Книга - The Texan’s Courtship Lessons

The Texan's Courtship Lessons
Noelle Marchand


The Groom ApprenticeCourtship lessons are all Isabelle Bradley can offer when one of her sister's former suitors suddenly comes calling. Unwilling to be someone's backup choice, Isabelle will help the clumsy–yet handsome–blacksmith find and woo his true match. But it certainly won't be her.Rhett Granger's awkwardness around women may be a joke to most of the town, but Rhett isn't laughing. How can he find love when Isabelle, the only woman who doesn't turn him into a tongue-tied fool, won't accept his courtship? Perhaps her "lessons" can give them both the chance to learn about the surprises love can bring…Bachelor List Matches: A hand-picked bride for every bachelor in small-town Texas.







The Groom Apprentice

Courtship lessons are all Isabelle Bradley can offer when one of her sister’s former suitors suddenly comes calling. Unwilling to be someone’s backup choice, Isabelle will help the clumsy—yet handsome—blacksmith find and woo his true match. But it certainly won’t be her.

Rhett Granger’s awkwardness around women may be a joke to most of the town, but Rhett isn’t laughing. How can he find love when Isabelle, the only woman who doesn’t turn him into a tongue-tied fool, won’t accept his courtship? Perhaps her “lessons” can give them both the chance to learn about the surprises love can bring…

Bachelor List Matches: A hand-picked bride for every bachelor in small-town Texas.


“Courting lessons?” Rhett couldn’t contain the skepticism in his voice even as his heart sank at Isabelle’s suggestion.

Nothing proved a woman’s disinterest more than her trying to foist him off on one of her friends. It didn’t make a lick of sense in this instance, though, because Isabelle was interested. He’d seen it in her eyes during that first tug of attraction on the hotel porch. Why, then, was she so eager to pass him off to someone else?

A blush rose in her cheeks. “We, um, don’t have to call it anything official like that. I’ll just try to help you overcome whatever it is that makes you nervous.”

He shrugged. “There’s no point in accepting your offer. The lessons wouldn’t work, anyway.”

“You don’t know that.”

Oh, but he did. Ellie had tried to help him and failed. Lawson’s advice hadn’t worked, either. The Bachelor List had been wrong. God seemed to have turned a deaf ear to his prayers for this area of his life. Then again, perhaps the problem was that he’d been depending too much on other people. Maybe he ought to see if there wasn’t something he could do to help himself. Something like courting lessons, perhaps?


NOELLE MARCHAND is a native Houstonian living out her childhood dream of being a writer. She graduated summa cum laude from Houston Baptist University in 2012, earning a bachelor’s degree in mass communications and speech communications. She loves exploring new books and new cities. When she’s not scribbling out her latest manuscript, you may find her pursuing one of her other passions—music, dance, history and classic movies.


The Texan’s Courtship Lessons

Noelle Marchand






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. Seek His will in all you do, and He will show you which path to take.

—Proverbs 3:5–6







This book is dedicated to my editor, Elizabeth Mazer.


Contents

Cover (#u43bae676-bb7e-5813-8029-273e4dd05f2e)

Back Cover Text (#u8f031eed-6d3b-5dbf-8f8a-8a1425d1d7b7)

Introduction (#u36e5a70c-4c37-5d3d-906f-a06efc355542)

About the Author (#u87496e46-295f-5174-adc9-abe7d4487f87)

Title Page (#u07562fa0-50db-56b1-895b-ff77f612799e)

Bible Verse (#u20399b7b-8d9c-594e-b646-abe4d521f907)

Dedication (#ub9038961-938f-5463-8db3-f41f9c1adbe0)

Chapter One (#uecb5381e-3866-5066-8b63-d797c8324096)

Chapter Two (#u4950328d-a5a7-54bc-8a83-10388417e92e)

Chapter Three (#ucd4d22b7-4e4e-5b15-b0c0-a89bc2e2e0ef)

Chapter Four (#u60657ed3-f535-5fda-aad9-612c85f66761)

Chapter Five (#u98b5fc29-0f70-5b94-88bd-ed0dbe9539f0)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_97ef73fd-7fd5-50c9-a508-b1900918ec1f)

December 31, 1888 Peppin, Texas

He’d found her.

Every false start, every mistake, all of the embarrassment of his previous failed attempts at courting and years of waiting faded away in that moment because he knew this was the woman his heart had been hoping for. It didn’t matter that she, like everyone else at the masquerade ball, was wearing a mask and he didn’t know her name or have any other clue concerning her identity. He was going to marry her... Probably. Maybe. If he didn’t mess things up like he usually did.

Rhett Granger kept his gaze riveted on the woman he was certain was his future wife as he crossed the crowded hotel ballroom toward her. She wore an emerald sheath dress belted at the waist with a braided golden rope. Heavy gold jewelry draped around her neck and delicate wrists while a low crown encircled straight black hair that looked to be a wig. Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile, had more than her fair share of admirers hovering around, hanging on her every word. He’d be able to dispatch them with ease if he was half the swashbuckling buccaneer his tricornered hat, black leather pants and gray poet shirt portrayed him to be. He wasn’t, but he still managed to cross the room.

The closer he got, the more something about the woman seemed unerringly familiar. Then again, something about everyone at Peppin’s New Year’s Eve Ball seemed familiar. That was probably because Rhett had met most of the folks who lived in this town at some point during the two and a half years since he’d moved here. He probably already knew or had at the very least met “Cleopatra” at some point before. Perhaps that meant there was a reason they weren’t already a couple.

His courage faltered slightly along with his steps. Then, she glanced up and caught him staring at her. Her eyes widened before her thick, dark lashes lowered demurely. The soft light from the gas chandelier hovering above the dance floor did nothing to hide the slight blush that appeared just below her gold mask. No way was he turning back now.

He swallowed hard, squared his shoulders and continued on. He lingered near the outskirts of her circle of admirers to observe her. She was putting on a good show, but he could tell she was uncomfortable with all of the attention. The tension was there in her smile. Eyes that should have sparkled looked dull with disinterest. Her slim fingers hovered near her temple before coming to rest behind her neck as though a headache was starting. Her gaze gradually lifted back to his, revealing her deep green eyes. She tilted her head as though to ask a silent question. Was he there to join the fray or free her from it? Her rosy lips lifted in a hesitant smile that said she hoped it was the latter.

His heart began to pound in his chest. He opened his mouth to ask her to dance so that they could fall in love and get married. No words came out. He clamped his lips shut. He swallowed. He tried again. Not even so much as a grunt. Fine. Not a problem. Or at least, not an unusual one. He was accustomed to finding himself tongue-tied around beautiful women. This time it wouldn’t stop him. He didn’t need words to ask her to dance.

He unclenched his suddenly moist fist in preparation to offer his hand, already envisioning her taking it and him leading her onto the dance floor. Instead, another man brushed past him to stand in the middle of the circle. He was dressed as a roman warrior though he’d opted to wear pants under the kilt-looking part of the outfit. The Roman removed his helmet and gave a deep bow before Cleopatra. “Milady, may I have this dance?”

She glanced at Rhett then back to the Roman before speaking in an accent that sounded like a strange mixture of a Southern belle and an English lady. “And you are?”

“Mark Antony.”

Her mouth fell open. Pursing her lips closed, she narrowed her eyes in what seemed to be suspicion. That didn’t stop her from placing her hand in Antony’s and allowing him to lead her to the dance floor. The small gathering of her suitors disappeared like bees around a wilted bloom, leaving only Rhett to stare after the woman in disappointment. Why wasn’t he surprised that another man had swept in and taken the woman of his dreams while he stood around like a bumbling idiot? Oh, that was right. It had happened before—several times.

The last time had been the most embarrassing because he hadn’t bothered to hide his interest in Amy Bradley from the town. He hadn’t felt the need to. After all, they’d been paired on the infamous Bachelor List—a list of matches created by Ellie Williams, the town’s most successful matchmaker. What could go wrong?

Him. He’d gone wrong precisely as he always did anytime a relationship took a turn toward romance. Not that he could call what had happened with Amy a “romance” even if it was the closest he’d ever gotten to one. All they’d shared were a few drawn-out glances and several laborious chats after church on Sunday. Still, it had been enough to give him hope.

That hope had been most decidedly and publicly destroyed when Amy eloped with a not-so-former suitor more than two months ago. Did that mean that Rhett had lost his only chance at love? He’d rather think that just this once Ellie had been wrong, and Amy wasn’t the woman he was supposed to end up with.

That meant his true love might still be out there. He wanted to find her, but what would happen if he did? The same thing that had happened with Cleopatra—nothing. Absolutely nothing.

A heavy sigh filtered through his lips as Cleopatra and Mark Antony floated past him in a waltz. Why wouldn’t God take away whatever stupid affliction he had that changed him from an intelligent, personable and confident man into an ineloquent, dull-witted, insecure boy at the first sign of romance in a relationship? Perhaps he was destined to be alone for the rest of his life and this was merely God’s way of showing him that. In that case, the kindest thing he could do for himself would be to stop getting his hopes up about something that would never happen.

He bowed his head. God, show me what You want me to do. Send me a sign or—

Rhett jerked as something bounced off his chest and landed on the floor near his boot. He knelt to examine it more closely. An arrow? It was. Though, it had been made in miniature out of papier-mâché.

He glanced up to find a woman grinning down at him. She was dressed in a pink dress that flowed and draped like those of ancient Greece. A small set of wings peeked out from behind her shoulders and she carried an equally small bow to go with her arrows. Was she...? Cupid. She was Cupid, which meant...

He stood and crossed his arms. “Ellie Williams, who gave you a weapon?”

The blonde glanced around as if looking for someone, then vanished into the crowd. She returned with her husband of two months in tow. “Lawson gave me a weapon and showed me how to use it.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking.” The small shake of Lawson’s head was exaggerated by the huge hat, which, along with his costume, designated him as one of the three musketeers. Rhett was pretty sure that meant Lawson’s brothers-in-law were the other two.

Lawson winked at Ellie. “She’s already dangerous enough without it.”

Rhett glanced away, feeling decidedly uncomfortable as Ellie sent her husband a look that was warmer than Texas in the spring. Once they were finished staring into each other’s eyes, Rhett presented Ellie with the arrow. “I believe this is yours.”

“You can keep it, Rhett. I have plenty of them left. Look, it says ‘Happy New Year’ on the shaft.”

He handed it back to her anyway. “Thanks, but—Wait. How do you know who I am? I thought my costume disguised me pretty well.”

Lawson nodded. “It does. Ellie, how did you know it was Rhett?”

“I have my ways.”

Her cryptic answer didn’t fool him. “You saw me, didn’t you? You saw me try to ask that woman to dance.”

Lawson frowned. “What woman?”

“Cleopatra,” Ellie answered, then winced. “I mean, what woman?”

“What happened, Rhett?”

