Catching Betsy (Mail-Order Grooms Book 2)

by Amelia Smarts

  The one-mile walk to town ended far too quickly for Betsy, who felt more terrified with every step. Of the two, Susannah was certainly the more nurturing one. Adam provided no words of encouragement or comfort. His face appeared severe, and Betsy worried that she’d disappointed or angered him somehow. Worse, she worried that any negative feelings Adam was having might exist tenfold in Roderick.

  “D-do you think he will be upset with me, Mr. Harrington, for running away?” she asked Adam tentatively.

  “Perhaps, but I think he will be more upset that no one but you knew about his arrival. You are very young to be drawing up such a scheme.”

  “I’m eighteen,” she said, a bit sullenly.

  Adam looked at over at her with a raised brow. “Mm hmm. As I said, very young.”

  Betsy stopped suddenly. “Oh, no.” She moaned and rocked back on her heels, suddenly remembering that she’d lied about her age in her advertisement. Roderick thought she was twenty-five.

  “Betsy? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she said, her lower lip quivering. She couldn’t bear to admit to Adam, or Roderick for that matter, that she had lied. “Just nervous, I suppose.”

  For the first time since learning about Roderick, Adam’s severe expression softened. “Chin up. I’d wager that Mr. Mason feels just as nervous as you do.”

  Adam didn’t know her true reason for dismay at that moment, but his words did provide a small measure of comfort nonetheless. She nodded and drew on what little courage she possessed to continue.

  They reached the hotel, a green, three-story building near the center of town. “We’re here to see Mr. Roderick Mason,” Adam told the hotel manager at the front desk. “Do you know if he’s in his room?”

  The manager, a portly man with spectacles hanging on the edge of his nose, looked up over them at Adam. “Yes, I do believe he is. He checked in earlier and I haven’t seen him leave since.”

  “Which room, please?”

  He lowered his voice. “Room 9. Not supposed to say, but I know you. Go up the stairs, turn right.”

  Adam led the way up the steps, with Betsy following behind, her heart thumping as fast as a nervous rabbit’s.

  Outside room 9, Adam placed a firm hand on Betsy’s back. He must have sensed that she was about to bolt, for his hand on her back served less as comfort and more as a stake keeping her in place. Adam knocked on the door. After what seemed like an eternity, Betsy heard shuffling and then a short time later, Roderick opened the door.

  He’d cleaned up, which made him look even handsomer than Betsy remembered. His newly washed dark hair was still damp and slicked back. The distinct smell of pine soap filled Betsy’s senses. He wore a clean white shirt not buttoned up the full way, exposing a hard chest with wisps of dark hair. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing tanned, muscular forearms.

  After a brief look of surprise, he recovered and smiled, first at Adam and then at Betsy. “I’m very happy to see you didn’t run too far, Miss Blake.”

  Betsy let out the breath she was holding, relieved that he didn’t appear angry with her or offended. She smiled back. Somehow, she was able to keep her voice from shaking too badly. “I’d like to introduce to you Mr. Harrington. He’s the owner of the ranch where my pa works as a foreman. I’ve just told him and his wife about your arrival, since my parents are not here to meet you.”

  The men shook hands and expressed pleasure over meeting. Adam’s greeting was noticeably less friendly than Roderick’s, and his expression still conveyed severity and thinly masked wariness. Betsy attempted to make up for it by being overly friendly. “Shall we dine together at Mary’s?” she asked, a little too loudly.

  Roderick didn’t seem to notice her forced cheerfulness. “I’d be most pleased with that. Allow me to locate my wallet.” He patted the pockets of his shirt and then his trousers.

  “It’ll be my treat,” Adam said curtly. “Come along.”

  “I beg your pardon, but I cannot accept that,” Roderick said, looking around the room. “I have traveled a long distance to buy Miss Blake supper, and I won’t be denied the pleasure of it now. Ah! There it is.” He strode to the dresser and picked up his leather wallet. Stuffing it into the back pocket of his trousers, he joined them outside the room.

