“That she does,” he admitted. “You know I’d opt out any way I can, but why not have Charles there?”
Asa shrugged. “Charles has a good head for finding the best money in a deal, I’ll give him that. But…” He paused. “Well, this isn’t just about money. Baker Shipping is family, and I need to know that our family is taken care of. Since none of us have our own inheritance yet, we will have to do this together.”
“Thanks to me holding out on marriage.”
Asa smiled. “Big brother, you keep holding out until you find the right one. I’m here to tell you, she will be worth the wait.”
Rit nodded. “So, this investor. Who is he?”
Asa looked uncomfortable. “I’d rather keep that to myself for now, if that’s all right with you.”
Rit studied Asa just long enough to see the begging for respect that goes with being the youngest brother. Marie was right. Asa was the future of Baker Shipping.
“I trust you, Ace.”
He did, of course. And yet Rit held the strong suspicion that something was up. Something more than keeping a business deal away from Charles.
Relief washed over Asa’s features, features borrowed from Merritt Baker Sr., but softened with the slight addition of their mother’s smile. “I’ll tell you when I can.” He shifted positions. “Now tell me about your typist,” he said with a conspiratorial look.
“Well,” Rit said as he ran his hand through his hair and tried not to see the image of that lovely lady walking away, “she couldn’t type to save her life, but she’s entertaining and smart as a whip. And she makes decent conversation, though she is infuriating when she tries to argue politics. Oh, and she claims to love horses but not ranches. I guess I’ll be testing her on that.”
Asa fixed him with a no-nonsense look. “I’ll go back to my original question. What are your intentions with her?”
Rit grinned. “I’ll tell you when I know.”
Chapter 5
Merritt Baker looked almost as breathtaking in his formal attire as he did in the casual clothing he’d worn the day she mistook him for a taxi driver. Tavia cringed as she thought of that embarrassing mistake. And yet, if she hadn’t had that day with the man she knew only as Merritt, she would likely never have known the other side of the very formal Mr. Baker.
For it was Mr. Baker on display at the gala tonight. Mr. Baker who was the man the single young ladies fawned over. And a few who weren’t single.
It was all so unnerving. And so understandable.
Miss O’Shea had filled her in on the reason for all the attention, at least partially. Until Merritt Baker married, the Baker Shipping fortune was tied up in a trust executed by the two women in Merritt Baker Sr.’s life: Mrs. Baker and Miss O’Shea. While the Baker men made the daily decisions, the ladies served in an advisory capacity to see that the elder Baker’s wishes were carried out.
Tavia watched Rit spin around the floor with the gala’s hostess while her daughter Violet looked happy to sit in the corner and carry on a conversation with a lesser mortal. Yes, it was easy to see why the attention was on Merritt Baker.
He caught her watching and grinned. Tavia almost looked away then thought better of it. No, let him think she was just doing her job. She’d become good enough at pretending she wasn’t thinking of him when she went home at night. The sad fact was in the ten days since she’d first climbed up into the buggy she thought was a taxicab, she’d allowed Merritt to invade her thoughts on a regular basis.
But he was smart and funny. And entertaining. And oh, so infuriating when he was trying to talk about politics. Then there was his claim that he loved the ranch life much more than the city. The only evidence she saw of that was the calluses on his hands. Otherwise, the eldest Baker brother seemed perfectly at home in New Orleans.
And why not, she thought as she watched yet another New Orleans beauty vying for his attention as the orchestra struck up a waltz. He certainly did not get this sort of attention on a ranch out in Texas somewhere.
Rit lifted his attention from the dark-haired beauty to find her. As he set off in her direction, Tavia waited for the signal that she was needed to divert the bride brigade yet again. But no signal came. Instead, Merritt smiled and offered her his hand.
“May I have this dance, Miss Derby?”
Oh. Her traitorous heart lurched.
“Of course, Mr. Baker,” she managed.