“Same old, same old,” he said. The couple had witnessed his limitations when it came to communicating with the opposite sex on numerous occasions. “Who is she, though, when she isn’t Cleopatra?”

Ellie shrugged. “What makes you think I would know? Midnight isn’t too far away. Stick around for the unmasking and find out for yourself.”

“Actually, I think I’m going to head home.” He hadn’t decided on that until he said it, yet he knew that was probably the best idea he’d had all evening. They both protested, but Rhett knew it was the right decision. There was no point in sticking around. He’d probably only find some way to make a fool of himself again. It would be far wiser for him to go home. Of course, he’d be alone on New Year’s Eve. But how was that different than any other day?

He pushed away the loneliness and disappointment that threatened him. It was going to be a new year. Perhaps it was time to put old dreams aside and move on.

* * *

Tonight, she was a woman of intrigue, sophistication and mystery—Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile.

At least, she would let herself pretend to be that until the stroke of midnight when the masks would come off, and she’d turn into a pumpkin. Or, more accurately, she’d go back to being practical, boring and uninspiring Isabelle Bradley. There were only fifteen minutes left before that would happen. That mean meant the only person who knew her true identity, besides the four male boarders who’d escorted her from her family’s boardinghouse, was Marc Antony.

He smiled down at her. “You look beautiful, Isabelle.”

She feigned disinterest. “What makes you think my name is Isabelle?”

“Because you’re the only one who ordered a wig like that from my family’s mercantile.”

Her dance partner was Chris Johansen, then. She’d suspected as much. She didn’t even bother to hold back her frustrated huff. She’d gone through a lot of trouble to disguise herself from her older sister’s former suitors. Apparently, her efforts hadn’t worked. “Sophia promised she wouldn’t tell anyone that I’d ordered the wig.”

“Don’t worry. My little sister refused to answer a single one of my questions about who it was for. I figured it out on my own by looking at your account records.”

Why he’d go through all of that trouble was beyond her. She simply couldn’t get used to the tenacity or attentions of Chris and her other so-called suitors. They’d never paid her any mind before her sister’s elopement. She could hardly take them seriously now when, despite their best efforts to prove otherwise, it was obvious they were only seeking a replacement for Amy. Isabelle aspired to few things in life, but allowing herself to become a faded tintype in the eyes of a man who should cherish her for herself was not one of them. She’d try to make that clear by avoiding the men altogether. They didn’t seem to be getting the message. Perhaps she ought to try being a bit more assertive. Starting with “Mark Antony.”

Isabelle pinned him with an accusatory stare as he whirled her around the crowded dance floor in a waltz. “Well, all I have to say is you’ve got a lot of nerve, Chris Johansen, dressing to match me. What exactly are you trying to achieve by doing this? Because the only message I’m getting is that you’re a cheater.”

He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t know what else to do. I’ve been trying to get your attention for weeks. You won’t stay still long enough to listen.”

No, she hadn’t, but perhaps he’d leave her alone if she let him say his peace. After a long-suffering sigh, she nodded. “All right, I’m listening now. What is it you want to say?”

“You and I have been friends a long time, haven’t we?”

“Uh-huh.” She found refuge from his too-intense eyes by scanning the crowd of onlookers. It wasn’t until her gaze landed on the tall, powerfully built pirate who’d approached her earlier that she realized she’d been looking for him all along. He stood at the edge of the dance floor talking to a couple. They must have been saying their goodbyes for he shook the man’s hand and received a quick hug from the lady. He turned. For one intense moment, their eyes caught and held across the distance. But then the steps of the waltz spun her around and she lost sight of him.

“Isabelle, did you hear me?”

She forced herself to refocus on her partner. “Hmm?”

“I was trying to ask you—” He froze, which was probably a good thing since he looked downright exasperated.

It was only when he turned slightly away from her that she saw the man at his heels. Dressed in a costume fit for a drawing room in Regency England, he gave a shallow bow. “May I cut in?”

Chris scowled. “No.”

The gentleman stroked the curves of his immaculately shaped auburn mustache as he affected a very poor English accent. “Mr. Johansen, it is common courtesy to yield in such occasions.”

Chris’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know who I am?”

“As an artist always knows his own work, a barber recognizes every haircut he gives.”

As Chris slid his fingers through his blond hair, Isabelle barely withheld a groan of recognition. She should have recognized Amy’s childhood sweetheart the second she saw his mustache. “John Merriweather.”

“Miss Isabelle, I presume.” He bowed again. “May I have this dance?”

Chris kept hold of her hand. “Now, see here, John. You’ll just have to wait—”

“Absolutely, you may cut in, Mr. Merriweather.” She glanced between two men—one dejected, the other gloating. Lifting Chris’s hand, she placed it squarely in John’s. “It might look a little strange, but you gentlemen enjoy yourselves.”

She lingered only long enough to watch their mouths drop open as they jerked their hands back and glared at each other. Their protests rang in her ears as she left them on the dance floor. Fearing one or both might attempt to follow her—once they were done arguing with each other—she slipped out a side door into the hotel’s garden. A cold wind set her teeth chattering and hastened her down the path leading to the wide back porch. She reached for the door to reenter the hotel, but hesitated. Stepping farther into the shadows of the porch, she considered her options.

If she went back into the ballroom, she’d likely spend the rest of the night trying to avoid Amy’s spurned suitors. Her only other option was to leave the masquerade altogether. She grimaced at the thought of returning home early on a night free from her parents’ suspicious and watchful gazes. As much as she loved them, their overprotectiveness of her and her fifteen-year-old sister, Violet, had become stifling.

In the aftermath of Amy’s elopement with a former boarder at the family’s boardinghouse, her parents had become fixated on not letting that situation repeat itself. They’d even gone so far as to say they’d sell Bradley Boardinghouse if one more thing went wrong. Isabelle had laughed the first time they’d said it, thinking they were joking. They weren’t. However, all they’d done so far was talk about the possibility of selling. She was certain that with a little time they’d regain their love for the boardinghouse and no longer be tempted to consider anything as drastic as that. In the meantime, she’d simply have to make sure nothing else went wrong.

The sound of the door opening startled her from her reverie just as a man stepped out onto the porch. It wasn’t merely any man, though. It was the pirate she’d noticed inside. A coat covered most of his costume now, but he still wore the unmistakable tricornered hat. He paused to remove it. His mask came off next. A soft gasp filled her lungs as the golden light of a nearby lantern illuminated his handsome features. Shock eased his name from her lips with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Rhett Granger.”

He spun toward her. His eyes widened as she stepped from the shadows. “It’s you. What— Why are you out here? In the cold porch. On the cold. In the porch. I mean...” He shook his head and gave up.

Tilting her head, she stared at him in confusion. Land sakes! What had happened to him all of a sudden? She hadn’t heard him stumble around with his words like that since he’d been sweet on Amy.

From what she’d seen, Rhett had been left truly brokenhearted by Amy’s elopement. Isabelle had gotten to know him relatively well in the few months since her best friend, Helen, had married his best friend, Quinn. Before then, she’d only really thought of him as one of Amy’s admirers. Now she knew for certain that he was as honest, trustworthy and honorable as his reputation said he was. He was also about ten times as exasperating—usually.

Tonight, his amber eyes showed a vulnerability she’d never seen before. It prompted her to offer a gentle smile. “It was getting a little crowded in there. What about you? Where are you going?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Home. I’m not really in a party.”

He didn’t seem to notice his mistake this time, and she didn’t have the heart to point it out. Stepping forward, she grabbed the lapels of his coat and rattled them lightly in an attempt to shake him to his senses. “But it’s New Year’s Eve!”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that.” He softened the statement with a teasing grin. She felt his chest swell against the coat as he took a deep breath, which made her realize she was still holding on to his coat. She immediately released it. Before she could step back, he’d taken off the coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. “You must be freezing.”

“I didn’t realize how much until now.” She snuggled into the coat’s warmth. “Thank you.”

He slipped his hands into the pockets of his black leather pants and tipped his head toward the door. “You should go inside where it’s warm.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Then will you at least allow me to walk you home?”

Suddenly realizing she still had her mask on, she lifted her chin. “Do you know where I live?”

She was really asking if he knew her true identity. He seemed to understand that because he stepped even closer. He lifted her chin to survey her more closely. She watched his gaze trail from the tip of her nose over her cheeks. It rested upon her lips for an interminably long time before dropping to her chin and returning to her eyes. It only seemed fair that she take the same liberties. The dark shadow of a two-day-old beard covered his square jaw, stopping right below his perfectly sculpted nose and cheekbones. His eyebrows were two thick slashes over his dark lashes. As she watched, the color of his amber eyes deepened.

Encircling his strong wrist with her hand, she tugged lightly. He released his hold. She stepped back and struggled to gather her thoughts. What had they been talking about? Oh, yes.

“Well? Do you know where I live?”

* * *

Rhett could do nothing but stare into the face of Isabelle Bradley. Had she felt it, too? There had been some kind of tug between them. He’d felt in that moment as though he could have done something crazy—like kiss her.

He’d noticed little things like the myriad shades of green that made up her eyes and how they shifted like when the sun hit the waters of a slow-moving creek. Her lashes were so dark brown they almost would have looked black if not for the hint of gold that shone in the lantern light. Her lips were pink and bow-shaped. He couldn’t help wondering if they were as soft as they looked. Startled by that thought since he had no business thinking it, he gave his head a little shake.

This was Isabelle Bradley. The woman had made no secret of the fact that she found him exasperating. In truth, that was no surprise because he’d tried his hardest to be exasperating. Something about her had always gotten under his skin. She made him uneasy—not in a way most women did that so often resulted in his stuttering and stammering. It was more akin to when he was at the forge waiting for something to reach the right temperature. That anticipation, that sense of knowing was the same. He merely hadn’t realized it until now.

“Rhett?” The impatience in her tone made him realize she was still waiting for an answer.

Of course he knew where she lived. A person couldn’t be in town more than a few minutes before hearing about Bradley Boardinghouse. It was one of the best and most reputable places to stay in Peppin. The only reason he wasn’t living there was because the man who’d sold him the smithy had offered him a cabin as a package deal. However, that didn’t mean he was going to let Isabelle know that he was onto her. He figured if Isabelle had wanted him to know who she was beneath her mask, she would have already told him. He didn’t see any harm in playing along with her. “Sure, but Egypt is pretty far away. Don’t you think we’d better start walking?”

The triumph in her smile told him he’d made the right choice. “Actually, I have a better idea. I don’t want to go back to the party and neither do you. So let’s don’t. Let’s go on an adventure instead.”

If he’d had any doubts to her identity, they would have been put to rest then and there. He only knew two women who’d suggest something like that. One was inside dressed like Cupid and attacking people with arrows. The other was standing before him on the porch with pure mischief in her smile. He lifted a brow. “Is that right? And what makes you think I’d go anywhere with you? If I remember my history lessons correctly, men who hang around Cleopatra for too long end up dead.”