  While the three of them descended down the stairs, Roderick held out his bent elbow to Betsy. “Take my arm. I won’t have you tripping on those lovely skirts.”

  No such thing would have happened, since Betsy had carefully lifted her skirts with one hand so that they did not touch the ground, but she flushed with pleasure and hooked a hand in Roderick’s elbow. As soon as she did, she felt a lot less like a naughty child and much more like a lady. She smiled appreciatively at him, grateful that he had forgiven her for running and seemed interested in picking up where they’d left off. He winked at her when Adam wasn’t looking.

  During supper, Roderick proved himself to be a charming conversationalist. He told Betsy and Adam about his travels, conveying his inconveniences with good humor. Even Adam, who spent the majority of the time studying Roderick with narrowed, suspicious eyes, cracked a smile a couple of times.

  “Anyone want something to drink?” Roderick asked after they finished their meal. “I could use a gin and tonic. Miss Blake? Can I tempt you with some spirits?”

  Adam cleared his throat. “Not on my watch. She’s much too young.”

  Roderick tilted his head to the side, seemingly confused by the statement.

  Betsy blushed, knowing that Roderick still thought she was twenty-five, not eighteen. “I’ll just have a tonic water,” she said quickly, before inquiries could be made to bring her age to light.

  “Very well. And for you?” Roderick asked Adam.

  “Beer, thank you.”

  Roderick walked to the bar to order the drinks. When he returned, he made a toast. Holding his glass out, he said, “To the wild west and its occupants, which thus far have proved most welcoming.” They clinked glasses. Roderick leaned back in his chair in a relaxed pose as Betsy took a generous sip of her tonic. A strong, foreign taste collided with her tongue, and she nearly spit it out, but instead swallowed quickly. The liquid warmed her throat on the way down. She realized it must be gin, and not just a little splash. Her gaze snapped to Roderick, who was studying her, his eyes twinkling devilishly. He gave her another wink on the sly.

  With difficulty, she kept herself from laughing out loud. Her delight wasn’t only because she felt thrilled to have a real drink, though that was part of it. It was more because she now shared a little secret with Roderick, something that bound them together, and it made her feel wonderfully carefree. Adam seemed none the wiser.

  The men argued good-naturedly about the bill, and Roderick won. Betsy couldn’t remember a time when any man had won an argument with Adam, even a friendly one, and she once again had to hold back her giggles of delight. She liked Roderick—a lot. Like her, he had a daring, rebellious spirit that others could not easily control.

  “This has been a wonderful evening,” Roderick said as the three of them walked back to the hotel. “Thank you both for making my introduction to Virginia City so agreeable.”

  Adam’s response was to-the-point. “Glad we could meet. Betsy’s pa won’t be in town for a few days, and I’m responsible for her. Do you intend to court her?”

  A brief look of surprise at the frank question crossed Roderick’s face, but he recovered quickly and answered in a friendly manner. “I’d like that very much, assuming she would like me to court her.” He turned to her and smiled, a silent question.

  “I would,” Betsy said, smiling back shyly.

  “Very well,” Adam said in a clipped voice, sounding like the three of them were engaging in a business transaction. “I’ll thank you to entertain yourselves in public. No going off alone together.”

  Betsy’s heart sank. She’d been picturing romantic picnics and long walks with just the two of them. “But Mr. Harrington,
surely it wouldn’t hurt for us to spend some time conversing without others around,” she asked tentatively.

  Adam’s jaw tightened, and he scowled. “I’m going to insist you follow the guidelines I just expressed, Betsy. When you father returns, it’ll no longer be up to me and I assume you’ll be freer, since he tends to be lenient. Until then, you’ll respect my wishes.”

  Betsy thought about reminding him how lenient he was with Mini, but decided against it. Adam was strict more often than not, and she worried that any further complaints might cause him to disallow the courtship completely.

  Roderick was perfectly amenable to the restriction. “It’s a fair request,” he said. “It can’t hurt, and it will teach us patience.”

