The Rails to Love Romance Collection

by Brandmeyer, Diana Lesire; Cabot, Amanda; Carter, Lisa

  “Then what are your favorites?”

  “Hmm, this is also good. What is in there? Something a bit different…”

  “Bits of apple. Very small pieces really, so you should only pick up on the sweetness of the apple, not the apple itself.”

  He munched another forkful and nodded. “I’m going to gain twenty pounds.”

  “You could afford it.” The words were out before she realized. “I mean, you’re handsome and all.” She could feel the heat on her cheeks. “I mean, you’re just a little thin, is all.”

  Jeffery laughed. “I am. I don’t eat a lot. With the dishes I’ve tasted the past two days, however, that just might change.”

  “What about breakfast? I see you leave early in the morning. I’d be happy to make your breakfast before you go into the office.”

  “I arrive at the office before dawn. I wouldn’t want to impose upon you.”

  “Why so early?” Tilda relaxed, seeing his enjoyment over the food, and started to eat her dinner.

  “My grandfather used to say I was obsessive. Perhaps he is correct. However, I am not quite thirty years old and own my own business. I purchased my own home and still have money in the bank. I make a profit for my clients and have established a respectable name in business. I believe my attention to detail, arriving to work early and staying late, has helped me in this endeavor.”

  Tilda mulled over what to say next. “That is impressive. Is that why you sought for a mail-order bride? Because you couldn’t take time to court a woman?”

  Jeffery wiped his mouth and pushed back from the table. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were talking with my grandfather. To answer your question, I’d say yes. I sought a mail-order bride because I didn’t have time in my schedule to court a woman as customs tend to dictate. I do wonder, though, why would you answer such an offer?” Tilda felt the tables turn on her. “As I mentioned before, my parents died. There was a man who sought my affections, but his interest lay in my property, not me.”

  “Your parents’ home?”

  She nodded in the affirmative. The family property included more than the house, but she wasn’t ready to tell him that. She didn’t know how the laws in Georgia worked, but she knew that some states required the husband to hold legal control over the wife’s property. Frankly, she didn’t want Jeffery or anyone else in control of her parents’ affairs at this time. “Reginald was only after the estate. He had no interest in me.”

  “Well, as you can tell, I have no need for your parents’ estate.” He scooted back to the table and continued to eat his meal. “If we are to stay married, you will eventually need to sell your parent’s property.”

  “I know but—”

  “I understand. You want to wait and see—”

  “If our marriage grows,” she finished for him.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “So tell me about your childhood.”

  “Not much to tell, I guess. I grew up in New York City. It’s an exciting place with the theaters, museums, and such, and we would travel to Cape Cod for summers. That is where my parents were headed when the accident happened.”

  “Why would they go there in the wintertime?”

  “Father wanted to open the cottage early. They were considering an early retirement and living on the Cape year round.”

  “What did your father do? I mean, I understood from your letters he was a professor. Professors don’t make that much, do they?”

  “He was a professor, and you are correct, he didn’t have an extravagant salary.” She nibbled her lower lip then looked up at him. “Father and Mother had other income sources.”

  “Obviously you don’t trust me enough yet to tell me everything, and I shall not push you to reveal more than you wish. Just answer me one question, if you would. These other revenue streams—nothing… illegal?”

  Tilda giggled. “No, nothing illegal. And yes, I do need to trust you more before I reveal everything to you.”

  “Fine.”

  She knew she was hurting him by not revealing the complete truth about her parents. But she’d already experienced enough in her life to see how friendships could change once people learned who her parents were.

  Jeffery decided not to push the matter. She would tell him when the time was right, he hoped. He prayed. For now, he needed to pursue a friendship. Something he’d really never had with anyone. He could investigate and discover on his own who her parents were and what properties or other assets they held. Of course, I own half a dozen of my own. He sighed. Best to drop this puzzle and wait on Tilda.

  After dinner, he went back to the frustrating paperwork in his study. Tilda came in about thirty minutes later. “Do you mind if I read?”

  “Of course not. I know little of the books on these shelves. Mrs. Hoffman had most of these shelves filled. They took several volumes with them, mostly first editions I believe, but left all of these.” Jeffery stood and scanned the books. “Honestly, I haven’t sat down to enjoy a novel since I was in school.” He clasped his hands behind his back and walked over to the shelves. “Perhaps I should take up reading as a pastime.”

  Tilda perused the volumes for a bit, then looked down at his desk. “What seems to be the problem?” she asked, picking up a paper.

  “As I mentioned earlier, I don’t feel this company represents a good investment. Even so, I can’t find any indication from the figures…”

  She put the first paper down and picked up another, scanning each page carefully but quickly, then moved on to a third.

  He held back from voicing his concern over her attempt to make sense of such complex financial documents. What would it hurt to let her look? he mused.

  “Where is the budget for the projected expenses for this project?”

  Jeffery rifled through the pages. “Here.”

  She scanned the columned pages and went back to the other papers. Fifteen minutes later, she spoke. “I see your concern and agree. Several steps are missing in their projections.”

