by Renee Ryan
Fanny liked having her parents close by. It was a pleasure planning her wedding with their input.
Sitting behind her desk, she opened the writing tablet beneath her hand, then reached for the stack of RSVPs. One by one, she checked the responses against the master list of wedding guests.
The news of her impending marriage had not brought a complete end to the gossip, but enough that Fanny no longer worried about her mother’s health. In fact, Mary Mitchell hadn’t suffered a single relapse since Fanny’s engagement became public. Physical proof she’d done the right thing by accepting Jonathon’s proposal.
In one short week, she would recite wedding vows with him and become his wife. A little jolt of excitement raced through her. In the days since she’d accepted Jonathon’s proposal, he’d made no mention of conditions on their marriage.
Dare she hope he’d changed his mind? Dare she hope he wanted true love and, maybe, one day…children?
It would be foolish to allow her mind to chase down that rabbit trail. One step at a time, she told herself.
She would enjoy being engaged to Jonathon. She had faith the rest would work itself out in time.
Claiming a key role in their romance, Mrs. Singletary was enjoying many accolades for her continued success as a matchmaker. Tomorrow evening, when she hosted Fanny and Jonathon’s engagement party, the widow would remind everyone in attendance of her skillful maneuverings on their behalf.
Checking the time on the clock perched above her small fireplace, Fanny yelped. Five minutes past three.
She was late for tea with her mother and sister.
After a quick check of her hair, she hurried through the lobby. She passed a familiar woman and her two teenage daughters. All three were dressed in various shades of blue, their beautiful, expensive gowns cut in a popular style, with the requisite form-fitting bodices and A-line skirts.
The three halted when they saw her.
Fanny smiled. Only one returned the gesture, the youngest.
Fanny refused to be daunted. “Good morning, Mrs. Wainwright.” She glanced from mother to daughters. “Sylvia, Carly, lovely to see you both.”
The older woman sniffed in disdain. “Girls, do not respond.” She herded her daughters away from Fanny, giving her a ridiculously wide berth. “We do not speak to women like her.”
Mortified at the implication of the words, Fanny found her footsteps faltering.
Did Mrs. Wainwright think she had no feelings? Did she not care that it hurt to be snubbed so profoundly? Of course it hurt. But after facing the very real prospect of losing her mother, Fanny recognized the value of putting moments such as these in perspective.
Once she married Jonathon, much of the censure would disappear, but some would never go away. There wasn’t much she could do about that, except hold her head high and pray her mother didn’t suffer because of the gossip.
Shaking her head, Fanny continued on to her destination.
The maître d’hôtel welcomed her with a large smile. “Miss Mitchell. Your sister and mother are already at the table you reserved for the afternoon.”
“Thank you, Mr. Griffin. I’ll find them.”
With a critical eye, she took a quick inventory of the restaurant. She noted the details others would miss. The white table linens were clean and pressed, with perfectly placed pleats hanging down the sides. The silverware was dainty and feminine, specifically purchased to use solely at afternoon tea.
Fanny’s gaze landed on her mother and sister, who sat at a table near the fireplace. Beneath the golden light, Callie glowed. Her mother looked equally healthy and happy.
Callie caught sight of her first and gave a quick, jaunty wave above her head. Returning the gesture, Fanny hurried to the table.
“Hello, Mother.” She leaned over and kissed the beloved cheek. “How are you feeling this afternoon?”
“Like my old self. The daily breathing treatments Dr. Shane is administering are working wonders. I haven’t wheezed in nearly a week.”
Fanny’s heart soared. “Are you certain? You’re not—”
“Now, Fanny. We are here to celebrate your engagement to a kind, wonderful man I am growing more and more fond of by the day.”
“I like him, too.” Beaming at her, Callie poured Fanny a cup of tea. “He makes you happy, which makes him pretty wonderful in my eyes.”
Laughing, Fanny took a sip of tea while she eyed her sister over the cup’s rim. Speaking of happy…
“Marriage suits you, Cal.”
Her sister laughed, clearly delighted by the compliment. “Oh, Fanny, I never expected to find such joy in my life. But Reese is the best thing that ever happened to me. I fall in love with him more every day.”
“It shows.”
“While we’re celebrating, your sister has news,” her mother said, smiling at Callie. “Tell her, dear.”
A delicate frown marred Callie’s pretty face. “Now’s not the time, Mother.”
“Of course it’s the time.”
Wondering at the odd mood that had descended over the table, Fanny looked from one woman to the other. “Tell me what? What’s going on with you, Callie?”
“Nothing that can’t wait.” Callie lowered her head, looking incredibly uncomfortable and far too much like the old Callie, the one who didn’t like to be the center of attention.
“Tell me your news.” Fanny reached over and touched her sister’s hand. “Please.”
“All right, I…we…” Her cheeks turned a becoming shade of pink. “Reese and I are going to have a baby.”
A baby. Fanny stared at her sister. A baby. Callie and Reese were officially starting their family. No wonder Callie glowed. She was with child.
Fanny blinked as the news settled over her, as reality gripped her heart and squeezed. Hard.
I will never have news such as this to share.
