Love Inspired Historical November 2017 Box Set

by Karen Kirst

  He made a valid point. She’d behaved badly, but now was neither the time nor the place for a discussion on that. “Fine. Check me over if you must, and then can we get out of the rain? I’m drenched, and you will soon be, too. I’d like to spare you that.”

  Despite their charged exchange, his hands were gentle as he ran them along her arms and legs, twisting them to and fro until he was satisfied. “From what I can tell, nothing’s broken, so I’ll get you inside.”

  Before she realized his intentions, he had scooped her into his arms and started for the house. “You don’t need to do this. I’m perfectly capable of walking. Besides, I’m covered in mud. I’ll get it all over you.”

  “I don’t care about that. I care about you.”

  His kind words, spoken with sincerity and that rich rolled R of his, robbed her of speech. Henry meant nothing special by them, but aside from the servants who were paid to see to her needs, no one back home had cared about her in years—not since her mother had passed on.

  Her father certainly didn’t care. The drive to expand his hotel empire consumed him. Paul Crowne had used her unexpected trip to California to care for his orphaned grandchildren to his advantage. He’d assigned his latest protégé, Stuart Worthington, who had served as her traveling companion and protector, the task of assessing San Francisco as a suitable location for another of his hotels, the Golden Crowne.

  Not that she was surprised by her father’s callousness. He hadn’t spoken of Pauline or Jack in anything but derogatory terms since the happy couple had headed west. Lavinia’s request to pay them a visit after the birth of their son, Alex, had been flatly denied. She’d attempted to bring up the subject a second time when Jack and Pauline had welcomed their first daughter into the world, but her father had made it clear the subject was not open for discussion.

  Lavinia hadn’t brought it up again until Henry’s letter arrived with the tragic news. To her surprise, her father had granted her permission to make the journey, proving he wasn’t as unfeeling as people seemed to think he was. If only he would wholeheartedly embrace the faith that her beloved mother had instilled in her daughters. He attended church and even made contributions, but he rarely spoke about spiritual matters, leaving Lavinia to wonder if he really loved the Lord as she did.

  Eager to ease the awkward silence that had descended on them as Henry carried her toward the house, she asked the question that had occurred to her as she’d lain flat on her back with nothing shielding her from the pelting rain but bare branches and a massive clump of mistletoe high in the tree. “What would make a limb come down suddenly like that? It’s not as though the tree was struck by lightning, and the winds aren’t that strong, although they seem to be picking up.”

  “It happens with oaks, especially after the hot, dry summers we’ve had the past few years. If a tree can’t support all its branches, it will shed one to survive. A falling limb usually occurs during the heat, but it can happen any time of the year. I’m just glad you weren’t hurt when that one came down.” He inclined his head toward the fallen branch.

  “You and me both. I thanked the Lord posthaste.”

  Her face was so close to Henry’s as he cradled her in his strong arms that his profile filled her vision. He’d already been good-looking at twenty, but the ensuing decade had done remarkable things for him, transforming him into a strikingly handsome man. With his angular jaw, aristocratic nose and arresting blue eyes, he must have turned the head of many a lady over the years. And yet, from what Pauline had written, no woman had turned his.

  He reached the back porch, tromped up the steps and glanced at her. His eyebrows shot toward his hairline, and his well-formed lips lifted in a winsome smile.

  She averted her gaze. How could she have been so foolish as to let him catch her staring at him? He might be a feast for the eyes, but he wasn’t the type of man to capture her attention. Like their late siblings, she and Henry came from different worlds.

  And yet it appeared his situation had improved. His waterproof top hat, made of high-quality beaver, provided a sharp contrast to the shabby slouch hat he used to wear. Her head rested on his chest, the wool of his alpaca overcoat soft against her cheek. The coat, one every bit as fine as her father’s, had to have cost Henry a small fortune.

  “Since my hands are full—” he winked “—could you open the door?”

