She and Matthew had spent nearly every day for the past week doing something together. They had visited nearly every shop owner in town looking at furniture and dishes and other household items. Matthew talked about the possibility of buying a home after they returned to Philadelphia. She had just the house in mind and she couldn’t wait to show it to her soon-to-be fiancé.
They walked arm in arm along the river and spread a blanket beneath a giant cottonwood tree next to the river to share the picnic lunch she had packed. She had never been so happy in her life and she couldn’t wait for the Harvest Ball. Matthew had given her every indication that he would propose to her, although he hadn’t exactly come out and said those exact words.
Her thoughts often wandered to last week when she and Matthew visited Roxi and Alex. The horseback ride to the willows stole her breath as she remembered the feel of Matthew’s body against hers. His hands caressing her skin. His lips kissing her everywhere.
She smiled to herself at the memories. But then her thoughts recalled her cousin’s advice about telling Matthew the truth about her situation. She knew she needed to tell Matthew the rest of the truth about her situation. And yet, after their conversation and Matthew’s explanation, she realized she wanted to introduce him to her parents first. She wanted him to know how special they were and how much they cared about other people before he learned about their money. It was important to her that Matthew love them as her parents—as much as she did—before he learned just how wealthy they were.
She smiled to herself when she thought about Matthew sitting in her father’s study talking about business and hunting and whatever else men talked about when their ladies weren’t around. She pictured them both, the two men she loved, sitting together like the best of friends, sharing a drink and sharing a conversation.
“What are you thinking about, Rose?” Matthew’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.
His head rested on her lap and his eyes squinted against the sunshine peeking between the leaves of the giant cottonwood tree near the river that ran through town.
She ran her fingers through his hair. “What makes you think I’m thinking about anything at all?”
“You have a smile on your face.” He sat up and leaned in. “Tell me, Rose. Are you happy?” he whispered and kissed her.
When he pulled away, she looked into his eyes. “I’m so happy, I can hardly believe it.”
He grinned at her and his smile took her breath away. “I’m glad, Rose, because I’m happy too. I can’t wait to get back to Philadelphia. I’ve got a very important question to ask your father.”
She frowned. “But you are planning to ask me that question first, right?” She hadn’t bought that dress for nothing.
He laughed out loud. “Yes, my sweet precious Rose. I shall ask you that question at the Harvest Ball.” He kissed her again and stood, pulling her to her feet. “Now, I have work to do. Let me walk you home.”
He picked up the basket and she folded the blanket. They walked to her aunt’s house arm in arm talking about the future. She could just picture her wedding, oh what a grand affair it would be with all her family and friends there to watch her father walk her down the aisle and into Matthew's waiting arms. Her mother and her aunts would be dabbing at their eyes with their handkerchiefs. Then she and Matthew would disappear on a wonderful honeymoon. Maybe they would take a trip to some far off island where they could be alone and—
“There you go again. You’ve got that smile on your face. Dare I ask what you are thinking now?” Matthew teased.
She looked up at him and gave him a coy look. “I think it best if I kept that to myself…for now.”
Matthew lay on his bed in his hotel room, his spirits were soaring. After he and Rose had finally talked, it was clear there had been a huge misunderstanding. Rose had thought he would judge her father for being a self-made man. And nothing could have been further from the truth. He admired the kind of man her father was and was striving to be that same kind of man, with seemingly the same kind of success.
He had no problem working hard to make the kind of life he wanted for his wife and children. And in the years to come, when he and Rose looked back on their lives together, he wanted her to feel the same pride in his accomplishments that she did in her father's.
They had spent the last week enjoying each other’s company, and getting to know each other a little better. When they got back to Philadelphia, he would ask her father for her hand in marriage and then they would look to buy a house. Together. For their family.
He and Rose had shared a picnic lunch this afternoon and it was clear they both wanted the same thing. Rose wanted him to ask her to marry him at the Harvest Ball and he intended to do just that. Now, he needed to buy her an engagement ring. He wanted the whole world to know that Rose belonged to him.
Relieved that he and Rose were now of the same mindset, he took the money from his cashed banknote and left his hotel room. Matthew decided now was the perfect time to buy Rose that engagement ring.
The hotel clerk had recommended a jeweler in town, so he wasted no time in finding the store. When the jeweler welcomed him, Matthew explained the reason for his visit and what kind of ring he had in mind for Rose.
“I have just the ring you’re looking for. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
Within a minute or two, the man returned and in his hand was indeed the perfect ring. It was exactly what Matthew had had in mind.
The jeweler laid the ring on a leather pad on the glass countertop. “It’s an exquisite green emerald, and as you can see, it is completely encircled with yellow gold rose petals.”
Matthew picked up the ring and studied it from every angle. “It’s perfect. How much?” Matthew hoped it was within his budget because he had to have it for his soon-to-be bride.
He and the jeweler negotiated the price of the ring. When the deal was done, Matthew walked out of the store with the perfect ring for Rose nestled in his shirt pocket. And when they were married, he would buy her a nice band to go with it. Then, he and his new bride would settle into their new house in a nice neighborhood on a tree-lined street in Philadelphia. Maybe he’d even plant a rose garden for his own precious Rose.