She gave a delightful little laugh. “Oh, and associating with a pirate isn’t dangerous?”

“I prefer buccaneer, but you make a valid point.” He took her hand and pushed back the sleeve of his coat to reveal the set of bracelets draped around her wrist. He trailed a finger across the most expensive-looking one. It was gold with a set of emeralds. Realizing the clasp was slightly open, he eased it closed. “Perhaps you should reconsider giving a command like that when you wear treasure such as this.”

“There’s nothing to reconsider.” She affected a haughty tone to fit her character. “I’m not a woman whose decisions or opinions can be easily swayed by danger...or men.”

“An admirable quality in a queen to be sure. However, there is one small problem.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice to confide, “I’m not a man who’ll accept a command without question.”

“And what is your question?”

He broke from her gaze for only an instant before whispering, “Where are we going?”

That won him a smile. “If I told you that, it would take away part of the adventure. I can tell you a few things. It’s somewhere not far from here. Few people know about it. We will be able to view the fireworks undisturbed. How does that sound?”

Scandalous. Yet, it was hard to say no to that hopeful look in her eyes while she was all but swallowed in his coat. She was adorable and beautiful all at once. Furthermore, romance was in the air and he wasn’t panicking. He had no idea why that was the case, but he knew one thing. He wasn’t going to leave her side until he found out.


Chapter Two (#ulink_78f5bed6-c31b-5b39-8cee-f0b2200e2e1a)

Sometimes... Well... Rarely, Isabelle had an idea so brilliant she surprised even herself. As she stepped from the fire escape to the roof of the hotel with Rhett right behind her, she knew this was one of those times. Rhett didn’t seem quite as convinced. He frowned at the flat expanse that slanted only slightly toward the back of the building. “Are you sure this roof is safe?”

“Certainly. It was inspected only a few weeks ago. It’s in tip-top shape.”

He glanced at her curiously. “You know that for a fact? How?”

“I just do.” Her father was a silent partner at the hotel in addition to being the owner of Peppin’s best boardinghouse, but there was no reason to mention that and give a hint to her identity yet. “It sure is dark up here. I guess we should have picked up a lantern or a candle when we stopped to get my coat.”

He shook his head. “We wouldn’t want to chance a fire.”

“True.” The soft glow from the gardens below drew her toward the back edge of the roof. Suddenly, the cold wind changed direction with a mighty swirl that made her stretch out her arms and close her eyes. “Have you ever wondered what it would be like to fly? Imagine. The ground racing by beneath you. Nothing holding you up but air. It must be so freeing.”

“Yeah, we won’t be trying that tonight.” He caught her arm and guided her away from the edge.

“Am I worrying you, Rhett?”

“Not at all.” His nodding head belied his statement.

She laughed. “Well, if I can’t fly, how am I supposed to have my adventure?”

He thought for a moment then grinned. “I’ve never danced on a rooftop, have you?”

“Danced on a... No, I can’t say I have, but there’s no music.” Realizing she could still hear the faint strains of a reel from the ballroom, she amended, “Leastwise, none loud enough to be useful.”

He pulled his harmonica from his pocket, which she was pretty sure was its permanent residence. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“I didn’t.”

He ignored her. “Stay on this side of the roof if you want to avoid breaking your neck. How about a waltz—Chopin, Number Seven?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

It was. She shook her head when he began playing almost before she’d even finished talking. Her protests fled after his first few notes. They were soulful, smooth, lilting. Her lashes drifted closed without her permission as the passion he infused into each note enveloped her like a warm embrace. Before she knew it, the last note was fading into the night. She opened her eyes to find Rhett watching her with a bemused half smile tugging at his lips. “You didn’t dance.”

“That was... You...didn’t, either. Play it again, Rhett.”

This time she couldn’t break away from his riveting gaze as he started over from the beginning. She swayed in time with the music then smiled when he mirrored her movements so that it felt as if they were dancing together without even touching. The sway became a waltz. Isabelle spun, her skirt swirling out around her. Rhett brushed past her. Suddenly, they were waltzing around each other, nearly colliding at times but never touching, held only by each other’s gaze until Rhett drew out the last note long enough to give a deep, courtly bow. She responded in character with a regal curtsy.

A gust of wind swirled past her with enough force to urge her a step closer to Rhett, yet she hardly felt the cold as she responded to the warmth of his smile with one of her own. The faint sounds filtering up from the party below turned into a full-blown commotion. She forced herself to speak, though her words came out rather low and breathless. “I suppose it must be midnight.”

“Must be.” He tilted his head and lifted a brow. “There’s a small matter of tradition, you know.”

“Tradition?” She watched the focus of his amber eyes shift toward her lips. Realization spread through at the speed of her racing heart and instant blush. “Oh, I suppose there is. However, under the circumstances...”

He eased close enough that she had to tilt her head back slightly to look at him. She had a feeling she should step back, but the message didn’t quite make it to her feet, which stayed resolutely put. The moon drifted from behind a cloud to highlight the strong angle of his jaw and she got a little distracted. She’d been saying something. “What I mean is, I don’t think it’s necessary...”

A distant whine filled the air before a pop of sound and color filled the night sky. The fireworks were starting. She should point that out. My, but he was taking his time, wasn’t he? If he really was going to kiss her, why didn’t he do it instead of hovering a breath away and making her all sorts of confused? Her lashes fluttered closed of their own accord. His first kiss was featherlight and unsatisfyingly brief. Just as disappointment set in, he kissed her again. This time, pressing one hand against her back to draw her closer and tilting her chin upward. She leaned into him.

Light flashed against her closed eyes while a boom rattled the building beneath her feet. She assumed it was a side effect of the kiss until Rhett pulled her down to kneel on the roof beside him. Dazed, she stared up at the black sky as balls of colored fire rained toward them, out of control and dangerously close. She screamed as sizzling green light whizzed past her, then she covered her ears as the explosions continued. “What is happening?”

“The fireworks. They’re misfiring. We need to get off this roof. Now.”

He practically carried her to the fire escape. She tried to keep up with him as they began their descent but her skirt billowed in the wind, making it hard for her to see each step. Rhett offered her a guiding hand. She shook her head. “Go on ahead. You’ll make it down faster without me. I’ll be right behind you.”

He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you, Isabelle.”

“You’re part of the fire brigade. Someone may need help. Go!”

He hesitated only long enough to nod before taking off down the stairs.

* * *

Rhett hated to leave Isabelle behind, but she was right. He was a volunteer firefighter and, by the look he’d gleaned while they were on the roof, something had already caught fire from the initial explosion. Whatever it was looked to be close to his own cabin, which meant it was in a residential area. Someone could be trapped or hurt. Still, as he neared the bottom of the steep, winding staircase, he couldn’t help glancing upward to make sure that Isabelle was managing all right. She looked to be making a steady, if somewhat cautious, progress down the stairs.

Missing the next step completely, Rhett stepped into nothingness. He pitched forward, tripped down the next couple of steps and grasped the railing in time to keep from tumbling the rest of the way face-first. His panting breaths filled his ears along with the thundering of his racing heart. Pausing only an instant longer to regain his equilibrium, he marched back up the stairs to Isabelle. He ignored her startled look as he grasped her hand to help her navigate the last flight of stairs. “I almost broke my neck rushing down. There’s no way I’m letting you do the same.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, Rhett, did you hurt yourself?”

“I don’t think so.” A twinge of pain in his right ankle belied his statement, but he ignored it as they finally made it safely to the ground. He didn’t bother to release her hand as he led her toward the back garden gate. “Come on. I know a shortcut.”

They cut through the alley to the next street, where they merged with the stream of people rushing toward the fire. The whistling and popping of fireworks had faded away, leaving only shouts and confused murmurs to fill the night air. The pain in his ankle continued to build until it slowed his steps enough for Isabelle to notice. She latched on to his arm with her free hand as they wound through the crowd. “You’re limping.”

“I’m fine.” That wasn’t entirely true, but at the moment he didn’t care. They were getting close to the corner where he lived. Too close. He ignored Jeff Bridger, the local deputy, who was trying to keep everyone back, and pushed to the very front of the crowd. His stomach dropped all the way to boots then rose to his throat. He swallowed hard even as a groan filled his chest.

Isabelle’s voice seemed to come from a great distance. “Is it your leg?”

“No, that’s my house.”

He heard Isabelle’s gasp as she took in the sight for herself. Meanwhile, he could do nothing but stare at the bright orange flames that engulfed the entire front half of the structure. Plumes of smoke drifted upward to mingle with the night sky. Fanned by a gusting wind, the fire sent sparks spiraling toward the house next-door to his. The sight was enough to set him in motion. He stepped forward to speak with the deputy. “Jeff, have my neighbors been accounted for?”

“Yes, and they said you were at the masquerade.” Jeff must not have attended for he was dressed in his normal cowboy garb complete with a badge on his chest. “The sheriff was looking for you, though. I reckon he wanted to make sure you were safe.”

Suddenly, a musketeer and a man in a Renaissance costume broke free of the crowd. Deputy Bridger called out a warning to anyone who might try to follow them. Ignoring it completely, Rhett went after them, drawn by the urgency in their gestures. They stopped to speak to another musketeer who’d been dousing a pile of leftover fireworks. Rhett could only maintain his running stride for a few seconds before the pain in his ankle forced his steps to slow to a walk. That gave him time to recognize the voice of his best friend, Quinn Tucker, despite the man’s Renaissance costume. “There’s no time to argue. I’m going in.”

“I’m the sheriff of this town,” Sean O’Brien declared. “It’s my responsibility to keep everyone safe. I’m going, and that’s final.”

Rhett finally made it to the outskirts of their small circle. “How can y’all be arguing at a time like this? No one should be going anywhere until we put that fire out.”

The three men turned to stare at him with shock and relief plainly written across their faces. Quinn stepped forward to pull him into a bear hug. Rhett thumped him on his back more in an effort to knock some sense into him than anything. Having had enough of the display, Rhett stepped away only to have Lawson, the third man from the argument, slap him on the shoulder. “We were arguing about who would have the privilege of saving your hide.”

“My hide is fine, but I do appreciate your concern.”

Sean blew out a heavy breath of relief then nodded beneath his jaunty wide-brimmed hat. “We were afraid you might be trapped inside the house since you’d told Lawson and Ellie that you were going home early.”

“Oh.” Rhett glanced back in search of Isabelle, but she’d been swallowed by the crowd. “I meant to, but I got a little distracted.”

“Good thing, too.” Quinn crossed his arms and nodded toward the fire. They all turned to follow Quinn’s gaze in time to see the front of the house collapse in on itself. Rhett braced himself for the wave of despair that was sure to hit. Instead, he only felt the numbness of shock. That was probably for the best. Right now, his focus needed to be on others. “Was anyone else hurt?”

“My pa would know.” Lawson scanned the crowd, presumably for his adoptive father, Doc Williams. “I’m sure he’s here somewhere. I think I’ll scout around to see if I can find him or someone who might need him.”

