Military Romance Collection: Contemporary Soldier Alpha Male Romance (188 page)

Chapter 3

“Allow me to help you down.” Cora forced a smile at Charlie Cantrell as he approached her, still in the carriage. He held up both arms, obviously meaning to lift her out of the carriage and set her on her feet. She didn’t feel comfortable with that, but Cora’s mother nudged her in the ribs with a sharp elbow, a move that nearly made Cora hiss in agony. As if this horrible dress wasn’t already breaking her!

To avoid passing out, she practically fell into Charlie’s arms, seeming far more eager than she was as he caught her to his chest and slid her down until her toes touched the ground beneath her. His hands lingered at her waist a moment longer than she would have liked, and she pushed back out of his arms as politely as possible. “Thank you, Mr. Cantrell,” she said in her most polite tone.

“Please, Miss Ashton, call me Charlie. And might I say you are quite lovely today. Most certainly God has kissed you with the beauty of the heavens.” He beamed at her.

Cora blushed. Though the words were preposterous and contrived, the meaning was sincere. Charlie Cantrell’s eyes danced with adoration as he looked at her, and Cora only wished she returned the affection. Charlie was quite attractive, but he did not look like a strong man in his creased trousers tight at the knee and loose at the ankles over white ankle boots. And the walking stick was not only overdone but, from Cora’s understanding, had gone out of fashion years ago.

She didn’t not offer for him to call her by her given name, though he apparently believed that offering the use of his own earned him that right. “Cora, I have spoken with your father recently to gain his approval, and I had hoped you would honor me with the acceptance of my offer of courtship.”

Unable to stop herself, Cora inhaled sharply. With her thoughts about Joseph only moments ago, she had difficulty considering the possibility of dating anyone, even if Charlie happened to be one of the most eligible bachelors in the community. She should count her blessings. Still, she had trouble accepting it, and she wished her father had told her of Charlie’s visit and request. At least she would have been prepared.

Her first inclination was to turn him down, politely, of course, stating that she had not yet had her debutante party and should at least be fair until the night of the event. It would give her time to get used to the idea, at least. Perhaps she might even have other suitors to consider, although she didn’t know of any other young men looking to wed who had achieved a status equivalent to Charlie’s.

She had been standing here in silence too long already. Blushing deeply and ducking her head, Cora stuttered, “I…I’m so sorry, Charlie. I didn’t mean to stand here and stare at you. I wasn’t expecting you to ask for a courtship.” Clearing her thought and squaring her shoulders, Cora told him, “I am honored that you think so much of me. Of course, I accept.” She had no choice, did she? What would her mother say if she found out that Cora had flatly refused the offer?

As much as she despised her mother’s sharp tongue and tight reins, Cora craved her approval. And if her father had given his consent, he obviously saw merit and opportunity he thought best for Cora. Yes, this was the right decision, even if it felt wrong. She reminded herself that courtship did not mean marriage or even proposals. Courtship was meant to test the compatibility of two people, and if she or Charlie became miserable in each other’s company, they would simply end the courtship and move on.

There would be others, she told herself, if that happened. She did have her ball to think of, and there was time in advance of that day to make a decision regarding the permanence of her relationship with Charlie. She obligated herself to nothing more than walking with him by the pond or having dinner together from time to time.

Of course, to see his expression, one would have thought they had skipped over all of the formalities, been united in the eyes of God, and Cora had told him she was with child. Charlie’s eyes were alight and his face animated. “Cora, you have already made me a very happy man this morning. Please, allow me to escort you inside, to your parents.”

If there was anything Cora looked forward to less than having to agree to a courtship with Charlie, a man she barely knew, it was rejoining her parents, who would likely ask questions. Or perhaps it was the sermon to be given by a man who welcomed the finances of his sheep more than their need to cleanse their souls, surrounded by people who thought wealth could buy them a pass into heaven.

Still, she managed a smile, and took the elbow Charlie offered, letting him guide her up the steps and through the large, heavy oak doors. She glanced back, staring down the path toward the Lutheran church she adored, the one she had grown up with, and sighed. So many people, in such comfortable, humble clothes, marched happily toward the smaller building. She thought she saw Joseph in the distance, but she did not see his sister and decided her mind must be playing tricks on her

She turned toward the masses of people inside the opulent building, hearing the cacophony of various conversations and laughter and wishing she could be part of the mirthful discussions. She’d been so much more sociable and so much better accepted by the others.

It did no good to dwell, she told herself as Charlie delivered her to her parents. Cora’s mother winked at her while her father shook Charlie’s hand, and as everyone began to settle, her mother whispered, “So, what were the two of you discussing so quietly all alone out there? Is it the news I hope it is?”