  Her many years spent schooling her emotions enabled her to hide her surprise. Barely. The gentlemen of her acquaintance would never have behaved in such a familiar manner, but in her experience, Henry only conformed to the social mores when it suited him. “You could put me down, you know.”

  “I will. When I’m ready. The door, please.” He inclined his head toward it.

  Obstinate man. “Are you always this insistent on doing things your way?”

  He grinned. “Only when I’m carrying a lovely lady in my arms.”

  Her manners failed her, leaving her mouth gaping. She snapped it closed and grappled for a suitable response, delivering it with playfulness on par with his. “Might I point out, kind sir, that I’m a muddy mess and don’t qualify for any special treatment?”

  “This isn’t special treatment. I make it a point to come to the aid of anyone who tangles with a broken branch or—” his pleasantly full lips twitched “—a wayward piece of cake.”

  He remembered? Of course he did. How could he forget that mortifying moment when she’d stumbled and sent her slice of Jack and Pauline’s wedding cake sliding down her front?

  Henry had hustled her off to the kitchen after the unfortunate incident and helped her remove the bits of white frosting clinging to the silk. She’d done her best to ignore him up to that point—not an easy task since he was the best man—but he’d repaid her with kindness. Aside from that rather pointed remark about begrudging Jack and Pauline their happiness, of course.

  “Very well. I’ll do your bidding.” Lavinia leaned over, twisted the knob and pushed open the door.

  He entered the kitchen, set her down in front of the cook stove and rested his hands on her shoulders. “You’re not dizzy, are you?”

  “No. Just a bit chilled.” She turned out of his grasp and held her hands toward the heat, reveling in the warmth.

  “Where are the children?”

  “Alex and Marcie are in school. I sent Gladys to meet them with umbrellas since the weather took a turn. Dot asked to go, too, so I let her.” She’d had such fun getting to know her nieces and nephew over the past week. The youngest girl loved her older siblings and missed them when they were gone. Since they were all Dot had left of her immediate family, it made sense.

  Henry leaned back against the dry sink, his arms folded. “Who’s Gladys?”

  “My maid, er, the housekeeper.”

  “You brought a servant all the way from Philadelphia? Why?”

  She preferred his playful side to his drawn eyebrows and pursed lips. She’d dealt with more than enough disapproval from her father over the years. She didn’t need it from Henry, too. “To care for the children, of course.”

  “You don’t have to care for them. I am.”

  “How can you? You still live up in Marysville, don’t you?” In his Miners’ Hotel, which he’d opened a few years back, if she had her facts straight. Pauline’s friend Norma said he’d made the trip down to Sutter Creek as soon as he’d received word of the steamship accident that had claimed Pauline and Jack’s lives, among many others. Although Henry’s concern for the children was laudable, he couldn’t leave his business for too long. Could he?

  “I did live there, but I’m here now.”

  Norma hadn’t elaborated on his plans. “For a visit?”

  “To stay. The children need me, so I’ve put my place up for sale. That’s why I had to go back up there and wasn’t here when you arrived.”

  He wasn
’t making sense. “Are you saying you intend to take them in?”

  “Yes.”

  That one word, uttered so matter-of-factly, robbed her of her breath. He wasn’t going to raise the children. She was.

  She needed to set him straight. Now.

  * * *

  The last thing Henry needed was the children’s meddlesome aunt interfering, but that determined look in Lavinia Crowne’s chocolate-brown eyes spelled trouble.

  “I was clear in my letter. Father sent me here to—”

  “What letter?” He hadn’t received one.

  “The one I mailed the day we set sail. Didn’t you get it? I understood the Pony Express to be quite reliable.”

  “Where did you send it?”

  “To your hotel in Marysville.”

  He nodded. “It would have arrived there when I was here in Sutter Creek. I asked my clerk to forward everything. The letter’s probably on—” he swallowed “—on Jack’s desk.” Two months had passed, and yet he still had a hard time saying his brother’s name without a stab of pain.

  “I s-see.” She was rubbing her arms and clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering.