“My house is a lost cause. Our focus should be on keeping the fire from spreading.”

Sean nodded, already backing away. “I’ll get some men to help me soak down the houses beside yours.”

Rhett glanced around for some way to be of use. “Come on, Quinn. Even if we can’t save the house, we need to keep the fire under control. Let’s join the bucket brigade.”

Quinn stopped him after only a handful of steps. “You’re limping. Why didn’t you say you were hurt?”

“I twisted my ankle on the way down the fire escape. That’s all.”

“Fire escape?”

“Yeah, I was on the roof with...”

Suddenly realizing the facts might sound a little less than respectable, he decided to stop talking. Apparently, the decision came a second too late for the confusion in his friend’s gaze had turned to speculation. “With a distraction? A female distraction perhaps?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Quinn lifted a brow. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

How could he when he hadn’t even had time to sort through it himself? He shifted his focus back to the fire. “There isn’t the time for that, Quinn. We need to find some way to help out.”

“What you need to do is sit down. I’ll find Doc. Meanwhile, you should resign yourself to staying with me and Helen for a while.”

“Staying with...?” He blinked, realizing he had no place to sleep tonight. “Y’all don’t have to do that. I can stay at the hotel.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know. But I can’t stay at your place long-term, anyway. Y’all are practically newlyweds. Besides, I’ve got a business to run in town. I need to be close to it.”

Quinn gave him a doubtful look. “Depending on what Doc says, you may not be running anything for a while. Now, will you go sit down?”

“No. I told you I’ll be fine.” Rhett did his best to minimize his limp as he walked to the bucket brigade. He didn’t want to sit down until the fire was under control, and he knew no one else’s house was in danger. He might be starting the New Year with nothing more than a pirate costume and a harmonica, but that didn’t mean anyone else should have to lose their home.

Knowing he’d be too slow to do much good at the front of the line, where men raced back and forth to the fire, he stood near the back and helped pass buckets down the line. It wasn’t something that took a lot of thought, so his mind strayed back to those few minutes when he was alone on the hotel roof with Isabelle. It had been beyond perfect. He hadn’t stammered or stuttered once as far as he could remember. He’d kissed her, though. He remembered that—vividly.

Had his prayers finally been answered, then? Had God taken away his impediment around women? What other explanation could there be for what had happened with Isabelle?

He couldn’t think of one. Of course, he wasn’t exactly of a mind-set to try too hard at it, either. With so much turning to ash around him, how could he not fan the few embers of hope still burning in his heart?

* * *

As soon as Rhett left her, Isabelle took off in the opposite direction. He might not realize it yet, but he was going to need someplace to stay. She knew exactly who could help him with that. She stumbled into that very man as she rounded the corner toward Main Street. “Pa.”

“Isabelle!” Her father pulled her into a tight hug then stepped back to look at her. “Are you all right? What was that sound?”

“I’m fine.” She told him about the fireworks exploding before explaining that Rhett’s house was on fire. “Surely, there’s something we can do to help him now that he has nowhere to go.”

For the first time since Amy’s elopement, she saw her father’s eyes fill with a mix of determination and purpose regarding the boardinghouse. “Of course we can. We have a vacant room. He’ll stay with us rent-free for a while.”

“Thank you, Pa. I knew you’d feel that way. The only problem is that he hurt his ankle in the rush to get to the fire. I’m not sure he’ll be able to make it up the stairs right now.”

“He can stay in my study until he’s healed a bit.” He gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “Go on home, sweetheart. Help your ma set up one of the extra mattresses in that room. I’ll see what I can do to help at the fire.”

She rushed home to do exactly that. When her younger sister offered to help their mother set things up for Rhett, Isabelle found herself returning to the fire. The scene was far less chaotic than when she’d left it. The volunteer fire brigade seemed to have everything under control, though they still battled to put the fire completely out. Bystanders, mainly women, watched in groups. Most still wore their costumes from the masquerade, but had taken off their masks. That helped her spot Helen and Quinn near the front of the crowd.

“I was wondering where you were,” Helen said as she gave Isabelle a quick hug. “Quinn and I have been trying to figure out what we can do for Rhett.”

Quinn grimaced. “More like, what he’ll let us do.”

“Where is he?”

Quinn nodded toward the fire. “He’s somewhere out there battling the fire even though I know he’s in pain. He says he twisted his ankle coming down a—”

Isabelle hushed him as she glanced around, half expecting to find her father standing behind her with a scowl on his face. Thankfully, he was nowhere in sight. He might be a little more reluctant to extend their family’s hospitality if he guessed she’d been on the hotel roof with Rhett. Her father had taken her up there before, and he’d never said that she couldn’t go up with anyone else. He’d only said she shouldn’t go alone. Of course, there was also the not-so-little matter of the midnight kiss she’d shared with Rhett. “I wouldn’t spread that around if I were you. It might get someone in trouble.”

Helen’s mouth fell open then curved into a smile. “It was you, wasn’t it? You’re the distraction Rhett told Quinn about.”

“He doesn’t know it was...” Her voice faded at the memory of Rhett’s words after the explosion. I’m not leaving you, Isabelle. Her mouth fell open. He’d known who she was. For how long, though? Since before the kiss? Surely not or he wouldn’t have instigated it in the first place. Quinn’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. She glanced up at him, not liking the thoughtful, speculative look in his eyes one iota. “Isabelle, maybe you’d have more success in convincing him to sit down and let Doc take a look at his ankle.”

“I doubt it, but I’ll try.”

He wasn’t in the bucket brigade anymore, but one of the other men was kind enough to point her in the right direction. She was glad to find Rhett off his ankle even if it was only because he had to kneel to work the handle of one of the town’s outdoor water pumps. He didn’t seem to hear her call his name as he determinedly filled buckets for the other men. She placed a hand on his shoulder only for him to shrug it off without looking. “For the last time, Quinn—”

“Rhett.”

He glanced up. His eyes widened then filled with warmth. He released the handle of the pump. Someone else immediately took his place as he struggled to his feet. His ankle gave way as soon as he put weight on it. Isabelle quickly slipped an arm around his waist to brace him. “You need to let Doc look at your ankle. Let’s find you someplace to rest then I’ll go get him.”

His lips pressed together in a grim line, but he agreed with a single nod. She guided him toward an out-of-the-way spot nearby. He put his arm around her shoulder, but barely put any weight on her as he limped toward the raised wooden sidewalk nearby. He gave one final hop then turned to sit down. Catching her hand before she could leave, he tugged it gently. “Wait. Sit with me for a minute.”

A protest rose to her lips. Then she looked into his eyes. She saw the intensity there. She realized he wasn’t trying to put off being seen by the doctor. He wanted to talk about their kiss. What was there to say? It had been a simple New Year’s Eve kiss between friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then why were her cheeks burning? Why was her heart fluttering? Why was panic seeping through her body? She pushed away those emotions with a lift of her chin as she lowered her gaze from his to their joined hands. His grasp was gentle, easily breakable. Yet, it held her like a butterfly caught in a net. “Rhett, we don’t have to talk about this.”

“I think we should.”

She glanced around to make sure no one was within listening distance before sitting beside him on the sidewalk. “It was merely a kiss. A simple mistake prompted by a silly tradition. I don’t expect anything more to happen between us. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“You don’t expect anything more or you don’t want anything more?”

“Is there a difference?”

“Yes. A big one. I didn’t expect to kiss you tonight. That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to or wouldn’t want to again.”

Her mouth fell open. “Rhett Granger, I’m surprised at you. If you think—”

“Well, good. I’m surprised at myself, too. You saw me with Amy. I was constantly tripping over myself, saying all the wrong things, outright panicking. I’m always like that when things turn romantic, but that hasn’t happened tonight with you.” His amber gaze captured hers, his bemusement obvious. “Not even before the kiss. Not even now. I was hoping that meant something.”

She stared at him as disappointment battled for dominance with whatever strange emotion made her heart flutter. She’d intended to write the kiss off as a mistake, hoping it didn’t mean exactly what he was saying it did—Rhett was no different that her sister’s other suitors, or her parents, or the town. He saw her as nothing more than a substitute for the woman he’d loved and lost to another man. Only this was even worse because he seemed to particularly appreciate the fact that he didn’t find her as attractive as he had Amy. What other explanation could there be for why he didn’t get as nervous around her as he did with someone he was actually attracted to?

He shrugged and ran his fingers through his hair as some of his boldness faded into a bashful smile. “Besides that, I thought tonight was pretty special—before the explosion.”

Her heart softened at his words. She didn’t want to admit it, but there was no denying it. “It was special.”

Unfortunately, that didn’t change anything. As flattering as his interest was and as sincere as he seemed to be in comparison to her sister’s other former suitors, she would still never be Amy—the one he truly wanted. She wasn’t even the mysterious Cleopatra he’d approached in the ballroom last night. She was simply boring, ordinary Isabelle. Once he figured that out, he was bound to be disappointed. She’d save them both a world of trouble by putting a stop to this right here and now.

Yet, how could she while looking straight into the hope in his eyes? Besides that, he was still in the midst of losing his home. It didn’t seem fair or kind to rebuff him right now. If only there was a way to help him find the relationship he was seeking—one that didn’t involve her. She froze as a sudden flash of insight showed her a perfect way to help him and distract him from any ideas he might have about her.


Chapter Three (#ulink_2f56adc0-8a92-592d-b686-bf60c845df0b)

“Courting lessons?” Rhett couldn’t contain the skepticism in his voice even as his heart sank in his chest at Isabelle’s suggestion. He knew from past experience that nothing proved a woman’s disinterest more than her trying to foist him off on one of her friends. It didn’t make a lick of sense in this instance, though, because Isabelle was interested. He’d seen it in her eyes during that first tug of attraction on the hotel porch.

Furthermore, she could say all she wanted about their kiss meaning nothing. That didn’t mean they hadn’t felt something. He knew for sure that he had and, if her response in that moment was any indication, she had, too. Why, then, was she so eager to pass him off to someone else?

He searched her face for some clue. Perhaps his question was written across his expression, for a blush rose in her cheeks. Her lashes lowered to guard her eyes. “We, um, don’t have to call it anything official like that. I’ll just try to help you overcome whatever it is that makes you nervous.”

“Why?”

Her gaze shot to his. “Why what?”

“Why do you want to help me?”

Her mouth opened then closed. “It’s the right thing to do.”

He narrowed his eyes, sensing there was more to it than that. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, so he guessed. “Are you sure it isn’t because my house is burning down and I twisted my ankle?”

“I’m sure.” A hint of a smile curved her lips at his doubtful look. “Well, that isn’t entirely the reason.”

“What’s the rest of it?”

“None of your business.”

She was definitely up to something. For some reason, he didn’t think it was entirely altruistic. He shrugged. “Well, it doesn’t matter. There’s no point in accepting your offer. The lessons wouldn’t work, anyway.”

