Fool for Love (Montana Romance) (3 page)

Amelia’s sore eyes widened.  Her breath caught in her throat.  “Go with you?”

“Yeah.”

“To Montana?”

He shifted.  “I’ll pay for your passage and all.  I don’t mind doing it at all after what I saw last night.  It seems to me that you’re pretty much sunk here.  But Montana is just lousy with opportunity these days, even for women.  Cold Springs could use a smart, pretty girl like you, and ... and, well, that’s it.”  He ended his speech by blushing and lowering his head, looking up at her through his lashes.

Amelia’s heart fluttered, but it had nothing to do with Mr. Quinlan’s charm.

Montana.  It was a world away, a world where no one knew about her father drinking away his fortune and leaving his wife and daughters to make their own way.  It was a world where no one knew how her mother had positioned herself and two of her daughters in rich men’s beds so that they could continue to afford the luxuries they were dependent on.  Most importantly, it was a world where no one knew how she, Amelia Elphick, had foolishly thought going to a man’s bed would solve all of her problems.

“Miss Elphick?  Are you okay?”

Amelia shook herself from her thoughts to find Mr. Quinla
n staring at her with concern.

“You wanna sit down?”  He gestured to the sofa with his hat.

With a nod Amelia turned to sit with all the grace of her birth in spite of her position.  Mr. Quinlan flopped beside her, then stiffened when he realized the etiquette of the situation.

She cleared her throat.  “Mr. Quinlan, you do realize I’m with child, do you not?”  She had to make sure that he was fully aware of the character of the person he was offering to help.

He scowled.  “Yeah.  That’s what’s got me ticked as hell about how that jackass treated you.”  Amelia’s eyebrows flew up.  “Back home, if a man got a girl in the family way like that, her kin would break out the shotguns and march him straight to the altar.  Makes no sense to me that here they do the exact opposite.”

She opened her mouth to
explain but no words came out.

“It got me to thinking,” Mr. Quinlan went on.  “If you came back to Montana with me you could say that you were
Mrs
. Elphick and that your husband died somehow.  No one would be the wiser.  I wouldn’t tell a soul.  Folks are mighty kindly disposed to help a young widow and her child.  You could find work as a teacher or something.  Maybe even a nice beau to fall for you.”

He was right.  She pressed a hand to her heart, moved it to her stomach.  In Montana she could love her child without guilt.  They could be saved from disgrace.  Her baby wouldn’t be a bastar
d, not by reputation at least.

She could lie and no one would ever know.

“I know it’s a big decision,” Mr. Quinlan interrupted her thoughts.  “I wish I could give you more time than none to decide, but I leave for Liverpool first thing tomorrow morning and the ship heads out on Friday.”

“Thank you, Mr. Quinlan.  I accept your offer.”  Her eyes shone, mad with hope.

Mr. Quinlan smiled, the expression making his already handsome face beautiful.  “Well all right then.” 

He patted her knee then pulled his hand back, scowling at himself.  His smile was quick to return.  He shifted in his
seat, twirling his hat again.

“Um, here’s the thing.  Reggie, Mr. Hamilton, that is, doesn’t want you in his house anymore.  So I was thinking that I could set you up in a hotel for the night.  And I don’t know what women need to travel by ship, but I’ll buy you any special clothes or anything you might want for the journey.  Only we’d have to go shopping today.  And as I understand it, you have a mother and sisters that you’d maybe like to visit to say goodbye to?  I don’t reckon I know when you’ll be able to see them again.”

Amelia’s heart quivered into her sour stomach at the thought of seeing her mother.  If she never saw her mother or her sisters again she would consider it no great loss.  But not even she could leave without saying goodbye, to Eve at least.  She would have to pay one last call.

“You are very kind, Mr. Quinlan.  I couldn’t possibly allow you to spend any more money on me than is strictly necessary.  Not when you are already going to such great expense to … to rescue me from ruin.”  She swallowed her tears.  She’d already cried enough for one lifetime.

