Her Irish Surrender

Her Irish

Surrender

By

Kit Morgan

ANGEL CREEK PRESS

Her Irish Surrender

(Holi
day Mail Order Brides Book Four)

by
Kit Morgan

Copyright 2014 Kit Morgan

Find other titles by Kit Morgan Including:

The Prairie Bride Series:

His Prairie Princess (Prairie Brides, Book One)

Her Prairie Knight (Prairie Brides, Book Two)

His Prairie Duchess (Prairie Brides, Book Three)

Her Prairie Viking (Prairie Brides, Book Four)

His Prairie Sweetheart (Prairie Brides Book Five)

Her Prairie Outlaw (Prairie Brides Book Six)

Christmas in Clear Creek (Prairie Brides, Book Seven)

The Holiday Mail Order Bride Series:

The Christmas Mail Order Bride (Book One)

The New Year's Bride (Book Two)

His Forever Valentine (Book Three)

Her Irish Surrender (Book Four)

Coming in March:

The Springtime Mail Order Bride (Book Five)

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without permission in writing from the publisher.

All characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people are purely coincidental.

Cover design by Angel Creek Press, The Killion Group and Hotdamndesigns.com

License Notes

This e
-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For Audra, Jennifer, Ren
e, Lyrae and Shiela. Because this is the last story I wrote while still with you. And remember girls, miracles don't always come in the form we think they ought to ...

Table of Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Epilogue

One

New Orleans, January 1871

“A mail order bride!” Adaline Dermont
hurried around the dining table to her aunt’s side. “You can’t possibly be serious!”

“I’m afraid I am, dear.  You see your Uncle Charles will take me in, but
not the both of us. I don’t see any other way.”

“But surely Uncle Charles could find it in his heart to …”

“No, you don’t know your Uncle Charles like I do. He always was a stingy old …well, never mind. Suffice to say there’s not much to be done about it.”

Adaline stared down at her Aunt Pri
scilla’s gaunt features.  She looked like she’d lost more weight, something her frail frame couldn’t afford. How could she leave her?

  The tiny woman took one of her hands and gave it a pat. “Ada,
this is for the best.  I know you want to look after me, but you’re young and pretty, and deserve a real life. Not one made up of babysitting an old woman. Charles and I will get along fine.”

“But auntie, it’s been you and me for
so long now, I can’t leave you.”

“You can and you must. We’ve had a glorious
seven years together, and I finished raising you the way I thought my sister would want me to.  Now my job is done, it’s time for you to move on.”

Adaline raised her face to the ceiling and closed her eyes. “But a mail order bride? Surely I could find some respectable work somewhere?”

“No, that won’t do. I’m expected in Charleston in less than a month, and I don’t like the thought of you left here to fend for yourself. If we had any money left, it might work.  But the money is gone.”

Adaline sighed and looked out the dining parlor’s window. “I know.”

“I … I made you an appointment to meet with Mrs. Ridgley tomorrow afternoon,” her aunt said in a soft voice.

Adaline sighed in resignation as her head flopped to her chest. “So soon?”

“We haven’t much time, Ada.”

Adaline flopped into the nearest chair. “You think this is the best course of action?”

Aunt Pri
scilla smiled. “I know it is. Remember my friend Mrs. Teeters?  She runs the Winslow Orphanage, I used to volunteer at. I ran into her last week, and she suggested the whole thing.  I can tell you, I was at my wits end until I spoke with her. I was so worried about what you would do, where you could go …”

Adaline held up a hand to stop her. “I understand, and I don’t want you to worry about
me. If you think this is for the best, then I’ll do it. I’ve always honored your decisions before.”

Aunt Pri
scilla looked at her, tears in her eyes. “I want you to be happy, Ada. It’s all I’ve ever wanted …”

“No crying, you know I hate it when you cry, and then I’ll start, and then there will be a horrible flood, and we’ll both drown, and …”

“No more, Ada!” her aunt laughed. She smoothed her skirt as she sobered and sighed. “We’ll write to each other every week, and you can tell me what a wonderful husband Mrs. Ridgley found for you.”

“That depends on
what sort of prospects she has available.”

“I’m afraid there isn’t time for months of letter writing. You’ll have to choose quickly.”

“How much time did you say I have?”

“Your Uncle Charles will be here to collect me in
less than three weeks.”

Adaline blew out a breath. “Maybe you should have made th
at appointment for this morning?”

Aunt Pri
scilla laughed before she pulled Adaline into her arms, and wept.

* * *

“Thaddeus, the answer is still no.”  Mrs. Ridgley stated firmly and sat.  She folded her hands together on her desk and waited for the usual explosion to come.

“Eugina, considering our past, I thought you might see differently,” he said as he glanced about her office. “You used to be surrounded in splendor, the best money could buy. Now look at you, you’re surrounded in squalo
r.  Who was your decorator?  This wall paper is ghastly!”

“Never mind about my wall paper, was there anything else?”

Thaddeus sat on the desk and leaned down toward her face. “Dinner? For old time’s sake?”

“Absolutely not.”

He hopped off the desk and paced the room. “Why can’t you see reason? You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met!”

“And you are the most wicked, lost, arrogant, conceited …”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, my dear.”

  She snorted in frustration
and shook her head. “What happened, Thaddeus? Where did we go wrong?”

“Ahhh, you still love me …”

“I didn’t say that.”

  He stopped his pacing. “What if I told you, I still loved you?”

She stared at him.  Eugina Ridgley and Thaddeus Slade had been a force to be reckoned with once.  But their business partnership had vanished the day Eugina found a better partner and a more worthy cause. “It wouldn’t matter if you did, I cannot be with you. We have gone in different directions you and I.”

