His Most Suitable Bride (6 page)

Their son Marshall, a man Reese considered a friend, was here tonight as well, as were two of his seven sisters. The young women were beautiful, with golden, light brown hair and cornflower-blue eyes. He was certain he’d met them previously but at the moment found it difficult to tell them apart. To further complicate matters, he recalled each of their names started with the letter
P.

Both were in their early twenties and fit most of his requirements for a bride.

Were they here for his benefit?

If so, the widow had wasted no time in presenting viable candidates for his consideration.

One of the Ferguson daughters turned her big blue eyes in his direction. Reese shoved away from the door.

He’d barely taken two steps when Mrs. Singletary broke away from Mr. and Mrs. Ferguson. “Ah, Mr. Bennett, you have finally arrived.”

At the hint of censure in her tone, he wondered again if he’d gotten the time of tonight’s gathering wrong. “I hope I haven’t kept everyone waiting.”

“Not at all.” Smiling now, the widow closed the distance between them and captured both of his hands. “There is still one more guest yet to arrive.”

On cue, there was a movement in the doorway.

“And here he is now.” The widow stepped away from Reese to greet her final guest. “Mr. Hawkins. I’m so glad you could join us this evening.”

Jonathon
Hawkins was back in town?

This was the first time the new owner of the Hotel Dupree had returned to Denver since he’d offered Fanny a job in his Chicago hotel.

By giving her the position, Hawkins had provided Reese’s ex-fiancée a way to start over when the gossip over the broken engagement had become unbearable. Reese held no animosity toward the man. Fanny’s departure had been good for everyone.

Callie seemed to have a differing opinion.

Her shoulders stiffened, her chin lifted at a haughty angle. When her gaze locked on Hawkins, the barely banked anger in her eyes gave Reese a moment of hesitation. He’d always sensed Callie had a large capacity for emotion hidden deep within her. But this...

He almost felt sorry for the hotelier.

Then he remembered his last conversation with Callie and her admission to missing her sister greatly.

With this new piece of information, he absorbed her reaction with a wave of sympathy. She and her sister had been close. He wanted to go to Callie, to offer his support, but her expression shuttered closed, as if she’d turned off a switch. A slow blink, a quick steadying breath and she wrenched her attention away from Hawkins.

Her wandering gaze landed on Reese.

A moment of silent understanding passed between them. Everything in him softened, relaxed, urging him to continue in her direction. His father said something and she turned to answer.

The moment was lost. And Reese immediately came to his senses.

Tonight wasn’t about Callie Mitchell. The Ferguson daughters had likely been invited here for his benefit as the first candidates in his bride search. Reese would be remiss not to take this opportunity to know them better.

Chapter Six

B
racketed by Reese’s father on her left and Marshall Ferguson on her right, Callie would be hard-pressed to find more pleasant dinner companions. Both men held a vast knowledge on a variety of topics and never let the conversation lag.

Under normal circumstances, she would consider tonight’s dining experience a pleasant respite from what would have been a solitary supper tray in her room.

These were not normal circumstances.

As evidenced by the unexpected presence of the man sitting diagonally across the table from her.

Jonathon Hawkins.

Why had Mrs. Singletary invited the hotelier to this particular dinner party? True, the widow was in the process of expanding her business association with the man. Did she have to socialize with him, as well? On a night Callie was in attendance?

Swallowing a growl of frustration, she narrowed her gaze over Mr. Hawkins’s face. In the flickering light of the wall sconces, his features took on a dark, turbulent, almost-frightening edge. A man with many secrets.

She supposed some women might find his mysterious aura appealing. Not Callie. She didn’t like brooding, enigmatic types. Besides, with his glossy brown hair, steel-gray eyes and square jaw, he reminded her entirely too much of the man who’d deceived her and broken her heart.

In fact...

If she narrowed her eyes ever-so-slightly and angled her head a tad to the right, Jonathon Hawkins could pass for Simon.

Was the hotelier as equally duplicitous as the famous actor? Did he spout well-practiced lies to unsuspecting gullible women?

She knew the comparison was unfair, and based solely on her own prejudice, yet Callie felt her hands curl into tight fists. She briefly shut her eyes, battling the remembered shame of her own actions. Before her experience with Simon, she’d lived a life of unshakable faith. She’d lived with boldness, gifted by the Lord with utter confidence in her own worth.

But now,
now,
she had no such confidence. She felt lost, afraid and, worst of all, alone.

She had no one to blame but herself, of course. She’d made her choices and must forever live with the consequences.

Refusing to wallow over a situation of her own making, she willed Mr. Hawkins to look at her. He turned his head in the opposite direction and listened to something Mrs. Singletary said.

His rich laughter filled the air.

Callie battled a mild case of dejection.

How could the man be so blissfully unaware? Had he no shame? Did he not know—or care—about the pain his actions had caused? Were it not for his untimely job offer, Fanny would have stayed in Denver and worked things out with Reese.

