by Karen Kirst
While the trouble with the Paiute Indians is also factual—including the burning of stations, the driving off of stock and the killing of Express workers—I took the liberty of setting Myles and Delsie in the middle of this war, when in reality, it occurred several weeks prior to their journey West. The part of the Express line that had closed as a result of these troubles would have been reopened at the beginning of June. However, I had the line remain closed for the sake of the story and its timeline.
Likewise, for the ease of reading, I’ve listed the states that made up the Pony Express trail as they are named today. Most of them did not achieve statehood until after 1860, though, and would have been part of various territories at that time.
Folliott Sandford Pierpoint’s hymn “For the Beauty of the Earth” was first published in 1864, but its stirring words were too fitting not to reference in this story. Therefore I had Delsie and Amos sing the song during their private worship service, while in reality, it would be another four years before the hymn’s publication.
The individuals who worked for the legendary Pony Express were nothing short of courageous, and it’s my hope this story will be a tribute to their strength and place in history.
I love hearing from my readers. You can contact me through my website at stacyhenrie.com.
All the best on your own journeys,
Stacy
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ISBN-13: 9781488007743
The Express Rider’s Lady
Copyright © 2016 by Stacy Henrie
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Duty-Bound Bachelor
John Reed has no intention of changing his carefree lifestyle—until his father’s death forces him to return home. Now he’s in charge of the family estate and preparing his reluctant sister for her London Season. And he’s convinced millinery shop owner Nan Siddons will make his perfect partner in this task.
Nan prides herself on her independence, but with a rival stealing her clients, she needs a new means of support. So when John hires her to see his sister through her debut, she accepts. She never expected their working relationship to become something more, yet soon Nan can’t imagine her life without John in it. The bachelor has captured her heart, but can she tame his?
“You don’t have enough fun, do you?”
Color bloomed in Nan’s cheeks and her eyes sparkled with a feisty light. “I have more than enough hilarity for a woman in my situation.”
“You do not.” John spoke the words flatly, glaring out at her from under lowered lids.
She pursed her lips together as though she were biting back harsh words. He pressed his advantage. “Come, then. Stand up. Dance with me.”
She shook her head, her eyes wide. “No indeed. There’s no music, for one thing.”
“I shall hum.” He stood, holding his hand out to her.
“That would be ridiculous in the extreme.”
“But it might be fun.”
She shook her head once more. He bent down and took her hand in his.
“You are a graceful dancer, and should indulge in the pastime more often.” He began to hum a familiar tune, leading her through the figures of a country dance.
At last, she looked up at him. He must be a little winded from the dance. That was the only way to account for the sudden catch in breath he experienced when she lifted her chin and looked at him squarely.
Growing up in small-town Texas, Lily George spent her summers devouring the books in her mother’s Christian bookstore. These books, particularly ones by Grace Livingston Hill, inspired her to write her own stories. She sold her first book to Love Inspired in 2011 and enjoys writing clean romances that can be shared across generations. Lily lives in northwest Texas, where she’s restoring a 1920s farmhouse with her husband and daughter.
Books by Lily George
Love Inspired Historical
Captain of Her Heart
The Temporary Betrothal
Healing the Soldier’s Heart
A Rumored Engagement
The Nanny Arrangement
A Practical Partnership
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.
A PRACTICAL PARTNERSHIP
Lily George
For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.
—2 Timothy 1:7
For Zach, with whom I always wanted to elope.
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
CHAPTER ONE
Tansley Village, Derbyshire
March 1819
Hannah Siddons, commonly referred to by the practical and prosaic nickname of Nan, entered the village shop and tugged her bonnet lower on her forehead. Through all of her eighteen years, she had blended into the background, eclipsed by her lovely and tempestuous older sisters. Now, more than ever, she needed to become one with the shadows. Her very career depended on it, in fact.
She rounded the corner, neatly stepping past a display of brooms, and halted, drawing breath slowly. Her heart thundered in her ears. She glanced over at the counter, but the shopkeeper was engaged with a customer, rolling out a bolt of cloth. Nan nodded. That’s right. Stay busy, old fellow. She ducked around a few barrels of flour and paused again, taking in the tableau before her.
Yes, the rumors were true.
