Mail-Order Bride Switch. Dorothy Clark
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added the coal, adjusted the draft on the heating stove and strode the short distance to the public dressing room. The last train had gone through an hour ago. There would be no guests tonight. But it was too cold to shut down the water heater and the stove. He heaped coal into the fireboxes, adjusted the drafts and went back to the lobby. Now he was married to a dishonest impostor! A woman who didn’t even know how to tend a fire!
I have added wood to the hearth...on occasion.
He let out a snort and sat on his heels on the hearth to bank the fire. Not only was his bride ignorant of tending a fire, she was so slight she could never carry the buckets of ashes that would have to be taken outside every day when the hotel had guests. He could blow her over with one good strong puff from his lungs. He would have to hire a Chinese laborer from the railroad work crews to handle the heavy work. If they weren’t all off searching for gold.
He stilled, staring at the burning embers he’d gathered into a pile. Virginia was a plucky one, though. She’d gone out into the storm without complaint. And she was pretty, in a pale, scared, taut-faced sort of way. Did she know how her bright blue eyes reflected her emotions? They flashed with anger, darkened with fear, sparkled with interest and warmed with friendliness. And her long curls, so soft and silky even when they were covered with snow... His fingers twitched on the fire rake handle. Keep your mind on your business, Stevenson!
He frowned and hung the rake on its hook, lifted down the shovel and scooped ashes over the embers. He was a man. How was he supposed to forget the feel of her hair, or her lips? He should have made some sort of excuse to avoid that kiss. It would take some doing to forget how her soft lips had trembled beneath his. Five years...he had to stay married and live with her in Whisper Creek for five years before his hotel was safe. He never should have signed that contract!
The wind moaned outside. He rose, closed the damper to a narrow slit for the night and walked to the front windows. Splotches of light from the oil lamps on the porch roof glowed on the snow swirling at the caprice of the wind. But the storm was easing. Perhaps some of the passengers on tomorrow’s trains would decide to stay over. That is, if the trains could get through the snow in the mountains.
He stared at the outer edge of the porch, watched the snowflakes falling through the sweeps of golden light. There must be close to twenty inches of snow by now, and the fall had to have been heavier at the higher elevations. And there was that big curve through the narrow gap in the mountains just before the trains entered the valley. If that filled in—no. The trains would plow through the snow with those big blades on the front of the engine he’d heard called “cow catchers.”
He raked his fingers through his hair and went to snuff the wicks on the oil lamps of the chandelier over the lobby desk. Guests or not, tomorrow would be a busy day. He had a lot of shoveling to do to clear the porch and steps and walkway. Shoveling...
He looked back out the windows toward the railroad station. Who would clear the road so supplies or brave passengers still riding the trains could reach the stores and businesses? His lips curved in a wry smile. Given the limited population of Whisper Creek, he was fairly sure he knew the answer to that question. At least Virginia could prepare the rooms and tend to any guests while he was working outside. Maybe.
Could the woman cook? He’d gotten by with the few guests he’d had thus far by fixing ham, eggs and coffee for breakfast, and beef stew for dinner and supper. The fresh-baked bread he bought from Ivy Karl was the saving grace of his meals.
He started for his office to make out an order for more supplies.
* * *
Virginia clasped her toilette items in her hand and pressed her ear to the door. All was silent. She lifted the latch, eased the door open and ran the few steps from the dressing room to her bedroom door, her heart pounding. The lock clicking into place calmed her. She hurried to the dressing table, set her things down and sank onto the matching bench. Garret had said the dressing room had every comfort, and he was right. Oh how she wished to have a long, hot soak in that big tub. But she didn’t dare chance it.
Coward. She turned from her image in the mirror, reached up and pulled out the combs at the crown of her head. Her long curls tumbled to their full length halfway down her back. She ran her fingers into her hair at the roots, shook it loose and picked up her brush. The howling of the wind had stopped. She crossed to the window by the head of the bed, leaned over the nightstand and cupped her hands against one of the small glass panes. It was too dark to see if the snow had stopped. Not that it mattered. She had run from Emory Gladen and his veiled threats, had run as far as she could go.
You’re mine now, Virginia. You have no choice. Your father has given his blessing to our marriage and will disown you if you defy him. I look forward to our union, my dear.
She shuddered, scrubbed at her mouth. Emory Gladen’s kiss had bruised her lips, made her sick. And the hurtful pressure of his hands gripping her, holding her tight against him...she stared out into the darkness. Was he searching for her? He’d warned her he’d never let her go.
Well, you don’t have to be concerned about the suitor any longer.
She closed her eyes, thought about Garret’s words. What he said was true. She was safe, even if Emory found her. She was married. Emory was out of her life forever. But Garret...
Her breath caught. So far, Garret had been polite and thoughtful, in an impersonal way. Except for his kiss. That was troubling. Why hadn’t he made an excuse to avoid it?
She shoved the disquieting thought aside and brushed her hair. What would happen tomorrow? When should she rise? She was accustomed to being awakened by Millie bringing her a cup of tea, then laying out a gown for her that would suit her activity for the day. An image of Garret carrying two cups of coffee into the sitting room flashed before her. Did he even have tea? Of course he did. This was a hotel.
Her hand paused midbrush. She’d forgotten that. Yet she needn’t concern herself about tomorrow morning. Garret’s hotel maid would start work early. She would order her breakfast then. They served lovely breakfasts at the Astor House, not that Garret’s hotel compared to the luxurious Astor House. Why, this room was—not part of the hotel. These were his private rooms. Well, no matter. She would manage in the morning and then explain her likes and dislikes to his hotel maid over breakfast.
She went to the dressing table, put her brush down and tied her hair back at her nape with a ribbon that matched her velvet dressing gown. Exhaustion from the stress of the day hit her. She rubbed her tired eyes, snatched up the clothes she’d tossed onto the bed, and looked around. She would need to wear her brown wool gown again tomorrow. The dresses in the valise would be too wrinkled. They needed the maid’s attention before she could wear them.
She carried her dress and petticoats to the wardrobe, opened the doors and hung them inside. Her valises she shoved against the wall. She pushed down on the bed, smiled at its softness, removed her dressing gown and pulled back the coverlet on the bed and stared. Where were the linens and blankets?
She frowned, grabbed her dressing gown and swirled it back around her shoulders. Where would she find a maid to make up her bed? Dare she go looking for one? She stared at the bare mattress, then glanced at the door. She had no choice.
She slid back the lock and opened the door a few inches to look out. Light from two of the sconces glowed on either side of the large, double-door cupboard. Garret’s words popped into her head.
I forgot to tell you the linens for your bed are in the cupboard in the hall.
Why—she caught her breath. Surely he didn’t mean for her to make her own bed! She couldn’t do that. She fastened the buttons on her dressing gown, listened to the silence a moment, then stepped out of her bedroom. The hem of her velvet gown whispered against the floor. She hurried to the end of the short hall and looked out. The sitting room was empty. She stared at the open door beside the fireplace, tiptoed over and looked into the adjoining room. It was dark on her left, but she made out the form of a table with chairs. A dining room?
She edged forward and peeked around the shelves on her right. Dim light