A Worthy Suitor

by Jennifer AlLee

  GWENDOLYN BANKS NEVER EXPECTED A REAL-LIFE ROBIN HOOD

  The reluctant socialite feels more at home in the woods surrounding Tuxedo Park than at the vibrant parties hosted within. But when she stumbles upon the town archery instructor in her wooded sanctuary, he quickly makes her reconsider her life of solitude.

  “THE LORD IS MY LIGHT AND MY SALVATION.”

  —Psalms 27:1

  Accomplished archer Albert Taylor has vowed to make something more of his life than just catering to the Park elite. Falling in love with one of his students isn’t part of his plans. But when Albert’s accused of a crime, can this budding romance be over before it’s truly begun?

  “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, I’m clumsy by nature.”

  “I hadn’t noticed that at all.”

  Gwen put a hand on her hip and looked at him askance. “Come now. You couldn’t possibly have missed my limp.”

  “Of course I noticed the limp, but that’s not the same as being clumsy.”

  She looked as if she was weighing her words before she spoke. “You’ll have to forgive me, Albert. I’m not used to anyone speaking so openly about my physical impairment.”

  “We all have challenges. Some are physical, some not as apparent to the eye.” Albert shrugged, hoping to make her feel more at ease. “I choose my friends based on their personality and character, not on whether they can win at a foot race.”

  A deep laugh burst from Gwen and she put her hand flat against her stomach. “Oh dear, I’m certainly glad to hear that. Elsewise, you and I would have to part ways right now.”

  “That would be a terrible shame.” He grinned, totally besotted by the charming, laughing woman in front of him.

  Jennifer AlLee was born in Hollywood, California, and now lives in Las Vegas, Nevada, which just goes to show that God provides her with colorful surroundings. She has ten published books to her credit. When she’s not spinning tales, she can be found playing tabletop games with friends, enjoying TV shows or movies and singing at the top of her lungs to whatever song happens to be playing.

  JENNIFER ALLEE

  A Worthy Suitor

  The Lord is my light and my salvation; Whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; Of whom shall I be afraid?

  —Psalms 27:1

  To my mother, Rose-Marie, with all my love.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  Tuxedo Park, New York

  June 1, 1901

  Gwendolyn Banks was on the hunt. She moved through the trees, careful not to make unnecessary noise that might startle her quarry. The elusive zebra swallowtail butterfly had escaped her for the past few days, but it couldn’t hide forever.

  Not that the past few days had been fruitless. The book she clutched in her right hand was full of sketches and notations. Everywhere she looked, there was something new and wonderful to document. To Gwen’s mind, it was impossible to be out amongst God’s creation and not find something fascinating.

  Gwen had been dismayed five years earlier when her father had announced his purchase of a vacation cottage in Tuxedo Park. In the exclusive community, there would be numerous opportunities to engage in cycling, tennis, dances and the like, all of which Gwen would need to find reasons not to be a part of. But when they arrived that first year, and Gwen discovered the treasure trove of natural wonders essentially in her own backyard, her thoughts on summer changed.

  The chilled morning air seeped through the thin cotton of her walking suit, sending a shiver across her shoulders. Normally, she wouldn’t be out quite this early, but she hoped the cool moistness would slow down the butterflies long enough for her not only to spot one, but to sketch it, as well.

  A rustling sound caught her ear. Gwen stopped short, leaned against the nearest tree and peered around the trunk in the direction the noise came from. It was a man. He tromped through the foliage, a bow in his hand and a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder. For one frivolous moment, Gwen let herself think about the romantic stories of Robin Hood, robbing from the rich and giving to the poor. But this wasn’t one of the books she loved and she wasn’t in Sherwood Forest. This was real life, and he was a very real man.

  He was tall, his shoulders broad. He moved purposefully, threading through the trees as if he knew exactly what he sought. The man was obviously no stranger to the forest. A rabbit hopped into his path, then stopped, nose twitching, eyes round and bright as marbles. The man stopped as well and pulled an arrow from the quiver. Gwen’s heartbeat quickened. Was he a hunter? She was fully aware where the meat on the dinner table came from, but she had no desire to witness the process that put it there.

