by Regina Scott
The minister rose to look him in the eye. For a little fellow, he could sure puff himself up when he wanted. Now his chest stuck out of his black wool suit, making the brass buttons on his plain blue waistcoat stand out.
“Nothing of the sort,” he declared. “The name of Wallin is highly respected in these parts. Your father helped build this church. Your brother Andrew donated lumber for the parsonage.”
“I’ve no argument my father and brother earned your respect,” James allowed. “But I haven’t. I’m the joker, the clown, the one you can’t rely on. Miss Fosgrave can do better.”
Bagley looked ready to argue, but Rina rose. “I disagree, but that is neither here nor there. The fact of the matter is that I was never certain our engagement would last. I think it best not to marry, and this matter has only strengthened my convictions.”
Mr. Bagley aimed his potent frown her way. “But it is every young lady’s duty to marry, particularly here, where your civilized influence is so badly needed.”
James could see the fire building behind Rina’s eyes as her convictions gathered steam. Best to head this one off before she started something she would later regret. No one fought Mr. Bagley and won.
“Oh, nothing much could civilize me,” James assured him. “No offense meant, Miss Fosgrave.”
She inclined her head, as regal as a queen granting a pardon. “None taken, Mr. Wallin. After all, if my sole purpose in life was to civilize man, then I would do better to marry someone thoroughly uncivilized, like Mr. Rankin.”
She’d made a joke. He could see the gleam in those clear eyes, daring him to laugh. James wanted to grab her by the shoulders and spin her around with glee.
Mr. Bagley, however, appeared to be considering the matter, for he stroked his whiskered chin with his fingers. “Young Scout could certainly use a mother. I am uncertain how well his father would take to a woman’s influence, but I could approach him about the matter if you like.”
Rina looked as if she was having trouble breathing by the way her mouth opened and closed, eyes going wide in disbelief that the man would take her suggestion seriously.
James held out his hand to help her from the pew. “No need. He’s well known to my family. I’m sure Ma would be delighted to broker a marriage, if that’s what Miss Fosgrave wants.”
Mr. Bagley nodded thoughtfully. Rina was shaking her head violently as she exited the pew. Then she turned to the minister and put on a smile.
“Thank you for your help, Mr. Bagley. We should be going.”
He nodded again, but James thought he was less sure of her actions this time. “You are welcome to stay with Mrs. Bagley and me while you determine your next steps,” he offered.
“How very kind,” she said. “But I believe I know what to do now.” Hand on James’s arm, she nearly dragged him from the church.
Outside, she drew in a deep breath of the brine-scented air as if she’d suddenly found freedom after years of incarceration.
“That went well,” James quipped.
She released her hold on him. “I appreciate his concern on my behalf, but I cannot espouse his views.”
James grinned. “There were a whole lot of spouses being proposed from what I heard. Rankin. Me. I’m surprised someone didn’t suggest Doc Maynard. Folks say he had two wives, for he neglected to legally divorce the first before marrying the second. What’s one more?”
Rina shook her head as they started back for the mercantile. “How could anyone think I’d entertain marriage to Rankin, even for a moment?” She shuddered.
“Goes to show you the good reverend just doesn’t understand you,” James commiserated, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I knew you were after Simon the moment he laid eyes on you.”
Rina glared at him. “That’s enough of that, as well. I have no intentions of going after any Wallin gentleman.”
“Fair warning,” James replied. “Beth won’t have you. She’s sweet on the deputy sheriff.”
“Stop that!” Rina scolded. “I need you to be serious for once.” She stopped on the corner and drew him back against the wooden wall of the building, face firm, voice firmer.
“It seems my best choice is to return to Wallin Landing and teach,” she said, gaze lifting to his. “But before I do that, you need to know something about me.”
This was it. He was finally going to hear the secret she’d guarded so carefully. James stood straighter. “I’m listening.”
She took another deep breath, but this time he thought in resolution. “Remember what I told you last night, about the kingdom of Battenburgia?” she asked.
“You said there was no such place,” James supplied.
She nodded. “The Fosgraves made me believe it was real. They made everyone they met believe in it. And they pretended they were its exiled rulers.”
James smiled. “Now, that’s some fine talking.”
She would not relent. “It was not admirable, I assure you. They solicited loans of money and gifts of clothing and jewels, with the idea that someday the donors would be repaid, with influence if nothing else. They lied. And they made me into a liar as well.”
Her face was tightening, as if she was waiting for him to agree, to walk away from her in disgust. He couldn’t see things the way she did.
“Did you know the stories were lies?” he asked.
She frowned. “No. I believed the fables.”
He shrugged. “Then I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’re not a liar. Liars tell falsehoods for a purpose—to gain something good or avoid something bad. You just passed along what you believed to be true.”
She was staring at him. “But they stole money from innocent people. Failed to pay their bills at dozens of establishments.”
“They did,” James said. “You didn’t.”
“They raised me,” she protested. “I benefited from their actions.”
“And my Ma and Drew raised me,” he said. “I don’t see anyone blaming me for anything they have done.”
