The Most Eligible Bachelor Romance Collection: Nine Historical Romances Celebrate Marrying for All the Right Reasons (38 page)

Sarah touched the frayed seams of her yellow muslin and ran her hand over the well-worn apron. What made her think Mr. Longley would want her, when he could have one of the others? Hazel with her mission experience, Mary with her joyful disposition, or Genevieve with her striking beauty—any of them would make a more suitable wife.

The voices of the schoolchildren floated to her from the prairie where Mrs. Greenfield had taken them to study the flora and fauna, and her heart squeezed with love. In the few weeks she’d been at Belle Prairie, she had discovered a profound purpose for her life. If she didn’t marry Mr. Longley, she would be forced to return east—and what waited for her there, but a bitter father, a lonely home, and a dreary future?

With a burst of determination, Sarah squared her shoulders, ready to do almost anything to stay on the mission field—even marry a man she’d never laid eyes on.

Chapter 2

L
uke Longley had only five days to convince a stranger to marry him. He dipped his paddle into the Mississippi, pulled it through the water, and then plunged it back into the murky depths. The afternoon sun beat down on his back, and sweat soaked through his shirt as the canoe glided along, taking him closer to the Belle Prairie Mission. The water tantalized him with the promise of a cool respite, but his single-minded focus pushed him forward.

“If you keep up this pace,” John Beaumont said from the back of the canoe, “you’ll have no strength for your wedding night.”

Luke heard the teasing in his friend’s voice, but he couldn’t return the good-natured jest. Nothing about this situation made him feel like laughing.

“Relax and have a bit of fun.” John lifted his grandfather’s old voyageur paddle and hit the surface of the river.

Cold water sprinkled over Luke. “Hey!” He sent a spray of water back toward his Métis friend, smiling for the first time since leaving Red Lake five days before.

“Is this journey not God’s will?” John’s voice sounded robust and confident. He wore the bright clothes of a fur trader, though his father had left the fur trading business before John was born. As the son of a Frenchman and Chippewa woman, John had a natural instinct in these woods. Luke had asked him along as a guide—and as a friend.

Luke dipped his paddle again, feeling his muscles ripple under his shirtsleeves. “God’s will? Or the will of the American Board of Missions for Foreign Missions?”

John laughed. “Are they not one and the same?”

Luke dug his paddle into the river, wondering once again why the board insisted their missionaries be married.

“I’ve been doing fine on my own these past two years.” Even as Luke spoke the words, he knew they weren’t true. How many nights had he lain in the dark, weary from a day of work, wishing he had a helpmate to ease his daily burden and warm his cold bed? But there had been no marriageable lady within two hundred miles of Red Lake Mission—not until Miss Smith had come into the Territory last summer.

The board had been patient with him, but it was only because he was Reverend Edward Longley’s son. After two years, they weren’t willing to be patient any longer.

He had to secure a wife before September, or he would be required to go back to Boston and report to the board—and his father—before winter set in.

That left only five days.

He prayed Miss Smith wasn’t already married, because failure was not an option.

“The Lord will provide.” John splashed him again. “And if not, you can always pretend the letter didn’t reach you.”

Breaking the rules was not an option either. If the board said he must marry, then he would marry.

They paddled on in silence. Sunshine shimmered off the ripples of water, while little bugs danced along the surface. A smallmouth bass leaped from the river, snatching a fly before falling back, creating a succession of rings.

Luke dropped his hand to his fly rod beside him in the canoe.

John’s steady voice stopped him. “There will be time to fish once your bride says ‘I do.’”

Luke lifted his hand and resumed his paddling, but the rod continued to lure him.

John used his paddle to point toward the eastern shore. “We have arrived at Belle Prairie.”

Luke looked up the high riverbanks, overgrown with trees and tall grass. A rush of nervous energy coursed through his limbs.

He knew nothing of Miss Smith—not even her age. Apprehension wrapped around his chest, squeezing tight like a vice. What if she was a serious woman, with a dour countenance? Could he live with someone like that?

The canoe slid along the edge of the riverbank until they found a natural landing and ran it ashore. They stepped out of the vessel and pulled it farther onto land. After gathering their packs, they secured the canoe under the brush.