  “I’m pleased that you agree,” Adam said. “Betsy is still very young—only just turned eighteen, and I believe you are her first serious suitor. Isn’t that right?” He turned an inquisitive look on Betsy.

  Betsy’s throat closed. She looked at Roderick, who no longer wore his pleasant expression. He appeared confused and then downright irritated.

  “Excuse me, did you say eighteen years old?” He looked at Betsy as he asked Adam the question.

  “That’s right,” Adam replied, unaware of the impact of his words.

  Betsy stared pleadingly into Roderick’s eyes, a silent entreaty for forgiveness over her lie, but Roderick’s gaze remained fixed and irritated. Finally breaking the silence, he said in a tight voice, “Thank you again for a delightful evening. I shall call on you soon, Miss Blake.” With a short bow, he disappeared inside his hotel room.

  “He seems a good fellow,” Adam said, as they strolled back to the ranch, oblivious to the silent despair Betsy was feeling in that moment.

  She mumbled her agreement.

  “He’s a long way from home and he sticks out here like a sore thumb, but he has a good humor about it. I regret now that I didn’t ask what he plans to do in town. Not much needed here in the way of an architect.”

  “I will ask him about it when he calls on me,” Betsy said absently. If he calls on me, she added ruefully to herself. She had a horrible feeling that she’d ruined everything and Roderick would never want to speak to her again.

  ***

  Roderick undressed for bed slowly, mulling over the time he’d spent with Adam and Betsy. It rankled him to learn that Betsy had lied about her age in her advertisement. She’d struck him as a simple, honest young woman, without the artfulness and games that so depressed him about the women in his society circle. But she’d been deceitful with him from the start, it seemed, and he would not tolerate dishonesty. He didn’t so much mind her youth, only the fact that she’d lied about it, and he would need to deal with that firmly so it wouldn’t be repeated.

  Still, he couldn’t help but smile when he thought of their time together. She was shy, that was clear, but she was also engaging and interested in learning about him. He too wanted to know everything there was to know about her, for she piqued his interest like no other woman ever had.

  The next day, Roderick continued to think about the matter of Betsy’s lie as he performed a variety of errands around town. He opened a temporary account at the bank. When the banker, Mr. Taylor, saw the impressive amount of money he was depositing, his posture straightened, and he looked at Roderick with a strange mixture of respect and wariness. Roderick understood. He was likely the richest man in town, and it wouldn’t be long before everyone knew it.

  As Roderick dined alone in Mary’s Restaurant for supper that evening, he got the distinct impression that people were watching him. He knew he stood out, despite trying to assume the dress of Virginia City’s menfolk. His shirts were a bit too clean, his posture a bit too straight, and his wallet a bit too thick.

  The waitress stopped by his table and poured some lemonade in his glass. “Haven’t seen you around these parts,” she said. Her accent was familiar.

  “No,” Roderick said with a polite smile. “I’m new here, and I regret that it’s so obvious. How about you?”

  She giggled flirtatiously. “I’m from Rochester, New York. Came here as a mail-order bride, but then my groom up and disappeared. Luckily I have family around, some here in Nevada, some in California.”

  “Ah, that’s good. It’s nice to meet someone from the other side of the country. You like it here?”

  “Oh, yes. The folks are friendly and I didn’t leave too much behind in New York. I’d be happy to show you around town if you like. Make you feel more at home.”

  He swallowed his swill of lemonade. He looked at her, for the first time really, and saw that her lips were painted a deep shade of red. She wasn’t a bad-looking woman, but he much preferred Betsy’s subtle beauty and shyness.

  “Thank you, Miss…”

  “Clark. Miss Florence Clark,” she supplied, and took the liberty of easing into the chair across from him.

  “Thank you, Miss Clark,” he said. “But I’m afraid I’m already spoken for.” That was a stretch of the truth, of course. He wasn’t at all spoken for, but he was smitten with Betsy. More than that, he felt an urge to claim and possess her, and she was the only woman on his mind.

  Florence shrugged and stood from the chair. “That’s a shame. Do let me know if you change your mind, Mr. Mason.” She floated away to another customer.

