ROMANCE: Regency Romance: Fated to His Kiss (Historical Victorian Romance) (Historical Regency Romance Fantasy Short Stories) (8 page)

              At this, Haversham colored slightly. “I did nothing wrong,” he protested, but his voice was just a touch weaker than before, as if he knew that the upper hand did not belong to him.

              “You went and married someone your mother expressly did not approve of. Just what did you think was going to follow such an act, Devon? Did you think this would cause her to loosen her purse strings and start accepting all that you do? I think your mother has your measure, Haversham, and I think that you and I both know the deep trouble you have just gotten yourself into.”

              At this, the young man's color changed rapidly to a ghostly white, and he was silent for many long moments. “She will not do anything,” he said finally.

              “You think so? Or perhaps she will somehow conceive of it to get your hasty license revoked, your marriage annulled, and Lady Givens' name dragged so squarely through the mud that she will be ruined forever and your own purse will be entirely controlled by her?”

              The pair of newlyweds paled considerably, and it became clear that such a possibility had not occurred to either of them. It was a heinous thought, and Isadora looked quite like she had been hit over the head with a shovel. Her dreamy eyes looked thoroughly terrified, and in that moment, her extremely young age became appallingly clear.

              “What do we do?” she asked, staring beseechingly up at Anabelle and Henry. “Oh, what do we do? We cannot live on my money—I haven't got any! And she may, that old gorgon, she could ruin everything!” And without making any bones about it, Isadora burst into some spectacular tears.

              Henry let her carry on for a moment or two before speaking. “Enough with that, Lady Givens. You are a gently bred lady, for all your recent rashness. Your new husband's mother may come around yet, but for God's sake, the two of you must learn to behave responsibly. You cannot continue making the same impulsive decisions you have been making, running around, behaving like children. I suggest you approach Lady Haversham with the news together—”here, Devon's face revealed that he had been planning to leave that task entirely up to his wife, “--and then, in an effort to demonstrate your newfound maturity and familial bliss, you will ask her advice on how to budget according to your needs. Or did you learn nothing from the state your father fell into?”

              Anabelle knew she was lost. Hopelessly, entirely lost in this man, this man who spoke the hardest truths when nobody else around him was willing to behave their age. Eyes brimming with grateful tears, she looked up at his calm profile, realizing that if she felt safe with him before, it was nothing compared to how she felt about him now. The feeling lengthened, continued even as Henry escorted her sister and Haversham from the room. Considering his words, she sat waiting for him on the velvet-backed chair where he left her, feeling simultaneously vulnerable and impregnable. She could not stop the hammer of her heart as she waited for Henry to re-enter the room.

              When he did, he busied himself with tidying up the mantelpiece, an act that seemed completely insane to her, given the emotions that had just passed through that room.

              “Henry,” she called out to him, and found herself unable to continue from the feeling that squeezed her in that moment. He glanced at her curiously, but still said nothing about what had just passed between the foursome. All Anabelle could hear was the loud tick of the grandfather clock, and suddenly, the enormity of what she was not saying became almost completely deafening.

              “Thank you,” she said hoarsely, then cleared her throat. “Thank you for not telling Isadora that at the end, my father did not talk of her, but of his horses.”

              Henry finally crossed the room and sat next to her. As he reached a steady arm around her and drew her into the safe cavern of his body, Anabelle realized, quite simply and irrevocably, that she loved him. She loved Henry Princely, and she would belong to him for as long as he would have her, and if that was only a week, an hour, or a day, it would be enough to last her whole life through.

              “I think, my dear, that there has been more than enough pain in here today. There was no need to add to it,” he told her.

              Anabelle squeezed his waist tightly. He was hers! What had she ever done to deserve this wonderful, dependable man? Why, she could rely utterly on him. “Henry,” she asked, propping her chin up on his shoulder, “Why did you marry me? You said you did not want to save anybody, and clearly, I need saving.”

              Henry looked down at her, the surprise in his eyes completely clear. “I married you because I am in love with you, you silly goose. And we all need saving now and again.”

              “You need saving, Henry?” she asked in wonderment, heart pounding even harder at his admission.

              “Of course I do,” he answered, shifting their positions so that she was wrapped entirely in his arms, the place that was home to her. “After my father died, I lost my mind. Do you have any idea how many times I thought about running out and leaving my mother to this hell?” He snuggled her deeper. “You and I have much in common, Anabelle. As much as we all would like to pretend that we are perfect, we can no longer don our masks when we lose the people most important to us. And you, my love, have lost so much more than I. And yet you somehow managed to keep your head above water.”

              “Hardly.”

              “Stop being so hard on yourself! Everybody's family indulges in madness far more frequently than we would like to admit; what kind of man would I be if I did not acknowledge and understand that?”

              “The best man. My only man,” she told him, and kissed him with her entire heart.

