by Renee Ryan
Percy eyed him doubtfully. “Truly?”
“Have you ever spoken of taking her home, even for a visit?”
Percy shook his head. “Although I did tell her about the beauties of the English countryside.”
“Did she show interest? Say she’d like to see it?”
Again Percy shook his head. “Perhaps she thought that would be too forward, as though she were hinting for an invitation.” He snapped his fingers. “That’s it! I should have told her I want to take her there.” He moved toward his horse again.
Garrick ground his teeth. “What about her school? She plans to be a teacher. She’s worked as hard as Rosamond to build that lovely little building over there.” He pointed down the block on the opposite side of Main Street. He wouldn’t think of Rosamond’s dedication to the same institution. Somehow he’d convince her to leave the school to Beryl’s care. “I simply cannot think she’d be happy leaving all that she knows and loves. She would languish in England, longing for the familiar things of home.”
Percy gave him an uncharacteristic glare. “Did something happen while I was away? Did someone else seek her company?”
A perfect opening. Garrick took care with his next words to avoid lying. “At the dance last evening, she stood up with one particular cowboy several times. They clearly enjoyed each other’s company. Her smiles resembled those I’ve seen her cast in your direction.” Although clearly lacked the affection she felt for Percy.
Percy’s wounded expression cut Garrick to the quick, yet he must forge ahead to stop this ill-advised romance. “No doubt the young man was someone with whom she grew up.”
“No doubt,” Percy echoed, yet his voice was filled with doubt.
“You needn’t cry off your friendship entirely, but why not step back for a while? Take Richards and go explore those mountains to the west that you admire so much. You’ve wanted to since we first arrived. While you’re gone, I’ll try to observe whether she makes her preference for her cowboy known in other ways.” Garrick set his hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “Buck up, old boy. I cannot bear to see you hurt.”
“I can always count on you to consider my welfare, cousin.” Percy’s shoulders slumped as he mounted his beast and rode away.
Watching him, Garrick felt an odd mixture of satisfaction and guilt so profound that his stomach ached.
*
After church on Sunday, Rosamond managed to avoid Garrick by chatting with Fred Brody and then Nolan Means. She made certain neither gentleman could misunderstand and think her interest was anything other than professional. First, she asked the newspaperman to advertise the new high school. Next, she encouraged the banker to enroll his fourteen-year-old sister in her classes. Both endeavors brought her hoped-for results, although Mr. Means did ask to come calling. With all the grace she could muster, she demurred, saying she was too busy preparing the school to entertain.
As she visited with other church members, she did manage to notice that Percy gave no more than a timid wave in Beryl’s direction before Garrick claimed his cousin’s attention. As if causing Tolley’s exile weren’t enough, he still seemed determined to keep Percy and Beryl apart. In turn, Beryl wilted like a parched flower and barely spoke on the trip back to Four Stones. After dinner, she announced that she would move back home. With their lesson plans prepared and only the painting of the classrooms left to be completed, she must help her family as harvest time drew near.
Rosamond felt nothing short of bereft. After spending almost two years with Beryl, both at the academy and here at home, she felt closer to her than the other Eberly sisters, even felt as if she were her own sister. Now she was leaving, all because of Garrick.
Why had she ever found him attractive? First he had destroyed her brother’s life. Now he’d ruined her dear friend’s happiness. Then, that evening, when Pete mentioned Percy had borrowed horses to go exploring, it was the last straw. Garrick had sent him away so he couldn’t see Beryl, and Rosamond would never speak to him again as long as she lived.
Oh, bother. Of course she’d have to speak to him, at least when she inspected the completed hotel. She could only hope he’d go back to England as soon as the building was finished.
On Monday after the Fourth of July fire, Marybeth invited Rosamond and Susanna to her house to help sew a quilt. Four-year-old Lizzy and almost two-year-old Natty kept nine-month-old Randy busy, so he didn’t seem to mind another new tooth trying to break through his gums.
“This quilt’s for Randy’s big bed when the time comes.” Marybeth distributed scraps according to color and pattern so each of them could begin their assigned part. “I know it’s early to start it, but I always find it’s better to work ahead.”