A girl, gaily dressed and sporting an elaborate coiffure, sat at a low table. Her nimble fingers flew back and forth as she stitched lace onto the brim of a neat straw bonnet. Her lips were pursed with concentration, creased on either side by a charming d
imple. She didn’t utter a sound, but if she had, it would probably be marked by a lilting accent.
The general store had engaged a French milliner, and that’s why Nan’s millinery shop had seen fewer and fewer customers over the past week.
Protectively, Nan touched the rough brim of her own bonnet. That straw the girl was using wouldn’t last a week in Tansley Village, subject as they were to sudden winds blowing up from the moor. Nan’s bonnets were designed with practicality in mind, for she had long since made a study of Tansley’s particular weather patterns. What use was a bonnet if it fell to pieces after the first summer storm, or a capricious breeze blowing across the fields? She had built the family business after her sisters had left it behind, by catering to the women of the village and offering them sturdy bonnets that would last season after season.
That was what the women of Tansley wanted. They wanted to spend their hard-earned money on bonnets and hats that were durable. Or at least that’s what Nan assumed. There’d never been a reason to doubt her assertion—until now.
She was staring, and the French girl would surely see her if she continued staring. She shrank back against the wall, bumping the small of her back into the window ledge. She could either brazen her way out by purchasing something, or she could slink away, hoping never to be seen. Judging by the lightness of her purse, thanks in no small part to this upstart milliner, it would be much better to slink out and save her money.
As Nan prepared to make her stealthy flight, two voices coming from the slightly opened window caught her ear.
“Please don’t make me go in there, John. I feel such a fool. Surely the bonnets I have are pretty enough.”
“Jane, we’ve discussed this at length. You know as well as I do that you simply must begin dressing yourself as a proper young lady should.”
Nan pivoted slowly on one heel and glanced out the window. A tall man, powerfully built, was leaning over a slight young woman, who was dressed in a simple gown. With the expertise born of years of practice, Nan summed up the pair based solely on what they were wearing. The young man was dressed as any gentleman should be in the country, but the cut of his tweed coat was particularly fine and spoke to a London tailor’s hand. The young lady, though dressed in a plain black gown and wool shawl, gave the air of one who didn’t particularly enjoy dressing up, but did what one had to for one’s station. She looked to be about Nan’s own age.
The pair stood side by side, not close as a husband and wife should be. Perhaps they were relatives?
Whatever their relationship, they certainly had money, and they were going to spend it here, rather than at her shop.
Could she allow one more paying customer to get away?
As swiftly as she dared, Nan made her way around the perimeter of the shop and darted out the door. She sprinted down the steps and around the corner of the building, skidding to a halt before the young man and his reluctant companion.
“Pardon my intrusion, but I couldn’t help but overhear your quandary. If I might speak so boldly, I don’t think you should go into this shop if you require a really good bonnet,” she panted. Oh, if only she hadn’t run. Now her breath came in short gasps, making it difficult to speak properly. “If you should come to my millinery shop, I can assure you the bonnet will be of the finest quality.” She paused as both the young man and woman looked at her curiously. She had never before in her life run after a customer—she had never before run after anything. Her life was ordered, prosaic and, well, dull. But she couldn’t very well lose her livelihood—and with it, her independence—to some upstart French milliner. No, if she was to survive, she must be bold.
The man arched an eyebrow as his gaze carefully combed over her in silent judgment. “You own a shop, miss? Aren’t you a little young for that sort of thing?”
Nan swallowed. “I’m old enough. I own it myself. It’s called—”
“But John, I—I don’t really care for shopping, or for bonnets,” the young lady admitted, cutting Nan off. Her face turned a deep shade of red as though she’d admitted something truly terrible.
Nan’s heart sank. The fear of losing this potential customer was too real. “I understand,” Nan replied swiftly. Part of her job as a milliner was to determine what her customer wanted, before the customer knew it herself. “I hate all the fuss of shopping, as well. But my shop is quite small and cozy. I live above it, as a matter of fact. If you’d like to come by, we could have tea. Perhaps, if you would like to tell me exactly what you are looking for, I could put together a hat that would do you justice.”
A spark lit Jane’s blue eyes. “Truly? Would you listen to my suggestions?”
“Indeed, I would.”
The girl nodded slowly. “That could be enjoyable.”
Beside her, the young man spoke again. “Why do you think your bonnets would be better than this place?” He motioned his hand toward the building.