She sighed. “But you turned out fine.”
James made a point of looking her up and down. “So did you. Mighty fine.”
She shook her head. “How can I believe you when you take nothing seriously?”
James took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Most likely you can’t. But you can believe Ma and Catherine. I say we head for home and ask them whether they’ll have you back. And I’m pretty sure I know the answer, Princess Alexandrina.”
Chapter Sixteen
Simon managed to hire a wagon and team to take them on to Wallin Landing, promising the owner that he would return the set the next day. He insisted on driving, relegating James to the back of the wagon. Rina would have been content to join him, but James led her around to the front.
“It’s a more comfortable ride up here,” he told her with a smile. His nod gave her fair warning before he lifted her onto the bench. “Besides, it’s befitting your station. You’re still a princess in my book.”
It was the first time in a long time that she felt honored to be given the title.
“All set, Miss Fosgrave?” Simon asked as she arranged her thoroughly dusty skirts with fingers that persisted in trembling at James’s touch.
Rina glanced back to where James was climbing into the wagon bed. “Give your brother a moment.”
“I give him entirely too many moments,” Simon said, but he waited to slap the reins until James was seated in the bed of the wagon.
Rina had never paid Simon much attention, being focused on James or Catherine and Mrs. Wallin when she’d been at the Landing before. Now, she studied him as he maneuvered the wagon out of town.
He was taller than James, his head above hers as the trees closed around them. His hair was a shade lighter and a few inches shorter t
han James’s, but just as straight. His eyes were much paler, a light translucent green that lacked the depth of James’s midnight blue. Every chiseled line of his long face and angle of his lean body said he held himself in tight control.
All in all, he was a handsome man, but she couldn’t imagine him wearing her clothing so she wouldn’t be deprived of it, dancing with Deerlund at McKenzie’s Corner or wiggling his fingers and shouting to scare away a bear. And she wasn’t impressed with how he handled the team, directing their every movement rather than giving them their heads. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t used to them, but she had a feeling Simon preferred to be the one in charge.
James, however, lounged in the bed of the wagon, back braced against one side, gaze off among the trees they passed, as if nothing could concern him. Catching her gaze on him, he winked, and Rina’s cheeks heated.
“I was thinking,” he announced, raising himself a little. “We should go back for your trunk. You might need those books for teaching.”
Rina had wondered the same thing. “How difficult would that be?”
“Far too difficult afoot,” Simon answered beside her. “A shame we don’t have a wagon. I doubt you could carry it otherwise.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Rina said with a smile to James, remembering his attempts to do just that.
He grinned. “I managed a few yards anyway.”
“Even Drew couldn’t carry it all the way back to the Landing,” his brother insisted. “A horse would help, but we seem to have misplaced those, as well.”
James’s grin faded. Was his brother trying to make him feel guilty?
“I would not call theft misplacement,” Rina informed Simon, swiveling to face him. “We were at a distinct disadvantage.”
“One you might have avoided if you’d traveled more populated roads,” he pointed out, guiding the horses around a set of stumps.
“Is there such a thing as a populated road near Seattle?” Rina challenged him.
A noise from behind her told her James was trying not to laugh.
“Perhaps not,” Simon allowed, hands tightening on the reins. “But my brother could have found a more direct route that might have afforded you some protection from thieves.”
He would not let the matter go. “Oh, I would not be so sure,” Rina told him. “In my experience, thieves prefer a certain level of populace. The more people, the easier to find a victim.”
“I’d listen to her,” James piped up. “She knows a thing or two about thieves.”
Simon frowned. “Perhaps she wouldn’t if you hadn’t introduced her to the concept.”
He had no idea who had raised her. “This was only my most recent brush with criminals,” she assured him. “I know what to look for now, in villains and in heroes. You will never convince me that your brother acted anything less than heroic.”
“If you count falling out of trees and eating bark as heroic,” James qualified.
Simon did not laugh at his jest.
“It seems we have a difference of opinion, ma’am,” he said. “Or perhaps I merely have a greater familiarity with my brother.”
“You may have known your brother longer, sir,” Rina answered him. “But I imagine you’ve never had to call on his strength as I have. And if you don’t stop sawing at those poor horses’ mouths, I will insist on taking the reins from you.”
Simon’s brows shot up, but he eased back on his hold.
“Don’t you find her candor refreshing?” James asked, reaching up to thump his brother on the back. “She begins to remind me of you.”
By the scowl on Simon’s face, he did not take that as a compliment.
He did, however, manage to be kind to the horses and James during the remaining time it took to reach the Landing. But though Simon was pleasant, worry dug its claws into Rina’s chest. Her hands fisted in her lap, fingers tightening around each other. What would she do if Mrs. Wallin and Catherine didn’t agree with James? As far as she could tell, no one looked at the world like James did!
Then they were coming out of the trees, the clearing opening up around them. Everything was just as she’d left it. She wasn’t sure why she’d expected it to look different, to feel different. Just the sight of the cabin, barn and schoolhouse made breathing easier as Simon pulled the wagon up before the house.
