Love Inspired Historical July 2015 Box Set: The Marriage Agreement\Cowgirl for Keeps\The Lawman's Redemption\Captive on the High Seas (47 page)

Rosamond felt as if she'd been crying all day, yet she couldn't stop the tears. So Tolley wasn't as innocent as she'd always believed. Yet Mr. Wakefield—Garrick—had never accused him. He'd only defended himself. No wonder he thought so little of her brother.

As she struggled to go to sleep that night, she still believed Father could have given Tolley more attention. But now she knew there was more to the situation. And Garrick. After that first day's humiliation, he'd gone to Pete to learn how to fit in...for her sake. She was beginning to see a better picture of the man. No matter how antiquated the custom in Rosamond's thinking, he felt responsible for providing a dowry for his sister so she could make a good marriage. Then there was Adam and his family. Garrick had saved them and sent Percy to find Mr. Starling, all without boasting or even wanting others to know about his good works.

She recalled her conversation with him about the Palladian facade. He could have impressed her by saying he'd changed his mind for her sake, yet he wouldn't take credit for something that was merely a mistake.

Susanna's words came back to her with full force. Rosamond must forgive Garrick for the unkind things he'd said, especially the ones founded in truth. Tomorrow after church, she would ask
his
forgiveness for misjudging him. If he refused to speak to her, she wouldn't blame him. But she knew full well that her heart would break.

* * *

Garrick awoke to find Reverend Thomas seated on a rock by the campfire reading his Bible. In his rush to finish the hotel, Garrick hadn't taken much time for Scripture reading recently. Perhaps that had been his downfall. He certainly hadn't depended upon the Lord in regard to Rosamond. Now, on this camping excursion, he'd reclaimed his reading habits.

“Coffee?” The minister held up a tin cup.

“Yes. Thanks.” Garrick sat up and yawned. “I'm still surprised that sleeping on the ground can give a man such a good night's sleep.” He rolled his shoulders to work out a bit of stiffness, more from their two weeks of riding and hiking than from bedding down on the forest floor.

Reverend Thomas chuckled. “It's the mountain air.”

As he took up his Bible, Garrick accepted the steaming cup of coffee and drank despite the concoction's mud-like taste. At least it woke him up. Completing his devotionals, he asked, “Where shall we go today?”

When they'd first left Esperanza, Garrick had expected the minister to preach to him about his failures. But although they enjoyed daily theological discussions, Reverend Thomas was more a tour guide than a preacher. They'd ridden beyond the foothills to the west of Esperanza and far up into the mountains, encountering vistas of breathtaking beauty. Hiking over hills and riding Gypsy across streams, Garrick couldn't remember ever feeling so alive, so energetic. More effects of the mountain air, he supposed. The minister taught him how to cook beans and cornmeal mush over the campfire, how to catch fat trout in the Rio Grande, and how to dress a rabbit and roast it over open flames.

“Would you be interested in seeing some artwork? Rock paintings left by the ancient people who lived near here?” He offered Garrick a plate of warmed-over mush with chokecherry syrup poured over it.

“Artwork?” Garrick nodded his thanks as he pictured the larger-than-life ancestral paintings in Uncle's gallery. “In this primitive land?” As soon as the words were spoken, he wished them back. Hadn't he learned his lesson about considering others inferior?

The minister tossed the last of his coffee onto the fire. “You'd be surprised.”

“Then I must see them.”

Yet as he ate breakfast and helped Reverend Thomas clean up the campsite, he felt pulled in another direction. “If you've no objections, perhaps we can visit the paintings another time. Oddly, I sense an urgency to go home.” Home? Yes, Esperanza felt like home to him, despite his failures there. Even though he'd sent a carefully worded letter to Rosamond and entrusted it to Adam to deliver, he still must repeat those words directly to her...and more. For he hadn't only fallen in love with her, he'd fallen in love with this beautiful San Luis Valley. Whether or not he could ever live here depended entirely upon her granting him forgiveness. And returning his love.

* * *

Accompanied by her parents, Rosamond inspected each of the forty hotel rooms, making notes along the way for improvements. Some of the rooms were furnished in an elegant European style, others in a homier Western theme. As usual, Father said very little, but Mother voiced her approval enthusiastically.

