Amelia (The Marriage Market Book 1) (4 page)

Franklin Westcott.

1816 Dunham Street.

Somerville, Massachusetts

Rest assured Amelia is in good hands. Stop. I will be leaving SF soon and returning home to Seattle with Amelia as my bride. Stop. While I understand your desire to retrieve her I find I cannot let her go as she has already stolen my heart. Stop. Feel free to visit us in Seattle any time. Stop.

H. Jordon.

Hugh handed the cable to the clerk and told him to send it immediately. After escorting Amelia to her door, he handed her the key with a warning in his eyes that had her blushing as she lowered her gaze.

"What time would you like to go to dinner?" he asked.

"Oh, I thought I might have a light tray brought to my room," she replied. "That is if I can eat anything at all after this afternoon."

"Nonsense," Hugh said as she unlocked and opened her door. "I see your trunks have arrived. Have you formalwear?"

"Yes, but…"

"Amelia, I have no idea how long it will be before I can bring you back to San Francisco. I want you to have fond memories of this trip. I'll pick you up at 9:00 and we'll have a late supper. Why don't you have the maid draw you a nice hot bath and take a nap?"

Amelia sighed and gave in. "Are you always this bossy?" she asked suspiciously.

"Not always," he said with a grin. "Just when it's necessary, but I have a feeling it will be a requirement with you." Kissing her forehead, he walked away before she could respond. "Lock the door," he called over his shoulder.

Shutting the door harder than she needed to, she quickly turned the key.

* * *

Several hours later, Amelia awoke refreshed from her nap. She had asked the maid to draw her a bath, and after soaking in the lavender scented water, it hadn't taken her long to fall asleep. Laying in a real bed for the first time in over a week felt heavenly. The maid had taken her midnight blue evening gown to be pressed and it was hanging on the door of the armoire ready for her to dress.

Getting out of bed, she smoothed the covers back into place and took care of her needs before braiding her hair and wrapping it into a coronet on top of her head. Carefully, she pulled little wisps free at her temples and neck. Satisfied, she took the sapphire necklace from her traveling case and fastened it about her neck along with matching ear bobs.

Thankfully, her corset closed in the front and she managed fine on her own. The dress was more difficult to handle without a maid, but she did the best she could. Finally with a sigh she decided to ring for help just as a knock sounded at her door.

"Who is it?" she called dutifully.

"It's Hugh."

"Hugh who?" she said as she walked to the door and put her hand on the key.

"Very amusing, Amelia. Open the door," he replied.

"How can I be sure you are who you say you are?" she asked, enjoying herself immensely. After all, San Francisco can be a very dangerous place for a woman alone. Maybe you'd better tell me something to convince me."

"All right, how about this; I'm the man that took a hairbrush to your backside this afternoon and is contemplating an encore," he called back quite loudly.

Amelia gasped, her face flaming lest someone in another room hear his words and quickly unlocked the door. Stepping back, she stared at him as he opened it.

"Are you always so difficult?" he asked, forcing himself not to smile.

"Huh?"

Hugh looked at her curiously and repeated his question as he entered and closed the door behind him.

Amelia was nearly speechless. In his black evening clothes, he was the most attractive man she'd ever encountered. Her hands began to perspire as her wide eyes took in every detail of his appearance.

"Are you going to answer me?"

"Oh, um, yes, I mean no, well, I guess sometimes," she stammered, backing up as she tried to finish fastening her gown. "I was just going to ring for the maid," she explained, her voice trailing off.

"Turn around," he instructed, coming closer.

"Oh no, I couldn't. It's not proper," she whispered, shaking her head as she continued to move away from him as though he were a tiger stalking his prey.

Hugh said nothing as he watched her back closer and closer to the bed, one hand holding up the bodice of her dress. When she backed into the bed she lost her balance and fell back, looking at him with wide wary eyes.

He stood over her, watching the rapid rise and fall of her breasts as they swelled over her bodice. She licked her lips, her expression a mix of curiosity and fear. He could see she expected him to fall on her and ravish her and it wasn't a bad idea. His cock lengthened inside his trousers, ready to lead him astray, and it would certainly make the matter of marriage a moot point. She would never refuse him if he'd taken her virtue. However, he wasn't an animal.