James jumped down and came around to assist Rina. She leaned into his strength, took courage from the admiration in his gaze.
“Welcome home,” he said as he deposited her on the ground.
Home. She’d never called any place that over the years, always thinking that her true home lay in a tiny kingdom beyond the sea. Was she wrong to hope this could be her home now?
The sound of the wagon must have alerted the house, for Beth and Mrs. Wallin came out onto the porch.
“You found him!” Beth proclaimed, clapping her hands before her pink gingham gown. Her delight brightened her smile and sparkled in her deep blue eyes. “And Miss Fosgrave, too! Catherine will be so happy when she gets back from dosing Mr. Rankin.”
Just the name sobered Rina as Mrs. Wallin hurried forward to meet her at the edge of the boardwalk.
“Oh, but look at you!” she cried, taking Rina’s hands, her green eyes wide. “You poor dear! Come inside now. Let’s set you to rights.”
Before Rina could protest, Mrs. Wallin pulled her up on the boardwalk, and Beth took her arm to escort her into the cabin. The last sight she had was of James waving farewell with a sad smile that said he thought he might never see her again.
Mrs. Wallin and Beth insisted on taking Rina upstairs, where she found two rooms, one on either side of the stone fireplace. Both appeared to be used as bedchambers, for the one Mrs. Wallin entered had a large bed across the back and a smaller one near the stairs.
“Now, you just sit there,” Mrs. Wallin said, pressing Rina down on the quilt-covered bed. “Let Beth and me do the work.”
She wasn’t sure what work there was to be done, but Mrs. Wallin hurried over to a chest by the log wall while Beth went to fetch an ivory-backed brush from a table by the smaller bed.
“May I?” she asked Rina, holding up the brush.
Rina nodded, and Beth set to work letting down Rina’s hair and giving it a good brushing. She’d forgotten how good a brush felt skimming through her hair. She closed her eyes a moment, feeling tense muscles relaxing, thoughts drifting away.
“What happened?” Beth asked. “Was the White River so horrid?”
Time for confessions. Rina opened her eyes to find Beth and Mrs. Wallin watching her as if hanging on every word.
“We never reached the White River,” Rina told them. She went on to explain their adventures in the wilderness as well as her past, expecting to see dismay and judgment. But whereas Mrs. Wallin and Beth exclaimed over the robbery and the bear, and Beth’s eyes grew wistful at Rina’s upbringing, they seemed more concerned about the loss of her books and clothes.
“I’m not sure which distresses me more,” Beth said, going to put the brush away. “It’s hard to find books out here, but I’ve never seen anything like your dresses, Miss Fosgrave. They’re fit for a queen, and now I know why.”
“They certainly cannot serve me well out here,” Rina said. Truth be told, she’d have liked nothing better than to throw away everything she’d worn, from the ruined dress to her sweat-dampened chemise, but she knew she couldn’t afford to replace them, especially here in Seattle. “Now this gown is all I have. I must find some way to refurbish it.”
“I’ll help you,” Beth offered, returning to her side, eagerness evident in the way her fingers fluttered. “I know lots of ways to turn a seam and add some embellishments to hide stains and such. I’ll show you.”
“Now, then,” her mother said, bringing Rina a red-and-green plaid cotton gown she�
��d taken from the chest. “Our Rina hasn’t said she’ll be staying with us, Beth. Perhaps she still wants to make for the White River while James finishes his claim.” She eyed Rina over the gown.
Rina accepted it from her with a nod of thanks. Now was the time for complete honesty. “The White River school board may not want me to come any longer. They may think my reputation has been damaged. James and I only intended to remain engaged until I reached my new school. We felt that agreement was the best way to protect me on the journey. We never planned on marrying.”
Beth clapped her hands over her mouth as if suddenly realizing the enormity of the situation.
Mrs. Wallin tsked. “Nothing is more important to a lady than her reputation,” she said with a look of warning to her daughter. “Once lost, it’s nearly impossible to regain. But you needn’t worry, Miss Fosgrave. I know our school isn’t the position you’d hoped for, but we’d still be honored to have you.”
Rina drew in a breath. “Truly?”
“Truly,” Mrs. Wallin said with a smile. “I’m sure Catherine will feel the same way.” She stepped back. “Now, Beth and I will leave you to yourself. I’m sure you’d like a moment of privacy to change.” Her smile hardened. “And I’d like a few choice words with my son.”
* * *
James helped Simon stable the horses for the night. Something about seeing strange geldings standing in Lance and Percy’s stalls made the barn feel foreign. It was as if he’d lost part of his family.
“Fickle beasts,” Simon complained, closing the stall door behind him as he and James exited into the main aisle of the barn. “How can you favor them?”
James shook his head as they started for the house. “What you see as fussiness, I see as personality.”
“Personality,” Simon scoffed, stepping out into the sunlight. “Give me an ox any day. Dependable, predictable...”
“Plodding, brainless,” James countered, stride matching his.
“Sturdy, useful,” Simon insisted.
“Positively boring,” James finished, bumping his shoulder against his brother’s. “Come on, admit it. You miss Lance and Percy.”