Howard Haskell Takes A Bride (The Brides of Paradise Ranch Book 0) (4 page)

E
lizabeth’s friends
could talk of nothing else but the startling events of the ball all through their walk along the riverfront. Elizabeth could think of nothing else. But her thoughts and her friends’ chatter were as different as could be.

“Can you imagine the audacity of the man?” Madeline gasped, twirling her parasol on her shoulder.

“To think that he could simply walk up to you and demand a dance,” Henrietta echoed.

Bravery, that’s what Elizabeth called it. Daring. The kind of daring that would take a man far in life. All the way out to the burgeoning land of the West.

“He was rather handsome, though,” Isobel added. She stood on the opposite side of Elizabeth from Madeline and Henrietta, and had been taking up the role of advocate for Howard Haskell since they’d set out from Clay Street.

“Ugh.” Madeline wrinkled her nose. “He was far too tall for my tastes.”

Tall. Elizabeth sighed. Yes, Howard was tall. Delightfully so. And as handsome as Isobel said and more. Elizabeth had never seen a man with such vibrant eyes, such an arresting smile. He was well-formed, and she was certain that he could labor with the very best men making their way West. If anyone could tame the wild wilderness, it would be Howard.

And he wanted her to come with him.

She sighed again, so obvious that Henrietta and Madeline rolled their eyes.

“It will all come to naught, you realize,” Madeline said, her attitude a little too superior for Elizabeth’s liking. “Your mother will see to that.”

Elizabeth’s dreamy spirits sank. “She will not.”

But, in fact, Elizabeth had a terrible feeling that she would. Her mother was nothing if not persistent. She wanted Elizabeth to marry Jonas Armstrong as much as her father did, maybe more. The match would mean that she would be admitted into the highest circles of Cincinnati society.

Once again, Elizabeth was a pawn.

“I’m sick and tired of being a piece in someone else’s game.” She let her thought be spoken aloud. When her friends gasped at her boldness, Elizabeth stopped and faced them, gripping the end of her parasol tight enough to break it. “Well, I am. Don’t you want something more than to be maneuvered by your parents into a loveless marriage? Don’t you want to fall in love and have adventures?”

Madeline laughed. “I want to adventure to the finest couturiers in Paris on my husband’s dime so that I can dress like a queen.”

“And you will if Horace Trumbolt continues to pursue you the way he has been.” Henrietta supported her, the light of new gossip in her eyes. “Did you see the way he—”

“There is more to life than Paris fashion and being pursued by wealthy men.”

Madeline and Henrietta blinked, their backs going up in offense at Elizabeth’s proclamation. Isobel shrank under her parasol by Elizabeth’s side.

“There may be more than that for you,” Madeline rounded on Elizabeth. “For those of us whose fathers do not have as solid a foothold in society, a suitable marriage is the difference between a life of comfort and a life of disgrace.”

“Well, maybe I would prefer a life of disgrace.” Elizabeth raised her voice, shocked with herself for doing so on a street corner. A street corner near her father’s place of business, for that matter. But her heart was about to burst with newfound feeling. “Perhaps I want a life of adventure. The unknown is exciting.”

“The unknown is dangerous,” Henrietta replied, eyebrow arched.

“Then perhaps danger is what I crave.” She knew it was true the moment the words were spoken. So much for not being one to take risks. “Anything is better than living my life at someone else’s whim.”

“Not anything,” Madeline contradicted her. “Not social disgrace.”

“Well, I think—”

Henrietta froze, her jaw hanging open, as she and Madeline spotted something over Elizabeth’s shoulder. Frowning, Elizabeth turned, Isobel with her.

Her heart knocked into her ribs, then sped up a hundred times. There, coming toward them, in discussion with the man she recognized as his friend from the night before, was Howard himself. The two men were laughing and gesturing, as if sharing a story.

“Howard.”

She spoke loud enough that even though Howard was on the other side of the street, he heard her. His head shot up, and a moment later, delight filled his face.

“Elizabeth!” His answer to her call could only be described as booming. And just like a cannon, he shot out into the street, avoiding a carriage that momentarily hid him from Elizabeth’s sight, and bounded up onto the sidewalk beside her. “My dearest Elizabeth. How blessed I am to see you, just as my heart was aching for want of you.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed red. The heat that kissed them swirled through her, settling in a particularly sensitive spot. Any man who could make her long so desperately for him when they had known each other less than a day was a man worth spending all the rest of her days getting to know.

“What brings you here to…” She glanced around, gauging where she was. “…to Second Street?” Had they really wandered so far up from the riverfront? How close were they to her father’s office?