  “Several? I found one. What did you see?”

  “My father invested in a venture out in California three years ago. He lost money not because it was a bad investment per se but because the business suffered an earthquake before they reached a profit. They hadn’t raised enough capital to absorb the loss they incurred. This company you are reviewing is seeking substantial investment, offering low payout, and showing rather high expenses. The salaries alone are nearly double those reflected on the profit-and-loss sheets of the similar company my father invested in two years ago.”

  “Ah, I didn’t know that about the salaries in California. I thought they were high but…” He turned to his wife. “Thank you. Notice that the ratio of money going back into the company is very low for the first year. In most cases, the greater share goes back into the company in the early years rather than into the owner’s pockets.” He pointed to the figures on the page.

  She nodded. “Yes. I see your point, although I wouldn’t have picked that up. I have not had formal business training, just what my father has shown me over the years.”

  “Well, you are quite astute. I may just bring home more of my work when I find myself stuck.”

  Tilda’s green eyes sparkled as she smiled.

  “I know I said I would not push you for the source of your parents’ income. Obviously he made investments. But if you should need my advice…”

  She cut him off. “Thank you. Yes, he had investments. Most were profitable; occasionally, some were not. I appreciate your offer to help.” She paused and looked into his eyes. He felt the heat of her gaze piercing his heart. “Jeffery, I want to trust you.”

  He opened his arms and stepped toward her. He’d been missing her closeness allday. She might be the one feeling the need for a hug, but he now found them equally comforting.

  She stepped into his arms and wrapped hers around him. A warmth spread through his entire body, a peace that calmed him, a love that engulfed him. She leaned in, her h
ead up.

  He brushed stray hair from her face and focused on her delicate pink lips. “May I?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” she whispered back.

  He brought his lips on to hers. A wave of passion, fire, and calmness converged as he lost himself in her arms.

  “ ‘Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine.’” Tilda whispered.

  He’d read that passage last night from the Song of Solomon. “Tilda…” His voice cracked. He hadn’t done that since he was thirteen.

  Her eyes flooded open, then flickered with fear.

  “Shh,” he whispered. “It is fine. But we have promised to get to know one another first.”

  She stepped out of his embrace. “Forgive me.”

  He reached for her hand. “There is nothing to forgive. We are married.”

  The gentle pink rose on her cheeks.

  “I am surprised by my own desires. I promise I will not dishonor you.”

  She tilted her head to the left.

  “Now it is I who needs to ask your forgiveness. I am attracted to you, Tilda. But I want my—I mean our—love to be genuine, not sparked by a momentary pleasure.”

  “I think I understand.”

  He prayed she really did. He was still trying to figure it out for himself as well. His reading of the Song of Solomon showed there was more to marriage and love than he’d ever thought possible. This was not his parents’ love. And though he knew his parents truly loved one another, they were not demonstrative in their affections. Yet here standing before him was a woman who thrived on affection, offered affection, and Jeffery decided he liked it. “I want our union to be special. I can’t explain it. I just know that if I were to press for our union now it might not be for the right reasons. What little I know of you intrigues me—in fact, I am in awe of you. I believe I could easily fall in love with you. But I feel you need to be certain that I love you. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes. And I will be patient.” She stepped away and picked a book off the shelf. “If you’ll excuse me, it is getting late. I have some chores I’d like to start early tomorrow morning.”

  “Good night, Tilda.”

  “Good night, Jeffery.”

  She left, her footsteps barely audible on the stairs.

  Each day throughout the following week it seemed to Jeffery that they drew closer and closer. Each night he tried to read through the Song of Solomon. The second verse of the tenth chapter kept repeating over and over in his mind: “Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.” The verse had been permanently branded upon his heart. “Come away,” it said, and he contemplated a trip out to California. We could enjoy a bit of a honeymoon, he thought, his excitement rising, and I could look into some of my clients’ investments while we’re there.

  But events early the following week caused him to pause. He came home to find a stranger in the house, a Mr. Reginald Murphy, the solicitor for Tilda’s father.

  “How may I help you, Mr. Murphy?” Jeffery said as he walked toward the man and ushered him to a seat in the parlor, then sat as well.

  “I’m here for Tilda. Her father and I had an agreement. She is to be my wife.”

  “I’m afraid she cannot be your wife, since she has married me,” Jeffery declared, coming to his feet.

  “Mr. Oliver, I’m certain I can persuade you to change your mind. Would a thousand dollars do?”

  Jeffery leaned back on his heels. “No.”

  He heard the back door slam shut and Tilda call out to Mercy.

  “Tilda, would you come to the parlor?” Jeffery ordered more than requested.

  She came in, and her smile faded as she realized who was sitting on the sofa. “Reginald?”

  “So you do know this man?”

  “Well, yes. He was Father’s solicitor. I mentioned him to you when I first arrived.”

  Jeffery searched his memory. Was this the same man…? Yes, of course. “He claims that he had an arrangement with your father.”

  “He did not. He has taken liberties with the agreement. He was to help me with Father’s estate in the event that something were to happen to him and Mother. Reginald presumed that meant he was to become my husband, which he is not, and he has been told in no uncertain terms on more than one occasion that I am not interested.”

