Almost a Bride (The Bride Ships Book 4)

by Jody Hedlund

  “You do?”

  His smile inched higher, bringing out his dimples. “Aye.”

  “Why Zeke Hart,” she said, letting her amazement spill out with her words. “Now it’s my turn to be proud of you.”

  “Thank you.” He reached up and squeezed her hand still tucked in the crook of his arm. His fingers were strong and warm, and his touch did strange things to her insides.

  For a short while, she plied him with questions about the house, and she learned he’d opened a sawmill last fall, and the first thing he’d built was his house. The construction was completed by the first snowfall, and he’d been living in it ever since. “Mr. Peabody,” he finished, “Wendell’s grandfather, lives upstairs and helps me with the upkeep.”

  “Then you can show me around since you shouldn’t have any messes to hide.” She tugged him toward the door, giving him no choice but to follow.

  “Mr. Peabody has dinner waiting for us.”

  “He does?” Kate pulled up short, her heartbeat tripping ahead of her. “That’s so kind of him.”

  “I have a feeling you’ll love Mr. Peabody.”

  “I’m sure I will.” She couldn’t keep from studying Zeke’s features and had the urge to skim her fingers along the planes of his cheeks and brow, and around those green eyes—which were intently tracing her face with as much interest as she was his.

  Was he interested in her as more than a childhood friend and his playmate’s little sister? Surely he was seeing her all grown up as a woman. And surely that spark in his eyes meant he liked what he saw.

  At the prospect, she silently admonished herself. She needed to put her mind elsewhere, needed to stop letting her thoughts run away from her. “And how, exactly, did you know I’d be able to join you for dinner?” She pulled him forward again. “Didn’t you worry Mr. Chung would refuse to release me from my obligations?”

  “Nope. No worries. Lee’s a good guy. He might work himself to death, but I figured I could sway him to be easy on you women.”

  “And what if I’d told you I had plans with someone else?”

  “I’d have told you to cancel them.” He opened the front door and pushed it wide.

  “You’re assuming I would have wanted to.”

  “I think you would have.” His voice was light and teasing.

  She didn’t want him to know he was right. Instead, she shook her head and tried to look nonchalant. “I see you’re still as arrogant as when you were a boy.”

  He chuckled.

  A brightly lit front hallway greeted them, along with an elderly man who rushed from what appeared to be the kitchen at the back of the house. He was short like Wendell but lacked his grandson’s thinness and was instead plump and red-cheeked. While the top of his head was bald and polished to a shine, he had a curly black mustache as well as a long, pointed goatee.

  “Ah, there you are.” He wiped his hands on an apron. “The marmalade glaze on the duck is beginning to congeal.”

  “Mr. Peabody, this is Miss Millington, the young lady I was telling you about.”

  “Welcome, mademoiselle.” Mr. Peabody lifted her hand, kissing the back while at the same time bowing with a flourish.

  “Thank you.” Kate was conscious again of her work-worn appearance and wished she’d insisted on changing. “Are you French?”

  “Moi?” Mr. Peabody waved a hand brusquely and made a noise at the back of his throat. “I wish, but alas, I’m English through and through.”

  “I see.” She glanced at Zeke. He was watching her reaction to Mr. Peabody, his eyes crinkling at the corners. She had the urge to smile and swat him playfully again, but she bit back her mirth and nodded at Mr. Peabody. “I’m looking forward to your dinner.”

  “I hope you enjoy it, mademoiselle. Duck à l’orange, red beet salad, and mashed potatoes with caramelized onions.”

  “It sounds wonderful.”

  “It is.” Mr. Peabody stepped into a nearby doorway. “When Zeke asked me to prepare a nice dinner for his lady friend, I decided he needed all the help he could get if he plans to propose.”

  Surprise zipped along her nerves, joined with a tingling of hesitation. Surely Zeke wasn’t considering asking her to marry him tonight. Was he?

  SIX

  PLANS TO PROPOSE?