  Gwen watched as he positioned the arrow on the bow, then raised it, pulled back on the string and took aim. But he didn’t aim at the rabbit, which now bounded away. Instead, he aimed at a thin tree. What in the world? Why would he shoot at a tree?

  Then she saw it. There was the zebra swallowtail, its black-and-white-striped wings moving slowly together then apart, attempting to sun itself on the gray bark of the pawpaw tree. The color of the trunk combined with the slanted stripes of light and shadow cast through the leafy canopy provided effective camouflage for the butterfly. If Gwen hadn’t been looking for it, she might have missed it. Did the archer see it?

  If he did, he didn’t care. With one eye squinted shut, he pulled farther back on the bow string until his thumb touched the underside of his jaw. He held his breath.

  Before she could think twice, Gwen barreled forward.

  “No! Stop!”

  The man jerked and turned toward the sound of her voice as he let go of the string. The arrow whistled through the air, so close to Gwen’s ear that she felt the rush of wind it created as it went by.

  “Stop!” Now it was the man’s turn to bellow out a warning, even though the arrow was already long gone.

  Gwen tried to do as he said, but one foot caught on the other in a frustrating and all-too-familiar manner, and she fell to the ground in a heap. As she attempted to free herself from the tangle of her skirts, the man dropped his bow and moved to help her.

  “I’m so sorry, Miss…” His voice trailed off as his eyebrows raised in a question.

  “Gwendolyn Banks.”

  “Miss Banks. Albert Taylor, at your service.”

  He held out his hand, but Gwen frowned at him. “I wouldn’t be in need of your service, Mr. Taylor, if you hadn’t yelled at me.”

  The solicitous smile froze on his lips. “And I wouldn’t have yelled at you if you hadn’t put yourself in danger by running at a raised arrow.” His eyes narrowed and he hunkered down beside her. “Why would you do such a reckless thing?”

  She puffed out a frustrated sigh and pointed at the tree. “Because of the zebra—” It was gone.

  “Did you say a zebra? You may have hit your head when you fell.” He reached out to touch her forehead, but she pulled away.

  “What? No, not a zebra. A zebra swallowtail. It’s a butterfly, and it was right there on that tree you were aiming at.”

  “I know. That’s what I was aiming at.”

  “I just said that.”

  He shook his head. “No, you said I aimed at the tree, but that’s incorrect. I was aiming at the butterfly.”

  Gwen was so shocked, she couldn’t formulate words. Her mouth moved silently until finally the questions burst out. “Why would you do that? Wh
y would any sane person hunt a butterfly?”

  “I assure you, I’m perfectly sane.”

  “Are you a lepidopterist?”

  “A what?”

  “A lepidopterist. A person who studies butterflies. And you obviously aren’t one, or you’d know what it meant.” She shook her head. “Of course you’re not. That arrow would destroy the poor thing’s body and make it less than worthless for pinning.”

  Mr. Taylor held up his hand to stop her now free-flowing words. “I instruct archery at the Tuxedo Park Clubhouse. I come out here to improve my aim.”

  “And you do that by shooting at butterflies?”

  “I do that by shooting at the smallest target I can find. Today, that just happened to be a butterfly.”

  Gwen couldn’t help wonder what would have happened to the rabbit if something smaller hadn’t come along. “You must stop.”

  “Must I?”

  The amusement in his voice brought heat surging to Gwen’s cheeks. Mocking didn’t sit well with her. “To kill these amazing creatures simply to improve your aim is nothing short of barbarous.”

  He winced and drew back just a bit. “I’m not a perfect man, but I assure you, my actions are far from barbarous.” He rose to his feet and again held out his hand. “Now, please let me prove that my heart is not black by letting me assist you.”