  “We can talk later. You need to get out of those wet things. I’ll get some water heating so you can bathe, and then I’ll see about stretching a tarpaulin over the shed before it gets any wetter inside.”

  “Wh-what happened to the shed?” She rushed to the window overlooking the backyard. “Oh! The branch destroyed a good bit of the roof, didn’t it? That’s too bad.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll fix it once the storm’s past.”

  “I’m glad I wasn’t inside. I was g-going out there to get more kerosene.”

  “I’ll bring some when I come back.” He moved closer, attempting to capture her attention, but it remained riveted on the storm’s damage. “Do you need anything else before I go?”

  She twisted a mud-coated curl around her finger. Her parted mouth and glassy-eyed stare gave her the look of someone who was lost. “I never thought about death much until I lost my mother. First Maman and now Pauline and Jack. Life’s a fleeting thing, isn’t it?”

  He wasn’t sure what she wanted to hear, so he waited to see if she would continue. Thankfully, she did.

  “Do you miss them?”

  “I do.” He stared out the window, remembering the last time he’d seen Jack and his doting wife. It had been a hot September day. They’d been sitting on a blanket in the shade of that very oak tree, having a picnic lunch with the children. Laughter had flowed as freely as the lemonade.

  “My brother and I had our differences when we were younger, but once we got a few years on us things improved. Pauline helped smooth Jack’s rough edges. She tried to help smooth mine, too, but according to her, I’m a—” he formed quotation marks in the air “—‘diamond in the rough.’” The memory of her saying those words in that playful way of hers made him smile. He turned to find Lavinia gazing at him, a look of wonder on her lovely face.

  “I’m glad you got to know her. She was w-wonderful. I m-miss her so much it hurts.” She dragged in a shuddering breath, blew it out and squared her shoulders. “I should get changed. It wouldn’t do for the children to see me looking like this.”

  “They were happy, Lavinia.”

  She nodded, but her attention was on her soiled dress. “Yes. You’ve mentioned that before.”

  He had—ten years ago. She hadn’t believed it then, but if she did now, it might bring her some comfort.

  “I’d better see to the tarpaulin. Be sure to bolt both kitchen doors so you have your privacy. I’ll come in the front and entertain the children when they arrive.”

  She spun to face him, her chin lifted in regal fashion, all business once again. “That’s not necessary. Gladys can see to them until I’m ready.”

  Lavinia’s clipped dismissal didn’t sit well with him. He was the children’s uncle, and he knew them far better than she did. At least she cared about them—unlike her father. Paul Crowne had shown no interest in them, a fact that had grieved Pauline greatly. How could a man ignore his own grandchildren and deprive their only aunt of the right to visit them as he had? Pauline would have loved to have seen her sister again. From what she’d said, Lavinia had begged their father to allow her to come to California repeatedly, only to be met with his steadfast refusal.

  Henry chose not to challenge Lavinia. He could clarify things later, once she was clean and dry.

  He headed to the shed and surveyed the damage. It wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. He tacked a tarpaulin in place, a task that took longer than expected due to the brisk wind.

  There. He put down the hammer and checked for leaks but found none. That should keep out most of the water. Once the rain stopped, he would see to the repairs. He grabbed the kerosene tin and hurried toward the house. The children should be home soon, and they’d give him those delightful hugs that threatened to turn him into a pile of mush.

  He’d arrived in California back in ’52 just in time to welcome his nephew into the world. The surge of emotion that had come over him when he held the squirming, squealing bundle of boy for the first time had nearly bowled him over. If being an uncle brought such joy, he could only imagine what it would be like to hold his own child one day.

  His smile faded. To become a father, he would have to find a wife. Not an easy task. When he’d first set foot in the Golden State, men had outnumbered women nine to one. There was now one woman for every five men, but only a small fraction of those females were God-fearing ladies. An even smaller fraction were single. Of those suitable ladies who had come, even fewer had stayed.