  Zeke hadn’t mentioned anything to Mr. Peabody about proposing marriage to Kate, but the idea wasn’t bad, was it? It would solve his problems about keeping the other men from pestering her. Once they knew she was his, they’d have no choice but to back off.

  He hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off her for more than a few seconds since first stepping into the laundry. It hadn’t helped that he’d thought about her all day. At his mine, knee-deep in mud and water, even with the urgent concerns of a collapsed beam demanding his attention, she’d occupied him so thoroughly, he hadn’t been able to concentrate the way he needed to.

  “Your dinner awaits.” From within the dining room, Mr. Peabody made a grand gesture toward the interior.

  Zeke started to move but Kate didn’t budge. Instead, her fingers upon his arm tightened, and something flashed in her eyes—something akin to the panic he’d seen there yesterday when she’d been trying to break her engagement with Herb.

  He paused and studied her more carefully. Her lips pressed together. It wasn’t exactly a frown, but he suspected it was as close as she got to one.

  Did she really think he was planning to propose tonight? For a second, he was tempted to let her lack of enthusiasm toward the suggestion bother him. But he pushed aside the feeling. She’d just ended a relationship yesterday and wasn’t ready for a new one. That’s all there was to it. Besides, he wasn’t ready either. Was he?

  “Hey,” he said softly. “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna propose.”

  “You’re not?” Her gaze snagged his, her long lashes highlighting her beautiful eyes.

  “Nope. ’Course not.”

  “Oh good.” She released a breath, her shoulders relaxing.

  Even if he’d grown up with Kate, he didn’t know her. And while she might be pretty, he wasn’t in the habit of falling in love with women at first sight.

  “Come now.” Mr. Peabody poked his head out of the dining room again. “Sit down and let me serve the meal before it’s inedible.”

  “Ready?” Zeke patted her hand, the movement making his shoulder ache. Though his wound still throbbed, the pain had begun to diminish, except for the few times he’d overexerted his arm while down in the mine.

  This time, Kate didn’t resist as he led her forward. She paused when reaching the wide doorway, her gaze sweeping over the simple hand-hewn table covered with a white cloth and decorated with a jar of wildflowers and long candles. The tableware was neatly set with linen napkins folded upon the plates into an interesting shape.

  She released a little gasp and clasped her hands together. “Why, Mr. Peabody. The flowers are masterfully arranged, and the swans are so intricately folded. The effect is simply stunning. A work of art.”

  Zeke took a second look at the strangely folded napkins. Those were supposed to be swans? He tilted his head, first one way, then another. “They look like shoehorns, not swans.”

  Mr. Peabody shot him a glare, and Kate seemed to try to hold back a smile.

  His housekeeper returned his gaze to the flower arrangement, stroking his goatee. “You don’t think I’ve clustered too many lupines with the paintbrush?”

  “Absolutely not.” She moved to examine the flowers more closely. “The brilliant azure of the lupines brings out the bright burgundy of the paintbrushes.”

  “That’s what I thought, too.” Mr. Peabody’s stoic expression grew animated, and he rambled on about how he’d decided where to place the different flowers. She listened with rapt attention, nodding and commenting, before she shifted her attention to the shoehorn swans and made a fuss over them too.

  When she leaned in and buried her face into the flower petals, Mr. Peabody watched her with such ado
ration that Zeke almost laughed. Kate had managed to win over his stodgy housekeeper in a matter of minutes when it had taken him months. How was that possible?

  “With such a beautiful arrangement,” she remarked as she straightened, “I feel as though I should be attired in something much fancier.”

  “Not at all,” Mr. Peabody gushed. “You’re already beautiful enough.”

  “You’re too kind, Mr. Peabody. Zeke said I’d love you, and he was right.”

  Mr. Peabody’s face flushed a red that was almost the same shade as the centerpiece flowers. He stuttered before mumbling about the food and running from the room.

  Once he was gone, Kate traced the edge of a plate, still admiring the folded napkin.

  “So that’s how you do it,” Zeke said, unable to contain his mirth any longer.

  She looked up, her expression innocent and her eyes beguiling. “Do what?”

