Regina Scott (23 page)

One more man. Left destitute by her husband, dependent on
another she could not trust, Mrs. Dunworthy had turned her bitterness on Nick.
I know too much about the dangers of bitterness, Lord.
There, but for Your Grace, go I.

“I will always see to the needs of my family,” Nick said. “Even
yours.” His frown eased, as if he’d made a decision. “I own a house outside
London, too small for Alice and my laboratory. It is yours to use while you
live.”

She drew herself up, clenching her fists beside her gray
skirts. “You’re throwing me out?”

He raised his brows as if surprised she’d think otherwise.
“Certainly. How would I trust you around Alice or Emma? Because I believe Alice
is fond of you, I will ensure she visits, always chaperoned. I owe you a living
for Ann’s sake. If you have specific needs, write to my solicitor. I’ll see
they’re met, within reason.”

“How could Ann abide the sight of you?” she cried, mouth
twisted. “You have no concept of family.”

“That is quite enough,” Emma said. “Your grasp on the subject
is far feebler.”

“And this from a nameless orphan,” Mrs. Dunworthy sneered.

“She has a name,” Nick corrected her. “And she has a better
appreciation of family than any of us.” He nodded to the footman, who stepped
forward. “Charles, escort Mrs. Dunworthy upstairs and help her pack her things.
I’m sure the inn will be glad to accommodate her tonight before she starts on
her journey to London.”

The light in the footman’s eyes told Emma he took more than his
usual delight in his duty. One last time, Charlotte lifted her skirts and swept
from the room.

“We’ll need to hire another maid,” Emma said. “Without her
around to continually sweep the floors with her skirts.”

Nick chuckled. “And a footman for the nursery.”

Emma smiled. “Thank you for insisting on that. And thank you
for believing me. I think your precautions with Mrs. Dunworthy are very wise.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should return to the nursery to check on Alice.”

In answer, he took her hand in his. “Wait a moment. I must
thank you, for everything.”

“You have,” Emma said, but she couldn’t make herself look away.
The angles and planes of his face seemed to be softening, as if emotions were
rising to replace the logic.

“Not sufficiently,” he countered. “You have made yourself an
indispensable part of this family. I’d like to settle that situation
permanently.”

Emma’s heart quickened. Was this finally what she’d hoped for?
“I’m listening.”

“I realize I still lack a few of the finer points to being a
husband,” he said. “But I can offer you financial stability, some social
connections. You have taught me the importance of making time for Alice and
those I care about.”

That was it? Money, Society, time? He still didn’t understand.
Despite herself, Emma sighed.

“Your offer is kind,” she said, “but I was hoping for
more.”

She felt the movement of his finger under hers, tapping at her
palm. He was dissecting what he’d said, searching for flaws in his logic,
determining the need for additional evidence. How could she explain it wasn’t
logic that mattered most when proposing marriage?

Suddenly, his finger stopped tapping.

“Forgive me,” he said. “This isn’t my area of specialty. I
neglected to explain two important points. I love you, Emma, and I’ll do my best
to make sure you never question that. You see, I am convinced that being near
you is essential to my happiness. I thought I observed certain evidence that you
might feel the same.”

He was watching her, waiting for the least sign. Emma thought
he might even have been holding his breath, he stood so still. Every part of him
yearned for her to answer him yes. Every part of her agreed.

“You always were an astute observer, sir,” she said with a
smile. “Perhaps you can interpret my answer from this.” She leaned forward and
pursed her lips.

Nick felt Emma’s hand trembling in his, saw her moving
closer. He had little experience with love, but he knew her answer. He met her
halfway, gathered her closer, kissed her with all the emotions that seemed to be
dancing inside him. For once, he was satisfied that they were as reliable as a
year’s worth of careful observation.

He was in love with Emma, and she loved him in return. She had
started a campaign to win his heart for Alice. Though they’d had an unusual
courtship, he knew his heart belonged to Emma.

That wasn’t a hypothesis, it was an inviolable law. And the
rest of their lives would only prove it further.

Epilogue

F
rom the doorway to the withdrawing room, Mrs. Jennings wiped a tear away from her eye. She knew she should be superintending the dinner arrangements, but she hadn’t been able to resist checking on Sir Nicholas and Emma. And the scene in the withdrawing room went a long way toward assuring her that the future would be bright.

