Mail Order Bride- Twenty-Two Brides Mega Boxed Set

by Emily Woods

  Perhaps that was just who he was. Not a marrying man. Or… His gaze searched the crowd of people milling about. Some were obviously couples. A man with his hand on the small of his wife’s back. A shared glance between those in love. Him leaning in to whisper to her. When he saw that, he yearned for it in a way he hadn’t expected.

  Had the last six months changed him that much?

  But when he thought of Lulu, it was with brotherly affection. That was the crux of it—she hadn’t been the right woman. And yet the question remained, would he be able to commit to a woman if she were the right woman? Would he know?

  “Say, is that Albert Bowen?”

  He jerked back from the intimate thoughts he’d allowed himself to slip in to and turned to face a tall, gray-haired man with a large moustache.

  “It is,” the man said, his smile widening even as his moustache lifted. “I like a man that’s prompt.”

  “Mister Durard, so nice to see you again.” He extended his hand, willing his personal, questioning thoughts to the back of his mind.

  “Please, call me Redmand—or Red, as most do.” He shook Albert’s hand with vigor. “Shall we go inside? I had them reserve us a table.”

  “That sounds great, Red,” he said, taking the man up on the nickname.

  Inside, the light was significantly dimmer and, though they were only there for lunch, he had the distinct impression it would feel more like a formal dinner. A young man dressed in a nice suitcoat and pressed trousers showed them across the room to a booth in the back, a few potted plants placed to provide privacy, and they were seated.

  “I’ll get this out there straight away,” Red was saying, his chatter hadn’t stopped since they’d met. “I like my lunches long and I like the talk of business to happen up front so we can enjoy dessert as friends.”

  “Sounds more than fine,” Albert said, liking the man already.

  Red was just about to speak again when a shadow covered the already darkened table. When Albert looked up, his gaze collided with that of a beautiful woman holding a pitcher of water and offering a schooled smile. She was slender but with unmistakable curves despite her modest dress, and her blue eyes sparkled even without the benefit of sunshine. Her light blonde hair was a shade Albert had never seen before, but it haloed her face as if golden light encircled her. She was…stunning.

  “Good afternoon,” she said politely, reaching to fill the empty glasses in front of them.

  Albert’s mouth felt dry and his palms sticky. His breaths came in short supply as he took in her elegant grace. Even the way she dipped her head when she was done and turned to go made him want to get up and follow her, if only to ask her name.

  “Pretty, ain’t she?” Red said, eyeing him over a paper he’d pulled from his briefcase.

  “Y-yes,” Albert sputtered. But pretty wasn’t even the beginning of the word. Stunning came to mind.

  “Now, let’s get down to some business so we can enjoy the delightful lunch I’ve ordered for us.”

  Albert did his best to yank his thoughts from where they had followed the beautiful woman away from their table. He was here for work, not to gawk at some woman, and yet he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d be back at their table and if he’d be bold enough to ask for her name.

  Della Wolfe was rarely on the floor of the restaurant, but when Jack had fallen ill not too long ago, Sissy had insisted she get out there to fill glasses with an added, “And for heaven’s sake, don’t talk to anyone.”

  Della had almost accomplished that up until the last table. The man. She shook her head and sidestepped one of the waiters as she came back to the present. He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen, and he had looked at her with such an intensity. She felt the need to fan her face. Was she blushing? She hadn’t felt this way since… No, she wasn’t going to think about him.

  “What’s got you all twitterpated,” Sissy asked. She was the chief cook for the restaurant and took her job very seriously, commanding like a general in the army. “Wait, don’t tell me…” Her eyes narrowed. “Some handsome young man talked pretty to you.”

  Della rolled her eyes. “No.” At least she could say that with certainty. He hadn’t said anything actually, just looked up at her with a bit of a dumb look on his handsome features. But she’d wanted to talk to him. What was wrong with her?

  “What do you need me to do next?”

  “Stay back here,” Sissy said, her hard gaze assessing every inch of Della’s face as if she could spot the lie written there.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Della said with what she hoped was a disarming smile.

  She went about her duties in the kitchen, trying her best to put the image of the handsome man from her mind and instead repurposing her thoughts to their best advantage. What could she say to Miss Simpleton that would explain her absence for most of the day?

  Miss Simpleton was the headmistress of the Marigold Home for Young Women, and she had the reputation of spotting a lie from several feet away. She would know that Della hadn’t gone shopping—where would she get the money? She also wouldn’t believe that Della had wandered the streets of Boston for hours just because. If she hadn’t used the excuse of visiting the dressmaker last week, she would have used that, but no new stitching had come in for her through Miss Simpleton’s approved channels.

  Della sighed as she prepared a tray for the waiter to take out. She almost had enough money saved to…to what? That was what was putting her plans on hold—the lack of actual plans. Soon it wouldn’t matter if she had plans or not, she’d need to leave.

  The image of the young man’s face—his sharp features, light brown hair, and chocolate brown eyes—appeared without effort as if he were the answer to her questions. Ridiculous. They hadn’t even had a conversation, just a look. While it had been a rather pointed look, it hadn’t been anything more. Perhaps it was just that he was so completely different than… No! She wasn’t going there.