  “This.” He pointed between them. She was doing it again. This time to him. Drawing him in so that he was completely enamored.

  Waiting for him to elaborate, she tilted her head, the loose wisps of her hair turning to gold in the candlelight.

  She apparently had no idea the effect she had on men, both young and old. Which was all the more reason he needed to step in and protect her, no matter what Wendell had said.

  “Let’s sit.” He pulled out her chair.

  She didn’t move. “First, tell me what I’m doing.”

  A strand of hair brushed her neck, drawing his attention to the long graceful stretch. Though something deep inside warned him that he needed to be careful, his words found a way out regardless. “You’re able to weave a spell over every man you meet.”

  Her lips rose in a pretty smile. “Every man?”

  “Nearly.”

  She lowered herself into the chair, and he assisted in pushing her closer, before rounding the table and taking the spot across from her. All the while, he felt her unswerving gaze upon him.

  He busied himself with straightening the spoon and knife that were already perfectly positioned, and then twisted the coffee cup so the handle faced the opposite direction.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “Well, what?” She’d nibbled on the bait he’d dangled, but now he didn’t know whether to proceed.

  “Have I woven a spell over you yet?” Her lashes fluttered and her smile beckoned him.

  If she hadn’t yet had him in her palm, she did now. “You’re close to it.”

  She laughed, his answer clearly delighting her so that he wished he could spend a lifetime making her happy.

  Before Zeke made a fool of himself by dropping to his knees and proposing on the spot, Mr. Peabody bustled into the room with a small bowl in each hand. He placed the dishes in front of them revealing beets, walnuts, crumbled white cheese, and salad greens.

  Zeke picked up his fork and poked at the assortment. He’d grown accustomed to Mr. Peabody’s cuisine and to trying strange creations that were supposedly French. But this time, Mr. Peabody had mistaken him for a goat.

  Kate cleared her throat.

  He glanced up to see that she’d folded her hands on the table in front of her. “Should we say a prayer before eating?”

  The expectation on her face brought his pulse to an abrupt halt. He laid down his utensil and leaned back in his chair. How could he explain his fall from grace to this sweet young woman? Did he even want to attempt it? And yet, he couldn’t mislead her into believing he was someone he wasn’t.

  He reached for his spoon and began flipping it, trying to decide how to proceed. He sensed his admission would disappoint Kate, and disappointing her was the last thing he wanted to do.

  “Zoe told me that when you left home, you left your faith behind.”

  He chanced a glance her way. She was chewing a bit of salad and watching him, kindness in her eyes.

  “I admit,” she continued, “I was hoping you’d figured everything out and made peace with God . . .”

  He sensed she was giving him an opening to discuss the matter, but he didn’t want to talk about it now—or anytime. “Listen, Kate—”

  “You don’t have to tell me anything. Until you’re ready.”

  He hesitated. Part of him wanted to unburden himself with this woman and share how difficult his last days in Manchester had been, when he had felt abandoned by everyone, including God. The days of running away and voyaging to British Columbia had been lonely and frustrating and difficult. The first weeks of trekking up into the Cariboo and searching for gold had been hard too.

  But he’d made it through all the challenges on his own. Now he had his wealth, businesses, and power—and he didn’t need God. And God didn’t need him, not with godly men like Zoe’s husband, Pastor Abe.

  “I’m sorry, Kate. You’re probably hoping to hear that I’m back to being the same person I was before—”

  “No, of course not. I don’t expect you to be the same person. Not at all.” She took another bite of the beet salad.

  “But . . .”

  She swallowed her mouthful. “You’ll never be the same. You’ll be better, once you give control of your life to the Lord.”

  He lifted his fork and stirred his salad, the cheese crumbling and the beet juice turning the pieces dark. He’d already had this awkward talk with his sister and Abe, one in which they both pleaded with him to stop running away from the Almighty. He didn’t need another well-meaning person dredging up old memories.

  “I’m doing just fine the way I am. I hope you can understand and accept that.”