Cora sighed, turning her head to the front in clear dismissal. She would answer her mother later. For now, she wanted to try to get some spirituality, and in the midst of the wealthy crowd, that was going to take intense concentration.

Chapter 4

After surviving the sermon and not nodding off, Cora forced herself to socialize with the other young ladies who would have their own balls this season. Of course, it did not surprise her at all that this was the topic of conversation. The girls seemed to speak of nothing else. Ever. In all the time she’d spent with them.

As she stood, listening to Hattie Wilshire gush about how brilliant her party would be, how the most expensive wines and fruits and chocolates would be served, Cora wondered if she would not have enjoyed Charlie’s company better. Perhaps she should suggest skipping the courtship and heading straight for the altar. If they did so, would she still have to participate in the extravagancies of the balls this season? Or would she be blessedly free of such obligations, having those of a married woman such as bearing children?

Considering that several of these girls already had suitors, Cora did not understand the point of the balls. And she certainly didn’t see a reason for such intensive planning and eloquence. “Are you allright, Cora?” Frances Fairchild, standing at Cora’s elbow, whispered in her ear.

Leaning over, Cora asked in a hushed voice, “I think this could all be much simpler. Why not stand the young lady at the front of a room, line up the eligible bachelors to introduce themselves one at a time, and then allow them bid at auction for her? The highest bidder receives the prize of wedded bliss.”

Frances, who like Cora, had been elevated suddenly to the station of eligible young Miss among Society from the poor, working class. She had been exposed to the ways of the wealthy far longer than Cora but had befriended her instantly, helping to cut through the thick airs of haughtiness with humor and honesty. At Cora’s remark, she had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing, and her eyes widened in shock.

“You are horrible, Cora! You should be ashamed of yourself.” Frances whispered back

“Would you be?” Cora giggled quietly.

Frances shushed her, and Cora pretended to listen to what Hattie continued to fuss about. “There will be garlands of roses draped everywhere, red and yellow, and the banquet tables will be adorned with purple ones. And my mother is going to let me wear Grandmother’s tiara for the ball!” she squealed, many of the others joining in.

Cora wanted to go home. She could not make herself act giddy with the other girls, as if she was so shallow as to put the beauty of the party over the beauty of the girl and her mind. If only all people thought like her, including men, things would be much less formal and much more satisfying in the end.

At long last, the girls all returned to their parents and climbed into the carriages, and Cora followed suit. It was such a beautiful day, and she wanted to walk home desperately, but her mother would never allow it with so many people watching. It wasn’t something the wealthy did.

Cora’s mother had always been a strict, exacting woman, but at least Cora had been free to play and roam outdoors, to make whatever friends she chose. She’d worn old clothes, sometimes scraps taken from several items so worn that only the skirt or one sleeve could be salvaged. Her mother would take the good pieces and sew them back together in a patchwork that Cora loved. It was unique.

Her mother had not picked up a needle and thread in over a year now.

As they pulled away from the crowd, Cora felt her mother’s hand on her arm and knew what was coming once again. “So, now, will you tell me what was said between you and the Cantrell boy?”

Cora gave her an irritated look. “Don’t act like you don’t know, Mother. I’m sure Papa told you all about it. In fact, I’m sure you had something to do with pushing Papa to give his consent without even discussing with me whether or not I
wanted
a courtship, with Charlie or anyone else for that matter!”

“It’s the proper thing, Cora. Your birthday is only a month hence.”

“Yes, and I’ll be an adult, a woman who can make decisions of my own!” Cora threw back at her.

Her mother’s eyes shot fire at her, and Cora watched her mother’s jaw tense as her anger grew. “I am your mother, and you will not speak to me like that! I suggest you change your attitude, or you’ll regret it.”

Cora already regretted the way she’d spoken. She loved her mother, wanted her approval, but there were times it seemed she would never earn it, no matter how hard she tried. It had always been so, and it had driven Cora closer to her father, a relationship she sorely missed now that her father was always busy with whatever it was exactly that he did to make them wealthy. She didn’t quite understand banking and investments and properties and such. Perhaps she should learn, she thought. It might offer her the independence she so longed for. What would the world say if a woman could care for herself, remain unmarried without being a spinster?

Cora would love to find out.

The carriage pulled up to the house, and Cora didn’t wait for her parents or for assistance. She hopped to the ground, eliciting a gasp from her mother, and ran to her room, slamming the door. She would have Edith help her change into something less constricting so she could relax and maybe even wallow in a little self-pity.

Chapter 5

Joseph had planned to work in the stables at the Caldwell’s place, but he arrived home to find Grace burning up. “I thought your fever had subsided,” he said softly, touching the back of her hand to her searing head. The rash on her face had disappeared, and much of her body had scaly skin where she was peeling. According to the doctor, it meant the scarlet fever had passed.