Behind her, Madeline, Henrietta, and Isobel backed up, whispering amongst themselves.

“I had business dealings, my love.” Howard inched forward, reaching for her hand. She gave it freely, and Howard raised it to his lips. He did not release it once her knuckles had been kissed.

“Are you in business?” Elizabeth gasped as soon as the question was asked. “Good heavens. I don’t even know what you do for a living.”

“Worship you, my darling,” Howard replied, stepping closer.

They were too close, really, but the safety of her three friends behind her and Howard’s friend hopping up to the curb to shadow him would have to do for the time being.

Elizabeth pulled herself together and laughed at his response. “Surely, you must do more than worship me, a woman you hardly know.”

“Shouldn’t every man worship his wife?” He squeezed her hand, gazed deeply into her eyes.

The sensation of falling came over Elizabeth, delicious and unsettling all mixed together. “I am not your wife,” she admitted, eyes fluttering down in disappointment. “And I’m afraid I never will be.”

“Do not fear, my love.” Howard laughed—actually laughed—in the face of her fear.

Frustrated that he would take her feelings so lightly, she snapped her gaze up to meet his. “It is impossible. My parents will never allow it. As my mother said to me last night, once you’d returned to your friend—” She nodded over Howard’s shoulder to the man with him. “—my marriage to Jonas Armstrong is already set, and a great many people are relying on the match.”

“The only person who should rely on any match is the lovers involved.”

His use of the word ‘lovers’ had her blushing and tingling down to her toes.

“Would that it were that simple,” she sighed.

Howard shrugged, letting go of her hand at last. “But it is that simple.”

With Howard, she believed it certainly could be. Her heart wanted to laugh, but her mind knew better.

“If you believe that, you do not know my parents.”

“And if
you
believe
that
, then you do not know me.” The smile Howard tacked to the end of his pronouncement was nearly enough for Elizabeth to take him at his word.

Nearly
enough.

“But that is the point.” She stepped boldly closer to him. “I don’t know you. At least not as well as I’d like to.”

“There is only one way to remedy that.” Howard winked.

Elizabeth caught herself laughing. No, she couldn’t afford to be distracted. “There
is
only one way, and that is for us to spend time together. But how will my parents possibly allow that? I have already been chastised for not spending enough time with my intended fiancé.”

“Do you love him?” Howard’s question was so serious and so important that a ripple of anxiety raced down Elizabeth’s spine.

“No,” she whispered. “Not at all. Jonas is well-placed in society and industrious, but…but he is boring.” She took a breath, the freedom of finally being able to say as much making her dizzy. “He doesn’t care for me at all. The only thing he cares about is money. I am considerably less valuable to him than his investment portfolio.”

“All the more reason for the two of us to run away to the frontier as soon as possible,” Howard murmured with as much passion as if he was whispering naughty words to her. He didn’t seem to notice that his friend was smirking at the conversation, or that her friends were whispering furiously.

Before Elizabeth could point out either situation, he went on. “But never fear, my love. I have a plan.”

“A plan?” Her brow rose in spite of the fact that her head still spun.

“Of course.” Howard grinned. “You must always have a plan. Two or three if you can manage it. That’s what makes a man—or a woman—successful in life.”

Elizabeth was unable to keep her smile inside. “What is it, then? What is your plan?”

“To love you ’til the day I die,” Howard declared.

Elizabeth laughed, utterly taken in by his charm.

“At least, that is my initial plan,” Howard went on. He moved in closer still, so close that their stance could almost be described as an embrace, and whispered, “Wherever you go, there I will be. Whatever social functions you attend, I will be your shadow.”

“But mother refuses to let me out,” Elizabeth sighed. “I think she knows how…how enamored I am of you.”

Howard’s eyes shone with pleasure and with confidence. “Is she the sort of woman to sequester herself for the sake of keeping you away from company?”

It took less than a second for Elizabeth to know the answer to that one. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Then I shall keep my ear to the ground, waiting for word that your house will be the center of some sort of entertainment.”

“And if it is, I can’t see any way that you would be invited to it.” Elizabeth sagged.

“Who says one needs to be invited?”

His mischief was contagious. A giggle formed in Elizabeth’s throat, pushing its way up until she had to let go of Howard’s hand and clap hers over her lips to keep from an unladylike outburst.

“Elizabeth!”

As quickly as mirth had swept her away, it was banished by the sound of her father’s voice. Howard turned and Elizabeth glanced past him to find her father coming out of his office. Worse still, Jonas was marching up the street toward them.

“What is the meaning of this?” her father demanded.