“You see, sir, the lady inside uses straw that’s far too fine. I fear that in a strong windstorm, the bonnet would break apart easily. My bonnets are much more suitable for all kinds of weather.”
With her frantic heart pounding hard against her ribs, she waited for the man to reply. He studied her for a few, earth-trembling moments. It was difficult indeed to maintain her composure while being scrutinized so closely, particularly by a man as good-looking as he. His dark brown eyes swept over her, as though committing her to memory. When her panic began to simmer just below the surface, he squared his jaw and the critical expression eased from his handsome face.
“Is it far?” he asked.
Relief washed over her and she tried not to breathe a noticeable sigh. “Not at all.” Nan waved over at the squat little building on the very edge of the string of village shops. “Just a healthy walk.”
The young man’s eyes widened. “Healthy? Are you certain?”
Before Nan could answer, the man burst into laughter, and Nan’s cheeks reddened. Was he mocking her?
“John, enough,” Jane rasped, digging her elbow into his side. Then she turned to Nan. “Please ignore my brother. He is a notorious clown.”
He shrugged, ducking his head boyishly. “The way she said it—I don’t know. It was amusing.” He shot Nan an impish look, his brown eyes twinkling with glee. “Can we take our healthy walk now? I must say, Jane, I’ve spent more time trying to convince you to purchase a silly bonnet than I ever spent on a girl I fancied.”
Jane rolled her eyes at Nan.
Nan straightened her spine. Was that a gibe toward her?
She’d grown up the youngest in an affectionate and warm family of women, employed in a job that catered to ladies. Men were something completely out of the ordinary to her. She didn’t understand them, and more to the point, she had no particular use for them. None of the men in the village found her worth a second glance, and she’d grown secure in the knowledge that her little shop would keep her in comfortable spinsterhood.
It didn’t matter if she thought he had a nice smile—now that he finally showed it to her—she had absolutely no retort for this John fellow, and it was better to go along as a meek and mild shopkeeper and gain his sister’s business, rather than lose out thanks to a tart reply.
Perhaps the healthy walk would quell him into silence. One could hope, at any rate.
*
John Reed followed a few steps behind his sister and this extraordinary young woman who’d coerced them both into visiting her shop. She was just as small as Jane, who barely reached his shoulder, but there was something prepossessing about her all the same. She had a straightforward way of looking at a man, and though her words were gentle enough, the fire in her blue eyes spoke of a vivacious spirit.
She wasn’t as conventionally pretty as the women he generally escorted about. No, in London he showed a marked preference for willowy blondes. But there was something about this one, something of the spitfire that he rather enjoyed.
She had also managed to convince Jane to at least look at
a more fashionable style—although, judging from that rough country bonnet she wore, she was no arbiter of taste and refinement. For Jane’s London debut, they would almost certainly need to return to London and order clothes and hats from a proper dressmaker upon their arrival. But first, small steps.
Jane was as reluctant about her debut as he was about his new role as the head of his family. No, reluctant wasn’t a strong enough word. He hated his new role, but he was resigned to it. If he refused to accept this mantle, Grant Park would go to wrack and ruin. He must force Jane to accept the reality that she must find a good match, just as he had to find the strength to be master of his family’s estate. This afternoon excursion could at least introduce Jane to the possibility of better attire, and for that, he would be forever grateful to this forthright milliner.
As they neared the shop, John squinted to read the sign leaning up against the wall. Siddons Sisters Millinery Shop.
Siddons.
There was surely but one Siddons family in Tansley Village—and he and Jane were visiting one of them now. After Father died, John had no idea what he had to do, and frankly, he hated trying to figure it out alone. There was no one to turn to but Paul Holmes, an old friend, for advice on getting his affairs in order and for taking over the proper management of a vast estate. Paul had welcomed the Reeds to Kellridge Hall in Tansley. John and Jane had been enjoying the hospitality of Paul and his wife, Becky Holmes née Siddons, for the past two days.
“I say—” he began, but the young woman ignored him, opening the door to her shop with a flourish.
“Please come in,” the woman said, ushering them both inside. She removed her bonnet, displaying a coronet of tightly wound chestnut braids. Funny, it was not a fashionable style in the least, for women of his acquaintance preferred Grecian styles, or long, tumbling ringlets. Yet despite its severity, it suited her rather well.