by Heidi Betts
All three women broke out in laughter, and Willow promised to lend her garters to each woman in turn—if she couldn't find new ones in Paris, which she swore to give her very best effort.
"Brandt is going to faint when he sees you in that dress,” Megan added, lifting baby Tessa into her arms. “You look amazing."
"Thank you.” Flexing and unflexing her fingers around the bouquet in her hand, she said, “I guess I'm ready, then. Lead the way."
She followed Rebecca and Megan into the long hallway and down to the first floor of the luxurious hotel. One of the banquet rooms had been set up with ribbons and flowers and rows of chairs that were now occupied by the hundred or so guests Brandt's sisters had insisted be invited. The equally large room across the hall was filled with tables and attendants waiting to serve the wedding party immediately after the ceremony.
Rebecca passed through the heavy double doors and walked quietly to her husband's side, where he stood talking with Brandt and Lucas in hushed tones. A moment later, Caleb came to the back of the room and offered his arm to Willow. She smiled at her escort and slipped her hand around his elbow.
Balancing little Tessa on one shoulder, Megan propped the doors open and then scuttled ahead to her seat, nodding to the organist and minister as she approached.
The music began, and Caleb gave Willow a reassuring smile as they began slowly walking down the cloth-covered aisle. Brandt stood at the other end, looking as handsome as ever in his charcoal woolen dress suit. When he saw her, all expression washed from his face. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped, and then a smile as wide and charming and sexy as she'd ever seen crossed his face.
He made her feel beautiful and wanted, and she wished they could walk a little faster down this aisle.
Erik sat in the first chair on the bride's side, craning his neck to look back at her and grinning his bright, gap-toothed grin. She was surprised to see that his suit was still in fairly decent condition. He'd pulled the black bow-shaped tie from around his neck, but otherwise he looked like a young gentleman.
When they reached the minister, Caleb kissed her cheek before transferring her hand from his to Brandt's and taking a seat beside his wife and children.
Brandt pulled her close and whispered in her ear, “At least I know you didn't bring a gun to our wedding. There isn't a breath of space to spare in that gown."
She met his eyes and shot him a mischievous grin. “I wouldn't be so sure about that, Donovan. I may not have brought my gun, but there was just enough room near my thigh for a knife."
He threw back his head and laughed, heedless of the multitude of guests who shot them funny looks. She bit down on a chuckle of her own and gave him a warning cuff to the arm before shifting slightly to face the minister.
They listened as the black-gowned cleric spoke of love and commitment. And then he addressed Brandt as he asked, “Do you, Brandt Maxwell Donovan, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
Brandt met her gaze and softly answered, “I do."
Then the reverend repeated the question for her. “And do you, Willow Elizabeth Hastings, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
She looked into Brandt's green eyes, bright and shining like emeralds, and couldn't keep the happiness from spreading across her face. “Oh, yes,” she said in a low voice, never so sure of anything in her life. “I definitely, definitely do."
Before the minister even gave him permission to do so, Brandt leaned forward and kissed her. And for the very first time as Mrs. Willow Donovan . . . she kissed him back.
Author's note
I have always been fascinated by the Pinkerton National Detective Agency and enjoyed every minute of the research for Almost a Lady. I was even more excited when it seemed that each fact I discovered lent itself to Brandt and Willow's story.
For instance, while Allan Pinkerton (founder of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency) was alive, female operatives were quite common to the organization. He recognized what an asset the fairer sex could be to an investigation, understanding that a woman could not only use her feminine wiles to get information, but that a woman often would not be considered suspect as readily as a man. Unfortunately, his colleagues didn't, necessarily agree with him. After Allan's death in 1884, those who took over the Agency began eliminating female operatives from the payroll.
In real life, Robert Pinkerton was Allan's second son and did work under Superintendent Francis Warner at the New York office. Allan's first son, William, remained at the Chicago branch.
Yes, I did take a bit of literary license while creating Robert's character for this story, but I hope that I did his family justice. After all, I have always admired the Pinkertons greatly and like to think that if I'd been born a hundred years earlier, I might have had the chance to be a Pinkerton agent myself.