A Matter of Marriage (6 page)

Alex
gave him a piercing look and strode away.

“Wait!
Come back here! How do you know my name?”

Alex
kept walking.

“Julia?”
Dr. Dolan dropped down beside her on the bench and squeezed her shoulder. “What’s
wrong? Talk to me.”

She
slowly lowered her hands and looked over at him, her face wet with tears of
surrender. She’d lost. Phillip was hurt on account of her, and the Hotel Grand
Victoria would be auctioned off to the highest bidder—Tyler Wolff or some
faceless group of investors—who would take control of her beloved home and do
as they pleased with it.

“Julia,
you’re worrying me. I’ve never seen you like this.”

She
had never felt like this, devoid of hope. She pointed at the telegram half
hidden by his shoe.

He
picked up the paper, read it, and sighed. “What rotten luck. But, Julia, a
broken leg isn’t the end of the world. His leg will heal. You’ll have your
wedding eventually.”

She
shook her head and swiped the backs of her hands across her cheeks. “You don’t
understand. I need a husband now. I can’t wait any longer.”

His
graying brows came together. “Julia, you’re not making sense.” He lifted her
wrist and held his fingers against her pulse. “You should lie down.”

She
pulled her wrist away and wrapped her arms around her waist. “I don’t need to
lie down. I need a husband. Anyone will do. Help me, Dr. Dolan. I can’t do this
on my own anymore.”

His
gaze dropped to where her arms covered her stomach. “You’re … in trouble?”

“Yes.
I should have told you sooner. Both you and Mary. I wanted to, but I thought I
could handle everything myself.” She laughed what wasn’t a laugh at all. “Look
how that turned out.”

“Uh,
maybe I had better get Mary before you go any further.”

“Yes,
please. Maybe she knows an honorable man willing to marry me within the next
two days.”

The
doctor hopped up as quick as a well-fed rabbit and disappeared into the
kitchen. He quickly reappeared with his wife, who clasped and unclasped her
hands. Flour still smudged her cheeks. She smelled of apple pie, but not even
that could sooth Julia’s despondency.

“Oh,
my dear girl,” she said, sinking onto the bench. “I am so sorry. So very sorry.
I never imagined …” She shook her head, apparently unable to finish.

Julia
leaned back slightly. “Imagined what? You don’t know what’s wrong yet.”

“Of
course we do. We know these things happen, even in the best of families.”

“What
are you talking about?”

“The
baby,” Mary answered. “Your baby.”

Julia’s
mouth fell open, and she started to laugh, a high-pitched hysterical sound she
had never made before. They thought she was with child? She doubled over,
afraid to stop laughing for fear she would start sobbing.

“Harold,
do something!” Mary’s hands fluttered in the air. “She’s gone batty.”

“Give
her a minute, dear. I fear we may have jumped to a mistaken conclusion.”

Julia
nodded, her hysteria ending with a hiccup. “I am not going to have a baby,
Mary.”

“You’re
not? Well, why else would you need a husband?”

“To
save the hotel.” She explained her predicament, describing her father’s
stipulation. “So you see, if I don’t marry by Saturday midnight, the hotel will
be sold. I’ll be forced to leave, and there’s no telling what changes a new
owner might impose on everyone. Phillip was my last hope, and he has broken his
leg during his journey here.” She looked toward the door. “I must try to reach
him and make sure he’s all right.”

Mary
tapped Julia’s arm. “You can telegraph him later. Go on with your story.”

“Oh,
uh, I was telling you about Phillip. He agreed to marry me in exchange for
three thousand dollars. Once our vows were said and the papers signed, he was to
return East, to his … man friends.”

Dr.
Dolan eased himself onto the other end of the bench. “Well, this explains your
lack of excitement regarding your wedding.”

“Well,
I don’t understand anything.” Mary knuckled several loose, wispy hairs out of
her face. “What do you mean by ‘man friends’? He was your childhood sweetheart,
wasn’t he? Why wouldn’t he live here with you?”