  As much as she wanted to refuse his help, she knew it was foolish to do so. Struggling to her feet unaided would be unladylike and potentially humiliating. With a sniff she reached up and took his hand. Placing his other hand beneath her elbow, he pulled her up as if she weighed no more than the butterfly he’d almost impaled.

  “Thank you.”

  “You are quite welcome, Miss Banks.”

  His lips quirked up in a smile, crinkling the corners of his eyes. She’d never met a man with eyes quite like his. They were a rich golden brown, like the topaz in one of Mother’s many necklaces. But beyond their beauty, his eyes were compassionate and honest. Perhaps she had misjudged him.

  “I apologize for my outburst, Mr. Taylor. I’ve been studying the flora and fauna here for the last five years. Some are easier to find than others, but the zebra swallowtail has been particularly difficult to observe. The thought that anyone would harm one simply to improve his aim, well, I find it appalling, to be perfectly honest.”

  He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I doubt you’ve ever had a problem being honest.”

  “True.” Gwen nodded. “Father says it’s one of my worst faults.”

  “Not at all.” Mr. Taylor shook his head. “I find honesty a virtue which is in short supply. It’s refreshing to find someone who speaks her mind.”

  A ribbon of warmth wound its way through Gwen, even though she knew he was only being nice. He was a villager; she was a “Parkie.” Of course he would be polite and considerate. Still, it was hard to imagine a man who spoke so highly of honesty would outright lie, so she let herself enjoy the compliment.

  Shifting the quiver on his shoulder, he glanced at the tree and then back at Gwen. “It should please you to know that, even though I occasionally aim at butterflies, I’ve never hit one. They have a habit of flying away before the arrow gets close.”

  So he shot at them because he knew he wouldn’t hit them. It was a strange thing to do, but she was glad he’d told her. The act of kindness was impressive. “I’m very pleased to hear that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must get home.”

  His eyes flickered downward, taking in the dirt smeared on the side of her skirt, then moved back up to her face. “Of course. Good day to you, Miss Banks.”

  She nodded. “Mr. Taylor.”

  How she wished he’d walk away so she could make her retreat in private. But it would be rude to turn one’s back on a lady, so as she expected, Mr. Taylor stood watching her. Gwen turned with all the grace she could muster, praying that for once she could exit an encounter without eliciting pity. She took one step, then another, and then her secret was exposed.

  Mr. Taylor hurried to her side, his fingers wrapping around her upper arm. “You’re limping. You must let me help you.”

  “No, I’m fine. Really.”

  His expression plainly said that he didn’t believe her. “No one walks that way when they’re fine. You must have twisted your ankle.”

  “I assure you, there’s nothing wrong with me that wasn’t wrong when I left the cottage this morning.” She hesitated, angry at the embarrassment she felt. “I was born with a deformity of the foot. That is the cause of the limp.”

  After spending her entire life dealing with people’s reactions to her physical imperfection, Gwen had become quite adept at reading facial expressions. Most responded with pity. A few with revulsion. And a few with mean-spirited taunts. But the look on Mr. Taylor’s face was altogether new. He was upset by his blunder, but he also emanated compassion. It was almost as if he understood what she was feeling.

  His hand still on her arm, he looked her straight in the eye. “I’m glad that you weren’t hurt by our meeting today. May I offer a word of advice?”

  Oh, please, Lord, she prayed silently, don’t let him be a proponent of quackery. But she smiled sweetly. “Certainly.”

  He leaned slightly forward and lowered his voice. “The next time you see someone like me out here, don’t try to run in front of him.”

  Gwen put her palm flat over her heart and gasped in mock distress. “Oh no. You mean there are more like you?”

  Albert Taylor’s topaz eyes glimmered as he laughed deep and loud. “And again, a good day to you, miss.”

  His fingers left her arm, taking their warmth with them. Then he stepped away and moved to retrieve his errant arrow. Gwen forced herself to head in the other direction, back to the family cottage.