“It ain’t no trouble,” he rushed to assure her.  “I might not have had the most successful time here in London these last six months, but I got enough cash left to see that you’ve got what you need.”

She forced herself to smile.  He could have no idea how humbling his gesture was.  “What I will need, Mr. Quinlan, is your assistance in calling on my mother.”

He sat straighter, a look of business settling in the lines of his face.  “You just tell me what I need to do.”

His kindn
ess would be the death of her.

“I’m afraid I will need you to pay for a cab to take me to…” she lowered her eyes, “…the East End.”

“All right, that’s no problem.”  He nodded and stood as if her words meant nothing.  “You wanna go now?”

Amelia’s mouth fell open before she could come up with a reply.  She didn’t want to go now or ever, but what else could she do?

“I suppose I should.”  She pushed herself to stand.  “I’m sure Mr. Hamilton wants me out of the house right away.”

“He does.”  Mr. Quinlan didn’t mince words.  He stopped twirling his hat and squashed it on his head.  “So we’d better get a move on then.”

Amelia nodded and started for the hall.  She’d known she would be leaving the house promptly, but never in her wildest imagination had she seen herself being whisked off by this rugged American savior.

Chapter Three

England was a strange, damp little island that made no sense.

It wasn’t the first time the notion had crossed through Eric Quinlan’s mind in the last six months.  As the hired carriage rolled through crowded, rainy streets he swore that once he left the place and its stuffy people and nonsense “society” he would never go b
ack.  Business or no business.

More like no business.  The only thing of any used he’d managed to settle in six whole blasted months was sitting drooped in the carriage beside him.  At least he’d been able to get one thing right.

“It’s just down here,” Miss Elphick, Amelia, said as they turned a corner.

Eric straightened and peered out the window.  All he could see was another street packed tight with dreary, gray houses and soaked people dashing hither and yon.  It wasn’t much of a sight s
o he turned to Amelia instead.

Even looking as though she was being marched to the gallows, Amelia was pretty as a peach.  Her cheeks were pink and wisps of blonde hair escaped from her severe hairstyle, like nothing could tame them in spite of all efforts.  It reflected everything he’d observed of the woman in the last months.  She was a wild spirit stuffed into too tight a skin.

“When’s the last time you saw your ma and your sisters?” he asked as the carriage slowed.

“Eight months ago,” she answered, long lashes lowered.  “It was … not a pleasant visit.”

“Well we’ll just have to do our best to make this one count then, won’t we.”

She glanced up at him as if he’d said something stupid.  “My mother can be a bit,” she paused, pursing her lips, “overpowering.  She has a reputation for being unscrupulous.  And my sisters are … unruly.”

As much as he knew it was ungentlemanlike, Eric couldn’t keep a grin off his face.  Amelia had the most darling way of starting a sentence and finishing it three days later.  At least it gave him a chance to think of what he was going to say in reply.

“Well I’ll be mighty pleased to meet them.”  He added as genuine a nod as he could manage.

She met his statement with a dubious frown.

The carriage came to a stop and lurched as the driver jumped down.  He opened the door a moment later, an umbrella already open and held up, darting his eyes around like the bu
ildings might pick his pocket.

Eric hopped out into the rain then turned to hand Amelia down.  He nodded to the soaked driver, took the umbrella, and held it over Amelia as he escorted her up to the front door of a modest townhome.  The dress and coat he’d bought her the day before went a far ways to hiding the condition she was in.  Not that he minded looking at her in the family way.

He knocked then leaned back and studied the place.  He’d gotten the impression they were going to the slums or something, but the street they found themselves on was all right, if a little sad.

A few beats l
ater the front door flew open.

“Hello?” a bright-eyed young woman greeted them.  She had the sweetly disheveled look of a girl clinging hard to respectability but falling short.  Her bodice was cut low enough to make Eric look deliberately at her eyes.  She couldn’t have been older than sixteen.  “Oh, hello!”  She warmed her words, scanning him up and down and biting her lip.