“Oh, my, yes.” Susanna gave her a dimpled smile, and her blonde curls bounced as she nodded.
“Look.” Rosamond held up a square of green plaid. “Susanna, remember when we made shirts for my brothers out of this material?”
Five years ago, Susanna and her father, Mr. MacAndrews, had been guests at Four Stones after outlaws stole their horses and left the old gentleman for dead. During their stay, Susanna had made herself useful around the house while her father healed. Her sewing skill had been a special blessing to the family when she made clothes and velvet drapes for the new ballroom.
“Indeed, I do.” Her blue eyes twinkled. “I also remember how adorable Nate looked when I tried the sleeve pattern on him. Who could have guessed that such a big strong cowboy could blush?”
“Just don’t let him hear you call him adorable,” Rosamond warned. “And don’t tell anyone he blushed.”
They all laughed, and Rosamond’s heart warmed for the first time in many days. As she continued to chat with her kinswomen, she began to feel as if she’d found a sanctuary. As much as she missed Beryl, maybe this was the Lord’s way of bringing her closer to Susanna and Marybeth. She’d have plenty of time with Beryl when they painted the classrooms over the next few weeks. At least Rosamond hoped Beryl could spare a few hours from her ranching duties.
Although Rosamond was glad to have a reason for avoiding Mr. Wakefield, whom she no longer wished to address as Garrick, she felt no little dismay over misjudging Percy. She’d been so certain he loved Beryl. Of course, with her personality changes after being shot in the bank holdup, Beryl wouldn’t expect Percy to love her. The once brave cowgirl had become fearful of everything and doubtful about her own worth. Maybe Percy was just being kind to show interest in her. Either that or he truly did love her, and Mr. Wakefield had forbade the romance. What mysterious hold did he have over his cousin?
“Don’t you think, Rosamond?” Marybeth asked, and Susanna looked at her expectantly.
“I’m so sorry. I was lost in thought.”
The other girls traded a look and then focused on Rosamond.
“I can’t imagine why.” Marybeth’s tone held only a hint of teasing sarcasm.
Rosamond just smiled. She wouldn’t speak ill of Mr. Wakefield or Percy, wouldn’t even discuss them at all, at least not with these two dear ones, in spite of their sisterly bond. In time, maybe she’d talk with Mother about her foolish misjudgment of Mr. Wakefield. While she’d always believed in giving people a second chance, in his case, her first impression of him in the Denver train station had been correct. Nothing would ever change her mind about that, and the sooner he left Esperanza, the better.
Chapter Thirteen
“There. That’s the last stroke.” Rosamond stood back and admired the white paint drying on the classroom wall. “What do you think?”
“Very nice.” Beryl gave her a weak smile and listlessly began to clean up the mess from their work.
For the past month, Rosamond had done everything possible to cheer her friend, but nothing seemed to work. With Percy exploring the San Juan Mountains, hopes for a renewal of their romance had faded. In fact, Rosamond’s own emotions constantly teetered on the edge of depression, even as the work they’d completed gave her a feeling of satisfac
tion. In another month, classes would begin and her dream of becoming a teacher would become a reality.
She removed the tarpaulins covering the desks and rolled them to the side where Rand could remove them tomorrow. He and Nate had hung doors and finished the roof, tasks that she and Beryl couldn’t manage. How could she and Beryl have finished the school without the help of her older brothers now that Tolley was gone? Thoughts of her younger brother always brought a pang to her heart.
“There you are, Miss Northam.” Adam Starling peered into the classroom, his eyes bright with interest. “Say, this is a mighty fine schoolhouse.”
“Hello, Adam.” Rosamond waved him into the room. “Will you be attending our classes?”
“Yes, ma’am. My pa says I can come.”
“I’m so pleased to hear that. Aren’t you, Miss Eberly?” Removing her paint-spattered white apron, she gave Beryl an encouraging nod.
“Yes, indeed.” Beryl’s perfunctory remark wasn’t supported by even a hint of emotion.
To make up for it, Rosamond brightened her smile. “How is your father, Adam? Has he recovered from his injuries?”
