Morrow Creek Runaway. Lisa Plumley
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pretending not to know him. The warier she was, the warier he felt he had to be. “I plan to stay in Morrow Creek.”
Her pleasant expression didn’t waver. “For how long?”
“For however long it takes.”
Rosamond blinked. “I see. And your name...?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Yes. He felt markedly better. “Unless that’s a requirement for admission into your marriage bureau?”
She frowned, clearly taken aback by his mention of it. “It’s called the Morrow Creek Mutual Society. As far as admission goes, I should warn you, it’s extremely rigorous.”
“If it will help me woo the woman of my dreams, you can call it anything you want.” Miles rose. He took his black coat from the coatrack, put it on, then grabbed his hat. “I’ve learned all I need to for now. I’ll be back later to apply.”
Rosamond seemed perturbed. “You might as well not bother. After all, you’re off to a very poor start. You’ve already appeared here intoxicated, discussing your underdrawers! That’s not behavior that’s indicative of my approved members.”
He couldn’t help grinning. He turned to confront Miss Yates. “Miss Yates, do you agree with that assessment?”
That saucy woman whipped her abstracted gaze from the vicinity of his trousers. Caught, she grumpily shoved his open valise at him. Clothing and train tickets bulged from it.
“I agree that you’re suspiciously eager to find a wife,” Miss Yates told him. “You don’t look like the marrying kind.”
“I didn’t feel like the marrying kind until I got here.” Until I found Rose. He offered them both a raise of his eyebrow. “I guess I should thank the little something ‘extra’ in that tea you dosed me with. It’s made me into a whole new man.”
Rosamond’s concerned gaze shifted to Miss Yates. Aha. Then her assistant was the one who knew how to drug a man and search his belongings, all while keeping him curiously complacent.
He’d already suspected what kind of women Rosamond had found herself keeping company with, given the line of business he’d learned Elijah Dancy had been in. Miss Yates’s next words confirmed it. Because only a soiled dove would have known...
“A little laudanum never hurt a man,” she grumbled in her own justification. Accusingly, she pointed at Miles. “I mean, yes, it can render a fella mostly harmless in a hurry. But it sure never made any man I used it on want to start proposing!”
“All right. That’s enough, Miss Yates.” Rosamond smiled at her assistant. Unrepentantly, she regarded Miles. “If you’d like to report our misdeeds, Sheriff Caffey’s jailhouse is right down the street. I think you’ll find yourself an ally in suspecting us of some rather serious wrongdoing in this household.”
Holding his hat, unwilling to leave but knowing he had to, Miles angled his head. “Does that include the children?”
Rosamond lost a fraction of her self-assurance. Clearly, she’d believed he hadn’t noticed the children who’d been playing in the house’s yard. He’d heard them when he observed the place.
Arvid Bouchard would have been very interested in the children—in the possibility of Rosamond having had a child.
Miles was curious about that possibility, too. But not for Bouchard’s sake. For his own sake. For his own future. For hers.
Just like Rosamond, Miles had left their former employer behind. All that bound them now was the sum of money Miles owed.
“It sounds as though they range in age. How old are they?”
“That, sir, is none of your business. I think it’s time you left us.” Briskly, Rosamond stood. “The door is this way.”
Her manner was brusque as she passed him. Her rosy perfume haunted him, though. Again, he felt desperate to touch her.
In the past, he’d touched her, Miles remembered. Casually and only infrequently, but he’d touched her. She’d touched him. Their hands had brushed while exchanging apples for the horses or trading the burden of the coal bin. Once, memorably, Rosamond had brushed a hayseed from his cheek. When she’d done that, Miles had felt something. Something good. He believed Rosamond had, too. That was part of what had driven him here.
Two thousand miles was a long way to go not to touch a woman.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he told her.
“You haven’t upset me.” The new color in her cheeks told him otherwise. So did the firm line of her mouth. “I’m fine.”
“In that case, you won’t mind my calling again tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“To collect all the details of admission to your society.”
“You were serious?”
“About this?” Miles gazed directly at her, putting every ounce of longing he felt into his voice. “I’ve never been more determined to accomplish anything in all my life.”
Their gazes met. For a moment, she seemed as affected by their unacknowledged reunion as he was. She seemed to remember their shared conversations, their shared laughter, their past and their friendship and all the rest. Then, “I think you’ll find this is a more daunting task than you’ve counted on.”
“I live for daunting tasks. And for conquering them.”
“You sound entirely too confident.”
“You must have forgotten exactly how intent a man can be when he’s fixed on getting something he wants.”
“No. I haven’t forgotten that.” Crisply, Rosamond nodded at him. She stepped resolutely away. “Judah will see you out.”
As her guard approached, Miles felt bereft.
“And tomorrow?” he persisted.
“You won’t be back tomorrow.” Rosamond didn’t so much as turn to face him again. Instead, she busied herself collecting the teapot and saucers on a tray. “You’ll decide this is all too much trouble, and you won’t come back. Most people cannot be relied upon, but their base selfishness can be. I know that much for sure.”
“Then you don’t know me.”
At that, Rosamond did scrutinize him. Briefly. “Maybe I don’t. Now that you’re here...maybe I don’t know anyone as well as I thought I did.” She appeared on the verge of elaborating, then did not. Instead, she said, “Good luck to you.”
“Good luck to us both.”
A faint smile. “Now I know you won’t be back.”
“The devil couldn’t keep me away.” Miles aimed a sidelong glance at Miss Yates. “Nor could any of his minions.”
That cheeky woman actually giggled. Despite everything, Miles began to believe he could succeed here, with Rosamond, in her new life.
“We are finished,” Rosamond said firmly. “Please leave.”
Then again, Miles concluded...immediate success might prove to be elusive.
* * *
The door had scarcely closed behind her visitor before Rosamond raced to the window to watch him leave. Bonita was only steps behind her, both of them battling to move the curtains.
As one, they watched him study the small Morrow Creek street upon which her house stood. Then he shouldered his untidy valise and moved confidently in a singular direction.
“He’s headed for Miss Adelaide’s boardinghouse,” Bonita announced, her breath all but fogging the window glass. “That’s odd. With all those greenbacks in his bag, he can afford to stay at the Lorndorff Hotel for a month, at least.”
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