"Come on," he said, reaching out a hand and pulling her from the bed. "I don't eat sweet treats like you before dinner." He laughed as he sat and spun her around so her back was to him.

"Although you do seem mighty tasty," he continued, running a finger down her spine where the dress gaped open.

Amelia shivered and tried to step away, but he took her dress and pulled her back, nibbling on her naked exposed flesh. "Oh yes, so soft and sweet," he teased. "I may save you for dessert."

"Mr. Jordon," she gasped. "This is highly inappropriate."

"Yes, it is, isn't it," he said with a laugh as he closed the last fastener. Rising, he gave her a pat on the bottom. "Do you have a wrap?"

Hurrying across the room, she snatched up her shawl and handed it to him, turning her back as he draped it around her shoulders.

"You're lovely, Miss Westcott," he whispered, tipping her angry face up to his and brushing her lips. "Try to be a good girl tonight. I don't know if I can have you across my lap again without putting my control at risk."

"I am a good girl," she insisted, marching to the door.

"Hugh who?" he drawled, throwing her words back at her with a raised brow.

"Oh, that," she sighed. "I was only teasing." Amelia lowered her eyes.

"I know, sweetie," he said softly as he opened the door. "That's one of the things that makes you so appealing."

"Really?"

"Yes, really and don't think I'm going to stand here in the hall and start listing all your charms. I'm hungry."

"You think I have charms?" she asked as he placed a hand at the small of her back and moved her along.

Hugh laughed. Life was suddenly much more interesting.

Clarence Henderson paced his front room until it occurred to him he might well wear a path in the new carpet he bought when he knew for sure Alice and Delia were coming. Everything that could be done to make his home welcoming had been done. There was a new porch swing, window boxes ready for a variety of spring seedlings, and a tiny rocking chair for Delia.

He started buying things for the inside until it dawned on him maybe Alice would want to do that, and make it a reflection of her taste. The only things he purchased were the carpet and a new big bed to replace the small one he'd slept in ever since he bought the house.

For him, things were working out exactly as he'd hoped, and he prayed they went well for the others with whom he had shared the letters.

Dr. Martin wrote to Jane and she agreed to come on a trial basis. Clarence knew he could use the help in his office even if things didn't work out for them on a personal level.

Angus McGuire jumped at the chance to wed Molly, the little Irish lass who swore she was a good cook. Angus had his own cabin at Camp 5 and did most of the cooking for the men.

Those were the only matches he was sure about. The rest of the letters he'd handed out at a secret meeting and let the men decide amongst themselves. He hoped it was the right decision and sadly there were still letters straggling in. There was no point in passing them on to Mr. Jordon knowing he was in San Francisco to fetch his bride.

He'd just have to wait and see what happened. He pushed away all the visions of the many things that could go wrong. The only rule he gave the men was that they had to write their own letters to the ladies and no mention was to be made of how the letter had fallen into their hands. Each man had to win his bride on his own merits, not because they were somehow associated with the vast Jordon timber holdings.

Samuel was in the office daily while Hugh was away and remarked several times that Clarence was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

"You'd better see the doctor, Clarence," Sam said as Clarence jumped when he came up behind him and put his hand on his shoulder. "I think you're getting a nervous tick or something."

"Maybe I will," Clarence replied, but he knew exactly what was bothering him. He was full of anxiety. What if Alice wasn't attracted to him? What if she felt she'd made a mistake? Would she call off the wedding and find herself a big lumberjack?

Clarence wasn't a man who worked with his back. It was his mind that provided a roof over his head and food on the table. He made wise investments, saved his money and spent most of his evenings reading or working on a project at home. At 5'9'' and about 160 lbs. he wasn't nearly as big and strong as most of the other employees, but he was kind and loyal. He had good friends and people generally liked him. While he'd courted a girl or two back in Minnesota, it hadn't been serious. He knew he wasn't especially handsome, but he wasn't repulsive either. His most fervent prayer was that Alice would see past his average looks and find the good in him.

Looking at the clock on the mantle as it chimed seven times, he decided to take a walk. At this point there was nothing to be gained by second-guessing his decisions. The wheels were already in motion. Soon Hugh and his bride would be arriving by ship and so would Alice and her daughter.