Dorcus approached from the dining room, and the cook put a finger to her lips to signal the maid to silence. Dorcus joined her and peered inside. Both her blond brows shot up.

The cook drew her back from the door. “Cover the roast. We’ll give them a few moments before letting them know dinner is ready.”

Dorcus nodded. “So she did it,” she whispered. “She’ll be lady of this house after all.”

Mrs. Jennings smiled. “Oh, yes. She’s perfect for the master and him for her. She’ll keep him from disappearing into his studies, and he’ll give her the family she’s missed.”

Dorcus shook her head. “If you say so. I’m just glad we’ll be shed of Mrs. Dunworthy. I could tell you stories.”

“Be respectful, now,” Mrs. Jennings warned. “And go on about your duties. I’ll see to the master and Miss Pyrmont.”

Dorcus bobbed a curtsey and hurried off. Mrs. Jennings took one more look at the embracing couple and sighed in delight. Yes, the future of the Rotherford family looked to be in good hands.

Thank You, Father!

Perhaps Sir Nicholas would reinstate her as housekeeper, she mused as she waited, or even hire a valet again. Heaven knows Mr. Quimby, the valet for the Earl of Danning, whose fishing lodge lay down the valley, must be considering a new position, and who could blame him? None of the servants at the lodge felt comfortable with the future of their positions, not with their master showing no signs of marrying and his cousin, the heir presumptive, gloating in the background.

Perhaps she should speak to Mr. Quimby on their next Sunday off together. Surely they could determine a likely candidate for a wife to put forward.

Her smile deepened. If Emma could wage a campaign to court Sir Nicholas, what was to say Mr. Quimby couldn’t wage a campaign to find the earl a wife? All these gentlemen needed was a little prayer and help from the master matchmakers.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from
Roping the Wrangler
by Lacy Williams.

Dear Reader,

Thank you so much for choosing the first book in my Master Matchmakers series. I spent many years working with scientists as a technical writer. Their studies fascinate me, as does the marvelous way their minds work. Perhaps that’s why I wanted to write about Nick and Emma’s courtship.

Several scientists worked hard in the early nineteenth century to develop a safety lamp for the coal miners. Within a few short years, two natural philosophers and a machinist put forth designs that worked. But it was the design by Sir Humphry Davy, the natural philosopher who stood by Nick during his trials with the Royal Society, that was ultimately chosen for mass production. I envisioned Nick’s lamp to be an early form of the propane lantern still in use today.

You can learn more tidbits about life in nineteenth-century England on my website at
www.reginascott.com
.

Blessings!

Regina Scott

Questions for Discussion

1. Emma seeks to find the perfect husband and family. What does family mean to you?
   
2. Emma loves Alice as if she were her own daughter. What ties build such relationships?
   
3. Nick struggles to believe that he is capable of loving because of a cold upbringing. How do we learn to love?
   
4. Nick is willing to forego sleep, food and time with loved ones to develop the safety lamp because of the deaths of miners at his property. What would justify putting your work first?
   
5. Mrs. Jennings, the cook, is willing to risk her position to see her master happy. Has anyone who served you, for example, a teacher or pastor, ever gone beyond their position to help you? How did you thank them?
   
6. Mrs. Dunworthy let her disappointing marriage and the death of her sister poison her spirit. How can we keep tragedies from making us bitter?
   
7. Mr. Fredericks is a horrible example of a foster father, willing to use even orphans to further his career. Describe someone you know who has either adopted or fostered children and how the family was blessed as a result.
   
8. The natural philosophers of the Regency period made observations of natural phenomena to advance knowledge. How can we use observations today to learn more about our world?
   
9. Seeing Emma and Alice’s trusting faith, Nick begins to question his own. What events in your life helped build your faith?
   
10. The servants at the four estates in Dovecote Dale are determined to see their masters marry. Where have you seen someone play matchmaker? How did it turn out?
    
11. Nick has Emma and Mrs. Jennings to share his thoughts. Who in your life serves that role? How do you take that role with others?
    