  “Very well, you may continue this farce of a mail order bride business and eat beans and bread the rest of your life, while I continue in mine,
and have steak and champagne.”

“At the expense of the li
ves of innocent women? Thaddeus, you used to have a conscious.”

“I’ve never had a conscious. I can’t afford one.”

“Come to church with me.”

His eyes suddenly widened as he
stared at her. “What?”

“You heard me, come with me on Sund
ay and listen, hear what changed my life forever.”

“I’m afraid God and I ar
e not on speaking terms. I left Him long ago, or perhaps He left me. How do you think I got into the business I’m in?”

“It’s not too late, it’s never too late.  Stop enslaving innocent women, if I can change, so can you.”

He looked at her, and for a scant second, she saw a flicker of emotion. “Oh Eugina, don’t be naïve, it’s too late for me.” He turned, put on his hat, and made to leave.  When he opened the office door, she saw a young woman sitting in the waiting area.

Thaddeus eyed her up and down. “You’re not from the orphanage,” he stated more to himself than the young lady. He turned just enough to speak over his shoulder. “I see you’ve branched out to more than just helping pitiful orpha
ns. You have a real lady seeking your services. I congratulate you.”

  With that he left,
his steps echoing down the stairwell to the first floor of the building.  Mrs. Ridgley sighed and braced herself against her desk as she stood.  Her two Negro assistants, Jethro and Solomon, were down the street helping Mr. Carson the butcher unload a wagon.  They’d both have had a fit finding Mr. Slade in her office.  The feud between herself and Thaddeus had gotten quite heated over the last few months, but he’d backed off momentarily. Now she knew why, he wanted her back in business with him.  But her days as a madam were far behind her.  Rather than enslaving women to the horrors of prostitution, she did her best to save them from it, and so started The Ridgley Mail Order Bride Service.

“You may come in,” she told the young
woman.

The girl
stood. Thaddeus was right, she was a far cry from the orphans she was used to dealing with. Her beautiful green day dress was of high quality. She wore gloves and a matching bonnet, her golden blonde curls shining bright against the dark green of her shawl.  Healthy, young, pretty and vibrant was the woman before her.  Eugina smiled as the girl followed her into her office.  No, it wasn’t only orphans she helped to escape from the horrors of New Orleans. She also helped women find love, be they from Winslow’s orphanage or a lady of distinction such as the one taking a seat on the other side of her desk.

Eugina smiled as she sat. Thaddeus wouldn’t dare touch this one, in fact he couldn’t. Not without raising the suspicion of the authorities. “You must be Miss Dermont.”

“Yes,” the girl answered. “I’ve come to look over what prospects you have.”

Eugina smiled agai
n. “I have several, but there’s only one I think would suit you.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” Eugina told her as she rifled through a stack of papers on her desk. “Candidate number one, Horace Simpson. He hails from Texas and owns a large cattle ranch. He writes here, that he believes the local women are only interested in his money, so he’s sending away for a mail order bride.”

“I
can understand his logic. Might I ask how old he is?”

Mrs. Ridgley pushed a small, tintype photograph a
cross the desk. “I have to say, that Mr. Simpson is not one I would recommend.”

“As I told you before, I’ll be the judge … oh, dear.”

Mrs. Ridgley remained silent as the girl studied the mini-portrait.  Mr. Simpson looked to be at least ninety, though she knew from his application he was a spry seventy-five.

Miss Dermont set the photograph on the desk and slid it back to her. “You are right, he won’t suit.”

Mrs. Ridgley went to the next sheaf of papers. “Applicant number two, a Mr. Bertram Brown, he’s a gold miner in California.”

“Has he struck gold?”

“No, but it says here he owns several of the finest mule teams in the area.  He rents them out.”

Miss Dermont puckered her brow. “
California, that’s so far away.  May I ask if he is one you’d deem suitable for me?”

“No, but as
you indicated, you wanted to see them.”

“Never mind what I said, what does this leave me with?”

Eugina smiled. “I saved the best for last.” She set Mr. Brown’s information aside, and picked up another small stack of papers. “Here we have, Mr. Lorcan Brody.”

“Lorcan? That’s an odd sort of name, isn’t it?”

Eugina looked at her. “Yes, I suppose so. I admit I’ve never heard it before either.”

“Where is he from?”

“Oregon.”

“Oregon!”

“Oregon City, Oregon to be exact. He owns a book shop there.”

Miss Dermont swallowed hard as her gaze wandered. “Oregon … it’s so far …
and wild.”

“You can choose to wait until I receive more applicants, you don’t have to pick one of these.”

  Miss Dermont looked at her. “I don’t?  How often do gentlemen answer your advertisements?”

“We get one or two a month.  This time we got three.”

“Oh, dear me … I haven’t the time. My aunt is leaving for Charleston in a few short weeks.  I’ll need to have left New Orleans by then …”

“Not to worry, Miss Dermont. I think Mr. Brody
will suit you fine. He’s twenty-seven, never been married, and has his own business in a growing city. You need only make the journey.”

“A simple thing
to say, when you’re not the one who has to make it.”

Eugina smiled again. “No, but you aren’t the first, and you won’t be the last.” She
turned the stack of papers around and slid them across the desk.  She then picked up a pen, dipped it in ink, and held it out to her.

* * *

“Auntie, what have I done?” Adaline moaned and sat down hard upon the settee.

  Aunt Pri
scilla looked up from her knitting. “Mrs. Ridgley told Mrs. Teeters that Mr. Brody was the best possible choice.

“He was the only choice.” Adaline
corrected and picked up her needles. “When did you see Mrs. Teeters?”