Finally A Bride

by Renee Ryan

  Garrett let out a short laugh. “I should have known you were on to us.”

  “I did not become a wealthy woman without honing my observation skills.”

  He sat back in his chair. “How long did you plan to play along with our pretense?”

  Her smile turned slyer still. “Until it was no longer a game for either of you.”

  It hadn’t been a game for Garrett from the start. He realized that now, accepted the truth of it. Molly hadn’t needed to convince him to play along with her convoluted scheme. Mrs. Singletary hadn’t needed to push him to spend time with her companion.

  If he was completely honest with himself, he’d admit the rest. He hadn’t taken the job at Bennett, Bennett and Brand to prove he was no longer that “other Mitchell boy.” He’d come home for Molly.

  Every decision he’d made since he’d learned of her broken engagement to Marshall Ferguson had led to this moment. Garrett hadn’t been avoiding Molly since returning to Denver—he’d been biding his time, waiting for the right moment to make his move.

  And now that he had, he wasn’t going to lose her again. He had to be smart in his pursuit, clever. Wily. “Mrs. Singletary, I need your help.”

  “I’m at your service, Mr. Mitchell.” Although she kept her tone mild, Garrett could see the widow struggle not to smile, as if she’d been waiting for this very opportunity since she’d first decided to match her beloved companion with him.

  You need an ally, he reminded himself. And there she sat, with that smirk on her face and ridiculously large cat on her lap.

  “Molly has always been skittish when it comes to love. I believe that even more true now because of her broken engagements.”

  “You know her well.”

  “I haven’t always,” he admitted. “I once accused her of loving my family more than me.”

  “Molly’s heart is big enough for all of you.”

  It had taken him far too long to come to that same realization. But he wasn’t the one who needed convincing of his change of heart. It was Molly.

  One step at a time. Slow, methodical, nothing too aggressive. “I agree she has a great capacity for love, but that’s not really the point, is it?”

  “No.”

  He drew in a deep breath. “She’s been hurt. By me. And others. She deserves to be wooed, made to feel special and beautiful. I want to show her that I love her for who she is, at the core. I want to court her properly. I want to sweep her off her feet. However…”

  He stopped, took a moment to gather his thoughts again.

  “Go on, Mr. Mitchell.”

  “However, I won’t accept half her heart this time around.”

  “As well you shouldn’t.”

  “That’s where you come in,” he said.

  She arched a brow. “What can I do to help?”

  “How do I convince her I won’t ever leave her again?” He heard the frustration in his voice, didn’t attempt to apologize for it.

  Gaze thoughtful, the widow eyed him for several long moments. “Words won’t be enough,” she warned.

  “No.”

  “A grand gesture will only serve to make her suspicious of your motives.”

  Sadly, he’d figured that out, as well. Molly would only think he was acting upon their ruse.

  He should have never agreed to her ridiculous scheme.

  “You’re telling me you think it’s hopeless?”

  Even as he said the words, Garrett refused to believe all was lost. With God all things were possible.

  Molly belonged to him, and he belonged to her. They’d been destined for each other since childhood, drawn by a force bigger than themselves.

  “Certainly it’s not hopeless, Mr. Mitchell. Quite the contrary.” The widow reached out and gave his knee a firm pat. “I can think of several surefire ways to aid you in your quest.”

  He sat up straighter. “Go on.”

  “It’ll require patience, persistence and the most powerful tool of all, prayer.”

  “Patience, persistence, prayer.” He ticked them off on his fingers, recognizing the value in all three but not exactly what he’d had in mind. “I was hoping for a concrete plan of attack.”

  “Ah, well, if it’s something specific you’re looking for…” She crooked her finger at him. “Come closer and I’ll tell you exactly what you ought to do…”

  When the widow finished mapping out her idea, Garrett sat back and reviewed the outrageous plan in his mind. “You honestly think it will work?”