Luke unrolled his sleeves, grimacing at the new hole in one elbow. He took his waistcoat and overcoat from his bag and tried to smooth out the impossible wrinkles. He hadn’t shaved in almost a week and his hair was a mess. “What will she think of me?”

“If she’s anything like the Indian maidens at Red Lake, she’ll fawn over your every move.”

“I have no false hopes for romance. If the board sent her west, then she fits the criteria for a missionary’s wife: young, pious, educated, fit, missionary-minded, and reasonably good-looking. They make no promise of love.”

“Reasonably good-looking is a subjective claim.” John grinned. “I’ve seen some of the board members’ wives.”

Luke adjusted his waistcoat. “At this point, if she’s willing, she’s perfect.” He took a deep breath and looked at his friend. “How do I look?”

John slapped him on the shoulder, and his brown eyes twinkled. “It’s not too late to turn back.”

Luke just shook his head while John laughed.

They trudged through the tall grass and up the steep riverbank until they came to level ground.

A profusion of purple, yellow, and orange wildflowers stood tall and proud among the grass, with smaller clumps of white and pink flowers hugging the ground. Monarch butterflies and white moths flitted from blossom to blossom, while crickets hummed a prairie tune.

Smoke rose up to their left from a large house. A substantial barn stood off just a little ways from the house, and a third building, probably the school, sat on the opposite side of the main road.

John readjusted his grandfather’s old voyageur pack. “Let’s go find you a wife.”

Before they took another step, someone noticed them from the mission, and a great commotion arose as people began to gather in the yard.

With each step Luke took, he had a sense his life was slipping further away from his control.

At least thirty people, both young and old, stood with their hands shielding their eyes as they watched Luke and John trek across the prairie.

Two familiar people moved through the crowd, meeting the men halfway.

“Mr. and Mrs. Greenfield.” Luke had worked closely with the Greenfields at Red Lake before they had come to Belle Prairie. His respect ran deep for this couple.

“Mr. Longley and Mr. Beaumont, it’s good of you to come.” Mr. Greenfield extended his hand. “We received your letter just yesterday and have eagerly been anticipating your arrival.”

“I hope we are welcome,” Luke said.

Mrs. Greenfield put her hand on his arm. “Everyone is welcome at Belle Prairie, especially good friends.”

Luke wanted to let his eyes wander over the gathered crowd, to see if he could glimpse Miss Smith, but he refrained, not wanting to appear anxious.

“I hope my letter was well received.”

Mrs. Greenfield’s smile slipped for only a moment, but in that moment, Luke’s heart picked up speed. Was Miss Smith married? Or not interested?

“Your letter was a surprise, but a happy surprise.”

“And we have a surprise for you, too,” said Mr. Greenfield, teasing in his voice.

“Now, Mr. Greenfield,” his wife gently rebuked. She smiled, but her eyes showed her apprehension. “It appears we have a bit of a… situation.”

Luke gripped the straps of his pack. “Is Miss Smith married?”

“No,” Mrs. Greenfield said slowly.

Luke’s trepidation grew. “Is she not interested in marriage?”

Mrs. Greenfield shook her head. “That’s not it, either.”

Luke’s brow furrowed. “What is the trouble then?” Did they not think her fit to marry? Was there something wrong with her?

“I recently went east to raise funds for our new school,” said Mrs. Greenfield. “And I recruited three teachers to come back with me.”

“Three
single
teachers,” clarified Mr. Greenfield with a wink. “We now have
four
marriageable ladies residing at Belle Prairie—and all of them received a letter from the board, advising them to marry, or they will be required to go back home within the year.”

John’s laughter began low, and then it bubbled up like a pot of boiling water. He dropped his hand on Luke’s shoulder. “It looks like things just got much more interesting.”

Chapter 3

S
arah stood alongside Mary, her eyes on Mr. Longley—or at least the man she assumed was the young missionary. He wore clothes befitting a gentleman, while the other man bore the clothing of a fur trader.

“They’re starting our way.” Mary grabbed Sarah’s arm and squeezed. “I’m about to meet him.”

“We’re all about to meet him.” Hazel placed her hands on her hips. Despite her no-nonsense tone, she adjusted her gaze to see around the person in front of her.

Mrs. Greenfield broke away from the gentlemen and reached the house first. “Ladies, our guests will be hungry. We’ll make introductions after the meal. For now, I would like help putting supper on the table.”

