Love Inspired Historical July 2015 Box Set: The Marriage AgreementCowgirl for KeepsThe Lawman's RedemptionCaptive on the High Seas

by Renee Ryan

  What have I done?

  She shot a glance at Jonathon from beneath her lashes. Even in the dense, flickering shadows, she recognized the resolve in his eyes, the willingness to do whatever was necessary to protect her from another scandal.

  She could not let him compromise his future for hers. “We should enter at separate times. Give the gossips less fodder to build their stories upon.”

  He lowered his gaze to meet hers.

  “No, Fanny. We are in this together.”

  We are in this together. Jonathon Hawkins was proving to be a man of integrity—honorable, upright, noble. Was there any wonder she’d kissed him? And wanted to do so again?

  For his sake, she once again grasped at a single thread of hope. “Perhaps Penelope and Phoebe didn’t see us kiss. Perhaps they will only tell the tale of my hair stuck in your cuff.”

  The shake of his head said he didn’t believe that any more than Fanny did. “More likely they will embellish what they saw with a decided lack of decorum. We’ll find out soon enough.”

  He released her hand, moved in beside her, then offered her his arm in a gentlemanly gesture. Her throat seized shut.

  What have I done?

  If she walked inside the ballroom so thoroughly allied with him, there would be no turning back. For either of them.

  “Take my arm, Fanny.”

  The request was kindness itself. Still, she hesitated. “I have weathered gossip before. I am not afraid to do so again.”

  “You are a strong woman, there is no doubt. However, you were not alone in the kiss we shared.” His tone was resolute, but when he touched a fingertip to her cheek, the contact was gentle, a mere whisper of skin to skin. “I was thoroughly present then, and I will not abandon you now.”

  Without pause, with one single, fluid motion, he scooped up her hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow.

  They entered the ballroom side by side.

  Every head turned in their direction. Significant glances were exchanged as people separated off into groups and began whispering over the music.

  So the Ferguson sisters had done their worst.

  Mrs. Singletary bustled through the crowd, her stride full of purpose. She met Fanny and Jonathon at the edge of the dance floor just as the final notes of the waltz played out.

  “Ah, Mr. Hawkins, Miss Mitchell, there you are.” She gave them each a pointed look, silently urging them to follow her lead. “I thank you for ensuring all is ready for the next portion of our evening.”

  Before either Jonathon or Fanny could respond, the widow positioned herself between them. The move was full of easy familiarity, as if they’d rehearsed this moment a thousand times over.

  “Smile,” she ordered under her breath.

  Fanny managed a tentative smile, but feared she failed in her attempt to fully hide her nerves. A quick glance to her left and she saw that Jonathon had no such problem. His smile actually looked genuine.

  Mrs. Singletary nodded to the staff lined up against the walls. With wicker baskets in hand, they took up strategic positions throughout the room.

  The widow drew in a slow, dramatic breath, pulling every eye to her. An expectant hush fell over the room. “Mr. Hawkins, would you do the honor of calling for donations?”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  He asked for the crowd’s attention. A ridiculously wasted effort, as all eyes were already on him. “As most of you know, Mrs. Singletary hosts her annual charity event to raise funds for one of her favorite causes in town.”

  As he spoke, he leveled a gaze over the assembled group, silently daring anyone to interrupt him.

  No one dared.

  Not even Fanny’s brothers, who glared at Jonathon with the kind of disgust they reserved for poachers and horse thieves. Their wives held on to them with white-knuckle grips, as if holding them in place.

  Ice lifted from Fanny’s stomach, setting up residence in her lungs, stealing her ability to take a decent breath.

  Jonathon continued his speech. “Tonight’s proceeds will fund a long overdue remodel of the new kitchen at Charity House.”

  He went on to explain why the orphanage needed the upgrade, but Fanny was only half listening now. She circled her gaze around the room, stopping at various clusters of wide-eyed guests staring back at her.

  She soon found Penelope and Phoebe. They stood among a group of their friends, looking smug, triumphant even, and completely unrepentant of the gossip they’d already spread.