12. Sometimes those around us think they see where we need to improve. When is it right to intercede in others’ lives?
    
13. Nick accuses Emma of manipulating him. What’s the difference between encouragement and manipulation?
    
14. The book had several themes. Name one that appealed to you.
    
15. How have you seen that kind of theme played out in your own life?
    

We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Historical title.

You find illumination in days gone by.
Love Inspired Historical
stories lift the spirit as heroines tackle the challenges of life in another era with hope, faith and a focus on family.

Enjoy four new stories from Love Inspired Historical every month!

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Chapter One

Wyoming, fall 1895

“T
hey say if he whispers, the fillies
cuddle right up to him.”

“And that he’s a wonder with a lasso....”

“Maybe Eric can get some pointers, if he wants to steal a kiss
from—”

Sarah Hansen cleared her throat and the raucous laughter from
the group of thirteen- and fourteen-year-old boys broke off.

“I rang the bell,” she reminded them. “Please return to your
desks.”

Three of the four young men filed around the corner of the
school with only a murmur of complaint. The fourth, Junior Allen, remained in
place, arms crossed belligerently over his chest. “You gonna make me?”

She considered the strap her predecessor had left in the bottom
drawer of the schoolteacher’s desk. She’d never used it on a child before, had
always been able to maintain order in the classroom with warnings or sometimes a
rap with a ruler. But this particular student challenged her more than any
other. His father was the head of the school board and Sarah’s boss—and Junior
would likely go running to him if she dared punish him.

“Please go inside,” she said, putting as much authority in her
voice as she could muster. Junior was tall for a fourteen-year-old, already a
few inches above her height. Sarah knew she couldn’t physically overpower him if
he chose not to obey, but thankfully he backed down and followed his
friends.

She paused at the building’s corner as the boys tromped up the
rickety wooden stairs, kept her eyes focused on the few remaining leaves
clinging to the trees behind the schoolyard. She breathed in deeply of the crisp
air and tried to find a shred of patience for the afternoon lessons.

She didn’t have to ask who the boys had been talking about.

Oscar White. Legendary—ha!—horse trainer. The horseman, some
called him.

A single schoolmarm, Sarah boarded at the Allen Ranch, and the
entire spread had been buzzing for days over the man’s impending arrival. Now
the news had spread to the nearby town of Lost Hollow, in the northern part of
the state, and to Sarah’s schoolchildren, as well.

And it was all because of a horse. Sarah’s employer, Paul
Allen, had purchased a colt from an expensive race horse breeder and wanted the
horseman to train it.

Sarah had known Oscar White back in the tiny town of Bear
Creek, where she and her sisters had spent their growing-up years. He’d been
sweet on Sarah’s younger sister, but that had happened after Sarah had already
begun attending the normal school in Cheyenne. Possibly he wouldn’t even
remember Sarah, as they’d only been in the schoolhouse together for a few
months.

But Sarah would always remember the time he’d humiliated her in
front of her classmates, calling her a shrew when she’d corrected the behavior
of one of her sisters. He’d been right, but he hadn’t known why she’d had no
choice but to be that way. His and Sally’s flirtation hadn’t lasted, and Sarah
had forgotten about him until recently.

Because she boarded at the Allen ranch, she supposed there was
no way to avoid seeing Oscar around the place. She’d grit her teeth and endure
it. And hope that his job training Paul Allen’s horse went quickly.

She had plans to put in motion, plans for her future, and she
didn’t need the distraction of
this
man. But she had
no choice but to bear his presence. How long could it take to train a horse?
Weeks?

Inside the schoolroom, the children murmured and shuffled, but
at least they remained at their desks. She called them to attention and began
the after-lunch lessons.

The afternoon was coming to a close when two of the girls,
sisters, began fidgeting in their seats and whispering.

Sarah nodded to the girl in the second row who was reading
aloud and went to stand behind the two sisters, Cecilia and Susie Caldwell. They
glanced up at her guiltily, and when she peered down at their shared desk, she
noted that the afternoon’s assignment hadn’t been completed.

The girls’ lack of attention was a surprise. These two were
usually attentive and well behaved. Before she could question them, one of the
boys threw a pencil across the room, striking another child in the arm.