“The curtains and bedding Mrs. Beal and Mrs. Starling made for the cheaper rooms are just as lovely as those we imported for the expensive suites.” Mother fluffed a pillow on a bed in one of those cheaper rooms. “Rosamond, I'm so proud of you.”

“Quite an accomplishment,” Father added, “considering all you've done at your schoolhouse at the same time. I'm proud of you, too, daughter.” His face beamed. “Too bad Wakefield's not here to see the finished product.”

Hearing Garrick's name brought a familiar ache to Rosamond's heart. He'd been gone for over two weeks, and she longed to apologize to him. Even though Reverend Thomas accompanied him, she worried some mishap had overtaken them. The minister had missed two Sundays, so unlike him. Nate filled the pulpit well, but the congregation would be disappointed if their minister stayed away too long.

Not that she hadn't been busy in Garrick's absence. Her days were filled with final preparations for the hotel's grand opening next Tuesday, September 3. The seamstresses had assumed additional duties, giving some rooms more feminine touches for the ladies. Roberts, Garrick's valet, had stepped up to train the newly hired staff. Chef Henri would arrive on this morning's train to take over the kitchen.

None of these daytime distractions helped her sleep at night. Even before Adam Starling had delivered Garrick's letter, she'd admitted to herself that she loved him and wished she could take back every angry word she'd spoken.

With each remembrance of young Adam, she smiled. The boy had witnessed her tirade against poor Garrick and seemed determined to defend his own defender. He spoke respectfully, but insisted she listen while he enumerated Garrick's many fine qualities, finishing at last with, “And Mr. Wakefield gave me that ten-dollar gold piece he won at the shooting match. Said it was to tide us over until my pa is back on his feet.”

Just one more reason for her to admire and love Garrick. His letter had been filled with self-condemnation, and she longed to reassure him. He also said he knew Tolley didn't start the fire, making her realize she'd had her own suspicions about her brother after Father spoke of his selfishness. Garrick's letter set her fears to rest.

Father took out his pocket watch and opened it. “Train's due in fifteen minutes. We've just enough time to get to the station.” The wily glint in his eye as he strode from the hotel room bespoke more than eagerness to meet the hotel's new chef. “Come along, my dears.”

Rosamond questioned Mother with raised eyebrows. Mother shrugged and shook her head. “You know how he is. No telling what's up his sleeve.” They both scurried after him.

The train chugged into the station with its usual squeal of iron wheels on iron rails and explosions of gray, puffy air from beneath its massive engine. People on the platform collected loved ones or took delivery of goods. Of the six cars attached to the engine, one caught Rosamond's attention.

“Look. It's a Pullman.” She indicated the third passenger car. “My, how fancy.”

“Come along.” Father marched toward the elegant car like a man on a mission. Just as he reached it, a finely dressed man near his own age stepped down to the platform.

“Colonel Northam!” He reached out to shake Father's hand.

“Lord Westbourne.” Father responded in kind to his old friend. “Welcome to Esperanza. What do you think of our little town?”

“Very fine. Just what I expected.” The gentleman offered a hand to a much younger lady disembarking the train.

“Oh, my.” Mother huffed out a sigh. “I wish he'd told me guests were coming.” She stepped over to join him. “Welcome, Lord Westbourne, Lady Westbourne.”

Rosamond watched in amazement as her parents greeted the friends they'd met in Italy two years ago. The friends with whom they'd plotted to build the hotel. Plotted? Yes, that was exactly the right term.

“Rosamond, come meet these folks.” Father beckoned to her.

Folks? Even with her mild disdain for European nobility, she knew better than to call them “folks.” Yet the earl and countess didn't seem to notice.

His manners returning, Father presented her to them, as was proper. They were such an elegant couple that she almost curtsied. Almost.

“So this is the young lady you put in charge of my nephew.” The earl gave her a courtly bow. “How do you do, Miss Northam.”

“Very well, sir.” In charge of his nephew? No, she feared she'd lost her chance even to be Garrick's friend.