“You don’t know that.”

Oh, but he did. Ellie had tried to help him and failed. Lawson’s advice hadn’t worked, either. The Bachelor List had been wrong. God seemed to have turned a deaf ear to his prayers for this area of his life. Then again, perhaps the problem was that he’d been depending too much on other people. Maybe he ought to see if there wasn’t something he could do to help himself. Something like courting lessons perhaps?

He sent her a sideways glance. “How would you be helping exactly?”

Her eyes went blank for a second. She blinked then smiled brightly. “Just leave that to me.”

“You have no idea, do you?”

“I have a few ideas.” She lifted her chin. “I need time to develop them.”

“Right,” he drawled.

She lifted a brow. “So you’ll do it?”

“How about you let me know what you come up with, and I’ll think about it?” That way he’d have an out in case he’d already tried whatever she came up with. There was no use repeating something that had already failed.

“Wonderful!” A delighted smile blossomed upon her lips before it eased into one of compassion. “I’m so sorry, by the way, about your house.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that you stopped me from going home early. More than my ankle might have been hurt if you hadn’t.”

Her eyes widened. “I hadn’t even thought about that. Oh, that reminds me. I was supposed to get Doc. Don’t move an inch, Rhett Granger. I’ll be right back.”

She kept her promise of returning quickly with the doctor. Quinn and Helen followed after them, along with a tall, bookish-looking gentleman with spectacles whom Rhett recognized as Isabelle’s father, Thomas Bradley. Everyone seemed to want to speak at once. Eventually, they all deferred to Doc Williams. “If his ankle is as swollen as I think it will be, we won’t be able to get that boot back on. It would be far better to have him settled wherever he’ll be staying while I examine him.”

Mr. Bradley nodded. “To the boardinghouse, then.”

“The boardinghouse?” Rhett glanced at the concerned faces around him in confusion.

Isabelle nodded. “We’re offering you a room at our boardinghouse. Isn’t that right, Pa?”

“It certainly is. Your first week with us will be free given tonight’s unfortunate circumstances. After that, you are welcome to stay on as a renter should you choose to do so.”

Helen’s empathetic gaze met Rhett’s and she nodded. “It would be a good alternative since you don’t want to live with me and Quinn. I felt right at home during my stay at the boardinghouse when I first came to Peppin. The Bradleys are wonderful people. I’m sure they’ll look out for you while you heal.”

“I definitely appreciate the offer.” He wavered about whether to insist on paying for all the time he’d spend there. Deciding he didn’t want to take the chance of offending the Bradleys by rejecting their kindness, he gave them a grateful nod. “What’s more, I’d be happy to accept.”

Quinn and Helen left to fetch Rhett some necessities. Isabelle led the way to the boardinghouse while Rhett followed with Doc and Mr. Bradley bracing him on either side. Rhett was ensconced in Mr. Bradley’s study by the time Quinn and Helen met up with them. They deposited the toiletries and other items gifted to Rhett by Johansen’s Mercantile before Doc shooed them out as he had the Bradleys. Rhett held back a groan as Doc carefully pulled the boot off.

After a thorough examination, Doc shook his head. “Well, Rhett, it doesn’t look like anything is broken. My diagnosis is that you have a severe sprain, which was probably made worse by your continued exercise on it during the fire. I’m going to leave a mild pain reliever with you. I’m sure my wife knows of a few natural remedies that will help you recover. I’ll send her by tomorrow.”

Doc’s tone turned as stern as his look. “The most important element of your recovery is rest. I want you to stay off your feet as often as you can for the next forty-eight hours. After that, you’ll need to use crutches for at least two weeks. You must allow the ankle to heal properly. Otherwise, you’ll be far more likely to sprain it again in the near future. Now, let’s get it wrapped and elevated.”

Rhett was silent as he let the doctor work. Inside, he felt far less compliant. He could manage two days away from work since one of those days would be a holiday anyway, but two weeks? How could he possibly keep the smithy closed that long? Yet what else could he do? How likely was it that he’d be able to walk back and forth between the forge and the anvil on crutches while handling metal hot enough to be malleable?

He shook his head. He’d have to take it one day at a time. Perhaps he’d recover more quickly if he was diligent in following the doctor’s orders and implementing whatever natural remedies Mrs. Williams offered. A few minutes later, he patiently listened to Helen’s admonishments to do exactly that. Quinn said his farewells and ushered his wife out of the room after urging Rhett not to worry. Mrs. Bradley bustled in to ask if he needed anything. She left a bell for him to ring if he changed his mind. Mr. Bradley gave him an old set of crutches he’d found in the attic and directions to the water closet should a trip be necessary. Finally, everyone went to bed and he was left alone with his thoughts.

They should have centered on the fire, his living situation, replacing his belongings, figuring out his work predicament or any number of things. Instead, his mind was filled with thoughts of one person—Isabelle. He punched his pillow and shifted around in a vain attempt to get comfortable. Why did he always do this to himself? Why did he always get his hopes up when he knew it never worked out? He’d truly thought this time was different. Not solely because he wasn’t nervous around her, but because she was something special.

Why hadn’t he realized that before? Perhaps he hadn’t been looking. He’d focused his attention on her sister because it had been easier to engage her interest—at least from afar. Isabelle was more of a challenge to get to know simply because she wasn’t quite as bold around men as her sister had been.

However, his relationship with Quinn and Helen had allowed him to spend more time with Isabelle. He’d found himself enjoying that time more and more.

She was interesting and witty. She didn’t mind his teasing and could give back exactly as much as he gave out. Yet, she seemed to have a sensible head on her shoulders—sensible enough to want to avoid a relationship with him. That was what she was doing, wasn’t it?

He assumed so. Although, he technically hadn’t asked to court her. She also hadn’t actually refused him. She could have easily made it clear that she would never have any feelings for him beyond friendship despite the kiss they’d shared. Instead, she’d simply changed the subject to finding him a different sweetheart—while holding his hand.

The more he thought about their conversation, the less sense it made. The more he thought about her, the less he wanted to give up on the idea of seeing where a romance with her could lead. Of course, he would never ignore the fact that she hadn’t agreed to a courtship. However, courting wasn’t the only way to get to know someone. They were living in the same house now. Surely, that would give them a chance to get to know each other better. Perhaps, after a while, she might be more open to the possibility of a courtship with him.

It seemed unlikely at this point. However, he’d do all he could to make it as difficult as possible for her to try to hand him off to someone else—even if that meant only being her friend for a while. He could be content with that. He could only hope he was right about actually having a chance with Isabelle one day.

If not, he was setting himself up for disappointment like never before.

* * *

Rhett had been right. Isabelle had no idea how to help him overcome his fear of women. She’d never call his problem that to his face. Essentially, that was what it was, though. She wished she’d been able to think of something other than courtship lessons to distract him from his interest in her. Taking responsibility for the success or failure of someone else’s love life was a lot to handle when she’d never even had one of her own.

“Is something bothering you, sweetheart?” Concern and amusement filled the Virginia drawl her mother hadn’t been able to shake after twenty-five years of living in Texas. “You’re awfully quiet this morning. Besides, if you rub that dish any harder, you’ll make a hole right through it.”

“Oh.” She glanced down at the serving plate she was drying off, then poured the scrambled eggs onto it. “It will just be extra shiny this morning, I suppose.”

Her mother’s searching blue eyes met hers. “You can talk to me about anything. You know that, don’t you?”

She knew her parents wanted her to feel that she’d be able to talk to them about anything. However, she couldn’t help feeling as though confiding in them would be dangerous. For instance, did they really want to know that she’d kissed a man on a rooftop last night? The same man, by the way, who was now occupying her father’s study? Absolutely, they would want to know that. What would it get them once they knew? A bunch of worry and anger, that was all. Rhett would end up on the street. Isabelle would end up in Virginia.

“Isabelle?”

Her gaze refocused on Beatrice’s. Thankfully, her father provided a timely distraction by entering the kitchen without his spectacles and with his vest unbuttoned. “I was getting dressed when I thought I heard Violet crying in her room. I asked her what was wrong through the door. She said something about her hair looking horrid and her dress being dumb. All I know is she’s going to be late for her book-club party, and I’m going to be late for my meeting at the hotel if she doesn’t come out of her room soon.”

Isabelle frowned then glanced at her mother. “Ma, you know I’m no good with hair. Amy always did mine for special occasions. Violet’s been so excited about wearing it up for the first time. I’d hate to bungle it.”

“Oh, dear.” Beatrice wiped her hands on her apron then removed it entirely and placed it on the hook beside the door. “I’d better go see what I can do. Thomas, you need to finish getting dressed so you’ll be ready to go when she is. Isabelle...”

Isabelle followed her mother’s gaze toward the breakfast they’d prepared. “I can handle this.”

Her mother gave her a grateful smile on the way out the door. Already buttoning his vest, her father followed Beatrice out. Isabelle was left to pull in a deep breath and figure out what was left to be done to get breakfast on the buffet for the boarders who should be wandering downstairs within the next few minutes. She’d just placed the last biscuit in a serving bowl when a knock sounded on the kitchen door that led to the dining room. She turned in time to see two of the boarders enter. “What are y’all doing in here?”

Hank Abernathy, a clerk at the hotel, grinned unashamedly. “We saw Mrs. Bradley go into the family wing of the house and thought you might need help carrying food into the dining room.”

“I’m surprised at you boys.” She crossed her arms and lifted a brow. “Y’all know the rules. Absolutely no boarders allowed in my ma’s kitchen.”

Peter Engel, who worked in the telegraph office, blushed bright red. He lowered his gaze to the floor as though wishing it would swallow him whole. Unable to let him suffer for long, Isabelle allowed a smile to warm her voice. “Now, take this food and get out.”

Peter’s head shot up. Hank chuckled as he stepped forward to take the serving plate filled with eggs and bacon along with a bowl of fruit. She gave Peter the pancakes and biscuits before following behind the men with the steaming carafe of coffee. Wesley Brice entered the room from the hallway as they placed the food on the large oak sideboard buffet. “What’s all this?”

She gave him a cheery smile but the Texas and Pacific Railway worker was too busy frowning at the other boarders to notice. “It’s breakfast.”

“I meant the rule breaking.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “Good morning to you, too, Wes.”

“Mrs. Bradley was busy,” Peter said, standing frozen with a serving spoon of fruit hovering above his plate. “Isabelle needed help.”

“She kicked us out of the kitchen right quick, too. She just sent the food with us on our way out.”

“Yes, but I forgot a few things. I’ll be right back.” Isabelle returned to the dining room a few moments later with butter, syrup, cream and sugar.

Wes poured exactly the right amount of cream and sugar into a cup of coffee before giving it to her. He then handed the cream to Hank and the sugar to Peter since they were already sitting down. Returning both items to the sideboard, he met Isabelle’s gaze with concern. “Where did you disappear to last night?”