For a terrible, awful moment, she didn’t know what to say, how to feel.
Happy. She was supposed to be happy for her sister. Of course she was happy for Callie.
“Oh, Callie, that’s marvelous news.”
Will that ever be me? Will I ever know that joy?
She squeezed her sister’s hand. “You’re going to make a wonderful mother.”
Happy tears sprang into Callie’s eyes.
Fanny’s filled as well, and she had a moment, a brief, terrifying moment, when she felt a surge of crippling jealousy. She wanted what Callie had. She wanted a husband who adored her, who wanted her to bear his children.
If only Jonathon would…
No. She would not allow her mind to formulate the rest of that thought. She’d made her choices and would live with them. “How did Reese take the news?”
“He picked me up and twirled me around and around until we were both dizzy. Then—” she giggled “—he called his father into the room and told him the news. A lot of hugs with me and backslapping between the men followed.”
Laughing softly, she shook her head, her expression filling with fond affection over the memory. It was the same look Callie got in her eyes whenever she spoke of her husband.
A happy ending to what could have been a disaster. Fanny had been right to jilt Reese. She’d also been right to leave town. Her absence had given her sister the opportunity to fall in love with the man she was meant to be with for all eternity.
“I’m so happy for you, Cal.” Her vision blurred, her eyes turned misty. “You and Reese belong together.”
As if sensing her shift in mood, Fanny’s mother reached over and patted her hand. “I’m confident your marriage will bring you equal happiness and joy.”
“You’re right, of course.” She said the words for her mother’s benefit. But, oh, the mess she’d created. One impulsive kiss under the moonlight, and she’d changed several lives forever, Jonathon’s most of all.
Thinking of him now, of the situation she’d put them both in, Fanny could barely hold back her grief. One rogue tear wiggled to the edge of her lashe
s and slipped down the side of her face.
No. No more crying. She would not regret her decision. She only regretted that her behavior had affected others.
“We’ve already discussed baby names,” Callie said, blissfully unaware of Fanny’s battle to contain her rioting emotions.
Happy for the distraction, Fanny focused once again on her sister. “Any you’d like to share?”
“If it’s a boy, Reese, of course.”
“Of course,” she said, then laughingly added, “Reese Bennett III is a most regal name, indeed.”
“And if it’s a girl?” her mother asked.
“We plan to name her Fanny,” Callie said, her eyes shining with quiet affection, “after the best sister a woman ever had.”
Fanny could hold back the tears no longer. She let them fall freely down her cheeks.
Over sandwiches and cookies, they discussed her future namesake because, according to Callie, she was surely carrying a girl.
Fanny allowed herself to get swept away in her sister’s joy. By the time she returned to work, her mood was restored.
She was helping behind the registration desk when Jonathon appeared by her side. He’d been doing that a lot, showing up unexpectedly, taking her on long walks, where they discussed themselves, their childhoods, their likes and dislikes.
“Did you have a nice visit with your mother and sister?”
She smiled. “I did.”
“I’m glad.” Their gazes stayed connected for longer than usual.
Jonathon looked especially handsome this afternoon, his blue-gray eyes full of masculine interest. It was then that Fanny realized what he was doing. He was officially courting her, attempting to win her affection.
What he didn’t seem to know was that the battle had been decided long ago.
Her heart already belonged to him.
Chapter Thirteen
The night of their engagement party, Jonathon settled on the cushioned seat across from Fanny in their hired coach. Due to a last-minute issue with the kitchen equipment, they’d left the hotel a half hour later than planned. He’d sent Fanny’s parents ahead so they could alert Mrs. Singletary of the delay.
Now, as their carriage bounced over ruts and divots in the Denver streets, Jonathon took the opportunity to study his fiancée. His heart pounded with uneasiness. Something was wrong.
Fanny wasn’t herself.
In truth, she hadn’t been herself for several days. Nothing was amiss at the hotel. That meant whatever was bothering her was personal. He studied her a moment longer in the semidarkness.
A sliver of moon provided him enough light to see that her lips were tilted at a worried angle and her gloved fingers were threaded together primly in her lap. He’d seen her adopt the pose before. That, coupled with her unnatural silence, convinced Jonathon she was upset.
He leaned forward. “What’s troubling you, Fanny? Is it your mother’s health?”
Not quite meeting his eyes, she readjusted her position so that their knees wouldn’t touch. “No, she’s quite well.”
He felt a moment of relief.
“Then what’s wrong?” He sat back and employed a relaxed posture, hoping to put her at ease. “Whatever it is, you know you can tell me.”
She lifted her chin at that stubborn angle he was growing to recognize as a precursor to trouble. “If you must know, I’ve been thinking about us.”
Several responses came to mind, none of which he voiced aloud. “In what way?”
“It’s…we need to…” She lowered her head and stared at her lap. “We need to make our engagement look real.”
“It is real.”
Head still bent, she muttered something that sounded suspiciously like not real enough. Whatever that meant.
“Fanny.” He placed a knuckle beneath her chin and applied gentle pressure until her gaze met his. “What’s happened to make you so distraught?”