“How lovely you are, my dear.” The countess gave Rosamond a gracious smile and slid a knowing glance in her husband's direction. “I can well imagine our Garrick enjoyed working with you.”

Rosamond returned a weak smile. “It's been my pleasure, Lady Westbourne.” It truly had been, once they'd sorted everything, well,
most
things, out.

“Papa.” An adorable, dark-haired little boy of perhaps six years stood in the door of the train, his tiny hand clutched by a uniformed young woman, no doubt his nursemaid. “May I get down, too?”

The earl gave an indulgent chuckle. “Yes, yes. Come along, my boy.” He then introduced his eldest son, little Viscount Lord Eddington, just as he would an adult. So this was the child who'd supplanted Garrick as Lord Westbourne's heir. Rosamond could see a resemblance to Garrick in both father and son. “Left the two younger ones at home. Sea voyage was hard enough on Lady Westbourne and Miss Wilkes.” He nodded toward the nursemaid.

Rosamond understood that would be their only introduction to the young woman. No such courtesy would be offered to the small army of servants disembarking from the back of the car...except for one.

“Henri.” The earl called forward a tall, slender man in a black suit. “This is Chef Henri. Miss Northam, I place him in your charge.”

The brown-haired Frenchman was younger than she'd expected, perhaps thirty. He gave her a bow that conveyed both self-respect and servanthood.

“Have a care, sir.” One of the earl's servants, perhaps the butler, who supervised the others, spoke sharply to the train employees unloading trunks and luggage from the baggage car. “These belong to
Lord
Westbourne.”

One of the workers spat to the side. “We only have one Lord around here, mister, and He ain't him.” He jabbed a thumb in the earl's direction.

“Now see here—” The short, stout butler puffed up like a bantam rooster.

“Now, now, Edwards.” The earl chuckled. “When in Rome.” He stepped over to calm the confusion.

Mother tugged on Father's sleeve and spoke in an urgent whisper. “Frank, where on earth are we going to put all of these people?”

He patted her hand and winked. “In the hotel, of course.”

While Mother breathed a sigh of relief, Rosamond's heart lurched. The hotel wasn't ready.
She
wasn't ready. And worst of all, Garrick wasn't here to receive the reward for all of his hard work on his uncle's behalf.

Chapter Fifteen

G
arrick flung himself on his bed in Mrs. Foster's boarding house. The down mattress felt strange after more than two weeks of sleeping on the ground but would no doubt make for an excellent rest before supper. The bed's softness enveloped him and straightaway began to soothe away his fatigue. He didn't even care that Roberts was nowhere to be found to draw his bath. That could come later. Hot water in a brass tub made for better bathing and shaving than icy mountain rivers. Reverend Thomas had urged him to let his beard grow, but that was one concession to Western life he'd forgo. No, he must be bathed, well-dressed and clean shaven when he went to Rosamond, hat in hand, to learn whether or not she would forgive him.

With dreams of her lovely face dancing through his mind, he surrendered to sleep until a soft knock on the door roused him.

“Mr. Wakefield?” He hadn't been able to persuade Mrs. Foster to call him Garrick.

“Yes, Mrs. Foster.” He rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed. His mantel clock read three twenty-four. He'd slept only half an hour.

“Young Adam is here,” she said through the door. “Will you see him?”

Garrick chuckled. Adam had been dismayed at his departure. Even begged to tag along. “Yes, Mrs. Foster. Send him up.” He yawned and scratched his head. Yes, a bath was in order—the sooner, the better.

Adam knocked and then opened and peered around the door. And grinned from ear to ear. “Welcome back, Mr. Wakefield.” He stepped into the room. “I suppose you heard.”

An odd foreboding sent a shiver up Garrick's spine. “No, actually, I haven't heard. You are my herald. Kindly announce your news.”

Adam continued to grin. “Land sakes, you sure do look like him.”

Another shiver. “Like whom, my lad?”

“That fancy Lord Westbourne up at the hotel. Course, he's a lot older—”

“Lord Westbourne? My uncle is here?” Garrick's heart dropped to his stomach. Now he must pay for abandoning his post for an ill-advised holiday, leaving the unfinished hotel to common workmen to complete without supervision. An involuntary groan escaped him. After a two-week reprieve, judgment would now fall upon him for his neglect.