  “It’s how my dear Reginald made me his bride.” She sighed. “It was terribly romantic.”

  Garrett firmly disagreed. “Abduction is not romantic.”

  “The surprise element has its advantages,” the widow argued.

  Molly did like surprises. And Garrett had plenty of time to plan, to prepare, to—

  No.

  He would never force her into marriage. Nor would he use underhanded tactics to gain her trust. He would court her the old-fashioned way, not manipulate her feelings for him.

  With patience, persistence and prayer Garrett would woo away her every doubt. He would break down every barrier she attempted to erect between them.

  He wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t relent, wouldn’t give up until he’d made Molly his bride.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Over the next three weeks, preparations for Mrs. Singletary’s charity ball consumed Molly’s every waking hour. With her mother’s and Mrs. Mitchell’s assistance the planning went smoothly. Now that the invitations had been delivered, and the responses received, only a few details remained before the ball itself.

  As she worked on flower arrangements for the party, one small concern nagged at her.

  Aside from the occasional dinner and lunch, she rarely saw Garrett. When they did manage a few moments alone, he was courteous, charming and attentive. A near-perfect suitor.

  And that was the problem. He was up to something.

  The question was what?

  Just yesterday, she’d found out—quite by accident—that he’d approached her father to request permission to court her. Considering they were in this ruse together, Garrett should have warned her he was going to take that potentially hazardous step. At the very least, he should have told her afterward.

  What if her father had refused his blessing? Why take the risk at all?

  Something wasn’t right.

  Two days before the ball, as she was puzzling over Garrett’s behavior, the man himself arrived at Mrs. Singletary’s unannounced. He’d been doing that a lot lately, simply showing up when Molly least expected him. She rather liked his spontaneity. The thrill of never knowing exactly when she’d see him again kept her anticipating his next visit all the more.

  She heard him tell Winston he’d “find her” himself. Easy enough to do since she’d set up a temporary workstation in the dining room weeks ago.

  His purposeful footsteps struck the wood flooring in the hallway with customary efficiency. She could hear him coming closer…

  “Take a break,” he said from the doorway, “and have lunch with me at the Hotel Dupree.”

  Molly set aside the flower arrangement she’d marked for the buffet table and turned to face him.

  Her heart tripped at the sight he made. There he stood, in all his masculine, urbane glory. He’d propped one shoulder against the doorjamb while his arms were crossed casually over his chest. A roguish smile played across his lips. “You’re staring.”

  “Hard not to as you look very handsome today. Besides, you’re staring back.”

  “Hard not to as you look quite lovely today. And you didn’t answer my question.”

  “I don’t recall you actually asking me anything.”

  Pushing away from the door, he strode through the room and reached for her hands. When he made contact, she caught her breath at the warmth that spread up her arm. Without her gloves, the feel of his palm pressed to hers made logical thought disappear.

  She sighed.


  “Molly, my love, will you have lunch with me today?”

  My love. She resisted sighing again. “I would be honored.”

  The moment he released her hands, she ran her fingers over her hair and discovered with dismay several loose tendrils.

  Proving he could still read her mind, he knuckled a curl off her cheek. “I always did prefer you a little disheveled.”

  And there went her heart again, skipping a beat. Then tripping back to life with alarming speed. “Give me a moment to fetch my coat and hat.”

  “Take all the time you need.” He waved her off, distracted by something at his feet.

  Molly looked down as well, and saw that Lady Macbeth was winding her way through his legs. The cat adored the man. It appeared to be a mutual affection.

  As she left the room, Garrett’s chuckle followed in her wake. She could hear him talking to the cat in that deep baritone.

  He had such a wonderful voice.

  In her room, she released the breath she’d held along the way and puzzled over Garrett’s behavior. Less than a month ago, he’d avoided her at every possible turn.

  Now, he was all easy charm and attentive smiles and witty conversation. Hands shaking slightly, she secured her hat in place. Again, she wondered what he was up to. There was a simple solution to all this confusion.