Tavia almost hoped Merritt was a terrible dancer. Then he would not only have a fault she could focus on when she was tempted to think he was just about perfect, but it would also give her a reason not to enjoy dancing in his arms.
But he gave her no such reason. Instead, dancing with the Baker heir felt like dancing on clouds, a terrible cliché she’d read in those novels they sold in the bookshops on Royal Street. And yet it was true. If her feet touched the ground, she didn’t feel it. Nor did she expect that Merritt would lean down to whisper in her ear.
“You look lovely, Octavia.”
“Thank you,” she said. “But may I mention a particular irritation I’m having with you at the moment?”
He straightened and looked down at her with a mixture of surprise and confusion. “This isn’t about tariff policy again, is it? You know how I feel about Grover Cleveland’s stand on—”
“Hush, Merritt. You’re wrong on that, but my particular irritation is not with your lack of understanding of politics.”
Merritt never missed a step, but he did laugh loud enough to draw the attention of dancers around them. “Oh please, then, Miss Derby. Do educate me on what I am wrong about this time.”
Tavia offered him her sweetest smile. “Rest assured there is a list, but I only wish to address the topmost item.” She paused, as if considering how to broach a topic of great importance. “All right, I’ll just come out and say it. Only my father calls me Octavia, and I surmise that is because I am named after his mother, whom no one would deign to call anything but her full name.”
The beginnings of the dazzling Baker smile showed at the corners of his lips. “I see.”
“Yes, well, understanding of the issue is the start of repairing it. So, you see, I must insist you refrain from calling me Octavia and call me what my friends call me.” She paused for effect and then glanced around before leaning in to whisper in his ear. Well, almost his ear. He was quite tall. “My friends call me Tavia.”
“Tavia?”
She offered a mock grimace. “Hush now. I wouldn’t want this to be overheard.”
Again he laughed. Again the dancers around them stared openly. Then he leaned down to accommodate her height, his lips brushing the tender skin of her cheek as he made to whisper.
“Have you no friends in this room tonight, Tavia?”
She turned her face so as to respond to him alone. “I think not,” she said. “Between the bride brigade and their mamas, I’ve collected quite a few enemies in this room.”
Merritt straightened. “Two things, then,” he said above the music. “First, to you I am Rit. That’s what people I care about call me.”
Care about. Her heart lurched even as she held tight to his hand as they twirled beneath the glittering chandeliers.
Well, of course he cares about you, silly woman, she told herself. I’m standing between him and unwanted advances from marriageable misses. Violet’s scowling mother stepped into view only to disappear when Rit whirled Tavia around.
And their mamas, she added.
Once again her companion leaned in close. “And second, if you are going to acquire enemies by your acquaintance to me, then I say we give them something to dislike.”
“Such as?”
“Come with me.” Rit grasped her hand and led her off the dance floor, through the crowd, and out onto the wide veranda that opened onto a quaint cobblestone terrace with a bubbling fountain below.
She grasped the iron rail and inhaled deeply of the thick night air. Unlike the city streets, this green oasis smelled like wet earth
and jasmine. Just above the roofline on the other side of the terrace, a sliver of a moon lit the night.
A movement down by the fountain caught her attention. A swish of skirts, deep purple or sapphire blue, scurried into hiding beneath the foliage. Or perhaps she only imagined it.
“I take it you like the scent of courtyard better than the streets,” he said as he closed the glass doors behind him and joined her at the rail.
“Much,” she said. “It’s just so lovely.”
“I suppose. Sit down, Tavia.” Rit indicated a pair of lacy iron chairs in the same pattern that decorated the trim on the balcony. “We’ve got a problem, you and I.” At her concerned look, he continued. “We’ve been playing our parts too well. Seems as though it’s now common knowledge that you and I are smitten with each other.”
“Smitten?” She grinned. “That doesn’t sound like a word you would use. Where did you hear that?”
“From my mother. Last night before she left for the ranch. She is concerned because she has not yet met you.”
“But, Rit, we’re not really… smitten. Didn’t you tell her?”