“He’s getting better every day, ma’am.” Adam surveyed the room, clearly admiring it. He ran a finger over a desk in the front row, his expression filled with awe. “Is this where we’ll have our history lessons?”
“Yes, it is.” Rosamond felt a tiny thrill inside. What an eager scholar this boy was! Having an actual student show such interest brought her dream even closer to reality. “Miss Eberly’s science and mathematics classes will be next door.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Adam gave Beryl a polite nod, but his preference for history was clear.
“Did you come to help?” Rosamond appreciated the young men’s labors, but most were now too busy with their farm and ranch work to volunteer more time.
Adam jolted. “No, ma’am. I mean, I’ll be glad to help if you have a job for me. But Mr. Wakefield sent me over to invite you to inspect the hotel. He asked me to escort you there.”
Rosamond felt her jaw drop. She stared at Beryl, whose wide-eyed astonishment mirrored her own. “Has he indeed summoned me?” She tried to keep the frost from her voice. After all, Mr. Wakefield’s cruel deeds weren’t Adam’s fault.
Adam didn’t appear to be intimidated. In fact, a crooked grin teased at one edge of his lips. “No, ma’am. Not summoned. It’s an invitation.”
Was the hotel already finished? Rosamond had done her best for the past month to avoid the Main Street corner just one block away, and not even so much as look in that direction. For surely by now, Mr. Wakefield’s horrid Palladian facade would be in place, a sight she didn’t wish to see. Now she could no longer avoid it. She had a responsibility to Father and to the community to make sure the Englishman hadn’t made a muck of the hotel that was supposed to bring much welcomed business to Esperanza.
“Very well, Adam. Thank you.” She noticed Beryl putting on her bonnet and gathering her reticule. “You’re coming, of course.”
Beryl hesitated. “Well…”
“Ma’am?” Adam shifted his feet. “Um, Mr. Wakefield said to bring just you.”
Rosamond turned away from the boy so he wouldn’t see her anger. Did this man think he was the lord of the manor and could decide who could come or not come to the hotel? Beryl didn’t need this further rejection. And if Garrick—Mr. Wakefield—knew where Adam would find Rosamond, he must know her dear friend was with her. Why would he so cruelly exclude her?
“You go on.” Beryl dabbed Rosamond’s cheek with her handkerchief. “That spot of paint doesn’t match your shirtwaist.” She fussed with Rosamond’s hair. “If you’re going into battle,” she whispered, “you should look your best.”
“You’re right.” Rosamond accepted her friend’s help. “Pray for me.” As she said the words, guilt crept in. She hadn’t truly prayed for weeks. Not since the day after the fire, when she’d made up her mind to have nothing more to do with Garrick Wakefield. Maybe after today, that could become possible. For now, she must inspect the hotel, make the necessary suggestions and leave him to his own devices.
“There. Much better.” Beryl’s winsome smile broke Rosamond’s heart. “Go on, now.”
Rosamond squeezed her hand. “I’ll see you at church on Sunday.”
She donned her blue bonnet and gloves and then left the schoolhouse to walk up dusty Main Street beside Adam. As they neared the hotel, she looked toward her destination. To her astonishment, instead of a Palladian facade, the building had a charming second-floor balcony along the front adjoined to the one on the south side, with a single door on each end that would permit guests to enjoy the fresh air without going downstairs and through the lobby.
Beneath the L-shaped balcony, new boardwalks had been laid, and several of the storefront shops were already occupied, with signs proclaiming Open for Business. One glass window read Mrs. Ryan’s Millinery, a shop Rosamond planned to patronize often.
She entered the hotel reluctantly, preferring to turn around and go home. Adam opened one of the double doors leading to the lobby and gave her a little bow. “Ma’am.”
“Why, thank you.” She gave him a nod of approval. Her future student wouldn’t see her distaste over being forced into this situation.