“Mary,
he wasn’t my childhood sweetheart. When Mother, Father, and I lived in Philadelphia, Phillip was an employee in Father’s hotel. He was a good friend, and more
trustworthy than the three traveling salesmen I initially approached with my
proposal. They all wanted … more than I was willing to give, including more
money. Phillip agreed to the amount I offered, and since he’s not the kind of
man who is attracted to women”—Julia paused during Mary’s rapid, indrawn breath—“I
believed him to be the perfect candidate for a husband I didn’t want but was
being forced to have.”

“Oh,
my dear girl. This is truly dreadful. I had thought you were marrying for love.
You deserve love, and lots of children as beautiful as yourself.” Tears slid
down Mary’s cheeks, forming trails through the flour. “Your father had no right
to interfere with your life this way.” She lifted her apron and dabbed at her wet
face.

Dr.
Dolan got up and paced the floor in front of them. His footsteps echoed through
the hallway and up the stairs. “Is there no way to challenge the will?”

“None.
I did try, even though Father’s lawyer told me I’d be wasting my time. The only
way for me to hold on to the hotel is to marry before the deadline.”

“Then
you must do exactly that.”

“Harold!”
Mary stared at him open-mouthed.

“We
have to be practical, my dear. Julia accepted her situation months ago and
knows what must be done. The problem lies in finding the right man, and I
believe I know just the one.”

“You
do?” Julia leaned forward, hope returning. “Who? Someone in San Diego?”

“Yes,
I met him recently when I was checking on the health of the inmates at the
county jail.”

“A
guard?” Julia said, knowing the doctor volunteered his services there on a
regular basis.

“No,
a man who was recently sentenced to hang for murder. He is scheduled to travel
to the State Prison at San Quentin next week.”

She
gasped. “You want me to marry a murderer?”

The
doctor shrugged. “Well, he won’t make a nuisance of himself at some later date.”

“I’d
sooner marry Alex MacLean. At least a drifter wouldn’t taint the hotel’s
reputation.” Julia could just imagine the scandal if the newspapers discovered
the heiress to the Hotel Grand Victoria married a convicted killer sentenced to
hang.

Mary
smoothed her apron over her lap. “That’s not a bad idea.”

Julia
frowned. “What’s not?”

“Your
marrying Mr. MacLean.”

Julia’s
heart skipped a beat. She sat back with such force the bench shook. She hadn’t
truly been serious about him as a potential husband. Besides, though she hardly
knew him, she got the distinct impression he wasn’t the kind of man who would
just sit back and let her do things her way.

“No,”
she said, “he’s not the right man.”

“Why
not?” Mary asked.

The
doctor tapped his chin. “Hmmm. I think Mary is onto something. Mr. MacLean
could be exactly what you’re looking for—a husband who will walk away.”

His
wife nodded.

Dr.
Dolan went on. “He’s a drifter down on his luck, in need of money, and
unmarried.”

“He’s
also polite and well-spoken.” Mary brushed at a spot of flour on her apron. “But
his poor face.”

His
face was the least of Julia’s worries. Alex’s obvious attraction to her was a
much bigger problem. If Alex MacLean married her, Julia had a strong suspicion
he would want a wedding night.

Imagining
herself enfolded in his arms again, shut away in her apartment with him, she
shivered, the feeling not entirely unpleasant.

“No,”
she said, louder than intended. “I can’t marry him. Why, he doesn’t even have
references.” If she had known she might be interviewing him for the job of
husband, she would have asked him more questions.

Dr.
Dolan threw up his hands. “Julia, the man risked his own self to protect you.
What better reference can there be?”

The
doctor had a point, and yet …

He
grasped her hands and hauled her to her feet. “Young lady, you are out of
options. Go find Mr. MacLean and make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

*   *   *

Julia
reluctantly cast her reservations aside and hurried along the front veranda.
The doctor was right. She was out of options and had to be practical. To hold
on to the hotel, she was going to propose marriage to Alex MacLean.