  Many years earlier, she’d made a hard and fast rule not to indulge in flights of fancy where her heart was concerned. That’s what books were for. In the pages of fiction, she could experience love and intimacy without having to deal with the pain of reality. But now, just for a moment, Gwen let herself imagine what it would be like to feel romantic love for someone who was flesh and blood.

  Someone with eyes that sparkled like topaz.

  * * *

  It was much easier to locate an arrow when it hit its intended target than when it flew off course. Albert scanned the ground, moving aside low-growing plants with the end of his bow. On a normal day, he would have kept his eye on the shot and known exactly where the arrow went. But on a normal day, he wouldn’t have been interrupted by a young lady determined to save the life of a zebra swallowtail.

  Albert chuckled and shook his head. Her eyes had flashed when she took him to task for his choice of targets, and then, when she’d realized he wasn’t intent on exterminating the butterfly population of Tuxedo Park, she’d offered a sincere apology. He’d met many socialites during his years working at the club. Some treated him like a servant, while some flirted shamelessly as if it was a delightful summer game. Gwendolyn Banks was the first in recent memory, however, to treat him like a normal human being.

  Something out of place caught his eye, and he turned to see the arrow’s feathers sticking out from under a clump of weeds. Albert plucked it out triumphantly and slid it home into the quiver. Its loss wouldn’t mean much to any of the Parkies, but to him, every arrow brought him one step closer to reaching his goal.

  Albert turned on his heel. It was time to go to the club and prepare for another day of instructing the upper crust in the fine art of hitting a straw target. As he passed the pawpaw tree, he patted its trunk.

  “Maybe tomorrow,” he said. “But only if no butterflies are around.”

  The toe of his shoe hit something, and he looked down. Half-buried under leaves was a book. Miss Banks must have dropped it when she fell. He picked it up, opened the leather cover and let out a long whistle. It was a sketchbook that had been transformed into a field journal.

  With great care not to dirty it, he turned the pages, inc
reasingly impressed. Some of the sketches were simple, made with quick, black strokes, but others were extraordinary in their detail. A meticulously drawn bird of yellow and black looked as if it might fly off the page and escape into the trees.

  Albert couldn’t imagine the hours of work she must have put into her book. He had to return it to her, but how? He couldn’t very well walk up to her family’s cottage and rap on the door. No doubt she would come looking for it when she realized it was missing, so perhaps he should leave it where he’d found it. But the chance it would be ruined was far too great. The best thing would be to take it back to the clubhouse with him, and she could retrieve it there.

  He flipped to the back of the book. At least one quarter of the pages were blank. He could use one to leave her a note in case she came back looking for her lost book, but he had nothing to write with. Now what?

  Silently asking forgiveness for vandalizing her book, he tore out a page and headed back to the pawpaw tree. A smile lifted his lips. If Miss Banks was as bright as he thought she was, she’d understand his message, and he would see her again very soon.

  Chapter 2

  “Gwenie! Where have you been?”

  Gwen smiled as her younger sister hurried down the walkway to meet her. “The same place I am most mornings—the woods.”

  Matilda stopped in front of her and pointed at Gwen’s soiled skirt. “And this time, you’ve brought some of it home with you.”

  A flush heated Gwen’s cheeks. “I had a little accident. But no harm was done.”

  “Save for your dress.” Matilda sniffed. “I don’t know what you find so fascinating out there. It’s just the same old birds and trees and plants, over and over again.”

  “Oh, but you’re wrong. Nature is ever changing.” Gwen winked at her sister. “You’d see that if you took your eyes off the eligible dandies preening around the park.”

  Such a statement might offend another woman, but not Matilda. Vivacious and full of life, she was fully aware that men circled around her like moons orbiting a planet. Her smile lit up her dark green eyes as she threaded her arm through the crook of Gwen’s elbow. “Speaking of eligible dandies, why don’t you come into town with me? Jason Adler has been boasting about his new motorcar, and he promised to take some of us for a ride.”