“Hello Eve,” Amelia stepped out from behind him to greet the girl, her voice gone hard and sharp.

The girl, Eve, yelped and jumped into the rain to
throw her arms around Amelia.

“Amelia!  I’m so happy to see you!  It’s been so long!  What are you doing here?  And who is this?  He’s so handsome!  You must come inside out of this rain immediately.  Right this way.  Mama!  You’ll never guess who’s here.  It’s Amelia!  I made tarts this morning!”

Eric could only gape at the tornado that had to be Amelia’s sister as she swept him along out of the rain and into a drab front hall.  It smelled of lavender and was toasty warm in spite of the damp.

“It’s been simply ages!” Eve rattled on.  She hadn’t let go of Amelia and dragged her into a side parlor with shabby sofas on faded carpet and paintings on every spare inch of the walls.  “Why, I thought I saw you last month at the Savoy, but I was otherwise engaged so I didn’t have time to find you and sa
y hello.  Can you forgive me?”

Before Amelia could so much as open her mouth, Eve called, “Mama!  Amelia is here!”

Since no servant came to help him, Eric closed the umbrella and leaned it against the corner near the door.

Footsteps sounded from the hall stairs as Eve yanked Amelia to sit on a long sofa whose fabric was fraying at the edges.  To Eric’s eyes the parlor looked like any other feminine sitting room he’d been trapped in during the last six months, if shabbier, but for some reason it felt different.  He couldn’t put his finger on it.

“The Savoy is such a delight,” Eve blew on.  “I think I would have liked to have been an actress.  I have a genuine talent for the stage, you know.  Remember when we used to put on musicales for Mama and Papa and their friends?  I was always-”

“Please, Eve, enough!” Amelia cut her off.  Eric’s gaze snapped away from the frilly furniture to her.  Amelia’s pretty face was pinched like she had a headache coming on.  “I haven’t come here to listen to you talk nonsense about the past.”

Eric arched an eyebrow at the harsh comment.  Eve didn’t seem to mind though.

“Why did you come then, dear sister?”  She held Amelia’s hand in both of hers and smiled as though the sun had come out.

“We have a guest!”

Eric turned his attention to the doorway as an older woman entered the room.   She was dressed in fine, fashionable clothes that might be called modest, but her face was painted like no Englishwoman he’d ever seen.  In fact, the picture she painted could teach the whores of Cold Springs a thing or two about showmanship.  The wolfish look in her eyes was aimed straight at him, sweeping him from head to toe as if judging the size of his wallet and his manhood.  He’d been sized up by professional women before.  He just hadn’t expected to find one in a fancy English parlor.

“Hello, sir.”  She sashayed into the room with a salesman’s grace.  “I don’t believe we were expecting you.”  She reached him and extended her hand.

“Um, ma’am.”  He fumbled to take the offered hand.  She squeezed his fingers before he could pull them back.  He would have squirmed right out of his coat and run for the hills if he could.  “I brought Amelia to see you.”

As soon as her eyes slid to her daughter on the sofa, the woman dropped her hand and her act.  “Amelia!  What in heaven’s name are you doing here?”

Amelia let go of her sister and stood.  She cleared her throat and took a deep breat
h as if facing a firing squad.

“Mother.  I’ve come to say goodbye.  I-”

The rest of her explanation was cut short as a third woman marched into the room.  This one was another sort entirely.  She was young, like Amelia and Eve, and had the same blonde hair.  But unlike Eve she was as sour as a pickle on a stick.  Not even the touch of rouge on her lips or her fine, feminine dress could hide it.

“What are you doing here?”  She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Amelia.

“Olivia.”  Amelia nodded.  “I came to say goodbye.”

“Where are you going?”  Eve jumped up from the sofa and clasped her sister’s hand once more.

“I’m going to Montana,” Amelia announced.  She hadn’t looked at him at all since entering the house, but now she raised her eyes to meet his, like she expected him to change his mind now that he saw where she came from.