  “Tilda, I love you,” Reginald protested. “I came all this way to prove my motives are pure.”

  “Then you won’t mind if I transfer all of my assets to the oversight of my husband, Jeffery Oliver.”

  Reginald paled.

  “How much have you spent?” Tilda asked.

  Jeffery put his arm around his wife and examined the man.

  “Of Father’s money,” she added.

  “I purchased a house for us in New Rochelle. I spent it for us,” he defended.

  “Without my consent and in spite of my repeated refusals to marry you, which means you had no authority to spend those funds. I should have you arrested.”

  “Mr. Murphy,” Jeffery spoke up. “I believe my wife has made the matter quite clear. You will be hearing from my attorneys in the morning. We will be transferring oversight of my wife’s assets to my firm as soon as you return to New York. You will have ninety days to return the funds you spent without my wife’s or her parents’ consent. If you have not returned all the funds by that time, I will have an arrest warrant secured by the New York authorities. Do you understand?”

  Reginald Murphy nodded.

  Jeffery motioned for him to leave.

  “Are you certain, Tilda?” Reginald pleaded one more time.

  “I do not love you, Reginald, and I am married.”

  He nodded and slipped out the front door.

  “Just how large is your estate?” Jeffery asked.

  Chapter Six

  Tilda couldn’t believe the change in Jeffery since he’d learned the true value of her inheritance. She’d presumed it would create some difficulty, but to find him so defensive at her insistence that he earn her trust—that she didn’t expect. Prior to Reginald’s visit, they’d been learning to quietly exist together in the same house. She found herself dreaming of the possibility they might celebrate their marriage as a true husband and wife. There were even conversations about having children, possibly several, as they opened up with each other about growing up as an only child.

  At least, that’s where she had thought things were headed. Now, she didn’t know. Jeffery had become distant, coming home late from the office again, always with the excuse that he was too busy with work. And she wanted to believe him.…

  Tonight was no different.

  “Tilda, where’s my supper?” Jeffery demanded.

  She came into the kitchen and watched him remove his coat and hat. “I thought we might go out tonight.”

  “If I wanted to go out, I would have told you. I never realized you were so spoiled.”

  “Fine.” She stomped out of the room. “I’ll pack my bags and file to have our marriage annulled.”

  “Fine.”

  She turned before she left the kitchen and addressed him on his accusation. “How can you say such a thing to me? I’ve been nothing but thoughtful and considerate to you and your horrible hours. I’ve never once asked you for a thing. Have I gone to the finery and ordered a dozen dresses? Have I gone to the store and ordered all new furnishings? When, pray tell, have I done anything to indicate I desire a life of pampered indulgence? Even though it’s obvious now I don’t need your money to do any of those things. And I certainly don’t need to put up with your childish jealousy over the fact that I happen to hold more assets than you.”

  “I never said anything about you having more assets than me,” Jeffery barked back at her.

  “No, of course not. You communicate your feelings just fine without dropping a single word! Do you think for a moment I don’t see through that ‘gentleman’ facade? There’s a reason I didn’t tell you right away, Jeffery Oliver. I wanted to. But I didn
’t dare until you and I were committed to one another unconditionally. Well, that obviously isn’t going to happen.”

  “You never told me how your parents earned that kind of money. I’m no fool. I know professors don’t earn that kind of wealth.”

  “As I told you before, you are correct, they don’t. Father was a writer as well as a professor. He taught abroad and lectured during the summer months on his books. And as I’ve also mentioned before, I speak fluent French. We spent a couple of summers in France as Father and Mother toured. Mother was an accomplished painter. Politicians, university officials, and other well-known people paid quite well to have their portraits done by her.

  “We never lived as if we were wealthy. In fact, I didn’t know myself until after they died. And now you know—not that it concerns you.” Tilda turned and headed back toward the stairs. “I’m leaving, Mr. Oliver. I’ll be leaving on the five o’clock train this evening.”

  “Don’t go, Tilda,” she thought she heard him say, but it was too little too late. She couldn’t continue to live like this. She thought she could be patient and wait for her husband to warm up to the idea of having a wife. What man would not want to fulfill his conjugal rights? They’d been married for a month. They had been growing closer, little by little—or so she thought. They had kissed more than once, the heat of passion certainly overcoming her more than once. Apparently, not so with Jeffery.

  “I can’t stay where I’m not loved, Lord,” she sniffed and pulled out her carpetbag.

  Jeffery slammed his fist against the counter. Tilda couldn’t leave. He’d been working late to allow himself a month away from his business. Most of his investors understood his need for some time away, but he’d lost another just this evening.

  An insistent knock rattled the back door. “Jeffery,” his father called as he knocked. “Jeffery, open up, we need to talk. Richard Thompson came by and said he was leaving your firm.”

  Jeffery rolled his eyes and opened the back door. “Yes,” he said and led the way back into the kitchen. “Apparently, he doesn’t believe I am allowed to take a trip with my wife.”