  Fanny leaned forward, counted to five silently in her head, putting a number to each second, then pointedly moved her gaze away from the troublemaking sisters.

  She searched for her parents next, found them almost immediately.

  No. No! Her father appeared to be supporting the bulk of her mother’s weight. The once active, vibrant woman looked so small, so pale and vulnerable. Her breathing was coming too fast. Any moment she could suffer an asthma attack.

  Fanny was the cause of her mother’s distress. She’d given her reason to worry, the very thing Dr. Shane had warned against. Right then, in that moment, Fanny vowed to do anything, everything, to ensure Mary Mitchell suffered no setbacks because of her.

  Jonathon’s speech came to an end. “We thank you for your contributions to such a worthy cause.”

  Moderate applause broke out among the guests.

  A single lift of Mrs. Singletary’s chin and the hotel staff moved through the crowd, baskets extended. Despite the tension in the room, donations flowed in quickly.

  The orchestra struck up a lively country reel. Some of the assembled men and women took to the dance floor, others resumed their private conversations.

  Fanny didn’t have to guess at the topic of their discussions.

  She sighed. “Thank you, Mrs. Singletary. You quite literally saved the day.”

  “No, dear, I merely forestalled the inescapable.” She patted Fanny’s hand sympathetically, leveled a speculative glance over Jonathon. “The rest is up to the two of you.”

  She made to leave.

  Fanny forestalled her departure a moment longer. “I’m sorry we ruined your ball.”

  “On the contrary.” The widow fluttered her fingers. “I’m quite delighted with this turn of events. Tonight’s ball will be talked about for months to come.”

  While that had been the intended goal, Fanny had hoped the talk would be for far different reasons than her scandalous behavior.

  What have I done?

  Her head grew light. Little spots played before her eyes. She swayed. Jonathon was by her side in an instant, hand at the small of her back, supporting her.

  She lifted her gaze up to his. His attention was no longer on her, but trained at the back of the ballroom. Fanny swiveled her head in that direction, connected her gaze with Judge Greene. The odious man had the nerve to smile at her, the look far from polite.

  Feeling suddenly unclean, she tore her gaze away.

  Rising onto her toes, she caught sight of her father leading her mother to a chair. “I must go to my mother.”

  “I’ll escort you.” Jonathon shifted his hold to her arm.

  They’d barely taken a step when Mrs. Singletary’s voice halted their progress. “Brace yourself, Mr. Hawkins. Your moment of judgment is fast approaching.”

  Fanny nearly groaned aloud. Her brothers strode through the crowd, seemingly oblivious of the stares following them. Hunter led the charge, his menacing gait reminiscent of the ruthless gunslinger he’d once been.

  Jonathon met the silent challenge with his own personal brand of grit. Not a blink. Not even a twitch. His eyes were as hard as Hunter’s, and an equally threatening smile curved his lips.

  Both men’s dark pasts were evident in every fiber of their being. The two would be formidable foes under normal circumstances. These were not normal circumstances, Fanny realized with a jolt of terror. They must not fight over her.

  She would not allow them to come to blows. With swift, sure steps, sh
e hurried forward, slapped her palm on Hunter’s chest. His feet pounded to a stop.

  “Out of my way, Fanny.” He glared hard at her hand. “This doesn’t concern you.”

  She held her ground. “On the contrary, this is completely about me.”

  Logan and Garrett stood beside Hunter, flanking him, their eyes trained on Jonathon. He held their stares without flinching.

  “You will not hurt Jonathon.” She included all three of her brothers in the warning. “I will not allow it.”

  “Step aside, Fanny.” This from Jonathon, spoken in a flat, unemotional tone. “Your brothers will have their say, and then I will have mine.”

  Jonathon’s face was calm, almost stoic. She recognized that look, had seen it several times in the past year while working closely by his side. He would not tolerate her interference.

  She would give him no other choice.