  She was foolish if she thought that a knight in shining armor might come to her restaurant to take her away from her problems. No, she didn’t hold much hope in marriage as her escape, though she had considered becoming a mail-order bride like many of the girls from the home had done. Miss Simpleton remained unconvinced of its ‘proper nature,’ but she’d allowed it upon seeing actual contracts of marriage.

  But to marry a man you’d never met? That seemed impossibly daring. Again her thoughts filled in the image of the young man. More daring than seeing a handsome stranger and wondering what if? More dangerous than telling the whole truth?

  She yanked her mind out of useless thoughts and went about her duties until Sissy pulled her away, imploring her to refill glasses and reminding her not to talk to anyone. Armed with her pitcher, she went back to the restaurant floor. It was busy with chatter and the busyness of lunch and meetings. Many of the town’s businessmen met here to discuss important things.

  When she finally faced the table in the back of the corner, she was suspired to see the young man sitting alone.

  “H-hello,” he said, as if responding to her earlier comment.

  She tipped her head and reached to refill his glass.

  “Are you, I mean, that is, do you serve here?”

  His question caught her off guard. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m sorry.” Was he blushing? It was difficult to tell in the low light. “What I mean to say is that the waiters here are men and you are…not.” He looked sick as he said the last part, as if he realized how it sounded only after he’d said it.

  “I am helping out since one of our boys is sick today.”

  “Oh, that’s good. No— I mean, not good that he’s sick,” he stammered and looked down.

  She laughed. She couldn’t help it, the sound came trickling out before she could stop it.

  “You must think me an idiot,” he said, giving her a rueful smile.

  “Hardly.” Though one word, it seemed to give him courage.

  “I’m Albert. Albert Bowen
. What’s your name?”

  She glanced around, wondering if Sissy would notice her absence and scold her for talking to patrons. “Della Wolfe,” she said, more quietly.

  “What a beautiful name. It’s nice to meet you, Della.”

  She saw no humor, only genuine interest in her reflected in his eyes. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but then the other man returned, and she dipped her head and slipped away.

  Albert Bowen. Her heart did a little flip, but she tried her best to suppress it. She’d never see him again.

  2

  Albert was more thankful than ever that Red had wanted to get the business portion of their meeting out of the way early. Now that they were talking over dessert, Albert could give half his attention to Red and the other half to Della Wolfe.

  She’d come back, and he’d almost raised a shout of excitement that Red had taken that moment to use the restroom. Some stroke of luck—or providence, as his mother would say—that had been. But then he’d talked like a blithering idiot. He would have felt worse about it all if she hadn’t laughed, actually let out an amused laugh, at his idiocy. He’d act a fool it if made her smile.

  He blinked. What had Red said?

  “Anyway,” Red continued, “I told them that I could only use half the horses and they got the strangest look on their faces. Only later did I realize they thought I meant half a horse. Not half the number.” Red let out a raucous laugh, drawing a few stares from the tables around them, but the man didn’t seem to notice.

  Albert tried to show the same level of enthusiasm, but all he could think about was Della. He wanted to know more. Why did she work here? Was this her full-time job? Did she live nearby? Was she married?

  That thought stopped his happy musings cold. Was she married? Was that why she was so hesitant to talk? He felt like an idiot. He would never flirt with another man’s wife. He tried to think back. Had she been wearing a ring? While not exactly proof of her singleness, it would have set his mind at ease a little. But he couldn’t be sure.

  “So what do you think?”

  This time, Albert had completely missed what Red had said. He tried to look for a graceful way to admit that, but his wide-eyed stare did that for him.

  “You’re off in some dream world, if I’m not mistaken,” Red said with a laugh. He forked in the last piece of his pie and closed his eyes for a moment. “I have a feeling it may involve that little filly over there.”

  Albert’s pulse rocketed and his gaze shot across the room, but he didn’t see her.

  Red laughed. “Man, you’ve got it bad!”

  He’d teased him. Albert felt his blood pressure rise in anger before the look on Red’s face calmed him down. It was merely good-natured teasing.

  “Ask to see her. Talk to her. I don’t mind. I’d say were done here.”

  “Red, I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t,” he said with a smile, holding up a hand. “Never apologize for matters of the heart. I’ve been married to my sweetheart for coming up on twenty years, and I’d never permit a man to sidestep that blessing if he could help it. Go. And we’ll be in touch.”

  Albert stood, shaking Red’s hand enthusiastically. He could only hope to be half the man that Red was when he was his age. They parted ways, and Albert went to the waiter who had delivered their meals.

  “Something I can help you with, mister?” the young man asked.

  “Actually, yes. I’m looking for a Della Wolfe? She served water at our table.”

  The young man swallowed and nodded once. “Be right back.”

  He disappeared into the kitchen and a few moments later, a rotund woman came out. Her cheeks were red from what Albert assumed was the heat of the stoves, and she looked as angry as a lobster caught in a net.

  “You from that home? I told the last one who came ’round here that Della is a good worker and for you not to punish her for that. You leave her be, you hear me?”