Reese.

What must he be suffering? Surely, Jonathon Hawkins’s presence here tonight had to be a physical reminder of the woman he’d lost.

Callie shifted her gaze to where Reese sat wedged between the Ferguson sisters. He skillfully divided his attention, speaking to both women at well-timed intervals, taking in every word of their high-pitched chatter. He didn’t look upset. In fact, he was smiling.
Smiling!

“Is the fish not to your liking, Miss Mitchell?”

She dragged her gaze away from Reese and focused on Marshall Ferguson.

“On the contrary,” she said, picking up her fork. “It’s quite wonderful.”

“Such certainty, and yet...” Marshall dropped an amused gaze to her plate. “You haven’t taken a single bite.”

“Oh. Right.” She filled her fork. “I sampled some in the kitchen before everyone arrived.”

His mouth quirked up at one corner. “Ah, well, that explains it, then.”

She took the bite on her fork, studied his handsome face as she chewed.

Still holding her gaze, Marshall sampled his own fish. Only when Reese’s father said his name did he break eye contact and answer a question about railroad stock. Which soon segued into a lengthy discussion on water rights.

With nothing to add to either topic, Callie listened in silence. The brief interlude with Marshall had given her time to recover her equilibrium and she was grateful to the man.

She glanced at him from beneath her lashes.

In temperament and in looks, he reminded her of her brother Garrett. Marshall’s tawny hair was a bit more unruly, and his brown eyes were several shades darker, but they could almost pass for brothers.

There was another glaring similarity between the two men. Marshall had once been engaged to Garrett’s wife, Molly. Did he pine for his lost love? Callie wondered.

How did one ask such a question?

One
didn’t
ask such a question.

Yet she’d practically done so with Reese the other day in his office.

Callie cut a glance across the table, noticed Reese was no longer engaged in conversation with either of the Ferguson sisters. Instead, he was watching her. Closely. Intently.

She looked down at her plate then just as quickly glanced back up. Reese was still watching her, just as closely, just as intently. She wished he would look away. Then, perversely, wished he would continue looking at her all night.

At least he wasn’t conversing with either of the Ferguson sisters anymore.

Why not?

They were both very beautiful, educated, came from a good family and...

Callie suddenly remembered the words written in a bold, masculine hand she’d fished out from beneath Lady Macbeth.
Loves children...must come from a good family and...value strong family ties.

Qualities a man might look for in a wife.

Alarm filled her.

Was Reese actively seeking a woman to take Fanny’s place in his heart? Had he enlisted Mrs. Singletary’s assistance?

No. It was too soon. Fanny had barely left town.

“I understand your brother is practicing law in St. Louis,” Marshall said, the gently spoken question sufficiently breaking through Callie’s growing panic.

“Yes.” She rummaged up a smile for her dinner companion. “I received a letter from his wife just today.”

“You and Molly are still close, I presume?”

“Very. It was hard to say goodbye to her after the wedding, but the ever-faithful postal service keeps us in touch.”

If only Fanny would write, as well. One letter. Callie yearned for nothing more than one, short letter from her sister.

“Is Molly...” Marshall hesitated, his smile dropping slightly. “Is she happy living in St. Louis with your brother?”

How best to answer such a loaded question?
The truth,
she told herself.
Stick with the truth.
“She has settled into her new life with Garrett rather nicely. She’s even started her own millinery shop.”

“I’m pleased for her.” The relief in his eyes was more powerful than the words. “And your brother.”

“I believe you truly mean that.”

He turned thoughtful a moment, lifted a shoulder. “Though Molly is a generous, beautiful woman, she was not the woman for me. We would never have truly happy together. Content, perhaps. But not happy.”

Something sad came and went in his eyes.

Wanting to soothe, she reached out and touched her fingers to his forearm. “I’m sorry, Mr. Ferguson.”

He placed his hand atop hers and squeezed gently. “Molly and I parted ways amicably. We will always be friends.”

Friends?

There was that awful word again, spoken by another man in reference to his former fiancée. Why would anyone propose to a woman he considered nothing more than a friend?

Oh, she knew many marriages were based on far less, and were entered into for a vast array of reasons. But in her family love was the most important foundation to marriage.

And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
The Bible verse was practically a family motto.

Realizing she’d been silent too long, Callie drew in a steadying breath.
“I’m glad there are no hard feelings between you and Molly.”

“You are different tonight, Miss Mitchell. More...” His words trailed off.

When several seconds passed and he didn’t continue, she lifted a brow. “More?” she prompted.

“Charming,” he said with a smile. “Engaging. Quite wonderful, really. Until tonight, I hadn’t realized how...” His gaze fell over her face. “What I mean is, you are a very beautiful woman.”

A rather inconvenient surge of pleasure surfaced at the unexpected compliment. Callie had forgotten how lovely it felt to be called beautiful.

She shifted uneasily in her chair.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” she assured him. “It’s just—” she lifted her chin “—I’m not used to compliments.”