  He noticed belatedly that she knew his name, though he hadn’t supplied her with it. Word about his presence in town really was getting around. As for spending time with Miss Clark, he didn’t plan to do so. The only plan he had was to resolve the matter of Betsy’s lie and move forward with properly courting the young lady.

  Chapter Four

  For the next couple days, Betsy waited with silent desperation for Roderick to visit. She was so distracted by her hopes for him to call on her, casting constant, furtive glances out the window, that she broke two of Susannah’s glasses while washing them. Later, as she walked from the Harringtons’ well to the barn to water the horses, she tripped over an exposed tree root, spilling her bucket of water and skinning her arm on the dirt.

  Get ahold of yourself, she scolded as she cleaned the wound with a damp cloth. As the hours passed, she became only more distraught. She guessed that by lying she had ruined her chances at being courted by a real gentleman, and the thought of being so close to something only to lose it caused her anguish. If only she could see Roderick and explain her motivation for lying, then perhaps he would still want to court her.

  Betsy’s parents would be returning soon, and she wondered how she would explain the situation to them, or what exactly would need explaining. It might be over before it had even started and Roderick might very well return to New York City.

  In a burst of youthful impulse, Betsy decided she would call on Roderick at his hotel. If she didn’t see him soon, she would go mad. She knew visiting him would be going against a couple of well-defined rules. Adam had said Roderick and Betsy weren’t to spend time alone together. Besides that, the rules of courtship dictated that a man should call on a woman, not the other way around. Why should she care, though? It also wasn’t common for a woman to put an ad in the paper requesting a man, and she’d done that. Didn’t it make more sense to break the rules in order to set things right?

  Betsy didn’t want to wear the same dress she wore upon first meeting Roderick, which was her finest, so she wore her second-finest. It was made of satin that swished when she walked. Using a beauty tip she learned from reading the Sears Roebuck Mail Order Catalog, she ground strawberries in a mortar and pestle, then applied the red stain to her lips. Next she took bits of coal and colored her eyelashes black. She pinched her cheeks and gazed into the mirror. It satisfied her to discover she looked much older and more sophisticated after applying the makeup.

  Not wishing to attract curious glances from the townsfolk on her journey to the hotel, she placed a bonnet on her head and dipped it forward to shade her face. Before long, she was standing outside Roderick’s hotel room, this time without Adam, an
d it required all her strength not to run away. She didn’t know how she’d bear the humiliation and sadness if he no longer wished to have anything to do with her. She removed her bonnet from her head and smoothed her hair down. After she rapped her knuckles on his door softly, she heard some stirring within the room, which caused her heart to pound.

  Roderick swung the door open and appeared in the doorway. His eyebrows shot up. Then a curious, intense gleam entered his eyes as he addressed her. “Betsy,” he said, his voice even and low. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  Betsy wondered if this was something people in the east said, without meaning it. Was he truly pleased about seeing her, or was he only being polite? The look on his face didn’t convey displeasure, but neither did he look at her with the courtly indulgence he had during their prior meetings.

  “Mr. Mason, I c-came to apologize for lying about my age. I’m s-so very sorry. You haven’t called on me and I can only assume that I have so deeply disappointed you that—“

  He held up a hand. “Wait a minute, darling.” His voice was kind but firm. “I fully intended to call on you after I decided how best to deal with this matter.”

  She traced the neckline of her dress nervously with her fingertips, waiting for him to say more and wondering what he’d decided to do as far as settling the matter. He didn’t speak again right away and instead studied her with a perceptive eye that seemed to pierce straight through her. Despite her makeup and attempts to appear older and more sophisticated, she felt young and foolish in his older, gentlemanly presence.

  “It’s not proper for you to be here, Betsy,” he chided, without any real censure.

  Betsy felt she had nothing to lose by being frank at that point, so she didn’t hold back her thoughts or try to speak them in a polite way. “You are not one to speak about proper,” she retorted. “You served me gin, against the expressed wishes of my chaperone.”