“We met while walking.” Elizabeth fell back on old habits, gesturing for her friends to step forward and join her. Only Isobel rushed to her aid.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Her father came to a stop in front of Howard. Jonas stopped as well, crossing his arms, hardly sparing a glance for her. “I told you to get out,” her father spat at Howard. “I meant of the city.”

To his credit, Howard laughed. “How could I possibly leave the city before I have secured my dear Elizabeth’s hand?”

Mr. Ayers glowered. Jonas scoffed. Elizabeth exchanged a wary glance with Isobel, who grasped her free hand in support. At least someone was supporting her.

“Why, you arrogant puppy,” her father snapped. “Get out of my sight at once.”

“Puppy.” Howard shared a laugh with his friend. “Did you hear that, Cyrus? I am an arrogant, impudent puppy.” He turned to Elizabeth. “And I would be a happy puppy if I could just lay my head in your lap and stare up at you in adoration, tongue lolling.”

Elizabeth giggled before she could stop herself. Jonas sniffed in disgust. Her father raised his walking cane threateningly.

“I’ll go.” Howard took a step back, holding up his hands, before any blows could be rained down. “I’ll go and prepare,” he said to Elizabeth with a wink.

“See here, you—” Her father didn’t get the chance to finish his harangue.

Howard walked off, easy as he pleased, his friend chuckling at his side. Elizabeth caught a glimpse of Henrietta and Madeline as she followed him with her eyes and her heart. They both appeared shocked to the bone. Elizabeth had never been more in love.

“Your mother was right.”

Her father’s statement whipped her back to face him.

“You should not be allowed out unaccompanied. Jonas.”

“Hmm?” Jonas dropped his arms and focused on Elizabeth. If Elizabeth didn’t know better, she would think that his attention had drifted off during the confrontation with Howard.

“Jonas, you will take my daughter out for tea, then see that she is returned home.”

“Oh, but Mr. Ayers, the four of us were out on a walk,” Madeline said.

Elizabeth’s father glared at her. “Then you had better continue walking before I advise your parents of your part in this.”

“Our part?” Henrietta squeaked. “We didn’t have a part.”

Her protest fell on deaf ears. Madeline grabbed Henrietta’s arm and Isobel’s hand and tugged them off down the street.

Elizabeth was left with no Howard, no friends, and no way to get out of tea with Jonas. But she would be damned if she was left with no choice about the course of her own life. The only way to ensure that was to smile and play along.

“Yes, father.” She schooled her features to obedience and stepped sideways toward Jonas. “I will enjoy tea with my fiancé.”

Indeed she would, if her heart’s true fiancé was anywhere nearby to take her to tea.

L
ess than half an hour later
, Elizabeth regretted bowing to her father’s wishes so easily. In fact, she regretted ever bowing to her father’s wishes.

“…and once the funds can be found to finance riverboats, crops, livestock, and goods being transported along the canal from farms in Indiana will be able to be shipped to ports along the Mississippi, and a tidy profit will be made all around,” Jonas droned on.

He had taken her to one of the finest tea shops in Cincinnati with a view overlooking the Ohio River. As Jonas talked, Elizabeth stared out the window. The river was crowded with great, white-painted riverboats these days. Most were plain and unadorned, carrying cargo downstream to join the Mississippi or north and east, as far as Pittsburgh. A few were decorated in style, with festoons and lanterns proclaiming that they hosted card games and live shows. Elizabeth even caught a glimpse of bright, colorful skirts as ladies of questionable morals paraded the decks.

She started out trying to hide her sighs, to disguise that she was far more interested in the world outside the window than in Jonas’s conversation.

“Of course, the smartest investors would have put their money into the scheme when it was still just that—a scheme waiting for fruition,” he went on. His face pointed in Elizabeth’s direction, but one good look at his eyes showed that his focus was on some phantom spot over her shoulder. For all he cared, he could have been conversing with the lamp at the far end of the room.

So Elizabeth sipped her tea, smiled banally, and hummed when she thought it was appropriate. All the while, her thoughts and her heart soared away across the river, heading West.

What was Howard’s plan? Would he sneak up to her room in the middle of the night, like Romeo did with Juliet? She could see him climbing the rose trellis beside her window with ease, ignoring the pricks of thorns as his heart spurred him on. He would ensure pain and discomfort to come to her rescue., and once he was safely in her room, she would kiss his poor, injured hands, binding them with fragrant oils and strips from her own petticoats.

A sigh escaped her lungs.

“Indeed.” Jonas nodded. “For I already have it on good authority that one early investor in the Whitewater Canal has more than trebled his initial investment. In fact, rumor has it that the man is richer to the tune of five hundred thousand dollars. It’s a shame those rumors don’t also include his name.”