Sarah, Mary, Hazel, and Genevieve nodded and reluctantly turned toward the house.

“Children, please follow me into the dining room,” Sarah called, reaching for the hands of the two smallest children next to her.

Mr. Longley soon passed Sarah, with nary a glance in her direction. His handsome face was turned to the porch, where Genevieve had stopped to watch the men.

Sarah followed behind and entered the house with the children in tow. They took their seats on the long benches around the table.

“Everyone must remember their manners.” Sarah spoke in a hushed tone. “Children must be seen—”

“And not heard.” Young Rebecca smiled, her missing teeth making her mouth look wide.

Sarah ruffled her jet-black hair. “I’m keeping my eye on all of you.”

“Yes, Miss Ellis,” The children called out, giggles hidden behind brown hands.

Sarah passed Mr. Longley on her way to the kitchen, but, again, he didn’t look her way.

His friend caught her eye, and his gaze danced with mischief as he smiled at her.

The kitchen was bustling with activity when Sarah crossed the threshold.

“Sarah, where have you been?” Hazel removed the lid from the stew, and steam fogged her spectacles. “The biscuits are over there. Take them to the table—and be sure to watch your step.”

Mary hurried past her with plates of molded butter, and Genevieve took two pitchers of water. Sarah picked up the platter of sourdough biscuits and for the first time, noticed her hands were trembling.

She entered the dining room and offered the platter to Mr. Longley. He said thank you as he took a biscuit, but he didn’t lift his gaze or even acknowledge her presence.

“Would you like some water, Mr. Longley?” Genevieve stood near him, pitcher in hand.

Mr. Longley looked up at Genevieve, appreciation glowing in his eyes. “Yes, thank you.”

The meal seemed to take much longer than usual. When all the food had been served, the ladies took their seats and filled their plates, though Sarah couldn’t eat a bite. She sent furtive glances down the table to where Mr. Longley sat. Not once did he glance in her direction.

Hazel, Mary, and Genevieve sat near Sarah, but none of them spoke a word.

The children were dismissed with Mrs. Winter, one of the older women who lived at the school and helped with their care, while Sarah and the others went to clean up the kitchen.

“Our guests have gone to the parlor,” Mrs. Greenfield said when she entered the kitchen some time later. “When the dishes are done, we’ll join the men and I will make introductions.”

“How will he choose?” Mary lifted her soapy hands from the water and wiped them on her apron.

“That’s up to Mr. Longley.” Mrs. Greenfield looked about the room, her gentle blue eyes studying each woman. “I have had little time to speak to you of Mr. Longley, but I would like to say a word now.”

Each woman stopped her work and watched Mrs. Greenfield. The older lady wore a plain blue gingham dress. It was serviceable and sturdy, just like her. Gray hair streaked near her temples, and laugh lines creased her eyes. She and her husband had endured a great deal of hardship in their mission work, but they served faithfully.

Sarah longed to be like Mrs. Greenfield.

“As you know, my husband and I worked alongside Mr. Longley in Red Lake before coming to Belle Prairie. He hails from Boston, where his father, Reverend Edward Longley, is a prominent minister. Mr. Longley is a hardworking, dedicated young man.” Mrs. Greenfield studied each lady in turn. “He has served diligently and faithfully these past two years, and he intends to continue his work among the Chippewa for as long as the Lord sees fit.” Her gaze became very serious. “After learning more about him, are all of you still interested in pursuing marriage?”

Every one of them nodded.

“Then join us when the chores are finished.”

Mrs. Greenfield left the kitchen, leaving the four ladies to stand in silence.

“Mr. Longley is even more handsome than I had imagined—and his pedigree is impeccable.” Mary dipped her hands back into the dishwater, her gaze far off. “How old do you think he is?”

“What does it matter?” Hazel wiped a plate dry. “He looks able-bodied and sensible—though maybe he is too handsome for this kind of work.”

“How could he be too handsome?” Mary’s eyes went wide.

“With a face like his, he would be better suited for a pretty church back east.”

Sarah picked up a wet rag and ran it over the worktable. She looked at Genevieve, who worked quietly sweeping the floor, her dark brown eyes revealing nothing. Sarah couldn’t deny Mr. Longley’s attraction to Genevieve—he’d barely taken his eyes off her.