  She paused, another forkful halfway to her mouth. “I accept you. But that doesn’t mean I agree with you.” As her mouth closed around the fork, he watched her lips and the way they glided over the tines. His gut cinched with a need to test her lips for himself. How long had it been since he’d kissed a woman?

  He gave himself a mental shake. Where had thoughts of kissing come from? If he wanted the other men in town to respect Kate, he was gonna have to set the example and think of her as a friend and nothing more.

  That’s the only reason he invited her to dinner. For friendship’s sake. And he couldn’t let himself forget it.

  As he forced himself to eat Mr. Peabody’s salad, he made a point of moving the conversation to safer topics and discovered she was easy to talk to. For any question he asked her, she directed a question back at him, so that the flow was a pleasant give and take.

  She told him more about her first days in Victoria, about the onlookers who’d lined up on the shore to greet the bride ship when it arrived, and how hundreds of men had shouted and cheered as the women stepped onto land after almost a hundred days at sea.

  He shared how he’d worked in construction for several months before saving enough so he could purchase the supplies he needed to begin his trek up into the Cariboo mines. He explained what his life had been like in those early days in Williamsville. And he answered her questions about the sawmill and general store.

  The topic of his gold mine never came up. It was almost as if she assumed he’d given up mining to pursue his other endeavors—like so many other miners did once they became disillusioned with the search for gold. As before, he hesitated in revealing the truth about his riches.

  Throughout the evening, Mr. Peabody interrupted them with each new dish he’d prepared. And Kate never failed to compliment the housekeeper about the flavor or texture or consistency. Her words were sincere and each smile genuine. With the pleasure on Mr. Peabody’s face, Zeke had no doubt the man would have married Kate on the spot had he been forty years younger.

  There was nothing pretentious about her. And the more time they spent together, the more he wanted to be with her. When she could no longer contain yawns behind her hand, he offered to walk her back to the laundry. She insisted first on accompanying him to his store and helping him clean his wound—even when he claimed he could take care of it himself.

  “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle,” Mr. P
eabody said at the front door as he bowed and kissed Kate’s hand.

  “You’re an excellent chef and host,” Kate said in return. “You really should consider opening your own eating establishment.”

  “Now hold on.” Zeke tugged Kate’s hand away from Mr. Peabody and placed it into the crook of his arm. “Don’t encourage Mr. Peabody to leave me. I need him.”

  “Need?” Kate teased. “It’s a crime to keep his talents all to yourself.”

  Mr. Peabody beamed at Kate, his face again turning red.

  “Maybe I’ll have to wring a promise out of Mr. Peabody that he won’t desert me.” Wendell’s grandfather was just as invaluable as Wendell himself.

  Gold fever had brought the two up into the mountains at the height of the gold rush. But Wendell had lasted only a week before seeking out other employment. And Mr. Peabody hadn’t gone much longer before realizing just how difficult the search for gold was. The average man could pan a few nuggets, enough to put a handful of money in his pocket. But only a few were as lucky as Zeke to strike it rich on a claim.

  Zeke had hired Wendell first. The young man was a genius with figures and investments. Within a few weeks of employment, Wendell had doubled, even tripled, the profits of everything he touched.

  When Wendell had asked about employment for his grandfather, Zeke hadn’t been able to say no to his most valuable employee and closest friend. At first, Mr. Peabody had worked in the general store, but his finicky nature had driven away more customers than he assisted. When Zeke had hired him instead at the boardinghouse, Mr. Peabody had nearly caused riots every day with his pickiness.

  Finally, after Zeke had started construction on his house, he offered Mr. Peabody the position as his housekeeper. Mr. Peabody had been happy ever since, and now Zeke didn’t know how he’d get along without the older man’s assistance.

  “Promise you won’t leave me, Mr. Peabody,” Zeke insisted as he led Kate out the front door onto the portico. “You wouldn’t want to see me go back to eating beans and hard biscuits, would you?”

  Standing in the door, Mr. Peabody stroked his mustache, curling up the ends, glancing from Kate to Zeke and back. “There’s one way you can ensure I’ll stay.”