Inside
the hotel’s entrance, a high-pitched yap stopped her. A Yorkshire terrier with
a tiny pink bow on her head peered beseechingly up at her.

“Hello
there.”

The
dog yapped again.

She
picked up the small dog and stroked her silky hair. A velvety tongue licked her
hand, and she laughed softly. “You’re a friendly little thing. Where’s your
owner?”

“I
was wondering the same thing.”

Julia’s
heart jumped into her throat. She whirled. “Mr. MacLean! You startled me.” She
hadn’t expected to see him this soon. She wasn’t ready to see him. She needed
time to work out how best to present her proposition.

He
shrugged. “I didn’t mean to.”

When
he said nothing more, such as where he’d been, what he’d been doing, or how he
happened to be here the very moment she was, she said, “How do you like your
room?”

“I
don’t have one. Your favorite desk clerk claims the hotel is full.”

She
shut her eyes a moment and blew out a breath. “We are not full, and he had no
right to turn you away.” She settled the dog against her chest and eyed Mr.
Chalmers across the Rotunda. The desk clerk was serving a well-endowed matron
dressed all in black. A matching hat pinned over white hair was trimmed with
netting that obscured her features. “I really must do something about him.”

“I
demand to see the manager this instant!” came an imperious, irate voice from the
matron.

Julia
tried to stay calm, telling herself,
One thing at a time. I can handle
whatever comes if I do it one thing at a time.

The
terrier squirmed and whined.

“Young
man, if you won’t call the manager,” the woman said, her voice rising even
higher, “I will.”

A
small group of guests chatting beneath the gallery turned as one, their
conversation halted. A man wearing a cutaway walking suit paused while peeking
inside the door to the Crown Room, as many visitors did, to admire the large
dining room. From inside came the clink of silver and china as waiters set the
tables for the rapidly approaching evening meal.

“Where
is he?” The matron’s foot drummed the marble floor, perilously close to the
shiny brass spittoon.

Julia
cringed. A guest this displeased would spread her dissatisfaction, ultimately
hurting the hotel’s reputation and bank account. Her employees depended on her
and the success of the hotel to pay their wages. Between mortgage payments,
staffing, maintenance, food costs, and the price of a bridegroom, she could not
afford to lose any customers.

She
pushed the dog at Alex, giving him no choice but to take her. “Please excuse
me. I need to sort out a problem.”

He
handled the dog with ease, and the tiny terrier lay without complaint in the
palm of his hand.

Julia
strode away, but she glanced back once and would have laughed if she hadn’t
been so distracted. A man of Alex’s size and build holding a miniature dog with
a pink bow was an astonishing sight, one she wouldn’t soon forget. He looked so
… sweet.

Arriving
at the registration desk, Julia installed a professional smile on her face and
stepped up to the woman, then nearly gagged when the matron’s liberal use of
lilac water struck her in the face like a gust of wind.

She
held her ground and glanced between the woman and desk clerk. “Mr. Chalmers,
may I be of help?”

He
pressed his lips into a thin line, then gestured toward the matron. “This is
Mrs. Hensley, a new arrival. She insists on seeing the manager.”

“And
so she shall. Mrs. Hensley, I’m Julia Fairbanks, manager of the Hotel Grand
Victoria. I’m also the owner.” For the next two days anyway. “How can I be of
service?”

Mrs.
Hensley looked as surprised as if she had bitten into a lemon instead of a
cream puff. “A woman? Well, as I live and breathe. How extraordinary!” One hand
fluttered near her heart. The diamonds in her ostentatious bracelet flashed.

“I’m
pleased to meet you, Mrs. Hensley. Welcome to the Hotel Grand Victoria. What
can I do for you?”

Chalmers
answered for her. “Mrs. Hensley claims she was promised an ocean-view room.”

The
woman sniffed. “And that is not what I was given.”