She closed her eyes and gave a slight, shuddering sigh before opening them again. “Since the official announcement of our engagement ran in the Denver Chronicle, my mother’s health has shown rapid improvement.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“Yes, but I fear it won’t last.”
“What makes you convinced she’ll have a relapse?”
“I discovered recently that the gossip about us hasn’t actually faded. It’s merely shifted in a new direction.” Gaze troubled, Fanny glanced out the small carriage window. “If what people are saying gets back to my mother, I’m afraid she’ll suffer another life-threatening asthma attack.”
“The talk about us is still that significant?”
Not quite meeting his eyes, Fanny lifted a shoulder.
He said her name again, softer this time, wishing he could soothe away her concerns with nothing but his voice. “Once we are married, the gossip will go away, if not completely, then nearly so.”
“You can’t know that for certain.”
No, he supposed not. “You have evidence to the contrary?”
She snapped her gaze back to his. “Don’t you know what they’re saying about us?”
Her frustration filled the tiny, enclosed space of the carriage, wrapping around Jonathon as if it were a living, breathing thing. “Has someone said something to you? Did they approach you in the hotel? If that’s the case, I’ll make sure they are denied permanent access. Give me a name.”
Sighing again, she gave a weary shake of her head. “It doesn’t matter who started the rumors. The point is that people are openly questioning our motives for marrying. Some claim it’s a desperate attempt to quash gossip.”
Two simultaneous reactions shot through him, one of impatience, the other of fury. “If you tell me who started this latest rumor, then I’ll—”
“What? What will you do, Jonathon? Tell them to stop?”
“If it’ll make a difference, yes.”
“You know it won’t.”
He frowned. She was probably right, but he wasn’t willing to concede fully. “You are proposing that we combat this latest spin of the gossip mill by making our engagement look real?”
“I know how it sounds,” she admitted, twisting her hands over and over again in her lap. “As though I’m asking you to put on a show for the benefit of others.”
For all intents and purposes, that was exactly what she was asking of him. She’d clearly put a lot of thought into this, but she’d missed a key element in the argument.
“Our engagement is real, Fanny.” He moved to her side of the carriage. The seat dipped and squeaked under his added weight. “In less than a week, we will pledge our lives to one another before God.”
“I realize that.” And yet she worried her bottom lip between her teeth, as if she feared their wedding wouldn’t come to pass.
The carriage hit a bump and she lurched forward. Jonathon pulled her against him to prevent her from falling to the floor.
With her wrapped in his arms, and the pleasing scent of her hair in his nose, he set his chin atop her head and spoke the truth from his heart. “I will honor our wedding vows, always, and will remain loyal to you until the day I die.”
Her shoulders rose and fell with a wordless sigh. “I will do the same.”
“But you would feel better if the skeptics believed that ours is a love match.”
Misery rolled off her in waves. “Don’t you see, Jonathon? It’s the surest way to end the speculation for good.”
Setting her away from him, he returned to his side of the carriage and considered her request. There were a dozen reasons why showing the world how much he cared for this woman was a bad idea. The most powerful one being he was already half in love with her. Allowing his affection free rein might very well send him over the edge.
Then where would they be?
Headed straight for heartbreak, both of them.
As if sensing where his thoughts had gone, Fanny smiled at him. It was a lovely display of fortitude. However, it fell flat enough for him to
see past the false bravado.
“You only have to pretend you are in love with me when we are in public. I wouldn’t expect you to continue the pretense when we are alone.”
Her voice sounded as tormented as she looked. Jonathon’s heart lurched in his chest. He’d hurt her. They weren’t even married and he’d already let her down.
The thought barely had time to settle over him when the carriage pulled to a grinding stop outside of Mrs. Singletary’s house.
Jonathon did not reach for the door handle.
He continued staring at Fanny, consumed with an emotion he couldn’t name. The sensation reminded him of grief, as if he’d just lost something very precious before he’d ever fully had it in his grasp.
“Say something,” she whispered.
“I’ll do it. I will play the besotted suitor tonight, and every night until our wedding.” The promise had disaster written all over it. Jonathon would be in love with Fanny before the week was out, and then it would be that much harder to keep their marriage in name only. Especially if she looked at him the way she was now, with a mixture of adoration and tempered hope.
“You…you will? You will pretend to be in love with me?”
Lord, help us both. “Consider it done.”
Happiness bloomed in her eyes, then immediately vanished behind a scowl. Even in the muted light, he could see her mind working at double its normal rate.
“Don’t look so worried, sweetheart.” He took her hand and dragged it to his heart. “Tonight is supposed to be a celebration. We’re going to have a grand time at our party.”
Without waiting for her response, and praying he was right, he wrenched open the door and helped her out of the carriage.
They entered Mrs. Singletary’s house just as a large grandfather clock struck the bottom of the hour.
The widow’s butler met them in the foyer.
Threads of silver encroached on the few strands of red left in the bushy head of hair. But the broad, welcoming smile erased at least ten years from the heavily lined face.
“Mr. Hawkins, Miss Mitchell.” Back ramrod straight, he took their coats with the efficient movements that came from decades of practice. “The other guests are gathered in the blue parlor on the second floor.”