“Then I shall make it my mission to pay you several more throughout the night.”

“Please,” she whispered, absently shoving at her hair, shifting in her seat again. “You really don’t have to do that.”

“I have made you uncomfortable again.” He focused on his plate a moment, then turned back to her. “Did you notice how the rain earlier this evening brought a surprising chill to the night air?”

What a kind, sweet man, changing the subject to the universally innocuous topic of the weather.

For the rest of the meal, they spoke of nothing more substantial. Callie found Marshall Ferguson witty, amiable and handsome. She quite enjoyed his company. And decided to be glad for her position at the table.

As the servers began clearing away empty dishes and plates, one of the Ferguson sisters, in an overly loud voice, asked Reese if he’d heard from Fanny since she’d left town.

A full five seconds of silence met the question, whereby the girl’s father cleared his throat.

“No, I haven’t,” Reese said without inflection. “Nor would I expect to hear from her since we are no longer engaged.”

Though he didn’t appear especially agitated, his icy tone said the conversation was over.

The girl missed the obvious cue. “Oh, but surely, after what you meant to one another you would wish to know how she’s faring in Chicago?”

“She is faring very well” came a deep, masculine reply.

All heads turned toward Jonathon Hawkins and an expectant hush filled the air.

“You know Fanny?” the Ferguson sisters asked in unison.

He gave a brief nod. “Miss Mitchell is an invaluable member of my Chicago hotel operation,
our
operation,” he amended with a nod in deference toward Mrs. Singletary. “With her attention to detail, she’s all but running the place on her own.”

“Isn’t that lovely.” Mrs. Singletary set her napkin on the table and stood. “Let us adjourn to the parlor for coffee and dessert.”

And that, the widow’s turned back communicated to the room, was the end of that.

The rest of the evening went by pleasantly for Callie. Until Jonathon Hawkins approached her.

“Miss Mitchell, it’s a pleasure seeing you again.”

Everything around her went still. Though she’d once worked at this man’s hotel, she’d hardly interacted with him. Once, maybe twice, and only in passing, yet he acted as though they were old friends.

“Thank you, Mr. Hawkins.” She gave him a brief nod and a forced smile. “It’s nice to see you again, too.”

“From what I understand,” he continued, his gray eyes smiling, “your absence has left a considerable hole in the Hotel Dupree’s kitchen operations.”

Emotion threatened to overtake her. Now that she had his attention, there were many things Callie wanted to say to this man. A discussion of her former position in his hotel was not one of them.

“I’m sure you’ll find a suitable replacement soon.”

“Let us hope you are right.” He fished inside the interior of his jacket. “Your sister asked that I give this to you.”

Callie stared at him suspiciously. Then realized he was holding a letter in his hand from Fanny, folded in the special way they’d designed back in school. So happy to receive word from her sister, the annoyance she felt toward this man was nearly forgotten.

“Thank you.” She plucked the letter from between his fingers and—feeling bold—asked the pressing question running through her mind. “Is Fanny truly well, Mr. Hawkins?”

“She’s thriving.” His eyes filled with pride and something else, something almost tender, a look that set Callie’s teeth on edge.

“I recently promoted your sister to front desk manager.”

Callie’s heart dipped. No. No, no, no. Fanny would never come home now. She’d been reasonably happy working at the Hotel Dupree. But, Callie admitted to herself, Fanny hadn’t
thrived.

Sighing, she fingered the letter in her hand. She desperately wanted to read the words her sister had penned on the page. She didn’t dare exit the party, though, not yet.

As if matters weren’t already tense enough, Reese materialized by her side. “Callie? Are you unwell?”

She smiled thinly. “I’m fine.”

Reese’s eyebrows lifted in silent challenge.

Stuffing the letter from Fanny in her sleeve, she explained further. “Mr. Hawkins has promoted Fanny to front desk manager.”

“Ah.” Reese turned his attention to the other man. “So she’s truly happy living and working in Chicago?”

“Quite.”

“That’s good to know.”

Awkward silence fell over their tiny group.

“I see Mrs. Singletary motioning to me,” Hawkins declared. “I should go see what she wants.”

“I’ll join you,” Reese said, deserting Callie without a backward glance.

The two men fell into step with one another, their heads bent in conversation. Both were of an equal height and build, their hair nearly the same color. Callie hadn’t noticed the similarities before and wasn’t sure what to make of them now.

Were they discussing business as they made their way across the room? Callie would never know.

Soon the guests began to leave, Jonathon Hawkins first, the rest not long after him. Marshall Ferguson made a special effort to approach Callie and assure her he’d enjoyed sitting beside her at dinner.

“I had a lovely time, as well,” she said, meaning every word.

“Perhaps we will do it again sometime soon.”

“I’d like that.”

She watched him depart with his family, wondering why she felt no sense of loss as he exited the room. Because, she realized, there’d been nothing special between them, at least not from her end. No spark, not one ounce of interest.