No, no, Howard would never do anything that would bloody his hands. Elizabeth shifted in her seat, raising her teacup to her lips to taste the milky, sugary mixture. She met Jonas’s eyes only for as long as it took for him to be reassured she was paying attention to him.

Which she wasn’t.

“In practical terms,” Jonas went on, “whoever the gentleman is, he would be best served now by investing in infrastructure. The building trade presents a unique opportunity for—”

Perhaps Howard would ride into her parents’ back garden, past the tool shed and the stables, and on to the house. He would be mounted on a white steed, wearing the finest suit money could buy. No, he would be in his shirtsleeves, vest hanging loose around his lean torso, the top buttons of his shirt undone. Her cheeks heated at the thought. He would ride to her window—which she would throw open to greet him—and proceed to stand on the steed’s back to reach for her. A horse’s back was high enough that he’d be able to reach her windowsill, of course. He would pull himself up, using muscle and grit alone to hoist himself into her bedroom.

“Parrone’s Construction is the better bet,” Jonas was saying. “Though I prefer the prospects of Keitel’s Builders myself. Although both are, sadly, owned by foreigners. Is it so much to ask to have an honest, American business to back?”

Once Howard was in her room, she would rush to him, throw her arms around him, and lay her head on his shoulder. He would capture her in a heroic embrace, pressing her close. She could practically feel the strength and firmness of his muscles molding against her soft, yielding flesh. Like she had come so close to feeling at the ball last night. She remembered how large and warm Howard’s hands had been, and now her imagination carried his touch one step further.

He would start by caressing her waist, the same as if they were dancing. But then his touch would linger, would explore. One hand would hold her back while the other…well, the other would slip down over her hip, caress the curve of her backside. She’d never had a man touch her backside before, unless, perhaps, accidentally when helping her down from a carriage. But Howard’s touch would be certain, deliberate. And then he would lift his hand, tracing the line of her side, until he cradled her breast.

Her body responded as if he was doing that very thing right now. Her nipples hardened against the cotton of her chemise, grazing her corset stays. She drew in a subtle breath, causing just enough friction to enhance the sensation. More than just her face burned hot now. Somehow in her imagination, she had gone from wearing a day dress to her nightgown to nothing at all.

The very idea of Howard gazing at her naked body sent chills down her spine and caused gooseflesh to break out. Because, of course, Howard wouldn’t simply look. He would touch. He would claim. He would kiss intimate parts of her the way he had kissed her knuckles. Those intimate parts flared with the delicious ache of desire now. It was all she could do to sit still. Perhaps if she could wriggle just so against the firmness of her seat, she could enhance the sensation that her imagination had—

“Elizabeth, what is wrong with you?” Jonas snapped his question as though cracking a whip over the back of a disobedient team of horses.

“Wrong?” Oh dear, where was he in the conversation? What had he been talking about just then? She scrambled to remember.

“You’ve gone all red,” he said. “As if you were feverish. Oh Lord, you’re not feverish, are you? I can’t abide illness of any kind.” He curled his lip and leaned back in his chair, reaching for his tea.

Elizabeth was feverish, all right, but not in any way Jonas would approve of. “It’s nothing,” she lied. “I think perhaps I am seated too close to the fire.”

Jonas narrowed his eyes at her. “There is no fire. It’s June, for pity’s sake. Who lights a fire in Cincinnati in June?” He snorted and took a sip from his cup. The dainty china looked as out of place in his grasping hands as a rose would look if held by a baboon.

Of course, dainty china would look out of place in Howard’s hands as well. Unless it was the teacup proportions and delicate smoothness of her breast. Oh, yes. Howard would look perfectly at home sipping from that cup and nibbling that treat.

“Go on,” she told Jonas, her voice cracking in the heat of her thoughts. “What were you saying about canal investments?” If she could keep him talking, she would have more time to daydream about her future lover.

But Jonas did not go on. He sneered at her as if she were an offensive wastrel and clattered his teacup against the saucer as he put it down. “I was talking about building investments, Elizabeth,
buildings
. Lord, are you really so stupid that you can’t keep track of a simple turn in conversation?”

“I—”

“And here I was promised a well-bred woman who would be able to entertain my guests as well as producing my heirs.” He sniffed, looking down his nose at her. “But I see now that you will probably be of more use to me with your mouth shut, enticing guests to my house much like a masterpiece on canvas, talked about but not talked to.”

Elizabeth’s mouth hung open, her rage so sudden and so fierce that it overrode her ability to form the words she needed to verbally smack the man across the face. Howard would never dream of speaking so insultingly to her.