  Just as she opened her mouth to explain her position, he shifted to stand in front of her, shielding her body with his, literally protecting her from her own brothers.

  A sweet gesture, but unnecessary, especially when he was the one at the greatest risk.

  She scrambled back around him. Again, he put himself between her and her brothers.

  “This is ridiculous,” she said. “You cannot think that I—”

  She broke off, realizing the crowd was pressing in on their unhappy little group. Switching tactics, she carefully modulated her breathing and aligned her shoulders with Jonathon’s.

  “I can count on you to be reasonable?” She directed the question at her brothers. When none of them responded, she repeated herself.

  They nodded, with very little enthusiasm. Nevertheless, she took them at their word. “I will hold you to your promise.”

  The next few moments passed in a blur.

  Hunter officially requested to speak with Jonathon in private. Jonathon agreed, then suggested they continue their discussion in his office.

  Fanny barely had time to blink after their retreating backs when Mrs. Singletary came up beside her. “Well, well, well, what I wouldn’t give to be a witness to that conversation.”

  Fanny could not say the same.

  *

  The moment the men left the ballroom, Fanny was surrounded by her brothers’ wives. They huddled around her, their physical presence and sympathetic smiles evidence of their unconditional love.

  Each woman took a turn pulling Fanny into her arms. Annabeth spoke for the group, her words of encouragement reminding Fanny that she was not alone, never would be alone, and could turn to any of them in the next few weeks for whatever she needed.

  “You can even move out to the ranch with Hunter and me,” Annabeth assured her. “If it comes to that.”

  Fanny would never allow it to come to that.

  More promises of a place to call home came from the others, then, at last, Fanny stood before her parents. Renewed panic stole her ability to take a decent breath. Her mother’s face had gone white as the moon, her breathing labored, but not a full wheeze. Yet. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “Not now, Fanny.” Her father laid a hand on her shoulder, cutting off the rest of her words. “Not here.”

  He was right, of course. Too many people closed in around them, prepared to spread pieces of conversation they overheard.

  “Let’s get you upstairs, Mary, my love.” Her father helped her mother stand.

  Fanny twisted her hands together. Oh, how she hated seeing her mother so dependent on assistance.

  Proving she still had some spunk left in her, Mary Mitchell swatted at her husband’s hand. “Cyrus, stop hovering like an old bird. I can walk on my own.”

  “Never said otherwise.” Though he stepped back and let his wife leave the ballroom on her own steam, Fanny’s father stayed close, hands poised to reach out if she lost her balance.

  Lips pressed tightly together, Fanny trailed in her parents’ wake.

  At the elevator, her mother pulled to a stop. “Cyrus, you will join our sons and Mr. Hawkins, and ensure order is kept. Logic and good sense must rule the day.”

  “Now, Mary, you are my primary concern, I will see you settled in our room before—”

  “I wish to speak to our daughter alone.” She spoke with the no-nonsense tone that had kept her seven rambunctious children in line.

  After a brief argument, Fanny’s father admitted defeat. He turned to go, paused, then spun back around. His gaze was not unkind as it settled on Fanny. “You rarely take a misstep, my dear, but when you do, you make it a big one.”

  She could not argue the point. “Pa, please don’t let the boys hurt Jonathon.”

  Her father looked at her steadily, with an ironic lift of his eyebrows. “I suspect the man can take care of himself.”

  “Please.”

  “Yes, yes, I will be the voice of reason.”

  “Thank you.” As she watched her father disappear around the corner, a flood of helplessness washed over her. Jonathon had promised to take his share of the blame.

  What if he claimed all of it?

  She would not put it past him. Her brothers would force his hand then, which must never happen. If only she knew what was being said behind that shut door. Perhaps she should—

  The elevator whooshed open, reminding her of a far greater concern. She ushered her mother inside and told the attendant to take them to the ninth floor of the hotel.

  By mutual agreement, Fanny and her mother kept silent on the journey to her parents’ suite. Once inside, with her heart drumming wildly against her ribs, Fanny shouldered the door closed and then helped her mother to a small sofa.