Moving to correct the rowdy child, she forgot all about the
girls in the hullabaloo that ensued and didn’t get a chance to speak to them
after the day ended, as she had to rush off to join the so-called “welcoming
committee” at her boss’s behest.

The life of a schoolteacher was never boring, but there were
some events she wished she could avoid. Greeting the horseman was one of
them.

* * *

“They say he’s magic with the long reins—”

“I saw him ride once in an exhibition down by Cheyenne....”

Sarah clutched the satchel with her schoolbooks until her
knuckles turned white. The men of Lost Hollow were no better than little boys,
excited over a wild cowboy! Unfortunately, her boss had insisted that as the
schoolteacher and a prominent member of the town, she should come along as part
of the welcoming committee. And because she’d known Oscar White in Bear
Creek.

She just wanted to get this “welcome” over with. She needed to
finish her plans for the basket auction social this weekend and to that end, her
thoughts wandered until the train came to a hissing stop at the platform.

The man who strode off with a confident gait bore resemblance
to the Oscar White she’d known, but
this man
was
assuredly different. Stetson tilted back rakishly to reveal brown eyes his face
no longer had the slight roundness of youth. No, those lean craggy features
belonged to a man, without question. Broad shoulders easily parted the small
crowd on the platform, and he headed straight for their group.

Sarah turned away, alarmed by the pulse pounding frantically in
her temples. Why this reaction now, to
this man?

Through the rhythmic beating in her ears—too fast!—she heard
the men exchange greetings and then Mr. Allen cleared his throat.

“And I believe you already know our schoolteacher...”

Obediently, she turned and their gazes collided—his brown eyes
curious until he glimpsed her face.

“...Miss Sarah Hansen.”

His eyes instantly cooled and the handshake he gave her was
perfunctory. He quickly looked back to the other men. “I’ve got to get my horses
from the stock car. I’ll catch up with you gentlemen in a moment. Miss Hansen.”
He tipped his hat before rushing off down the line of train cars.

Sarah found herself watching him and forced her eyes away.
Obviously he remembered her, and perhaps what had passed between them seven
years ago.

That was just fine with her. She had no use for reckless
cowboys. She was looking for a responsible man for a husband.

* * *

Oscar strode toward the stock car, shaking his head
slightly. Sarah Hansen. That old shrew. Who’d have known he would run into her
here in Lost Hollow? She’d probably never married, since she was still the
schoolteacher. He’d been friends with her sister Sally—sweet on her for a
time—but had forgotten about Sarah’s existence after she’d left his hometown of
Bear Creek.

Well, he’d stay out of her way if she stayed out of his. He had
a job to do. One last job, and he’d be able to purchase the stallion he wanted
and start breeding the mares he’d spent years collecting. Breeding quality
horses had been his dream for years, and after he’d built a little cabin just
across the valley from his pa’s place, he’d spent the past months riding in
exhibitions and cattle drives, saving up all he could to purchase the fine
stallion he wanted from a man his neighbor and family friend Poppy Walt had told
him about over in Idaho.

One job, a few weeks, and then he could go home. Maybe by
Christmas.

The flimsy boards that stretched from the ground to the stock
car wobbled under his weight as he climbed in. He wasn’t looking forward to
bringing the new mare he’d bought down the incline. She was flighty as a cat in
a roomful of dogs, and anything could spook her.

It was a fairly modern stock car, with the animals separated
into stalls. He’d tucked both horses into one of the larger stalls, hoping that
the presence of his gentle gelding, Pharaoh, would soothe the mare.

Oscar came to Pharaoh first, as he’d been the last animal on
board, and began untying the rope that had been used to secure the horse.

A railroad employee stomped up behind Oscar, causing the mare
to neigh and bob her head against the rope holding her.

“Got to get a move on, mister,” the man said. “The train is
pulling out now.”

“I need a moment to get this boy down the ramp,” Oscar
explained with a winning smile. “The gal there is pretty skittish, so I’ll need
to take her down myself.”

“Hurry it up, mister.”

The gelding came easily, trusting Oscar without question even
on the creaky ramp. They’d been together for years, and it showed.

Oscar was tying him off to the closest hitching post he could
find when the train whistle blew and a high-pitched whinny broke out.