“I do beg your pardon, Jonas. I have never—”

“Yes, you should beg my pardon.” Jonas leaned across the tea table, upsetting the spoon beside his teacup. The spoon clattered to the floor, but he didn’t seem to notice. “You should beg my pardon for your unacceptable behavior of late. How dare you speak to that jumped-up lackey the way you did just now? How dare you dance with him last night when you are engaged to me?”

She worked her mouth, nothing but an offended squeak coming out, until she was able to say, “I am not a piece of property to be owned and ordered about as you see fit. Or as my parents see fit.”

“On the contrary, that is exactly what you are.” Jonas narrowed his eyes. “Women do not have the mental fortitude to act on their own, as you proved so keenly last night and this morning.”

“How dare you?”

“That is why you need your men to tell you what to do,” Jonas went on, ignoring her attempt to speak up for herself. “Clearly you need all the direction you can get.”

Elizabeth sat straighter, gripping the arms of her chair. The fire that had filled her belly during her daydreams of Howard coalesced into a strength that she felt he would be proud of. “I need no more direction than the dictates of my own heart.”

Jonas snorted. “You prove my point by arguing against it.”

“I am far more capable than you or my father begin to give me credit for.” This time, she ignored his interjection. “I am more than a piece in a business deal. I have interests and dreams of my own.”

“I don’t care about your dreams and interests.”

“And that is precisely the problem.”

Elizabeth stood, swiping her reticule from the table and bending to the side to retrieve her closed parasol. Jonas frowned at her as she stepped away from her place. She leaned closer to him, doing her very best not to cause a scene in the moderately crowded teashop.

“I’m sorry, Jonas, but our engagement is over.”

“What?” He scowled up at her, tense, as if finally realizing she was someone to sit up and pay attention to.

That reaction alone gave her the fortitude to continue. “I have no interest in marrying you. I will not be a part of my father’s business dealings any longer. You will have to find some other pretty, vapid girl to subject herself to you, for it will not be me. I am going to marry Howard Haskell.”

With a proud grin, Elizabeth stood straight and turned to march off.

Jonas grabbed her wrist with so much force that she cried out and dropped her reticule. He was on his feet, his nose inches away from hers, before she could bend to retrieve it or shake free. The other patrons of the teashop tensed and whispered, doing their best to pretend they didn’t see what was happening in front of them.

“You will behave yourself in public, Elizabeth, or in private you will learn that I am not a man who takes being crossed lightly,” Jonas hissed.

“I will not—”

“You will do as you’re told.” He cut her off, squeezing her wrist hard enough to make her wince. “This marriage was arranged by our parents, and they are not to be disobeyed. You think you can throw me off by running to them?”

“I will not run to them.” She returned his threat with one of her own. “I will run to Howard.”

Jonas ignored her, fire in his eyes. “Your parents will not receive you. They will send you right back to me to do with as I please.”

“And you expect
that
to entice me into obedience? To you?” Elizabeth’s brow rose to her hairline.

“This is a match that everyone wants,” Jonas growled.

“Not everyone.” Elizabeth yanked her wrist out of his grip. It hurt, but Jonas was not expecting her to fight him, so she was able to break free. “I do not want it, and I will not have it.”

She bent to retrieve her reticule, taking a step forward as she did. When she straightened, Jonas was right behind her, so close she could feel the heat rippling off of him. He stepped into her, brushing against her shoulder from behind. His mouth tilted close to her ear.

“You will learn your place, Elizabeth Ayers,” he whispered in fury. “You will keep your mouth shut and your legs open or you will regret it.”

Her fury stiffened to fierce certainty that kept her back straight and enabled her to turn her head to stare into his eyes and hiss,“I will keep my legs open, all right, but you will not be the one between them. And if you do somehow manage to find a way to drag me into this god-forsaken marriage against my will, my legs will remain open for any man who wishes to slip between then, from your closest friend to the lowliest negro dockworker on the river.”

She took a step away, out of his reach, and dared him with her eyes to retaliate. Jonas could only stand there, impotent and quivering with rage, as the patrons of the teashop did a poor job of concealing their interest in the confrontation. Elizabeth could practically feel the word ‘whore’ forming on Jonas’s lips, could taste his fury and his desire to hurt her in particularly intimate ways. But he would never have the chance. He would never even come close. One word to Howard, and this entire nightmare would be over.

She sent Jonas one final, arch look before turning away, tilting her chin up with pride, and marching out. More than one of the young women watching with delicate teacup in hand sent her glances of support and admiration. Would that they could all stand up to vile men like Jonas.

One thing was certain, though. Now that she’d done her part and declared her freedom, Howard needed to come through with his plan and make that freedom a reality.