“Yessir.” Adam stared at him up and down. “You might want to clean up a mite before you go see him. They're awful fancy people.”

“They?”

“Yessir. The lady and the boy.” He shook his head. “And a passel of servants. Why do three people need so many servants?”

As Garrick tried to calm his racing heart, he gave Adam a rueful smile. After tending his own needs for these past days, he wondered that himself.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“Indeed you may.” He certainly wouldn't turn down that offer
or
correct the boy's grammar. “I shall be eternally grateful.”

Uncle often spoke of the importance of fastidiousness, so it wouldn't do to show up at the hotel without bathing. While Garrick soaked away over two weeks' worth of soil and sweat in a lukewarm bath, he enumerated in his mind the many tasks not completed before he left. Wallpaper and drapes in the finer suites. Painting, drapes and bedding for the lower-class rooms. Wall sconces and the artwork. Completing the manager's office. Surely other tasks, but as Garrick's anxiety grew, he couldn't remember them all. This had been his one chance to prove himself capable of managing an important project, and he'd failed. He must get to Uncle straightaway and explain himself.

Yet, as he shaved and dressed, an even more important matter took preeminence and at last settled his nerves. He hadn't hurried home from holiday because of Uncle, but because of Rosamond. She must be his first priority. Instead of going to the hotel, he'd ride out to Four Stones Ranch to beg her forgiveness. The affection he'd seen in her eyes from time to time had been genuine. Perhaps he could still win her.

“Adam, my lad.” Garrick fussed with his cravat, unable to fix the knot. Where was Roberts when he needed him? “Would you be so kind as to procure a horse for me? Gypsy's done enough today, and I must go to Four Stones before joining my relatives at the hotel.”

“Yessir.” The lad still wore that maddening grin. “But she ain't there.”

Garrick glared at Adam and then chuckled as his heart leapt in his chest. “Oh? Then where is she?”

“At the hotel, of course.” Adam had the audacity to wink.

Of course! Rosamond had nearly as much to gain from the hotel's success as Garrick did. She would be there to entertain Uncle.

His heart plummeted again. His comeuppance had been public, and his apology would be the same. But he wouldn't let that deter him. He gave Mrs. Foster his regrets for missing the supper she'd started preparing. Then he strode from the house, Adam following close on his heels.

* * *

Rosamond brought flowers, an extra vaseful from the hotel, to place at the front of the church for tomorrow's service. As she turned to leave, the minister entered through the side door. With his short, bushy beard and dusty clothes, he looked like a cowboy newly returned from a cattle drive. The dear man surely did need a wife.

“Hello, Reverend Thomas. Welcome back.” Her heart hiccuped. Garrick would be back, too.

“Thank you, Rosamond. You look mighty pretty in that fancy gown. Are you going to a ball?” He set some papers on the lectern.

“Thank you.” She walked close enough to catch a whiff of his clothes. Mercy, he needed a bath before tomorrow's service. “Not a ball, but we're having a party at the hotel for Lord and Lady Westbourne. Won't you join us? You can slip in the back door and use one of our fancy new bathrooms to clean up before you meet them.”

“I'd be delighted.” He studied the papers. “Good thing I planned my sermon as soon as we returned.” He gave her a teasing grin. “You should tell Garrick. He's at Mrs. Foster's.”

Her heart jolted again. “Good idea.”

He chuckled. “See you at the hotel.”

She hurried from the church. Turning down Pike Street, she had the sudden fear he wouldn't want to see her. Then she saw him striding toward her. She lifted the hem of her skirt and ran to meet him. Oh, how handsome he looked. From his wide smile and quickened pace, he seemed just as eager to see her.

Before she knew what happened, she was in his arms, and he was lifting her and swinging her around in a circle. They both laughed like school children let out for recess, her laughter mingling with tears.

“Oh, Garrick, I'm so sorry—”

“Rosamond, can you ever forgive me?”

They spoke at the same time and laughed again. She moved back a little in his arms to stare into his wonderful face.