“How could I? She’s one of the ones sending the bride brigade into action. If she were to believe we weren’t… smitten… then there would be no more peace and quiet for me. I’m already concerned what she’ll do when you leave. I do not want to hasten the results.”
“I see.”
“There’s more.” He shifted positions, and the moonlight slanted over his handsome features. Oh, but he was easy on the eyes. And yet hard on the heart. “There’s a week of business meetings set up on the ranch. My mother and Charles are already on their way. I need to leave tomorrow.”
She leaned back against the cold iron of the chair and offered a smile. “Well, there you go. Time apart from me should help, right?”
“Time apart from you with my mother and brother, the two who most want to see me wed. It’s very possible they may have plans to bring the bride brigade to Texas.”
“Surely not,” she said. “Not since we are smitten.” Tavia smiled at the term. It was so old-fashioned, so quaint. And exactly how she felt. Smitten.
Or was it more?
He let out a long breath. “There’s more. I’ve been asked to bring you along.”
“Nonsense,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Just say I am far too busy at work to come along.”
He gave her a look that said exactly what she thought.
“All right, so that’s a thin excuse. I could find something to do.” She paused. “Like learning to type. That should keep me busy well beyond the week that you’re away. And I’m sure Miss O’Shea has plenty for me to do should I master the skill before then.”
“No.”
“No?” She sighed. “Then how can I get out of this? Surely I must.”
“You’ll be coming along with me, Tavia. There’s no way around it.” He laced his fingers together and seemed to be studying his hands. “So now that’s decided, and you and I will be traveling together tomorrow—”
“We will?”
“Please keep up, Tavia. Yes, we will. Unless you can present a good reason not to.”
She thought a minute. “What about Bridget?”
“That’s arranged. We should return well before your maid arrives. But if we are delayed, Miss O’Shea will happily entertain her.”
“Yes, that would work. So, no, I don’t suppose I can find a reason not to go.” She warmed to the idea. “And it would be a chance to prove to you that I have considerable horsemanship skills.”
“And I will be certain to see that you prove—or disprove—that. Now, all that remains is how this will be explained.”
“Explained? To whom?”
“My mother, for one.” He nodded behind him. “And to all those nosey women in there who are wondering whether you will be the final Baker bride. You have a reputation to protect, Tavia, and I will not have that compromised on my account.”
She slanted him a look. “Do you have a plan, or is that what we came out here to discuss?”
Rit shrugged. “Is it too soon to announce our engagement?”
“Engagement,” she said a bit too loudly. “Surely you’re joking,” she added in a quieter tone.
“I wouldn’t joke about something so serious. So, too soon?”
“My father would think so,” she said. “Although Mother would likely approve.”
“Smart woman, your mother.” He paused. “So, do we agree, then?”
“On an engagement?” She allowed one brief moment to consider what it might be like to actually become engaged to a man like Rit Baker and realized the proposition wasn’t awful. “Yes, I suppose. But since you’ve planned the engagement, may I be the one to plan the breakup? I would love something dramatic. Perhaps something that would put the bride brigade off of chasing you for a while.”
“Oh Tavia,” he said with a wink, “what could possibly put the bride brigade off of chasing me?” He held the serious expression just long enough for her to consider he might be serious. Then he laughed. “The problem with the bride brigade is that they do not care who I am or what I’m like. They just want the Baker bank account.”
She sighed. “Oh, how I understand. I sometimes imagine finding a man who could see me just for who I am and not for being the Derby heir.” She met his gaze across the shadows. “Too much to ask for, I suppose.”
“Nothing is too much for God, Tavia. I believe you’re the one who told me that.”
“Fair enough. So how do we handle going from smitten to engaged?”
He rose and offered his hand to help her to her feet. “Leave that to me.”
Tavia rose but then stalled beside the rail. She looked up at the moon and once again inhaled deeply of the jasmine-scented air.
“I don’t want to lie to anyone.” She turned to face Rit. “And yes, I am completely aware of the fact that by pretending that we are”—she allowed a wry smile—“smitten, I am not being truthful.”