  The milky glow of the moon spilled in from the windows, creating a long, pale beacon across the blue-and-gold rug. Additional light from strategically placed lamps chased shadows into the far corners of the room.

  Fanny sat beside her mother and took her hands.

  For a moment, she simply studied the beloved face of the woman who’d raised her. There were new, deeper lines around her eyes and mouth, additional grooves across her forehead. But—Praise the Lord—her breathing sounded regular.

  Relief had Fanny’s eyes filling with tears. “Oh, Mother, I’m so sorry, I—”

  “Hush, child, no apologies are necessary.” Her mother pulled her into her arms and rocked her gently, in the same way she’d done when Fanny was a child.

  The lack of condemnation was nearly her undoing. Several tears slipped free before she could call them back. She clung to her mother, praying for a composure she didn’t feel.

  In the next heartbeat, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. A picture of Jonathon’s face loomed in her mind. She shoved away the image. Enough stalling.

  Sighing heavily, she set her mother back against the brocade cushions and said, “Pa was right. I’ve taken another misstep, far worse than the one before.”

  A broken engagement was nothing compared to kissing a man of some renown in the shadows. Her reputation was most definitely ruined. Her life would never be the same.

  Jonathon’s had permanently changed, as well.

  “You know, Fanny.” Her mother took her hand. “I have never put much stock in gossip. Why don’t you tell me what really happened between you and your Mr. Hawkins?”

  Fanny lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “I don’t know where to start.”

  “At the beginning, of course.”

  Yes, but where was the beginning? Long before tonight’s kiss, she realized. Thus, Fanny told her mother about her relationship with Jonathon over the past year, highlighting how well they worked together. How much he trusted her, and she him. She spoke of their many walks, and felt a smile playing at her lips. “Jonathon and I prefer to stroll in the snow most often.”

  “You like him.”

  “I do. Oh, Mother, I do like him, so very much.”

  “He clearly likes you, as evidenced by his behavior this evening. He did, after all, kiss you under the moon and stars.”

 
; Fanny’s heart sank, both at the romantic image her mother painted and the realization that the Ferguson sisters had witnessed everything.

  “Jonathon behaved like a perfect gentleman. It was only at my suggestion he escorted me out onto the terrace.”

  “I see.”

  “No, you don’t.” Why did her mother have to be so understanding, so accepting, so wrong? “Jonathon didn’t take advantage of the situation, I did. I kissed him.”

  There, the truth was out at last. Unfortunately, she felt no better. Wasn’t confession supposed to be the first step toward healing her soul?

  Fanny felt only worse.

  “You claim you initiated your kiss, yet Mr. Hawkins stood by your side during the call for donations, as if he’d been equally culpable.”

  “He is a kind, generous man. The very best I know.”

  “Perhaps marriage is the answer.”

  “No. Do not say such a thing.” Fanny’s pulse hammered in her ears. “Jonathon must not be forced to marry me.”

  “Perhaps he will want to marry you. The relationship you just described sounds far stronger than most marriages.”

  Fanny refused to allow a single spark of hope to flare into life. She liked Jonathon too much to trap him in an unwanted union. She would honor his reasons for remaining unattached. She owed him that. “I will never marry him.”

  “You may not have a choice, Fanny. The scandal may be too big for any other solution.”

  Fanny refused to despair. There were other ways to avoid scandal. She could return to the Chicago Hotel Dupree, or the one in Saint Louis, or even move to San Francisco. Except…

  What if she moved away and her mother’s asthma became worse? What if she had a severe, life-threatening attack? Fanny couldn’t bear the thought of being so far away.

  Besides, running away didn’t solve anything. She’d learned that lesson well enough after the first scandal attached to her name. No matter how ugly the whispers became, no matter how hard her life grew, Fanny would not run again.

  She would face whatever ugly gossip was thrown her way. She would stand sure, with courage and conviction. She would not, under any inducement or threat, force Jonathon into marriage.