The only thing that would make his life perfect would be to get an answer to his telegram reporting that Mr. Livingston’s daughter was safe at home. Then he could relax and enjoy the rest of his visit until he and Rose headed back home to Philadelphia.
He needed that money Mr. Livingston promised him and he couldn’t understand how he had gotten this case so wrong. His instincts told him the obvious choices were Rose and her aunt. But that wasn’t possible, so where could the women have gone? The only logical answer was that they had never gotten on the train. If it hadn’t been for his bad luck that the telegraph lines had been downed by a rock slide somewhere near Pagosa Springs, he’d have his answer by now, one way or another.
Frustration escaped Matthew in the form of a heavy sigh. He walked through the hotel’s lobby and started up the winding staircase to his room when the desk clerk called out to him, “Mr. Bell, is that you?”
“Yes, I’m Mr. Bell.” He walked over to the hotel’s front desk. “What can I do for you?”
“I gotta message for ya. Hang on a minute.” The desk clerk disappeared and returned a moment later with a note in his hand. It was a telegram.
Matthew’s heart punched heavy against his ribs. “When was this delivered?” he asked and reached into his pocket for a coin to tip the clerk.
“Late this morning. Hope it’s good news, Mr. Bell.”
Matthew handed the man the coin.
“Thank you, sir. Have a good day.” The clerk smiled and pocketed the coin.
He turned and made a beeline for his room. Once inside, he tore open the telegram and read the message. His stomach wrenched and he thought he might lose his recent lunch. He reread the telegram again and dropped to the bed for fear his knees would give out.
Mr. Liv
ingston was coming to Durango. He read the telegram once more just to be sure he hadn’t missed something. It read:
Mr. Bellamy. Stop. Been out of town on business. Stop. Just read your telegram. Stop. There’s been some mix-up. Stop. Ticket master confirmed both tickets punched. Stop. Abigail Rose Livingston. Stop. Mrs. Randall Wentworth. Stop. First name, Jeannie. Stop.
Abigail has dark hair. Stop. Hazel eyes with striking green streaks. Stop. They are unique and hard to miss. Stop. She’s taller than most women. Stop.
I’ll be on the next train. Stop. I’ll arrive the day after the Harvest Ball. Stop. Telegram sent to my wife’s sister. Stop. Her address 3rd and Grand. Stop. No word they did not arrive. D.L.
Matthew didn’t know what to do with all his emotion. He should be happy because, at least now he knew where Mr. Livingston’s daughter was—only too well. On the other hand, he was livid because they had played him. All three of those women had played him like the stupid hollow-headed panting fool he was. He saw a beautiful woman and he’d thrown everything to the wind. He was an idiot. And now, he had taken the innocence of Daniel Livingston’s prized possession, his daughter—his gilded lily. No, not a lily. A rose. Abigail Rose. How could he have been so blind? He was supposed to be a professional investigator. That’s why Mr. Livingston had come to him. To protect his daughter and he had gone off the rails because of a pretty face.
He paced around his room like a caged animal. Did she know who he was? Did her aunts know? Had Rose—or rather, Abigail— been playing a game all along? Is that why she had made his acquaintance so quickly? She was a debutante on holiday? She said she wanted a holiday to remember. Well, she had sure gotten one.
“Damn it.” he yelled and punched the wall. His knuckles screamed and the rose-patterned wallpaper had a very distinct dent where his fist had hit. “Rose.” It was as if the flowers on the wall were mocking him. The answer had been there all along and he was just too stupid to see it.
Now what? He couldn’t pretend not to know who she was. Well, he could, he supposed. He had made a living pretending to be someone else if the need called for deception. And usually, he was good at it—when he wasn’t distracted by a woman’s guile. Whether she knew who he was or not, his honor wouldn’t let him continue to participate in this ridiculous game Abigail Livingston was playing.
He was ruined. He sat on the bed and dropped his head in his hands. Gus was going to kill him and that wasn’t a figurative statement. Augustus McGillicuddy was straight off the boat from Ireland. He was hard core and determined to make it in this new world. He had made it clear he had nothing to go back to and failure was not an option. When he found out that Matthew had screwed up a sure thing by being blindsided by a beautiful woman, Gus would gut him.
He deserved it. There was nothing left to debate. He deserved to fail, but Gus didn’t. How was he going to fix this? Frankly, he had no idea.
The ring in his shirt pocket poked against his chest. It was a brutal reminder of his total stupidity and failure. As a private investigator. As a businessman. As a friend to his partner. And as a man. For he had taken something that wasn’t his to take and no matter how much Rose—Abigail—had insisted she wanted him to have it, he should have said no because he had learned a long time ago that just because he could, didn’t mean he should.
Misery came rushing back and he couldn’t stop his anger at himself or his stupidity. “Damn it.” It was all he could manage to say.