Rit’s fingers gripped the iron rail, then slowly he moved his hand close to hers. “What if I am smitten?”
Tavia’s breath caught. “Oh.”
“That’s not a response, Tavia.” He leaned close enough for their shoulders to touch. “Or is it?”
Had she the words, Tavia might have said something brilliant. Words that would say that despite her best intentions of keeping Rit Baker from the bride brigade, she had actually entertained thoughts of joining their ranks.
Only briefly, of course. But entertained them all the same.
“You’re right,” Rit said as he took a step back and moved toward the door. “It is too soon. Look, forget I said anything. I—”
She stepped in front of him. “No.”
“No?” His dazzling smile rose. “Darlin’, you’re going to have to explain yourself.”
“Well, despite the fact your taste in politics is atrocious, I have developed a liking to you.” She leaned in, and Rit did the same. “So perhaps I am—”
Just before their lips met, the doors flew open. “Here they are!” someone called.
Light spilled out from the ballroom, blinding Tavia. She lifted her hand to her eyes and blinked as Rit guided her by the elbow back inside.
“Congratulations!” someone called.
“Well done, Baker!” another shouted.
Tavia held tight to Rit’s arm. “What is happening?” she asked him.
Their hostess slipped in front of them and held out her bejeweled hands to Rit. “Why didn’t you warn me that you would be proposing marriage to this woman at my event?”
Rit stepped forward. “Well, the truth is—”
“The truth is I am smitten with him,” Tavia said. “But contrary to whoever told you there was an engagement afoot—”
“But I heard him ask!” The crowd parted and Violet appeared. In a lovely gown of deep sapphire blue. “I was down by the fountain. He asked you to marry him.”
Rit looked down at Tav
ia. “I did mention engagement to this lovely lady. However, I have not yet had a response.”
“What’s the response?” someone called.
“Marry him,” a fellow in the back of the room said.
An idea occurred. “Not until we’ve spoken to our parents,” she said. “We will be traveling to Texas to speak with Mrs. Baker tomorrow, won’t we, dear?”
His grin was dazzling. “Yes, we will. Now if you’ll all excuse us, we have an early morning train to catch.” He offered Violet a wink and then turned to bid good-bye to their hostess.
Tavia walked out a step ahead of Rit with her head held high. She hadn’t wanted to lie, and to her mind, she hadn’t. They would talk to their parents. About marriage? Probably not.
She paused at the door to accept her wrap from the butler as the chatter behind her continued. “I knew she didn’t type,” she heard some woman say.
And all Tavia could do was smile.
Chapter 6
Texas was almost as beautiful as Colorado. Tavia allowed the dappled gray mare to decide the pace and the course as she set out toward the east under a gathering of cotton fluff clouds.
Traveling from New Orleans to Houston in a private railcar was much more to her taste and experience. In keeping to propriety, Rit had taken a berth elsewhere on the train. Thus when they arrived at the gates of Baker Ranch, she was refreshed and ready to meet the original Mrs. Baker. Rit, however, needed a nap.
She’d only been on Baker property the better part of an hour before she was summoned to meet Rit’s mother. Mrs. Baker held court on the back veranda, her chair situated so as to take advantage of the view of the vast vistas that comprised the ranch.
“Do sit,” The gray-haired matriarch said as she indicated a chair opposite her. When Tavia had complied, Mrs. Baker continued. “Miss O’Shea tells me you’ve been quite an asset at Baker Shipping.”
“Miss O’Shea is too kind. I don’t know that I’ve done much to help, but I have tried.”
Rit’s mother gave her a level look. “Miss O’Shea is brutally truthful, Octavia. That quality is what I like best about her. And she tells me you are good for Baker Shipping.” She paused only a heartbeat. “And for my son.”
The Most Eligible Bachelor Romance Collection: Nine Historical Romances Celebrate Marrying for All the Right Reasons Page 56