It still worried her that Joanna’s health wasn’t improving quickly. Exactly what was her illness? Nothing had been explained well at all.
As Marcella neared Martin’s bedchamber, a thought struck her, stopping her in her tracks. Martin had gotten rid of people he didn’t want around—either killing them or finding them a husband. Was he thinking he didn’t want his wife any longer? Did he want this woman, Mary, instead? If so, would he sink so low as to try and murder his own wife?
Marcella’s gut twisted as bile rose to her throat. She must take her sister away from this place, and very soon!
She glanced toward the nearest window, wondering if Wesley was hiding and watching her. Marcella straightened her shoulders and rubbed the ache in her forehead before walking into his room. The musky scent that had always been with Martin suddenly surrounded her. Chills ran up her arms and she shivered. Yet, at the same time, confidence grew inside her. She was determined to find something. Her sister needed her. Marcella would save her sister.
As she glanced around at Martin’s personal items, she tried not to feel embarrassed. After all, she was in a man’s bedchamber, which was highly improper. It was her duty to find evidence no matter how she went about obtaining it.
After a half hour without finding anything, she left the room. Disheartened, she walked down the hallway. Small footsteps padded on the floor, coming toward her. She glanced up just in time to see Lottie run to her and wrap her arms around Marcella’s legs.
Having her mind caught up in looking for evidence, she’d forgotten about her sweet little Lottie. She lifted the two-year-old in her arms and hugged her. Marcella had missed this, and hugging Lottie made the stress ease up from her mind.
“I miss you, Cella.”
Marcella kissed the girl’s cheek and smiled. “And I missed you.”
“Wanna play?”
“Sure. Let’s go outside and catch butterflies.”
The girl’s eyes widened, and she nodded. Marcella set Lottie back on the floor and grasped her hand, moving down the grand staircase, hurrying outside. The warm weather touched her cheeks and she breathed in the fresh air.
She immediately headed toward the closest grove of trees, hoping Wesley would be there. She wouldn’t allow Lottie to see a strange man, but hopefully, Marcella would be able to talk to him through the trees.
She and Lottie had played the catch-the-butterfly game, and so she let the little girl run around the yard. Marcella stopped near the thicket of trees and glanced inside. “Wesley?”
Leaning against a tree, she listened for his voice as she kept her gaze on Lottie. “Wesley, I need to talk to you.”
From behind her, some twigs broke, and leaves rustled. Seconds later, a man’s hand took hold of hers. The beat of her heart quickened, and she glanced over her shoulder. He knelt behind the tree, holding her hand.
“Good morning, my lovely blossom.”
Her cheeks grew warmer from his endearment. She looked back toward Lottie. “I snuck through Martin’s study, and I even went through his bedroom. All I found was a letter from a woman he’s probably having an affair with. Oh, and a letter from his mother that told him she’d heard rumors that you were still alive.”
Wesley grumbled. “That just means we have to look harder. If he knows I’m still alive, he’ll be more careful.”
“I’ll do all I can,” she said softly.
He squeezed her hand with such gentleness, her heart leapt.
“I’ve been watching you. I... can’t stop watching you,” he said in a whisper.
Her breathing accelerated. She wanted to be looking at him right now and have him hold her, but she must not draw any attention to herself. She didn’t want Lottie to ask questions.
“Wesley, I promise to keep looking. I’ll even talk to my sister. I’m sure she knows something.”
“I just remembered something,” he continued. “When the person shot at me, trying to kill me as I boarded the train, I shot back, and my bullet hit them.”
She sucked in a surprised breath and looked down at him. “Are you sure they were hit?”
“Yes, but they were wearing a hat and a long black coat. It was at night and I couldn’t see them. They got away because most everyone was helping me stop the bleeding in my leg. However, the person who shot me was hit. I want you to watch for signs of Martin being injured. It happened a little over a week ago. He’d still be sore from the gunshot wound.”
“Yes, I’ll watch for signs.” She quickly turned her attention to Lottie.
He squeezed her hand again. “Thank you. Marcella, you’re a godsend.”
“Actually, that’s what I think about you.”
“Really?”
She glanced at him again and nodded. “You have given me encouragement and your trust. No man has ever done that before except my father.” She swallowed the knot of emotion forming in her throat. “You are making me believe I’m worth something.”
“You are, Marcella. You are very important to me.”
She smiled.
Off in the distance, she heard Lottie’s cheerful laugh, so she glanced toward the little girl who appeared to have caught a butterfly.
“Who is she?” Wesley asked.
“That’s Charlotte. We call her Lottie. She’s our cousin, but her parents died, and we were given guardianship. I like pretending that she’s my daughter.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought I’d never marry and have children, and so she was the closest way to become a mother.”
“Marcella, you will marry one day and have a family of your own... and the man will be someone you can fall in love with.”
She sighed and nodded without looking back at him. “I’m happy that you see me as a different person, but I assure you, I’m nothing like that. I fear my only hope to becoming a man’s wife is to find another one looking for a mail-order bride.”
When he didn’t say anything, her heart sank a little lower. He must agree with her and not want to let her know. She swallowed hard, hating feeling this way about herself, but knowing it was true.