  Molly would simply ask him. She’d learned long ago that direct and to the point was always the best approach when dealing with a man.

  Decision made, she donned her coat, slid on her gloves and hurried to the main foyer.

  Garrett waited for her near the portrait of Mr. and Mrs. Singletary. He studied the picture with a thoughtful expression, as if there was an answer to some unknown question in the painted image.

  “You seem fascinated with that painting,” she said, drawing alongside him.

  “They look so happy I figure that should make me happy, too. I can’t understand why it makes me melancholy instead.”

  Molly sympathized with his confusion. She’d had the same reaction herself. “It’s because they had so little time together.” She took a step closer to the painting. The love between Mr. and Mrs. Singletary was nearly painful to witness, knowing how their story ended. “They should have grown old together.”

  “How long did they have?”

  “Fifteen years.” She smiled sadly at the painting. “She wanted fifty.”

  Garrett said nothing, but now his gaze was even more troubled.

  “They married against her parents’ wishes,” Molly explained. “Mrs. Singletary was only seventeen on her wedding day. He was two years older than that. He’d traveled west, penniless and hoping to make his fortune.”

  “Evidently he succeeded.”

  “He struck gold a year after they said their vows.”

  It was a sweet love story, Molly decided, even though Mr. Singletary had died so young. But at least they hadn’t wasted any of their time together.

  Not like Molly and Garrett. They’d wasted a lot of time. Too much. And she accepted much of the blame. For years, she’d told herself their chance to be together had come and gone.

  Had that argument merely been a way to guard her heart through the pain of losing him again? A way to keep her distance from the very thing she craved the most? A life with Garrett.

  “Sad tale,” he said at last, pivoting to face her. The tender sorrow in his eyes stole her breath. Was he thinking about Mrs. Singletary’s loss?

  Or theirs?

  “Very sad,” she whispered.

  Eyes grave, Garrett held out a hand to her, and Molly’s heart took a quick extra beat.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  Molly placed her hand in his and smiled. She’d been ready for seven long years.

  * * *

  Garrett escorted Molly through the lobby of the Hotel Dupree. He knew he could have chosen anywhere to dine with her, anywhere other than the restaurant where Callie worked, on a day Fanny was on duty at the registration desk. He wasn’t testing Molly’s affection for him, nor was he intentionally putting her in a position that would require her to split her loyalty between him and his sisters.

  That would be childish.

  And beneath him.

  Something a seventeen-year-old kid would do.

  He’d meant what he said the other day in Mrs. Singletary’s private office. He was more than willing to share Molly with his family. He wanted to share her with them.

  Today was not a test, he assured himself. Not for Molly, at any rate. Was he testing himself, attempting to see if he’d truly let go of the past?

  Perhaps.

  Halfway through the lobby, he caught sight of Fanny. She stood on the lobby side of the registration desk, head bent, her back to the flow of traffic.

  Garrett hesitated approaching her, primarily because she wasn’t alone.

  A dark-haired gentleman dressed in a superbly tailored, black woolen suit stood beside her. His head was bent over hers as they reviewed what looked like a ledger. Garrett knew the gentleman by name. Jonathon Hawkins, the new owner of the hotel. Garrett and Mrs. Singletary had met with him twice this week already.

  “Fanny.”

  At the sound of her name, she glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “Oh. Hello, Garrett.” Her gaze shifted to Molly and her smile widened. “And Molly, too.”

  Slipping her hand from Garrett’s arm, Molly started toward his sister. She’d barely taken two steps when she froze, her gaze riveted on the man beside Fanny.

  “Johnny?”

  Gaze still fixed on the ledger, Hawkins turned in her direction. A look of recognition crossed his face as his steel-gray eyes fastened with Molly’s pretty blue ones.

  “Johnny!” She squealed in delight. “It is you.”