Alice had never seen a photograph of Hugh, but she was sure to recognize the name. On the other hand, he doubted Hugh would notice she was one of the women who'd replied to his advertisement. Once he'd made up his mind to reply to Miss Westcott, he seemed to dismiss the others easily. Should they all end up on the same ship, things could get sticky. Hopefully, the other brides were not in as big of a hurry as Alice and would straggle in over several weeks. Of course, any attractive unmarried woman was bound to draw attention when there was such a shortage of females, but as long as they didn't arrive in mass it might be all right. At least that's what he prayed for as he walked along. Pulling his collar up against the wind that blew off the water, a shiver passed through him as he turned toward home.

It was well after dark when Sam let himself into the office, intent on finding the papers he'd forgotten earlier. On top of the desk was a stack of mail that must have come after Clarence left for the day. That man sure was acting strangely lately. Coming in late, leaving early, it wasn't like him. Sam wondered if he was truly ailing.

Quickly he shuffled through them to see if there was anything of importance. Most were bills and statements of accounts, but as he got to the bottom he noticed a letter in an unfamiliar feminine script. Probably another response to the ridiculous ad his brother had placed. Taking it from the pile, he inspected it closely. Addressed simply to Mr. Jordon, he turned it over in his hands before slipping his finger under the seal and sitting down in the big chair behind the desk. Soon he was smiling as he scanned the letter and then read it again slowly.

Dear Mr. Jordon,

My name is Effie Lane and the woman who is on her way to you as I write this letter is one of my dearest friends. It was no small task helping Amelia leave town undetected and I put myself at great personal risk to accomplish it. You have no idea how long my father has been known to carry on regarding what he refers to as 'one of my escapades'. Believe me, he can go on for weeks and it's likely I'll miss the biggest ball of the season. Mother will take to her bed with the vapors when she learns what I have done, but that is by far preferable and much quieter.

None of that matters, of course, as long as Amelia is happy and that is the main reason for my letter. I just want to let you know you are exceedingly lucky to be getting someone as lovely and sweet as Amelia, especially as you got her through an advertisement. Who advertises for a wife anyway? I mean really, what kind of man is so busy he cannot take the time to court a woman?

Well, that is neither here nor there at this point. I merely want to let you know, no that's not quite right. I want to warn you. If you do not appreciate the exceptional women Amelia is, or if you do not treat her kindly, I will be on my way to Seattle to straighten you out.

I can almost see you smiling as you read this, Mr. Jordon, wondering what I, a young woman of nineteen, could possibly do to you should things go amiss, but let me assure you, you will not find it a laughing matter should I turn up on your doorstep. While I am small, I am an excellent shot.

Having made my point, I hope, let me convey my felicitations on your upcoming marriage to my dear friend.

Sincerely,

Miss Effie Lane

Post Script: I see no reason to inform Amelia of our discussion, as I'm sure she will be busy with preparations for the wedding. I have enclosed a photograph on the chance I may have to come to Seattle. My sense of fair play prompts me to give you an idea of what you will be facing should it come to that.

Sam looked at the photo and laughed until tears leaked from his eyes. Effie Lane sat demurely on a settee, her skirts fanned out around her with an enormous pistol on her lap. It was pointed more or less in the direction of the photographer and Sam wondered if she had to threaten the poor man to take the photograph. Her scowl was impressive, wrinkling up her small nose and almost obscuring her freckles. Her lips were tilted, her smile somewhere between issuing a challenge and mocking the observer. Light hair was escaping from its pins and curling along her cheek, indicating some kind of urgency either in her preparations or in her hurry to get the picture finished. No doubt there was an argument with the photographer regarding her choice of pose and accessories, Sam thought as he studied it thoughtfully. Someone should take that young woman in hand before she gets into real trouble. Had he been in the room, he would have removed the gun from her hands and promptly applied his hand to her backside.

Opening the desk drawer, he spotted the picture of the woman his brother went to fetch. She was lovely, but surely there was more to her than her physical appearance to inspire such devotion from a friend. He couldn't help chuckling as he scanned the letter again. The outspoken miss had actually threatened to shoot him, well Hugh. Sam couldn't help but wonder what she meant by 'her escapades'.