“I understand about Tolley. You weren't to blame. And Percy and Beryl are so happy—”

“I've been an arrogant numskull. Now I see what a splendid place Esperanza is, the entire San Luis Valley, the entire United States, in fact. Wonderful people live here, many of whom I'm proud to call my friends.” A shy look stole over his fine features. “I still love you, Rosamond. But I won't torment you with another brutish proposal. If you want to send me away—”

She grasped his face and stopped him with a kiss, feeling not the slightest shame that she'd instigated yet another kiss with this man. Right here on the streets of Esperanza where all of her neighbors could see them. Right here in front of Adam, soon to be one of her students.

Garrick pulled her close and returned the kiss with a depth of feeling that mirrored her own. Perhaps lengthy apologies weren't necessary. In fact, nothing mattered right now except knowing that Garrick Wakefield loved her as much as she loved him. Whatever happened in the future regarding marriage and her school, they would face it together and figure out how to make everything work.

* * *

Garrick carried his eldest cousin in his arms while Uncle conducted a tour of the hotel as though he'd built the place himself. Aunt Westbourne and Rosamond, Colonel and Mrs. Northam, and Percy arm-in-arm with Beryl, all trooped along behind them.

“You see what can be accomplished, my boy?” Uncle spoke to little Lord Eddington as he pointed to various items of interest in one of the finer rooms. “Take note. You must always find clever people to do the work.” He continued on down the hall, unmindful of the cut Garrick felt to his heart.

From childhood, he'd been the receiver of Uncle's tutelage as he prepared him to inherit the title. Now that instruction went to the viscount. Yet never once in the past six years had Garrick regretted the existence of this precious boy who'd greeted him so joyfully just an hour ago, proclaiming how he and his brothers missed their dear cousin Garrick. Nor could he regret any circumstances that had brought him to Rosamond. This wasn't the life he'd expected or planned, but God's plan was proving to be far better.

“Although I believe the Palladian facade our architects originally designed would be superior to the, ahem, more modest front my nephew chose.” Uncle glanced at Garrick as he addressed Colonel Northam.

A nervous sensation skittered through Garrick. He hadn't been paying attention. Behind him, however, he heard Rosamond's soft snicker and suppressed a laugh. The facade would be their private joke. Someday he'd confess to her that when he'd come here, he'd had his own facade as ornate and well-ordered as anything Andrea Palladio had designed. Yet, in this wild, untamed land, that false front had crumbled away to reveal a better, perhaps humbler man.

Uncle had laughed off Garrick's clumsy explanation about his letter requesting permission to abandon the project and the second one saying he wanted to stay until it was finished. “I read the second letter first, so didn't bother with the first.” Garrick couldn't have asked for more.

Later in the dining room, as Chef Henri served a supper befitting a king and Roberts directed the serving staff, Uncle continued his commentary, albeit with no criticisms. Aunt Westbourne must have spoken to her husband. Although half his age, the countess was a positive influence on him.

“I say, nephew.” Uncle looked up from his soup. “Are you pleased about Helena's engagement?”

Garrick started. “Engagement?” He stared at Uncle. “When? Who?” And why hadn't he been consulted?

“Why, Lord Waverly, of course.” Uncle chuckled. “In your absence, I granted my permission. And a suitable dowry, of course.”

Garrick sputtered for a moment until he noticed Rosamond smiling across the table. Now they could marry without impediment. Another of God's blessings.

“You have my thanks, Uncle.” More than thanks. If he were wearing his Stetson, he'd toss it into the air like a celebrating cowboy. “Waverly is a decent sort.” And titled. “I know they'll be happy.”

“Perhaps you'll be there in time for the wedding in October,” Aunt said. “We should so like to have you visit us.”

The dear lady couldn't know how her words cut one last thread holding him to England. If he returned, he could only be a guest in his relatives' homes. In America, he could make his own home. Again, he looked across the table at Rosamond while answering his aunt.

“Thank you, madam. However, I plan to stay in Esperanza, so please convey my best wishes to my dear sister. You see, I've discovered I've an aptitude for teaching and thought I'd apply at the new high school.”

The joy glowing on Rosamond's beautiful face suggested he'd have no trouble obtaining the position.