“Marcella, I...”
Suddenly, from across the yard, she saw Martin riding toward the house, and following were several other men atop their horses. They rode to the stable and were dismounting. Lottie’s face turned pale and she ran toward Marcella.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“I’m not sure.” She released Wesley’s hand and reached for Lottie. Once the little girl reached her, she lifted her in her arms.
From what she could see of the men with Martin, they all looked like well-to-do men. Their clothes were of upper quality and they walked as if they owned the world. This was very typical of the way Martin was, so she assumed they were all his friend.
His friends!
She sucked in a horrific breath, the energy inside of her quickly draining. “Oh, no!” Her voice broke as dread washed over her. “I think I know what’s going on.”
“What?” he asked, keeping his voice very low.
“I think Martin brought them here to sell me to the highest bidder... today!”
NINE
Anger flared through Wesley hotter than he’d ever experienced before. He would not allow this to happen. Even if it meant coming out of hiding and declaring he was alive. If that happened, he and Colt would have to figure out a different way to find the evidence needed to put Martin away.
His heart squeezed with emotion as helplessness flowed through him like an angry river. He could not let her go!
“I won’t let this happen,” he said with a tight voice.
“What can you do to stop it? It’s too soon to come out of hiding.”
She made sense, and yet, he had to do something. The tightness in her voice wrenched his heart.
“Wesley, nothing will happen immediately with Martin and his friends. Even if one of them offers marriage, it’s still going to take a couple of weeks. Meanwhile, we shall keep searching for eviden
ce. I’m confident we’ll find something soon.”
“Oh, Marcella,” he whispered. Mixed emotions grew inside of him. Helplessness washed over him, yet at the same time, he wanted to protect her. She was innocent, and she had nobody else that could help her.
“Marcella,” Martin called out to her, motioning his hand. “Come inside. We have visitors.”
Martin’s irritated voice made the hackles rise on Wesley’s back. He wanted to strangle his cousin right here and now. If only he had the faith his blossom had. But Marcella was correct in assuming nothing would happen immediately. They still had time, and if time slipped away and they couldn’t find any proof, then and only then would Wesley come out of hiding.
She wiped at her eyes. He couldn’t see, but her voice let him know she was crying.
“I must go before he comes searching for me.” She squared her shoulders.
“I know, but remember, stay by the windows.”
“I will.” She looked at him. “I’ll return tonight after dinner to let you know what has happened.”
“Please be careful,” he said. “Remember, I’ll be watching you.”
Nodding, she turned and walked away from him, and carrying the little girl on her hips, Marcella moved toward Martin and the other men. Wesley slid his hand to his revolver resting in his holster. If his cousin allowed his friends to lay one hand on her, Wesley would certainly lose control and those men would soon believe they were in hell.
TAKING A DEEP BREATH for courage—and strength—Marcella walked down the stairs later that evening toward Martin’s gathering. Before reaching the sitting room, another room caught her attention. She quickly stepped into the nearby empty blue room if only to collect her thoughts. What would she say? How could she act? And more importantly, could she become like the strong-willed women in her stories?
She moved to the window and gazed out. Right away, she detected a movement from within the bushes. Narrowing her gaze, she studied the shadows, and within seconds, Wesley poked his head around the tall shrubs.
She quickly opened the window and leaned against the ledge. “What are you doing?”
He grasped her hand and squeezed. “Colt came earlier this evening,” he motioned his head toward the other man in the shrubbery, “and he recognized some of the men here tonight.”
Colt squeezed through the bushes, closer to her. He nodded and smiled. “Good evening, Miss Bronson. This was the first time she saw him clearly, even though he was still somewhat in the shadows. His hair was the same brown shade as Wesley’s.
“Good evening, Mr. Tanner. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
Grey nudged his friend with his elbow. “Tell her what you told me earlier.”
“Miss Bronson,” Mr. Tanner said, “I’m acquainted with three of those men, and I know about their sordid reputations. I thought you might like to know about them before meeting them, and perhaps can use this information to your advantage while trying to ward off their advances.”
She nodded. “Please tell me. Anything will be helpful.”
“Eugene Fronk isn’t much into religion, and his family hasn’t attended church in quite some time. Fronk inclines to visit the gaming tables and brothels more frequently than most men.”
Heat flamed in her face. It was quite improper for a man to discuss this subject with a lady, but she was glad he’d told her this tidbit of information, anyway. “I shall remember that.”
“Mr. Fisher loves hunting more than life itself, and he has a room full of his trophies.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Trophies?”
“Yes. He hunts animals and mounts their heads on the walls.”
She shivered in disgust. “I understand.”
“Lastly, there is Mr. George Finch. His family has no money, so naturally, he’s looking to find a woman with a large inheritance that he could control. He doesn’t put up with women who over-spend.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Then why would Martin bring him to meet me? I don’t have an inheritance.”
“My blossom,” Wesley patted her hand, “I can assure you Martin plans on offering money to the man who asks for your hand.”
Her stomach churned again.