She forced a smile. “Yes, well, perhaps this is another color. Maybe my lips will turn a lovely purple and we can call it violet fever.”

“I don’t know how you can find humor in this.” He stood and went to the washbasin, grabbing one of the rags and soaking it in cool water. He folded it and laid it across Grace’s head. “Here, hopefully this is going to cool you down.”

“Look at you, taking care of your big sister.” She coughed, the rattling in her chest sounding far too much like pneumonia to him, and added, “I should be caring for you, Joseph.”

“I can take care of myself,” he argued, taking her hands, which were cold, and rubbing each one in turn between both of his. “And I can take care of you. When you’re well, you can worry about providing.”

“How many jobs are you working now, Joseph? You won’t make it to thirty without being crippled if you keep breaking your back so.” She sounded weak, and Joseph wanted to curse the world. Grace was the kindest, gentlest soul, and she deserved better than to suffer this way.

“That does not matter.” He beamed at her, though he knew it didn’t reach his eyes. “I have big plans soon. I don’t want you fussing over me. Just rest and take care of yourself, Grace. I will have a much lighter heart when you are well.”

He went to fill a cup with water and placed it against her lips, helping her sip. She winced in pain, her throat obviously still sore, and Joseph knew he needed to get to the stables. Perhaps he could still earn enough to pay for the doctor to come with another dose of medicine. “Tell me about church today,” Grace asked, and Joseph settled down. He wanted Grace well, but he wouldn’t leave her side if she was awake and wanted to talk.

“Church was the same as always. Harry walked with me, and we sat in a pew, said our prayers, listened to the sermon. Several people send their well wishes and asked the Lord to help you heal.” He fought the cracking of his voice from the raw emotion it brought out just to think about how much everyone loved his sister.

And he understood. She should have married by now, but she’d chosen not to. She wanted to teach, and she cared for many of the young children in the less well to do part of town. It was her passion, and Joseph benefitted from that, able to have her company in the rare moments he had time to be home and not sleeping.

Her illness was lasting far too long. Joseph didn’t understand. The doctor had assured him the medicine would work, and he’d put all his faith as well as what little savings he had into that. Now, there were no more assurances, and he knew if he mentioned bringing the doctor back, Grace would refuse it, saying not to spend any more of his hard earned wages on her.

“Carry back a message to them for me, when you can,” Grace said, her eyes brimming with tears. “Tell them all that I thank them from the bottom of my heart, and that I am determined to be back on my feet soon.” She took a deep, shuddering breath and smothered another cough. “You shouldn’t be near me. I wouldn’t want for you to fall ill, too.”

Joseph blew it off. “I’m made of stone, sister. No mere illness can take me down.” He winked. “I would have been sick already, if there was danger of that, don’t you think?” She didn’t answer, and he knew she didn’t agree. So, he decided to distract her. “You wouldn’t believe who I saw today, on the way to church.”

Her eyelashes fluttered as she fought to keep her eyes open, her interest piqued. “Who?”

“Cora Ashton.”

Grace’s eyes softened with adoration. Cora had been close to Grace, as well. There were only seventeen months between Joseph and his sister, so the three of them played together often, with other children like Harry joining in from time to time. “Cora. How is she?”

“Well, I didn’t speak with her. You know, it wouldn’t have been proper to approach her in the midst of all those puffed up pigeons. But she looks well, though I wouldn’t particularly believe she was happy from what I could see.”

“What makes you say that?” Grace asked, pulling the woven blanket up tighter around her neck.

Joseph wished now he hadn’t brought up the subject. He scowled, remembering the lines around her eyes, their lackluster where they once shone brilliantly. “I can’t put it into words. But I know it. It’s written on her face, in her expression.”

Grace started to laugh but dissolved into a fit of coughs instead. Joseph stood, ready to get her a teaspoon of honey, but she waved him down, heaving for breath, and smiled through the pain. When she spoke, it was barely a whisper, but there was humor and delight in her tone. “You are still smitten with her, even after all this time.”

“What?” He stared at Grace as if she had two heads. “Why would you say that?”

She pointed at him, narrowing her eyes. “To take note of something so intimate from the distance you must have been at means you are carefully considering her in a way that only a man whose heart was taken would ever manage.”

“You must be hallucinating, Grace. Anyone who could long for someone so far above his station must be a glutton for punishment. You should rest,” he told her, tucking the blanket around her and brushing a hand over her head. She was asleep almost instantly, and Joseph shook his head. A glutton he must be because he could not get Cora Ashton off his mind.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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