A sudden vision filled her mind of Rhett’s amber gaze catching hers as they whirled around each other on a rooftop beneath a million stars. She shook it away and glanced back at Wes. Mindful that the other boarders were listening, she stalled to gather her thoughts. “What do you mean?”

“One second you were dancing with Mark Antony. The next, you were gone.”

“Oh. Well, Mark turned out to be Chris.” She paused to blow on the steam from her coffee as Wes grimaced, Peter lifted a brow and Hank shook his head in sympathy. The boarders always seemed to be around when her sister’s suitors decided to try to pay her court. It was downright embarrassing having an audience for those types of things. “Then, John Merriweather decided to cut in. Chris wouldn’t have it. They started arguing, so I left them on the dance floor.”

Hank toasted her with his coffee cup. “Good for you. I see why you would’ve wanted to make yourself scarce after that. You should have come to one of us, though. We would have been glad to dance with you.”

“Too glad, maybe,” Wes muttered as he threw a meaningful glance toward Hank and began to fill a plate with food.

Gabriel Noland must have heard the conversation out in the hall for he sent Isabelle a sympathetic glance as he entered the room. “I’m surprised Isabelle got to dance at all with you three standing around like guard dogs.”

Isabelle seized the opportunity to change the subject to something that might ease the odd tension filling the room. “And what were you doing all evening, Gabe?”

“I thought you might want to see.” He handed her the sketch pad that had been tucked beneath his arm. “The latest ones are near the back. I stayed up almost all night finishing them.”

Sitting in the nearest chair, she set her coffee on the table and wiped her hands on a napkin before flipping to the back of the book. Images from the previous night filled each page in startling detail since each could have only lasted a few moments at most. She was aware of Gabe taking the seat beside her, but didn’t bother to look up. The boarders had moved on to talking about the fire and Rhett coming to stay with them. She figured as long as she looked busy, no one would ask her any more questions that she’d rather not answer.

She froze as she recognized the tableau playing out before her on a page of the sketch pad. It featured her caught in the throes of indecision. Her hand was in the grasp of Mark Antony, who bowed over it with old-world elegance. Meanwhile, her gaze and attention were consumed by the pirate behind him. There was a shared longing on their faces that surely couldn’t have been there last night. Isabelle almost jumped at the sound of her father’s voice. “Are those your sketches from last night, Gabe?”

She casually turned back to a much less incriminating sketch of someone else as her father stepped up behind her. She lifted her gaze to Gabe’s, suddenly aware he’d been watching her reaction. Gabe smiled. “Yes, I think I’ll get several good paintings from my efforts last night.”

Her eyes widened then narrowed into warning slits. “In that case, why don’t I put this somewhere safe for you? We wouldn’t want it to get stained by being around all this food.”

“I’ll sit on it. How’s that?”

She had the distinct urge to pop him over the head with it. Gabe had no idea how blessed he was that her mother entered the room to distract her father with the news that Violet was ready to go. Beatrice decided to take a breakfast tray to Rhett. Isabelle would have volunteered to do it in her stead, but didn’t have the nerve to suggest it in front of Gabe. The boarders lingered over breakfast since none of them had to rush to work on a holiday. However, once the plates were taken to the kitchen, they all slipped away to their various amusements outside the house.

With the dishes washed, Beatrice pulled out her baking supplies. “Poor Rhett must be bored to tears in the study by now. Why don’t you play a game of spades with him or something? Be sure to leave the door open. I’ll join y’all in a little while. I want to whip up some plum pudding and a bit of wassail in case we get any callers.”

“All right, Ma. Let me know if you change your mind about wanting my help in here.” Isabelle removed her apron and gathered a deck of cards from the parlor. She was right about to knock on the study door when the front door opened and Violet walked into the foyer. Isabelle changed course to greet her. “Violet, how was your literary circle’s New Year’s Breakfast?”

“Positively exquisite.” The fifteen-year-old’s blue eyes danced as she removed her hat and scarf. “We’ve decided we’re going to have one every year.”

“And how did your hair turn out?”

Violet spun to show off the elaborate chignon. “What do you think of it?”

Isabelle winked. “Gorgeous, darling.”

“I’m almost glad Ma and Pa said I can only wear it up for special occasions. All these pins digging into my brain...” She gave a little shudder before shrugging out of a familiar navy coat.

Isabelle frowned. “I thought you were going to wear your new coat? It’s so much nicer than this old one. It was Amy’s first, you know—”

“Oh!” Eyes wide, Violet turned to stare at the floor by the front desk. “Oh!”

“What?”

Violet dropped to her knees by the coatrack. Her hands swept back and forth across the floor as she crawled toward the front desk. Isabelle watched mutely then glanced around to make sure that no one else was around to see her little sister’s strange behavior. “Violet?”

“Isabelle!”

Holding back a laugh, Isabelle knelt beside the desk. “What are you doing?”

“Did you find it?” Violet crawled from beneath the desk to search her eyes. “Did you find Ma’s bracelet—the one she lent you to wear to the masquerade?”

“Ma’s bracelet?” Isabelle glanced down at her bare wrist, remembering seeing Rhett push back the extra length of his coat sleeve to reveal the bracelet. She recalled the soft imprint of it upon her skin as he smoothed closed the clasp that had eased open without her realizing it. She couldn’t remember anything about it after that. She slowly shook her head. “I haven’t seen it since last night.”

Violet groaned. “Isabelle, I’ve done something terrible. Truly, I have. I was going to wear my new coat this morning, but Pa said it was too thin since it’s really only supposed to be a raincoat. He said I’d catch cold and made me come back inside to change. I didn’t want to go all the way to my room for my other coat, so I took yours.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“The bracelet was caught inside your sleeve. It fell out when I put your coat on. It slid across the floor and lodged halfway under the desk. I was in such a rush that I didn’t stop to pick it up. I just...left it there thinking no one would see it. I planned to get it as soon as I came back. Now it’s gone.”

A cold, sinking feeling settled in Isabelle’s stomach. “No, it has to be here somewhere.”

They searched every inch of space in the foyer but found no trace of the bracelet. Isabelle caught her sister’s hands to still their wringing. “Calm down, Vi. We need to think this through.”

“There’s nothing to think through. Bracelets don’t disappear. Someone must have taken it. It had to be one of the boarders.”

Isabelle shook her head. “We don’t know that for sure.”

“Well, I don’t have it. Neither do you. Pa left the house before I did. He hasn’t returned yet, so he couldn’t have taken it. Rhett can hardly walk. What about Ma? Have you been with her the whole time?”

“No. She brought Rhett his breakfast and retrieved the tray. Perhaps she found it.”

“Then wouldn’t she have mentioned it?”

Isabelle frowned. “Probably, but we should check her jewelry box to be certain.”

“And if it isn’t there?”

“Maybe whoever took it will return it. Meanwhile, we can’t let our parents find out about this. Or anyone else for that matter.”

Rhett’s voice filled the hallway. “Why is that exactly?”

Gasping, Isabelle whirled to find him balancing against the doorpost of the study with curiosity wrinkling his brow. She glanced back to exchange a panicked look with her sister. Violet recovered first. With a quick glance toward the kitchen, she caught Isabelle’s arm and towed her across the hall toward Rhett so they could speak more quietly. “Because if our parents find out there’s a thief in the boardinghouse, we might as well kiss Peppin goodbye.”

Concern filled Rhett’s eyes as he turned to Isabelle for confirmation. “You’d have to leave town?”

She nodded. “After Amy’s elopement, they said if anything else goes wrong, they’re going to sell the boardinghouse and move us back to Virginia, where they’re originally from.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” He frowned. “We need to figure out who took the bracelet and find a way to get it back.”

Violet wrinkled her nose. “How are we going to do that?”

“First off, y’all had better check your ma’s jewelry box like you said. The other thing we need to do is to keep a close watch for anyone behaving oddly or guiltily. Y’all would be better judges than me on that since I don’t know the other boarders well. Let’s see how all of that works out, and we’ll go from there.”

Isabelle nodded, then blinked, unsure of how “we” suddenly included him. She wouldn’t complain, though. Having him on their side was far better than letting him tell their parents about the missing bracelet the first chance he got. She could only hope that the three of them would be able to curtail this problem before it became a situation requiring her parents’ attention. The last thing she wanted to do was, as Violet had put it, kiss the boardinghouse and Peppin goodbye.

Of its own accord, her gaze drifted to Rhett’s smile. She shook her head to keep her thoughts from straying where they didn’t need to go. He caught her gaze and his eyes seemed to darken. She swallowed hard. She’d get the bracelet back, find Rhett someone else to court and her life would go back to normal. End of story.


Chapter Four (#ulink_049f8133-7d23-5379-979b-46d68520fa30)

Rhett hadn’t intended to eavesdrop on Isabelle and Violet’s conversation. It had simply been nigh on impossible not to since it had taken place only yards from the study door. Of course, once he’d realized what he was listening to, he hadn’t exactly tried not to hear it. He didn’t like the idea of the Bradley girls dealing with a possible thief by themselves, which was why he’d inserted himself into the situation. That and the fact that, prior to overhearing them, he’d been staring at the ceiling for thirty minutes after giving up on his attempts to read one of the few books he’d been able to reach. Being an invalid was duller than he’d ever imagined. He needed a project to keep his mind occupied.

Isabelle had checked her mother’s jewelry box, but the bracelet was still nowhere to be found. Knowing there was nothing else they could do to search for it at the moment, she and Violet stayed around to play a few card games with him. Eventually Mrs. Bradley brought his lunch and took her daughters with her when she left. Only a few minutes later, Isabelle returned to announce that he had a visitor. “It’s the sheriff. He’s waiting in the parlor. I thought you might be lying down and figured you’d want to sit in the chair with your leg propped up while you talked with him, like you did for our card games.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

After helping him get situated, she straightened the bed then sent him a pointed look on the way out. “I’ll go get him so y’all can talk about your business.”

He grinned, easily catching her subtle warning not to mention the thief. “My business, meaning not yours?”

“Exactly.” She smiled.

She was out the door before he had a chance to respond. Sean entered only a moment later, with a pair of freshly hewn crutches in his hand. “I come bearing gifts. Made them myself. Although, I see you’ve already got a pair.”

Rhett glanced at the set already leaning against a nearby wall. “They worked great in a pinch but they’re a bit too short for me.”

“I pegged you at about six-two and fashioned these accordingly. Want to try them out?”

“Sure thing.” He rose from the chair, where he sat with his leg propped up. Setting the new crutches in position, he moved back and forth across the room. “These are perfect, Sean. Thank you.”

“Glad I could help.” Sean waited until Rhett sat down, then took the chair opposite him. “I wanted to let you know what I’ve learned about what happened last night. It seems that a couple of teenagers weren’t satisfied with the fireworks display the town had planned, so they stockpiled enough for one of their own. They’d planned to set them off farther outside of town. However, the load fell out of the wagon right at the corner near your house. No one is sure how a spark hit one of the fuses, but it set off the whole lot.”