He stood and paced the room again, ripping his shirt off, his buttons flying. It was the same shirt he’d unbuttoned the day he and—
He threw it across the room, the ring he had just purchased fell out and bounced across the wooden floor. He saw it lying on the floor, shiny and new, waiting for him to propose to the incredible woman who had captured his heart. It’s glitter and beauty only an hour ago now looked fake and tarnished in his mind’s eye—just like the love he and Rose had shared. It was all an illusion.
He shook his head in denial and started to punch the wall again, but his knuckles reminded him of the first punch, and he decided against it.
Daniel Livingston’s daughter had come to Durango for a holiday she would never forget, and she had used him to make that happen. She had pretended to be something she wasn’t.
Suddenly, their conversation of this morning came rushing back. She had said her father was a self-made man. That was an understatement of a lifetime. Daniel Livingston may have started off as a street urchin, but he had risen above the gutters of Philadelphia or wherever he came from, to owning half of it.
Matthew realized his hopes of accomplishing those same dreams were gone. He was ruined. And probably dead if Gus had anything to say about it. He might as well get on the train and disappear before Daniel Livingston arrived.
The thought was tempting but he wasn’t a coward. Stupid, maybe. Blind, most definitely. But a coward? Not a chance. He’d be here when Abigail’s father got off that train and he would be the one to explain what the hell happened. And then he would go back to Philadelphia and tell his partner how miserably he had failed. Let fate decide what happened to him after that because frankly, he didn’t give a damn.
Chapter Thirteen
It had been nearly three weeks since she and Matthew had committed themselves to each other by sharing their bodies under the willow trees. And in those three weeks, she and Matthew had grown closer, well, other than this last week. Matthew had sent a note at the beginning of the week that he was going to be very busy this week and wouldn’t be able to see her.
She was disappointed, but she understood. She knew how important work was to her father and she was glad to know that Matthew was dedicated to his work as well. She had asked him what he did for a living once while they were walking down the river walk through town. He said he made a living out of protecting people, but they were interrupted by a group of children playing ball before she could ask him more about it. She had to admit she was proud of Matthew. And she intended to learn all about the nature of his business on the train back home.
For the rest of that afternoon, she had watched Matthew play with the group of children. They had kicked the ball back and forth and had a grand time. Every now and again, Matthew would turn to where she sat underneath the tree and wink at her. She swear she wished they were back under another set of trees in another time and place...alone.
But today, she and Matthew would be attending the Harvest Ball. She was so excited she had barely eaten anything all day. And she hadn’t been sleeping well either, but after tonight, she would be blissfully happy and she and Matthew would be on their way home.
Thoughts of home conjured up thoughts of her father and how he was going to react. She was pretty certain her mother would understand…eventually, but her father? Now that was a different story entirely.
A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. “I’ll get it,” she called up the stairs to her aunts who were in Aunt Lila’s bedroom sorting through a dozen or more dresses trying to find the perfect one to wear to tonight’s ball.
Abbie opened the door to see a young boy standing on the porch. “Can I help you, young man? She asked.
“Yes, ma’am. Telegram for Mrs. Lila Beckett.” He handed her the telegram.
“Here, let me get you a coin for your troubles.” She left him on the porch and rummaged around in her reticle hanging from the hall tree. “Here you go.” She handed him the coin.
“Thank you, ma’am,” He tipped his hat and ran down the steps and disappeared down the sidewalk.
“Who is it, Abbie?” Her aunt called from the top of the stairs.
“It’s a telegram for you,”
“A telegram. That doesn’t sound like good news. I hope Henry isn’t planning on returning home. I rather like it here without that old curmudgeon under foot,” her aunt mumbled as she descended the staircase. Her Aunt Jeannie was right behind her.
Abbie held the telegram out to her and waited to see what could be so important
someone would send a telegram. She hoped it wasn’t bad news.
Aunt Lila tore open the envelope and flipped open the telegram. Her mouth dropped open and she read it again.
“What is it, Lila? You look disturbed,” Aunt Jeannie asked trying to read over her shoulder.
“It’s…your brother.”
Jeannie looked at her in confusion. “My brother? Why would Daniel be sending you a telegram?”
Then Aunt Lila shot a look to Abbie that made a shiver of anxiety run up her spine. “What does it say?” She asked, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“He says he’s coming to Durango. Wait a minute. This telegram was dated five days ago. That means he’ll be here…tomorrow.”
“Five days ago? What took so long for it to be delivered?” Aunt Jeannie wanted to know.
Aunt Lila turned over the envelope it came in and read the hand scribbled note on the front. “It seems it was mistakenly delivered to a Mrs. Bennett and she only just returned it to the telegraph office to redeliver.”
Aunt Jeannie sent Lila a look. “Oh my. Well, read it to us, Lila. Does it say why he’s coming?”
Lila nodded. “It says he had received word that you and Abigail had never arrived in Durango. He is quite worried. And he’s wondering why I never sent word you didn’t arrive?” Aunt Lila looked at her and then Jeannie. “But why would I send word that you didn’t arrive when you plainly did? That makes no sense at all.”
Jeannie studied the telegram. “What on earth could have initiated such a strange message? Obviously, we are fine.”
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