Racing back to the stock car, Oscar’s boots pounded against the
packed dirt that made up the unloading yard. The railroad employee fought with
the mare, struggling with all his might to hold on to the lead rope while she
thrashed and tossed her head at the top of the ramp.

Oscar pushed past a small group of folks—the men and
schoolteacher, he realized absently—but didn’t reach the stock car in time. The
horse pulled away from the railroad man and galloped down the ramp, heading away
from Oscar and straight for the small knot of people.

The men scattered, but Sarah Hansen stood frozen and wide-eyed,
right in the mare’s path.

Oscar shouted, but the mare was too far gone in her fright to
stop.

At the last moment, Sarah jerked, her skirt swishing, and that
saved her. The mare stopped her wild gallop, rearing instead.

Oscar moved toward the horse slowly, not wanting to scare her
into running again.

Now
Sarah found her feet, finally
turning to flee, but the movement incensed the already-nervous horse, which
reared again and stamped its front hooves, apparently attempting to drive the
offending fabric away.

Sarah shrieked and that set off the horse even worse.

Oscar followed as the girl ran and horse chased, continuing to
stamp and snort.

Sarah ducked into a narrow alley and the horse followed. Oscar
paused at the opening, peering into the darkness, afraid of flying hooves if the
horse kicked out.

Sarah had fallen midway down the shadowed alleyway, and the
horse continued to follow. Afraid the woman would get trampled, Oscar braved the
alley, taking care to stay close to the nearest building. If he could avoid
those hooves flying his direction, he would.

As the horse neared her, he willed Sarah to stand up. To move.
Anything. But she remained still on the ground, although she shrieked like a
banshee.

Finally, he came even with the prancing, stamping horse and was
able to catch her dangling lead rope. He spoke calmly to her and she began to
settle, though her eyes remained wild and rolled in their sockets.

“I’ve got her steady,” he told Sarah. “C’mon outta there.”

With the narrow alley leaving no room to turn the horse, he was
going to have to get Sarah out of the way and guide the horse forward. But the
woman didn’t move.

“I can’t,” she finally whispered.

“You hurt?”

She jerked her head.

That’s when he looked past the surface. Sarah’s entire body was
shaking. Her breaths still came rapidly.

She wasn’t scared of a wild horse on the loose. She was
terrified.

Two fillies frightened out of their wits. What would his ma
tell him to do?

Comfort the one who was worse off. Glancing from woman to
horse, it was a toss-up. But if Sarah kept flailing and making noise, he’d never
get the mare calm enough to get them out of there.

“All right,” he said to the horse, patting its neck gently. He
tied her off to a protruding nail on one of the walls, aware it might not hold
if she jerked her head. The horse protested his movements with a gentle neigh,
bobbing her head.

“It’s all right,” he said again.

He approached Sarah, aware of the pointy toes of her boots
beneath those skirts and petticoats. If she got scared and kicked out... He
scooted to one side, just like he’d done with the horse.

“Sarah,” he said softly.

Her eyes darted to him, wide and frightened.

“Take it out. Get it away!” Her voice rose and he instinctively
clasped her hand in his, instantly silencing her.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you,” he promised.

Her eyes held on his. In this shadowy light between two
buildings, the blue looked almost gray. His stomach clutched at the fear still
there.

He squeezed her hand. “We can’t move the horse until she calms
down. There’s no room to turn her in this narrow space and she won’t back up
when she’s riled. You should’ve picked a better escape route.”

Her eyes flashed once. “Are you saying this is
my fault?
” she asked.

One long strand of straight flax-colored hair had slipped free
of its pins and fallen against her cheek, making her look much younger. Oscar
knew she was at least his age, if not a year older, but at the moment she didn’t
look twenty-three. She looked about twelve.

“Why do you even have such an unpredictable animal?” The fire
was returning to her tone, even as she continued to tremble.

“I found her a few weeks ago. She’s got scars where someone
used her hard— I’ve been working to earn her trust, but we’re not there yet.” He
didn’t mention the cash it had set him back, cash he could’ve used to get
started on his breeding program. He blamed his nature. He couldn’t let the
animal continue to suffer.