While he'd been against Hugh going to such lengths to secure a bride, he was reserving judgment until he observed first-hand how it all worked out. After having dinner with his parents, the single life always seemed more appealing than the alternative, but he had to admit he found Miss Lane's letter quite entertaining.

Gathering up the documents he'd come for, he replaced Amelia's picture in the drawer and left the mail on top of the desk where he'd found it. Clarence could deal with it in the morning. Miss Lane's letter he slipped into his pocket. He would answer that one personally.

* * *

They dined in a fabulous restaurant high on a hill overlooking the city. The interior was as elegant as any restaurant in the east, if a touch ostentatious. Uniformed waiters served them champagne in crystal flutes, the fine china and silver glistening in the light of the chandeliers.

Hugh was attentive and interesting as he told her about his home and work. He mentioned his brother, Samuel, fondly and easily skirted her questions regarding his parents and the kind of marriage they had.

Several times during the evening he escorted her to the floor for a waltz and Amelia could not fail to notice the envious glances of some of the other women. Yes, he was incredibly handsome, apparently quite wealthy and had been charming, if she didn't count the hairbrush incident. That definitely made her wonder what she was getting into. While it hadn't been especially painful, it certainly was embarrassing, and if she were honest with herself, a bit exciting. She didn't know a man who would go to such lengths to ensure his intended's obedience. He insisted it was because she'd jeopardized her safety, but she wondered if that were entirely true. What other behaviors would incite such repercussions? Perhaps it would be best to find out before she said, 'I do'.

"Amelia, are you having a good time?" he asked as he twirled her around the floor.

"Yes."

'Then what's troubling you? I see a tiny little wrinkle on the bridge of your nose. Almost a scowl, but not quite," he teased.

"A wrinkle?" she gasped, immediately relaxing her face.

Hugh laughed and spun her again.

"Come on, out with it. There shouldn't be any secrets between us," he insisted softly.

"Truth?"

"Yes, of course, I'll always want the truth," he replied with a serious expression.

"Very well, then. I'm a bit disconcerted by what took place this afternoon," she said, looking directly into his eyes.

"Specifically?"

"Specifically when you spanked me with a hairbrush," she hissed, looking around. "I can't believe you made me say it out loud when I'm sure you knew perfectly well to what I was referring."

"Sorry, that was bad of me, wasn't it?" he asked, grinning. "It appears I find your blush attractive."

"That's all well and good, I suppose. I find you attractive as well," she admitted, "but you haven't answered my question."

"What question?"

"About this afternoon."

"What about it?"

"Hugh, you're being deliberately obtuse," she sighed as the music came to an end.

"Funny, I was sure I'd made myself perfectly clear earlier," he drawled as he led her back to their table.

Amelia sat when he pulled out her chair and tried to remember his exact words.

"Perhaps you'd better explain again," she suggested. "I'm not quite clear on it."

Hugh smiled and pulled his chair closer to hers. Taking her hand, he leaned toward her.

"Okay, sweetheart. As my wife, when you misbehave, you can expect consequences."

"Define 'misbehave'?" she insisted, pulling slightly away from him.

"Don't disobey me," he said simply.

"Or?"

"Or I will discipline you."

"So if I don't do what you want, you will whack my behind with a hairbrush?" she whispered, demanding an answer.

"Among other things," he said, smiling, his eyes alight with laughter.

Amelia scowled and began to rise. Hugh's hand on her arm stopped her and eased her back onto her chair.

"Don't be so dramatic," he scolded. "I'm not an unreasonable man, and I don't have time to dream up silly rules for you that you most likely would rebel against anyway. I have no desire to control your every move, but I will ensure your safety and wellbeing. If I tell you to stay away from a certain part of town after dark, I have to know you'll do it."

"Say I wanted to buy a new hat and you said no. What would happen if I bought it anyway?" she asked.

"Well, then you would have a new hat, wouldn't you? My money is your money, darling. Spend it as you choose within reason."

"Give me an example of something you would consider not within reason," she insisted.

Hugh sighed and thought for a few moments.

"Okay, say you told me you wanted to buy one of those new luxury rail cars so you could travel back and forth between here and your home back east every other week. The answer would be an emphatic no."