              He smiled warmly. “You know, my mother had not laughed in years before you came along.”

              “Truly?” Anabelle was shocked.

              Henry nodded. “You brought sunshine into this home simply by being nobody but yourself. You, Anabelle Givens, prove yourself not a damsel in distress, but an equal partner each and every day.”

              A lightness came over Anabelle, a sliding of a heavy burden from her shoulders, one that she had not had any idea she bore. And from this lightness came a giddiness that she could not and more importantly, did not want to suppress.

              “You mean I am more than just a wife, Henry Princely?” she teased, loving him utterly.

              “You are exactly the right kind of wife, Anabelle,” said Henry Princely, and kissed her soundly.

THE END

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Colorado Calling
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Heart of the Nobleman
by Ainsley Cameron

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by Jane Prescott

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by Ainsley Cameron

Colorado Calling by Catherine Scott

              “Oak Ridge, Colorado Territory. Next stop, ladies and gentleman, is Oak Ridge, Colorado Territory.”

              Louisa Forest awoke, startled by the sound of the conductor’s voice as he walked through the rattling car. It had been a small miracle that she’d slept at all; the three day trip from Baltimore that had begun with so much hope had become increasingly exhausting as she found the shaking movements kept her awake through the empty plains of Iowa and Nebraska. It was all so disorienting as well. She had grown accustomed to city life, with its close quarters and settled horizon. There were always people around that she had known for her entire life. But as the train had shuttled across the country, everything familiar had fallen away beyond the Appalachians.

              She looked down at her rumpled travel clothes with some distress. The pretty blue dress had gathered a fair share of dust from the travels, despite the pleasantly ornate Pullman car. Her beau had purchased her a good ticket, and for that she was grateful. However, as the days had wound onward, the soot that blew back from the engine had seemingly gotten into everything. She wasn’t sure how she was to maintain any mystery and attractiveness in such an environment.

              Louisa pulled a hand mirror from her bag. She noticed she wasn’t the only one doing so; it seemed a few other unaccompanied women had the same destination on their ticket. She wasn’t surprised. It had been her friend Rebecca who had suggested she put a correspondence ad in the magazine, in hopes of finding a worthwhile man in the West. None of her suitors in Baltimore had been worthwhile, mostly gamblers and drinkers. Not that the same couldn’t be said in unsettled parts of the country, naturally, and Louisa had no illusions that life would be perfect or even better here.

              However, she did have hope. There were good reasons to leave Maryland, as she recalled them. Rebecca had been just about the only one still talking to her after she and her family had supported the Union. When she had been a young teen, there had been at least one night of pure terror when a small mob had demanded her father come out and face them. Windows had been smashed, the police had turned out to just in time to chase the rioters away from burning down her tenement.

              The friendly, neighborhood faces that she had known all her life, the butcher, the newspaper seller, the neighbors, had one by one gone cold as they associated the Forests with the “tyrant” Lincoln. Maryland had stayed loyal to the cause, but some parts of the state such as Baltimore were firmly set in Confederate sympathies. Only a handful of like-minded or forgiving neighbors had taken the Forest’s part when their son Donald had signed up to join the Union cause. When Donald returned in a box from Chancellorsville, her mother had died of a broken heart. The war ended, and she recalled sitting at the kitchen table with her father.

              “A blacksmith must work, dear one.” He’d explained, his face looking pained. “I have a brother in Ohio who would be happy to take us in, and you could stay with family there. It is improper you have stayed on with me alone as long as you have. Were it not for the war, I’d have sent you on long ago.”

              “I could not leave you alone here, father.” She had answered, fearing his suggestions.

              “Yes, but you are a grown woman. It is perhaps time you make your own way in the world. If you wish to go with me to Ohio, I will be winding down my affairs here by the fall, October at the latest. If you wish to find a husband between now and then so that you may stay in Baltimore-”

              “I have no love for this city left.” She had spat out. He smiled at her words, and she continued. “But I will see what I can do. I don’t wish to be a burden and, truth be told, I have grown lonely.”

              Heading out into the plains in late September of 1965, she had her doubts about this wild place. The territory had just completed a mini-war of its own from what she’d read, the “Colorado War” between Kiowa, Cheyenne, Arapaho, and Comanche tribes and the white settlers. Though she was herself a settler, she felt sympathy for their cause. No one had invited people like herself to come to the west and claim these lands. It would have, perhaps, been more conducive to a civil society if folks like herself stayed East.

              She reflected on these thoughts as she gazed out the window onto the eastern plains of Colorado, with her first real glimpse of the Rocky Mountain range fast approaching. She felt a bit like an interloper, an adventurer who was seeking a new life among a quickly-shifting backdrop. On the positive side, she could start a whole new life here, create her own identity without any preconceptions from her old life.

              On the negative, she was marrying a man she knew almost nothing about.