  “Molly Taylor Scott.” Hawkins’s usually stern features relaxed inch by inch and a slow smile spread across his mouth, the kind that probably devastated women around the world. “Look at you. All grown up.”

  He opened his arms at the same moment she leaped into his embrace. Wrapping her tightly against him, he swung her off her feet and turned her in a series of dizzying circles.

  She giggled like a little girl.

  For one black moment Garrett’s vision tinged red. He’d been prepared to share Molly with his family. He was not willing to share her with another man.

  Fanny didn’t look any more pleased by this laughing display of affection than Garrett. He didn’t have time to wonder at his sister’s reaction before Molly bounced out of Hawkins’s embrace and dragged him over to Garrett. “Garrett, this is Johnny. Johnny, meet Garrett Mitchell.”

  “We know each other.” Though he’d only met with Hawkins twice, he’d come to respect the man’s business acumen, admired his sound judgment and had even thought he could like the man. Until now.

  “Hawkins,” he said in a flat tone.

  “Mitchell.” A frown settled over the already serious features and his sharp, narrowed eyes cut from Molly to Garrett, then back again. Clearly, he didn’t like what he saw.

  “Molly?” Fanny’s voice broke through the charged moment. “Do you know Mr. Hawkins?”

  “Mr. Hawkins?” Eyebrows pressed together, Molly’s gaze darted around the lobby. “Who’s Mr. Hawkins?”

  “That would be me.” Smiling, he bent over her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Jonathon Hawkins, at your service.”

  “Hawkins,” she repeated, her bafflement more pronounced than before. “Why don’t I remember that name?”

  Something shifted in the man’s eyes, just for a moment, then went away. “Because you only ever called me Johnny.”

  “And you used to call me Peanut.” She sent him a quick, lovely smile. “I can’t believe it’s really you.”

  Garrett tightened his jaw so hard he thought it might crack. Dark, slick emotion threatened to spill over. He cleared his throat. “How do you two know each other?”

  Hawkins turned his attention to Garrett. He had a quiet, aloof edg
e to him now. This was the man who’d turned a fledgling men’s boardinghouse in St. Louis into a hotel empire.

  “We were children at Charity House together,” Hawkins said with no inflection.

  “His mother worked with my real mother before she died,” Molly added, which was to say Hawkins’s mother had been a prostitute along with Molly’s.

  At this revelation, Fanny scanned her boss’s face, a look of transfixed interest in her gaze. “Your mother worked in a brothel?”

  “She was one of Mattie Silks’s girls.” He showed no shame over the fact that his mother was a prostitute, other than his slightly stiff posture. “I was among the first to leave with Laney O’Connor and move into the…orphanage.”

  He’d hesitated over the term, proving that he hadn’t been a real orphan at the time. His mother had probably sent him to Charity House to better his lot in life.

  She’d gotten her wish.

  With far too much affection in her tone, Molly gushed over the other man. “Johnny was everyone’s big brother.”

  As if to prove her point, Hawkins smiled down at her with an indulgent look similar to the one Garrett and his brothers bestowed on their sisters. “I remember dragging you out of a few tough spots.”

  “More than a few,” she admitted, half wincing, half laughing. “I wasn’t always an obedient child.”

  “All part of your charm, Molly.”

  “My parents would disagree.” They laughed over that, then launched into a retelling of childhood tales Garrett had never heard before. Most were from before he’d known Molly.

  Fascinated, he rocked back on his heels and let the two reminisce.

  This Jonathon Hawkins—or rather, Johnny—was a different man than the one Garrett and Mrs. Singletary had met with during the week.

  Hawkins was more relaxed with Molly, quicker to smile, laughing easily and without pause. He seemed comfortable around her, in a brotherly sort of way. Whenever he shot a glance in Garrett’s direction, his gaze was full of quiet warning, as if he sensed Garrett had intentions toward Molly.

  The man was proving perceptive, too.

  “Garrett, may I have a quick word?” Fanny asked.