“I have confidence in you.” Wesley smiled. “I know you will convince these men they don’t suit, and you’ll turn out the perfect performance.”
Chuckling, she shook her head. Never before had a man been so caring and supportive to her. Then again, she’d never acted this way, either. Perhaps Wesley had cured her shyness. She could only hope.
“Thank you, Wesley. You don’t know what that means to me.” She wanted to lean down and kiss him, but it wouldn’t be proper. Besides that, he and Mr. Tanner needed to return to their hiding place. “You two need to leave before someone sees you.”
“I know.” Wesley squeezed her hand again. “Remember, stay by the windows so we can keep an eye on you.”
“I will.”
She watched them until their shadows merged into the cluster of trees. Taking a deep breath, she left the blue room and wandered into the sitting room. As soon as she walked inside, the men’s voices silenced, and all turned to look her way. She curtsied and gave a nod. “Gentlemen.”
All at once, they came toward her, giving her greetings and flirtatious compliments. She wanted to roll her eyes in disgust. Meaningless words were being thrown at her, and she didn’t believe any of them. Martin had definitely promised them some kind of reward for marrying her. She didn’t have a trousseau, but she was certain her brother-in-law would pay a pretty penny to get her off his hands.
And speaking of the devil... She moved her attention to Martin who stood by the hearth with a drink in his hand. It was probably whiskey, which was his drink of choice. He watched her with a critical eye as he smirked. She’d like to slap that expression off his face. But no. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her anger. Her main purpose was to irritate him tonight, as well as most of his friends.
“You certainly look lovely this evening, Miss Bronson,” Mr. Finch said.
His voice whined more than she liked and grated on her already frazzled nerves. His forehead had a bead of moisture on it as well as his upper lip. He was a slightly large man, and so she wondered if he was constantly hot.
“Thank you, Mr. Finch.”
“May I get you a glass of punch?”
She quickly recalled what Mr. Tanner had told her about this certain man. “Punch? Heavens no. My brother-in-law is wealthy now. I’d prefer a glass of his finest wine, instead.” She forced a chuckle. “I shall have to ask our butler if he could locate me a bottle of one of the wines His Grace smuggled in from France. I have absolutely become addicted to that taste.”
The poor man’s face paled. “Addicted?” He gulped and dabbed his handkerchief on his moist forehead.
“Oh, yes. I fear my future husband will have a hard time breaking me of that habit.”
“Uh, indeed he will.” He nodded.
She glanced around the room as if searching for someone. “Let me go find the butler now. I’m dying for a drink.” Without waiting for his answer, she left Mr. Finch. Once she’d turned away from him, she couldn’t stop the grin from stretching across her face. The man’s shocked expression was priceless.
“Ah, Miss Bronson, you are finally alone,” Mr. Fronk said as he stepped in front of her.
She stopped and stared at the rude man. Then again, she was sure all these men were rude since they were Martin’s friends.
“Yes, for the moment,” she answered, hoping her tone didn’t reveal her irritation.
“I thought we could get to know each other.”
“That would be nice.” Fronk seemed like a pleasant man. He was average height, and had average looks, but he was balding even at his young age. Now, what was it that Mr. Tanner said about this man? Oh yes, he didn’t go to church.
“Your brother-in-law tells me you do not attend many social gatherings.” He shook his head. “
I find that impossible to believe since you have presented such charm and grace already this evening. You don’t appear as the wallflower Martin has made you out to be.”
She flipped her hand in the air. “Oh, Martin likes to exaggerate. Truly, it’s a vice he must overcome. If my brother-in-law doesn’t stop his lying, he shall have quite a bit of groveling to do in front of our Lord on judgment day.”
“Groveling?”
His expression was laughable, but Marcella refused to show the humor in the situation. “Yes. Martin tells everyone I’m a wallflower, but I’m not. What Martin doesn’t like to confess is that his sister-in-law would rather spend time reading the Good Book and in prayer rather than socialize with a bunch of gossipmongers and liars.” She huffed and folded her arms, trying to appear upset. “My brother-in-law doesn’t realize how much I love the Lord, and I shall devote my life to Him.”
“How very... um, obedient of you,” he said in almost a snicker. “I’m certain God will appreciate such a fine servant.”
She steepled her hands and nodded. “Amen.”
“Yes, well...” Mr. Fronk glanced around the room. “Oh, look. There is Mr. Tolland. I need to have a word with him. If you’ll excuse me.”
“But of course.” As he walked away rather quickly, she bit her bottom lip. Once again, she felt like laughing to her heart’s content. Although she was still uncomfortable about being the only woman in this roomful of men, she was finding it easier to turn them down. If only Wesley could see her now.
TEN
For the past hour, Wesley and Colt traded off using the binoculars to watch Marcella. Anger built within Wesley. The same inner anger he’d felt since he realized his cousin must be the one who tried to kill him and succeeded in killing his father and brother. The problems his cousin was causing for Marcella were unjustified.
When had Martin become so heartless? Wesley didn’t remember his cousin being that way when they were lads. Greed had ruined many people, and obviously, it had worked through Martin’s now uncaring soul.
Mail Order Marcella Page 6