  He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off—

  “She’s gone back anyway. Don’t punish her for wanting to work a decent job to make a decent life.”

  Then the woman spun on her heels and left him there, staring wide-eyed at the space she’d just vacated.

  So that was it. His only hope to talk to Della Wolfe had just vanished, and he was leaving for Texas in the morning. Swallowing disappointment, he took it as a sign. Perhaps she’d caught his attention, but beyond attraction, maybe it would have gone the way of so many other women he’d noticed. A sizzle and then nothing to pull him past that.

  Sighing, he left the restaurant and didn’t look back.

  Della wished Albert would appear on her walk back to the women’s home. She’d looked for him at every corner, turned around several times to see if she’d somehow walked past him, and then searched for his features in the profiles of the men around her to no avail.

  She was being foolish and she knew it, but she couldn’t stop looking for him. Searching him out as if he were a buried treasure she could uncover in the boring world around her. One mishap of a conversation and she was searching for his golden-brown eyes like they were a lifeline to something more. And perhaps they could have been if—

  A street vendor stepped out, calling out to her about the exotic scarves he’d just imported from the Orient and jolting her from her thoughts. The fabric was lovely, but she had to save every penny she made if she hoped to have a future outside of the Marigold Home for Young Women. She flashed an apologetic smile and sidestepped the vendor.

  The crowd moved around her, jostling back and forth, when suddenly a hand gripped her upper arm with iron-like fingers. She turned to see who it was, feeling herself pulled toward the entrance of a darkened alley, but the man’s face was turned away from her. For an instant, she wondered if it were Albert, but the man’s jacket was brown, not black as his had been.

  Sudden fear coursed through her.

  She tried to pull free, moving her arm as much as she could, but his fingers clamped down like shackles. She tried to draw in enough air to let out a scream. Just as she was opening her mouth, she saw that it was Mr. Frederick from the home. The fight left her as they drew nearer to the alleyway. She was found out. But how much did he know?

  It had been bright out but now, as the sun dipped behind the tall buildings, the alleyway was shrouded in growing darkness.

  “You can let go, Mister Frederick. I won’t run. I just—”

  He spun on her and moved so her back was against the alley wall. “Quiet.”

  “But—”

  “I said quiet.” He looked to the mouth of the stone alleyway and then pulled them deeper in.

  “I was heading back now, I promise.”

  “I said quiet.”

  His eyes turned on her and she felt them like an icy knife to the heart. It was as if something shifted and it was no longer Mr. Frederick, their groundskeeper and occasional helping hand, but a prowling animal.

  “None of you girls ever stops talking!” He sounded angry, only exaggerating her fear of him in that moment. “But that’s what let me know you were the right one.”

  “What?” His words drew out the dread she’d been forcing down. He knew?

  He came closer and she recoiled, stopped only by the wall at her back and his hand braced there, blocking her escape. “Let me go.”

  “Not yet, buttercup.”

  This was her worst nightmare coming true—again. Please God, not again!

  “I said let me go!” She squealed as his hand descended upon her mouth, silencing her.

  “Not before we have a little fun—”

  “Unhand the lady,” came the demand from a voice that bartered no argument.

  Della’s eyes shot to the man whose visage was shrouded in darkness while the outline of him was rimmed with light.

  “Who do you think you are?” Mr. Frederick said. Only now did Della notice the slight drawl of his voice as if he’d had too much to drink.

  “One who stands on th
e behalf of the innocent and one who stands in the way of evil. Let. Her. Go.”

  Mr. Frederick looked at her then back at the man, as if calculating his true intent, until the man took another step forward. The hand fell from her mouth and Mr. Frederick stepped back, then hurried out of the alleyway without a glance behind him.

  Della raised a shaking hand to her forehead, brushing away a strand of hair that had slipped down. She felt dirty and violated, despite the fact nothing had truly happened. Then her gaze shot to the other man. She still couldn’t see his features due to the brightness of the light from behind.

  “Are you all right?”

  The voice— Did it sound familiar? “Y-yes. I think so.”

  He took a step forward and she flinched involuntarily. He stopped immediately. “I promise I mean you no harm…Della.”

  He knew her?

  She stepped forward, allowing his shadow to block the sunlight, and that was when she saw who he was.

  “Mister Bowen!”

  “Please, call me Albert.” He removed his hat as if in a fancy parlor rather than a dirty alleyway. “But the pleasantries can wait. Let’s get you out of here.” He extended his arm to the mouth of the alleyway and she stepped forward, feeling more confidence knowing who her rescuer was.

  They cleared the darkened passageway and Della took in a deep draw of air. Freedom had never felt quite so free—nor so sweet. She glanced back at Albert, who’d replaced his hat and stood close, but not inappropriately so.

  “I’m not sure what I can say to thank you,” she said, falling mute after the words had left her mouth.

  “I wonder…” He glanced around before his gaze landed on her again. “I wonder if I might request a walk? With you. If the timing isn’t too completely terrible. It’s just that I leave in the morning and—” He trailed off, looking lost as to what to say.

  Heat flooded her cheeks, but she smiled.