Inside the lobby, she drew in a quick breath at the stunning beauty of the large room. The chandelier had been moved to a central spot near the front desk, just as she’d requested, and floral relief patterns circled the exquisite crystal gaslight fixture and extended to the corners. Elegant gold-and-blue-striped wallpaper provided a charming backdrop for the blue brocade chairs and brown leather divans. Although Rosamond had helped choose the decor, seeing the reality thrilled her beyond all that she’d expected. Not a spot of dust lay on any of the furnishings, and a pleasant fragrance wafted through the air from vases holding a variety of flowers.
“This way, ma’am.” Adam beckoned to her, indicating the tall, wide archway into the dining room. For the first time, she noticed that he was wearing a rather fine pair of well-fitting brown trousers, a sparkling white shirt and even a little bow tie, a far different ensemble from his usual rustic clothing worn for his job at the livery stable.
Was this Mr. Wakefield’s doing? If so, how could he be so kind to Adam and yet think nothing of causing pain to vulnerable people like Tolley and Beryl?
She stepped through the archway into the large dining room, which could easily seat seventy or eighty guests at the heavy round oak tables placed randomly around the room. One table near the center was set with a lustrous white damask cloth, fine china and sparkling crystal. A tall crystal vase filled with dark red roses graced the center of the table, the scent of the flowers vying with the aroma of roast beef for preeminence in the vast hall.
On the other side of the table, Mr. Wakefield awaited her. He wore his finest black suit, a gold brocade waistcoat and white shirt, looking every bit the aristocratic Englishman he was, except for the bolo tie she’d bought for him on the Fourth of July…and a little curl that had somehow escaped his perfectly coiffed hair to lie beguilingly across his wide forehead.
As she approached him, a sweet, vulnerable expression stole over his winsome, handsome face, and his brown eyes held a hope for…what? Her approval of his work? She could grant him that, for the hotel was indeed magnificent. But she steeled herself against any attempts to renew their former, ill-advised friendship.
“Rosamond, you are a vision of loveliness, as always.” He pulled out a chair. “Please join me.”
She hadn’t planned to sit. Hadn’t planned anything at all. Of course Mr. Wakefield would think only of his own appearance. If he intended to invite her to dinner, why hadn’t he considered that she might wish to wear her best, too? Wasn’t that the English way? To “dress” for dinner? And here she was, dressed in an old shirtwaist, a split skirt and well-worn boots because she’d ridden to town to paint the schoolrooms. Huffing out a sigh, she removed her gloves and bonnet before sitting a
t the table.
“Thank you for coming.” He took his place on her right. “I hope you weren’t inconvenienced.”
“Not at all, Mr. Wakefield.” She must be polite, mustn’t shame her parents.
“Mr. Wakefield?” Puzzlement crossed his face as he leaned toward her. “Why—?”
“What happened to your Palladian facade?” Even though interrupting him was rude, she refused to quibble with him over the formal way she would address him from now on.
“Oh. That.” He sat back, but rather than the dismay she expected, he smiled. And her heart dipped. Why must he be so devastatingly handsome? “It seems the builders were off a bit when they laid the foundation. They didn’t leave enough space for the facade.”
Rosamond studied him for a moment. The facade had meant so much to him, and yet he wasn’t upset about the error. “I see.”
“A small loss, hardly worth mentioning.” He nodded to Adam, who’d taken up a post across the room beside the kitchen. The boy disappeared through the swinging door. “I hope you won’t object to my ordering dinner for us.”
Rosamond drew in a breath to indeed voice her objection, but the aroma of roast beef once again teased her senses. She’d started work early this morning and now could feel genuine hunger gnawing at her stomach. She wouldn’t be so foolish as to reject some much-needed sustenance before her ride home.
“Thank you. It smells wonderful.” Oh, no. Why had she said that? She didn’t want to compliment anything he’d done to set this little scene.
Adam reappeared and placed steaming plates of food in front of them, while Roberts came from the kitchen with coffee. Rosamond picked up her fork, but Mr. Wakefield gently touched her hand.
“Would you permit me to offer thanks?”
Setting down her fork, Rosamond could only nod. She’d forgotten that he was a man of faith, albeit one whose faith didn’t always prevent him from being a hypocrite. He probably believed in the divine right of kings to rule other people with impunity.