An Arranged Marriage. Susan Fox P.
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in their far-flung family had seemed to want her, but Aunt Pet had.
Petula’s motivation to take her in had far surpassed her sense of duty to raise her younger brother’s only child. Petula had genuinely loved her and wanted her, and somehow she’d managed to soften the pain of the incredible loss Allison had suffered and brighten the life of a grief-stricken child.
Not surprisingly, Allison dearly loved her aunt, and Petula’s happiness and well-being were even more important to her than her own.
And because it was suddenly all coming home to Allison that the bank was much worse off than she’d thought and that Aunt Pet seemed even more upset in her own way than Charles had been, Allison couldn’t help feeling a little desperate. Finally she spoke.
“Is the bank truly so bad off that I might need to…” Her voice drifted off. Somehow she’d not been able to say the words “marry Mr. Sumner.” “Forgive me, Auntie, but I’m…stunned.” Her soft words seemed to increase Pet’s distress.
Petula’s blue gaze lifted to hers and welled tragically. Before she could speak, Allison quickly stood and rounded the table to sit with her aunt and take her small, beringed fingers in hers.
“Aunt Pet?”
Petula squeezed her eyes shut and a tear slipped down her pale cheek. Her choked, “I’m afraid the bank is quite bad off,” was the prelude to more tears.
Stricken by her aunt’s distress, Allison hugged Petula and felt tears sting her own eyes. Aunt Pet rarely cried. She was always pleasant and mild-mannered, and considered strong emotional displays a breach of etiquette.
Pet returned her hug almost fiercely. When she managed to get control of herself, she leaned back to lift a trembling hand to Allison’s cheek.
“Oh, my sweet girl, the last thing I want is for you to marry some Neanderthal, whose only claim to respectability is that he’s savvy enough to use his new fortune to buy it.” Her fragile features stiffened and her pale cheeks flushed with fresh spirit. “I don’t care if the bank closes and Charles loses everything. There must be some other solution than to condemn you to a loveless marriage to a cowboy.”
Secretly Allison was heartsick. In spite of Pet’s declaration, she was suddenly terrified that marriage to Blue Sumner would turn out to be the only solution to the bank’s problems. Even worse, she was afraid that marrying Blue Sumner would turn out to be no solution at all.
Two days later, Allison found herself back at the Sumner Ranch in the late afternoon. Her aunt was now bedridden with nerves. Dr. Evans had been out to see her, but other than assuring them that Pet would be all right and that she’d probably be up and around soon, there’d been no substantial change in her condition.
The situation at the bank was little better. Charles hadn’t missed an opportunity to pressure her, and her own secret feelings of guilt about John Blake had worn her down. Finally she agreed to go to the Sumner Ranch to speak again with Blue.
Charles had assured her that he’d already phoned Blue and had, he claimed, smoothed things over. Allison couldn’t imagine that it had been that simple. If Blue had any pride at all, giving a woman a second opportunity to turn down his marriage proposal would be anathema to him.
Allison’s own pride was choking her. It was bad enough that she was virtually being sold. It was even worse to have to humble herself and drive out to the ranch to grovel before a man who might delight in turning the tables and rejecting her.
Two days ago, she would have rejoiced at the notion that Blue would lose interest in marrying her. But after two days of Aunt Pet’s depression and distress, Allison realized she was willing to do anything to help her aunt recover.
For all Pet’s talk of wanting to spare her an arranged marriage, Allison was beginning to believe it was impossible to save the bank any other way. Pet had been born to wealth and had lived an upper-class lifestyle. Allison knew well the terror of the rich when it came to thoughts of losing their fortune.
And Pet’s fear of public scandal was almost pathological. If the bank failed, Charles would naturally be considered responsible. His judgment would be suspect because of his failure to notify the proper authorities in a timely manner, and therefore his financial reputation would be sullied. Allison had no idea how it would all impact their personal finances, but the chance that it might prove disastrous was enough to make her take this desperate step.
Aunt Pet had loved her and given her a good home with all the financial advantages a child could possibly have. Allison would never be able to repay her Aunt’s generosity but, as Charles had so brutally pointed out, marrying Blue was her one grand opportunity to do so.
And so she walked up the sidewalk to the veranda that surrounded the new mansion. Today was Sunday, so there were no workers around. Though she was naturally apprehensive about being alone with Blue, in many ways it was a blessing. No one would be around to witness the scene if he’d changed his mind about giving her another chance.
And, if she was truly going to marry him, she’d be alone with him often. She might as well begin to adjust to him now, however much the notion panicked her.
The large double doors were closed, their oval etched glass panels providing a framed view of the huge empty entry hall beyond. Allison walked up to the door, then caught sight of the doorbell on the right and put out a hand to press the button. She listened nervously to the chimes as they sounded a series of deep-pitched tones.
Blue had watched Allison approach the house from the shelf-lined front room of the mansion, which would eventually be the den. He’d glimpsed the apprehension on her lovely face when she’d stepped out of her car. He’d seen the resolute squaring of her narrow shoulders as she’d started up the walk, then the determined concealment of her feelings when she’d blanked her expression.
His pride hadn’t suffered at all when she’d refused to marry him the other day, but it was taking a beating now. Charles Wallace’s spineless groveling on the phone had turned his stomach, but the sense he had that Wallace had bullied Ms. Allison into changing her mind shamed him a little.
Though Blue had never wanted her to have any real choice about marrying him, the actual follow-through of his plan to get her made him feel as if he’d abused her somehow. Demeaned wasn’t a word in his normal vocabulary, but he felt like maybe he’d managed to demean them both. Particularly since she’d seemed to set a lot of store by love, an emotion that by habit and necessity, he’d learned to ignore.
But he hadn’t worked his way up from the poverty and homelessness of his childhood by being soft or by veering from the goals he’d set for himself. Marrying Allison Lancaster was just the next goal on his list. If he thought of her in those terms, what he had to do to get her troubled him less.
He turned away as she put out a hand to ring the doorbell. He strode from the den into the entry hall and then to the front door. The big chimes were echoing away when he opened it.
Allison’s soft, “May I come in?” was a bit breathless. Blue wasn’t wearing his black Stetson, but he seemed a giant somehow. His handsome face was stern, though she detected a faint wariness in the blue of his eyes.
He didn’t answer verbally, but opened the big door to allow her to enter. She took four or five steps across the marble floor before she came to an uncertain halt and turned toward him.
He’d closed the door and stood staring over at her. Nothing in his expression gave her a clue to his thoughts until he said, “I put an old desk and a couple of chairs in the front room there—the den.” The gesture he made signaled her to precede him. Allison walked toward the open door and stepped through. Blue entered behind her and pushed the door not quite shut.
“The furniture is old and ugly, but it’ll do until the house is done and I can get to Dallas to buy something better.”
His offhand remark about the old desk and the paint-spattered chairs seemed a sensible one to make, but something in his voice suggested he was somehow ashamed of it. A swift glance at his hard expression