“I hope no one got hurt.”

“A minor burn here or there is all. It could have been a lot worse. As it is, the boys have been scared out of their wits more than anything.”

“I can imagine. It was scary enough as far away as I was. What’s going to happen to them now?”

“Setting off fireworks within the town limits is a misdemeanor, so ultimately that will be for the judge to decide. Do you think you’re going to press charges?”

Rhett grimaced. “They’re so young. I’d hate to do it.”

“I know. Unfortunately, their age doesn’t change what happened. People could have been seriously injured or even killed. Your house was destroyed. Several others were damaged. If you don’t bring charges, someone else probably will.”

“Yes, but those wouldn’t be as bad.”

“True. It’s up to you. Judge Hendricks is a fair man—kind, wise and has a knack for coming up with the right solution.”

“I’m sure he is, but I’m probably going to forego any legal proceedings. I had insurance on the house, so I ought to be all right without adding to whatever those kids will have to face from everyone else.”

Sean nodded. “Meanwhile, you have an army of volunteers working to clear the debris off your lot. Anything salvageable will be placed in boxes for you to look through later. Once that’s done, better prepare yourself for some visitors. I’m sure you’ll have a lot of folks dropping by to check on you.”

Though he was embarrassed at the thought of all the attention he’d be getting, Rhett couldn’t help but appreciate the way the town was rallying around him. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, what the others are doing now and all of the support I’ve gotten. Please, let everyone know that.”

“You’re our neighbor and our friend. It’s the least we could do. Actually, there’s one more thing. The town got together and... Well, here.”

Rhett took one look at the money inside the envelope Sean handed him and shook his head. “I appreciate this, but it isn’t necessary.”

Sean held up his hands when Rhett tried to hand it back. “Don’t give it back too quickly. You might not be able to work for a while. It might come in handy.”

“I’ll be fine.” Rhett frowned. “Tell you what. Why don’t we start a fund to buy a new fire wagon for the town with this money? That way the whole town would benefit.”

“You’re really going to refuse to take it?” At Rhett’s nod, Sean finally accepted the envelope. “Then I think your idea is a good one. This amount isn’t quite enough, but it’s a good start.”

“Maybe we can find some way to raise the rest of the money. We ought to do it soon, while the subject is on everyone’s minds. I’d suggest a benefit dance, but the town recently had a masquerade ball.”

“I think the church has the corner on the box socials, although it’s probably too cold for one anyway.”

“Yeah, the event would have to be inside.” His hand strayed toward his pocket, where his harmonica was safely tucked away. “We have a lot of talented singers and musicians in this area. Do you think folks would pay to see them perform?”

Sean grinned. “I do—especially if you were playing. I reckon we could draw a lot of people that way. With folks knowing what you went through, it would set their minds at ease to see that you’re all right. That’ll be particularly true once they find out you didn’t take any of their money.”

“I know I could rope Quinn into playing his banjo. Chris has his fiddle. In fact, I’m pretty sure everyone in his family plays some kind of instrument or another.”

“My wife is quite a hand at the piano,” Sean added.

“That’s a fact,” Rhett agreed, having heard Lorelei play nearly every Sunday at church. “I’d be happy to recruit talent, but managing the actual program isn’t exactly the kind of thing I’d be good at.”

Sean grimaced. “Me, neither.”

“Then who’s going to plan all of this?”

Sean leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Well, now, that’s a good question.”

“It seems like the kind of thing that needs a woman’s touch, doesn’t it? I’d hate to impose on anyone. It might be a lot of work.”

Sean nodded. “Ellie’s good at planning things. I’ll ask her. If she can’t do it, she might be able to point me in the direction of someone who can. I’ll send them your way to talk about the performers.”

“That sounds good.” Rhett moved to stand when Sean did, then smiled ruefully and settled back in his chair. “I’d see you out but...”

Sean grinned. “Don’t worry about it. Take care of yourself. Let me know if you need anything. I mean it, Rhett.”

“I will. Hey, before you go, you said the volunteers were putting anything salvageable in boxes for me. How much have they found?”

Sean winced. “What I should have said was if they find anything, they’ll put it in a box for you.”

“Meaning?”

“We haven’t found anything worth saving yet.”

Rhett sighed. That was disappointing, but pretty much what he’d expected. “I have a feeling I’m going to be starting over from scratch.”

“Perhaps. That doesn’t entirely have to be a bad thing, though. It’s a new start in a new year—a blank slate. You can make whatever you want out of it.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking.”

“Good.” Sean straightened to leave then hesitated. “Be encouraged, Rhett. God is going to bring something good out of this for you and your future. That’s who He is and how He works.”

Rhett nodded. Reading his Bible, growing up in church, watching the lives of other believers had given Rhett plenty of evidence that God had good plans for His people. Trouble was, in Rhett’s experience, God sure seemed to take His time when it came to working those plans out in his life. Rhett was tired of waiting for things to change and sick of depending on others to make it happen. If life was a blank page, then it was time for him to take the pen in his own hands and do a little writing. Whether that or even God would help still remained to be seen.

* * *

The bell on the front desk rang frequently to announce Rhett’s steady stream of visitors after the sheriff left. Isabelle didn’t mind because it gave her an excuse to watch the door. In truth, she was waiting for the boarders to return in the hopes that one of them would hand her the bracelet along with a reasonable explanation for having it. Gabe was the first to return. He absently tossed his coat onto the rack, muttered a quick hello and rushed up the stairs, already flipping through his sketchbook. She listened to his door ease shut and knew she probably wouldn’t see him again until supper a few hours from now. There was nothing strange about that.

She glanced up when the front door opened again and was relieved to see Ellie and Lawson Williams enter. As the town’s unofficial matchmaker, Ellie was exactly the person Isabelle should ask about the courting lessons she’d promised Rhett. She greeted the couple with a quick hug. “I’m sure you’re here to see Rhett. He’s right through that door and ready for visitors. Ellie, would you mind if I borrow you for a few moments before you leave? I need a bit of advice.”

“Well, now I’m too curious to wait. Why don’t we talk now?”

Remembering that Rhett had been able to hear her entire conversation with Violet earlier, Isabelle glanced toward the study. “All right, but let’s not do it here. The walls have ears.”

Ellie followed her gaze. “I’m guessing those ears belong to Rhett.”

Lawson grinned. “Why don’t y’all go for a quick walk? I’ll visit with Rhett.”

“Thanks, Lawson.” Isabelle quickly bundled up in her coat, hat and gloves before she and Ellie walked down the porch steps out onto Main Street.

Ellie slipped her hands into her pockets as she sent Isabelle a concerned look. “Is everything all right?”

She’d meant to keep the conversation light, but her response somehow came out a bit drawn-out and shaky. “Yes.”

Ellie frowned. “Isabelle, what is going on?”

Isabelle pressed her lips together. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

“Isabelle?”

“I kissed Rhett.”

Ellie stopped in her tracks in the middle of Main Street. “Wait. What?”

Isabelle closed one eye and winced before tugging her friend across the street to the courtyard. “I did. I kissed him. Well, actually, he kissed me. Or we kissed each other. I don’t know. It just sort of happened because it was New Year’s Eve. Then the world exploded. And I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

Ellie shook her head and waved her hands in random circular motions. “Whoa. Slow down. My mind needs to catch up with your words. You and Rhett kissed on New Year’s Eve. That’s...” Ellie nodded then grinned. “That’s wonderful. Hurray!”

Isabelle glared at her. “No! Not wonderful. Not hurray. This is bad.”

“It is?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

“There are so many reasons.” Isabelle shook her head as she led the way down a path strewn with dead brown leaves. “First of all, I don’t go around kissing men willy-nilly. That is not the kind of girl I am. Second, I had on a mask, so I thought he didn’t know who I was, but he did. He knew the whole time. Third, he’s living in the boardinghouse now, and it was my idea to have him there. Finally, if my parents find out any of this, they will not be happy at all. In fact, they will probably throw him out.”

Ellie grimaced. “Oh. Well, the only thing that really sounds like a problem is the part about your parents. The rest seems pretty romantic to me.”

Panic surged through her. “No romance. Absolutely not. This would be the worst possible time for one with everything so up in the air.”

“What is up in the air?”

“Nothing. Never mind.” Her parents were trying to keep their doubts about the fate of the boardinghouse in the family circle until a decision had officially been reached. “Most important, I refuse to even consider a man who was in love with my sister just a matter of months ago.”

“Hmm.” Ellie started walking again, albeit very slowly. “What does Rhett have to say about all of this?”

“He...” She could almost see the confusion and disappointment on Rhett’s face as she offered the courting lessons in response to his overtures toward...what exactly? She hadn’t let him finish. His words had started to sound too similar to what she’d been hearing from John and Chris, so she’d cut him off almost instinctively. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve made my decision.”

“I see.” Ellie’s knowing gaze said she probably saw far too much, at that.

“The reason I’m telling you this is because I need your help. Rhett’s a good man. He deserves to find someone.” She bit her lip. “What I mean is surely there is some other girl we can send his way to...”

“Distract him?”

“Yes!” Seeing the disapproving frown that earned her, she amended, “No. Ellie, you’re a matchmaker. Surely, you had someone in mind for him when you made the Bachelor List. I mean that’s what the list does, right? It pairs the town’s eligible bachelors with the women you think would be a perfect match for each of them.”

“Yes, that is what it does.”

“So?”

Ellie stared at her for a moment before shaking her head. “I’m no longer in possession of the Bachelor List. Quinn has it and refuses to give it back. He told me some nonsense about it belonging to the bachelors. He’s going to pass it along to someone else eventually, I suppose.”

“Well, we don’t need it. You created it, so you know everything that’s on it. Who did you match Rhett with?”

“That is a private matter between Rhett and me...and Lawson. Lawson knows.”

Isabelle lifted a brow. “And Quinn and whoever else happens to get their hands on that list.”

Ellie placed a calming hand on her arm. “Isabelle, I care for you dearly. You are one of my closest friends. However, I’m getting more than a little tired of being questioned about that list. My policy is not to discuss its contents with anyone. I’m afraid that includes you.”

“All right.” She pulled in a deep breath. “I understand. I won’t bother you about it again.”

“Good.”

Her mind scrambled to find some way around this new obstacle. “I’m all for letting Rhett choose his own woman anyway. At least, as long as it isn’t me.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Isabelle.”

“I am being honest. The real problem here, and the one I need your advice on, has nothing to do with the list. In a moment of desperation, I offered to help Rhett overcome his trouble with women.”

“Did you, now?”

Ignoring her friend’s smirk, Isabelle nodded. “Yes, I did. Unfortunately, I have no idea how to do that.”

Ellie sighed. “Well, I hate to tell you this, but I already tried to help Rhett. I didn’t end up making it any better. In fact, I’m afraid I might have even made it worse.”

