Adam,” Susannah insisted. “Imagine if you had traveled all the way here, only to be ignored. Timothy and Lou might not be back for a couple weeks yet.”
Adam rubbed the beard along his jaw. “I suppose you’re right.” He reached for the hat he’d just hung on the hook next to the door. Clapping it on his head, he said, “Come along, Betsy. Let’s go see your Mr. Mason.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Right now?” she squeaked. “But don’t you need to eat supper or something? Rest a little?” She didn’t feel ready to face Roderick. Not yet.
But Adam was ready to get down to business. “I can rest and eat in town. I think it might be a good idea to have supper with him, yeah?”
She froze, suddenly remembering something she’d told Roderick. “Oh, dear. I actually… already said I’d have supper with him at Mary’s.”
“That settles it then.” He kissed Susannah’s cheek and walked to the front door, which he held open. “Let’s go.”
Betsy walked past him outside, feeling like a naughty child being led to punishment. She looked back at Susannah, who gave her an encouraging smile. She returned a nervous one.
Catching Betsy (Mail-Order Grooms Book 2) Page 3