  Life in California wasn’t easy, but it certainly wasn’t boring. Each day was an opportunity to meet new people, experience new things and increase one’s knowledge. Pauline had been a rare breed, supporting her husband’s dreams and wholeheartedly embracing life out west.

  Finding a courageous, spirited, supportive woman of God like his late sister-in-law had proven to be a challenge. He’d tried, but the handful of ladies like her that he’d met had been snatched up before he could say competition. The one time he’d believed that he’d forged a friendship with an eligible lady, she’d headed back east, offering him only a cursory goodbye.

  He’d surrendered his dream of having a family to the Lord. Due to the steamship accident that had claimed the lives of Jack and Pauline, he had one now. Ever since losing their parents, Alex, Marcie and little Dot had turned to him for love and support, and he wouldn’t have it any other way—even if it meant putting down roots. Those three youngsters meant the world to him.

  The sound of childish chatter sent Henry hurrying up the front steps, taking them two at a time. Despite his eagerness, he slipped inside as quietly as possible, yanked off his gloves and removed his rain-soaked coat and hat.

  He opened the door to the parlor and stepped into the room. “You’re back, I see.”

  “Uncle Henry!” the children cried in unison.

  The two girls flew at him. Six-year-old Marcie flung her arms around his waist and gave him a sound squeeze. Four-year-old Dot grabbed hold of his thigh and wrapped her feet around his ankle. Eight-year-old Alex followed at a leisurely pace, attempting to look more mature than his sisters.

  Henry ruffled Alex’s hair and stooped to kiss the top of Marcie’s head. She released Henry, and he took off in a lurching trek across the parlor with Dot still clinging to his leg. Her giggles filled the room.

  A throat cleared. He turned toward the noise. An older woman with folded arms and a frown stood in the doorway. He hobbled over to her with Dot in tow and held out a hand. The housekeeper stared at it with a curled lip. Memories flooded in of others hesitating to shake his hand, Lavinia among them. He dropped it to his side and offered her a smile instead. “You must be Gladys. I’m Henry.”
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  “So I heard. Lavinia said you’d shown up and pulled that tree off her. I can’t believe you kept the poor dear talking as long as you did. Her teeth were chattering something fierce when we got back from the school. I poured her a bath straightaway. She’s almost ready, so she sent me out here to watch the young’uns—like I’ve been doing the past eight days.”

  Evidently, Lavinia had told her maid-turned-housekeeper that he planned to care for the children, as was Jack and Pauline’s wish, and Gladys had taken offense. “And doing a fine job of it, too, I’m sure.”

  The prickly woman scoffed. “Flattery won’t work on me, young man, so you can save your breath.”

  She was outspoken for a servant and not at all the type of woman he would have expected Paul Crowne to have accompany his daughter. Perhaps he’d had a hard time finding a woman willing to make the trip west, despite his wealth. The conditions on board a California-bound steamship were reputed to be lacking, even for those traveling first class. Worse yet was the train trip across Panama. Although that leg of the journey only took about six hours, the exposure to disease had taken its toll. Three miners who’d rented rooms from him during the years he’d run his hotel had contracted yellow fever or malaria shortly after they’d arrived. They’d suffered terribly. Sadly, the diseases claimed all three victims in the end.

  “I don’t say things I don’t mean, ma’am. The children are healthy and happy. That tells me they’ve been well cared for.”

  She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “But you think you can do better, I hear. You? A man, alone? I reckon you believe that to be true, but I have my doubts.”

  He had his, too, but he’d made a pledge to Jack and Pauline. Honoring it required him to make significant changes and to give up his dream of running a restaurant one day, but he’d do whatever it took to ensure a good future for the children.

  Gladys pinned him with a searing gaze, turned on her heel and left. A hushed exchange took place in the entryway, and then Lavinia appeared, looking every bit the refined lady she was, from the mass of damp curls piled on top of her head to the dainty leather boots that matched her dress. The cranberry red, while not customary for a woman in mourning, complemented her fair complexion and dark brown hair.