“Oh.”

“Hold on. Don’t give up on me yet. Let me think about it for a minute.” Ellie bit her lip and stayed in deep contemplation as they passed the steps of the courthouse. It was only when they turned back toward the boardinghouse that the matchmaker spoke again. “Perhaps Lawson and I skipped a step when Rhett asked us for advice. We gave him tips on how to communicate better. I think the problem is he never gets that far. He just panics.”

Isabelle narrowed her eyes and bit her lip. “So we need him not to panic.”

Ellie nodded. “Figuring out why he does it and where that fear comes from might help him get over it.”

“How do I do that?”

“Get him to talk about it. Listen. Support and encourage him as he faces it.” Ellie shrugged. “That’s my best advice.”

Thinking over the list of duties Ellie had prescribed for her, Isabelle nodded. “I can do that.”

Ellie gave her a knowing look. “And you really want me to believe you’re doing all of this solely to distract him.”

“Well, I’m also doing it to help him, so my motivation isn’t entirely selfish...only partially.” Isabelle opened the boardinghouse door then leaned back against it to allow Ellie to enter first.

Instead of walking inside, her friend lingered. “Right. All I have to say is... Never mind.”

Isabelle narrowed her eyes at her friend. “What? Go on, tell me.”

That was all the encouragement needed to prompt a grin on Ellie’s face which was followed by a quick wink. “That must have been some kiss.”

Isabelle leaned back against the open door and stared after her friend, who soon disappeared into the study. “Honestly, Ellie, of all the nerve...”

“Amy!” a man’s voice called.

Her heart jumped into her throat as she glanced around in search of her sister. Instead, she saw John Merriweather walking up the path to the front porch with a box of candy in hand. She glanced around one more time to make sure she hadn’t missed anyone, then released the door to meet John at the porch steps. She frowned at him in confusion. “Did you call me Amy?”

“Did I?” He smoothed his flawlessly shaped mustache. “That was her favorite color, you know.”

She followed his gaze to her blouse—Amy’s blouse, to be exact. It was one of the many hand-me-downs she’d received over the years. “Yes, I know.”

“How is Amy, by the way?”

She stared at the man, feeling appalled. At least Chris and Rhett managed to call her by the right name. It was past time to put an end to John’s childish shenanigans. Pulling in a deep breath, it came out in a bit of a huff. “Married. Amy is still most definitely married. I expect she’ll stay that way.”

“Yes, of course. I only meant...” He trailed off as though he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d meant and in spite of herself, she couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.

“John.” She touched his arm to pull his dejected gaze from the ground. She tried to keep her tone kind yet firm. “I know that you were sweet on her in school, but that was a long time ago. She kept meaning to tell you it was over. She just never could turn down that particular kind of candy. At least, that’s what she told me. I need you to trust me on this. She moved on. Perhaps it’s time for you do the same.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “I am so glad to hear you say that, Isabelle. I’d started to think I wasn’t making any progress with you, but now I know that isn’t true. I’ll go straight in to talk to your father.”

Eyes widening, she instinctively cut him off as he made a beeline for the front door. “Wait. My father isn’t here right now. Besides, I didn’t mean you should move on with me. My feelings for you are platonic—strictly platonic.”

“Oh...” For someone who’d been all fired up to set their courtship in motion, he seemed unfazed by her rejection. “All right. If you don’t mind, I’ll keep the candy.”

“By all means.”

He tipped his hat and turned on his heel. She waited until he was a ways down the block before she rolled her eyes and shook her head. As frustrating as their exchange had been, it had still gone far more smoothly than she’d anticipated. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be back. That left Chris and Rhett. She hardly saw Chris because he stayed so busy helping with his family’s mercantile. She’d find some way to deal with him later if he persisted in pursuing her. For now, her focus needed to be on Rhett. Or, rather, on finding someone else for him.

Despite Ellie’s comments, she would not fall into the trap of thinking about that kiss. It wouldn’t be happening again. The best thing she could do for Rhett and herself was to get started on those courting lessons—as soon as possible.


Chapter Five (#ulink_c28924fa-1245-5e82-8a52-56e4b697f02c)

Rhett waited with bated breath as Doc surveyed his ankle the following afternoon. The man gave a satisfied nod before rewrapping it. “Rhett, this looks much better. I can tell you’ve been following my orders, because the swelling has gone down considerably. You can move about the house on your crutches freely now.”

“Thank you. Much of the credit for my condition goes to the Bradleys. They’ve taken excellent care of me over the past day and a half.” Rhett glanced over Doc’s shoulder to where Mrs. Bradley stood by the desk and gave her a grateful smile.

The woman had been particularly diligent in making sure he’d had everything he’d needed to be comfortable in the makeshift bedroom the study provided. She hadn’t budged one bit when he’d tried to convince her it would be all right for him to join the other boarders for supper last night or breakfast this morning. He’d dearly wanted to look each man in the eye for any sign they might have betrayed the trust of Isabelle’s family. Instead, he’d had to be content with the Bradley girls’ description of a normal boardinghouse supper where everyone had behaved as they usually did. The investigation for the missing bracelet wasn’t getting off to a very auspicious start.

Violet was determined to find out who’d seized upon her mistake of leaving the bracelet lying on the floor. Isabelle still seemed to be hoping this was all some kind of misunderstanding. Rhett simply wanted to find some way to be useful. He’d found that if he leaned to the left in his bed a bit, he could catch a glimpse of his blacksmith shop through the trees in the courtyard. The sight of it closed up was near torture since most of the other businesses in town had reopened after the holiday. He still wasn’t sure when he’d be able to open his doors again. Perhaps he’d have a better understanding of that once he was used to walking on his crutches.

For now, he’d be glad for the chance at a change of scenery. As grateful as he was that he’d been allowed to sleep in the study, he was determined to return the full use of it to Mr. Bradley. Rhett had hardly seen the man since moving in and couldn’t help suspecting it was because he’d commandeered the man’s workspace as a bedroom. “Doc, is there a way to use the crutches to go up and down the stairs?”

“There certainly is.”

Mrs. Bradley’s eyes widened. “Rhett, I know we said you’d move upstairs eventually, but we don’t want you to do anything dangerous.”

Doc handed Rhett his crutches. “It’s actually quite safe once you get the hang of it.”

At the base of the stairs, Doc showed him how to plant his crutches on the ground then push off them to place his uninjured foot on the next step. Rhett went up the entire staircase that way. Once he reached the top, he found a long hall lined with doors. Violet exited one to his right then froze when she caught sight of him. Her eyes widened as she glanced toward the stairs and placed a finger in front of her lips.

All right, then. Rhett tried not to visibly react to her warning as he turned to look down the stairs. “Doc, how do I get down from here?”

In the corner of his eye, he saw Violet frantically shake her head at him. She needn’t have feared because Doc only mounted the bottom few steps. “It’s the same process, but in reverse. Plant your crutches on the next step then set your foot down. Be careful not to swing out.”

Rhett did as the doctor said and soon reached the bottom. He thanked Doc Williams for his help. After the man took his leave, Rhett turned to Mrs. Bradley. “I’d like to practice that a few times.”

“Go right ahead.” She glanced up at the ceiling. “Isabelle thought you might be ready to move upstairs, so she’s preparing a room for you. It’s the second door on the right. I’d better check on Violet. She’s keeping an eye on supper for me. It should be ready soon. We’d be happy to have you join us at the table.”

“Thank you. I’ll do that.” He started up the steps while Mrs. Bradley turned to go across the hall to the kitchen. He forced himself not to rush as he moved up the stairs. Once he reached the second floor, he motioned Violet over. “Your ma is looking for you in the kitchen. You’d better get down there. Where’s Isabelle?”

She pointed to the room she’d been standing outside of then rushed down the stairs. Rhett swung himself down the hall past the room Isabelle was supposed to be preparing for him and pushed open the door Violet had indicated. Isabelle was peering into a box as she sat in the middle of the room with a full bottle of whisky in one hand and a bottle of gin in the other. She set them aside and glanced up, clearly expecting to see Violet for her green eyes widened upon meeting his. “Rhett, what are you doing here? What did you do with my lookout?”

“I sent her downstairs because your ma was looking for her. A better question is what are you doing in here?”

“I’m searching for the bracelet, of course.” She nudged a few things around in the box. “All the boarders are at work except for Gabe. He works in his room, but he’s so focused that he hardly notices anything.”

“You do know it’s getting close to supper, don’t you? The other boarders will be back any minute.”

“That’s all right. I’m done here.” Giving the box one more cursory look, she replaced the bottles before sliding it under the bed. “I may not have found the bracelet, but this stash of liquor doesn’t speak well for Hank’s integrity. He knows it’s against the rules to have it here.”

Rhett tensed when he heard the sound of the front door opening followed by male voices. “Isabelle, someone’s here.”

She jumped up from the floor. “Head toward the stairs.”

He backed up and nearly stumbled over his crutches in his haste. Righting himself, his crutches clacked a quick rhythm on the hardwood floor as Isabelle closed Hank’s door and locked it. The voices grew louder. A fleeting touch of Isabelle’s hand on his back was the only warning he received before she slid to a stop in front of him. He channeled his forward momentum into a hop. She braced her hands against his chest to keep him from mowing her down. Footsteps sounded on the stairs. He planted his crutches on the ground and had just stopped swaying when a man reached the top of the stairs.

Isabelle released him and reached for the doorknob. “Rhett, this will be your room. Oh, hello, Hank.”

“Isabelle.” A man with gunmetal-gray eyes and light brown hair grinned at her before extending a hand to Rhett. “I’ve seen you around town, but I don’t think we’ve officially met. You must be Rhett Granger.”

Rhett shook his hand. “I am. And you’re Hank.”

“Yep. Hank Abernathy. It’s a pity about the fire.” The man glanced down to the spot where Isabelle’s hands hand been an instant ago. He lifted an eyebrow and his smile turned a bit sly. “Glad to see you’re doing all right.”

“Thank you.”

The stiffness of Rhett’s response didn’t seem to bother Hank. The man tipped an imaginary hat. “See y’all at supper.”

Rhett waited until the door closed behind Hank to meet Isabelle’s gaze. As one, they sagged in relief. He lowered his head and whispered, “I don’t like him.”

“Oh, he’s not so bad,” she whispered back, then grimaced. “At least, I don’t think he is. The liquor smuggling does give me pause.”

Rhett heard the footsteps on the stairs and suddenly realized how close they were standing. He straightened. Isabelle stepped back. They were both a second too late. Although he hadn’t exchanged more than a few passing pleasantries with the man walking toward them, Peppin was small enough for Rhett to know his name was Wesley Brice and he worked at the T&P Railway in some capacity. Isabelle greeted him. He nodded in return, but pinned Rhett with a steely glare before entering a room down the hall.

Tilting her head, Isabelle bit her lip. “I have an idea. How about I go downstairs before we get into any more





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