              The pictures they had exchanged gave her some hope. She looked to her locket to see his face again. He seemed an ordinary sort with a youthful, handsome face. His large mustache obscured part of his face, and he parted his hair down the middle. Louisa hoped that he was as kind as his letters had made him seem.

              All of that would be settled soon enough. She could see that a few ranch houses were now in view, signs that they were approaching the town. The engine was slowing, and she smiled as she thought of the possibilities.

              Eventually, the train stopped and she let out a deep sigh  of relief, glad to be leaving the rocking train behind her at last.

              She stepped off the train and waited to see Thomas, the man she’d been corresponding with over the past few months. To her consternation, she couldn’t place him. But as she pulled her bags off the train and waited, a trio of people approached. They included an older man, a young man around Thomas’s age, and a similarly young red-haired woman.

              “Pardon me, ma’am.” The young man began. He had a brown mustache that somewhat resembled her Thomas. “We might be wrong, but would you be Miss Louisa Forest of Baltimore, Maryland?”

              “That is I.” She confirmed, feeling uncomfortable. “I had hoped to meet Mr. Thomas Bradford here.”

              “My brother.” The man said, and by his tone, she sensed she was about to receive some bad news. She wasn’t disappointed. “I’m sorry, there was no way to give you warning. Thomas died two days ago.”

*****

              “You’ve all been so kind to me. I couldn’t eat another bite.” Louisa said, pushing away her plate.

             
Louisa had been invited to the Bradford home after the initial shock of the discovery. She was trying to be as polite as possible with the traumatized family. Though she too had suffered a loss of sorts, she had only known the man through his letters. She felt she had no right to grieve.

              The older man, Jim, pushed away from the table as well. “Another wonderful meal, Ann. You’ve done well.”

              “Thank you, uncle.” She kept her head down, her expression difficult to read. The other in their quartet, Jeb Bradford, had said little as well, leaving Jim to handle virtually all of the social interaction with their guest.

              She felt as though she were intruding on their grief, and after clearing her throat, offered a thought. “You have been so generous, but I must ask one more favor. Before it becomes dark, would you be so kind as to find me a boarding house for women of good character? I am so new here-”

              “No, no.” Big Jim Bradford insisted, brushing his huge white beard. “We won’t hear of it. You’ll stay here as long as you please. No debate on that, now.”

              “I have no desire to impose on your good nature.” She insisted.

              “You’re new to the West, Miss Louisa. It wouldn’t be proper for us to allow you to do such a thing, not right away at least. Please do us this kindness.”

              She nodded. “As you say, then. I’m ever so grateful.”

              As Ann got up to clear away the table, Louisa joined her. Though her hostess tried to stop her, Louisa explained, “I don’t mind being a guest, but if you’ll allow me to be of some use it’d be very fine with me. I’ve been cooped up on a train for so long, a touch of work would be welcome.”

              Ann consented and they took the dishes for washing up. As Louisa dried and Ann washed, she thought it best to say as little as possible. It was Ann who broke the silence.

              “It’s been peaceful here for a long time. The war passed us by, praise God.” Ann said quietly.

              “That’s good.” Louisa suggested.

              “Yes, it was. But it couldn’t last, of course. Nothing good ever does.” Ann bitterly complained.

              “Don’t say that. It’s not so.”

              “It is. We were a quiet town until the saloon opened up. Frank Durant brought in gambling, dancing, a brothel, and a criminal element. My brother was trying to do something about it, until he was gunned down.”

              Until then, the family hadn’t revealed the way in which Louisa’s suitor had died. Her breath caught at this revelation.

              “I’m so sorry.” She said. Ann patted her hand.

              “Nothing to be done about it. He stood up to Durant and he and his ilk killed him. I’d warned him, begged him not to confront him. Of course, we can’t prove it was Durant. Thomas was found dead on the road, alone; his horse had run off.

              The Bradfords lived on a small horse and sheep ranch only a mile outside of town. Louisa had been brought back to their home by horse and cart.

              After they’d finished the work, Louisa went to the front room, where she found Big Jim reading a Bible. “You’re an industrious sort, Louisa. Thank you for helping Ann.”

              “It was nothing, really.”

              “I’m afraid we’re short on entertainment. Jeb is a passable fiddle player and…” he hesitated. “I was about to say Thomas can play banjo very well. Could, of course. I suppose the habit of saying he’s with us will take some time to pass. At any rate, Jeb is out checking up on the stock.”

              “No matter. I have a few books I’ve brought with me for reading.” She settled in to a chair and soon Ann joined them. “I was just hearing about Thomas. From his letters, he was a wonderful man. I really am so sorry.”

              Jim looked uncomfortable. “I’ve a small confession to make there. You see, Thomas never wrote those letters.”

              This came as a shock. “What? What are you saying?”

              The older man sighed. “Thomas wasn’t very keen on taking a wife. But I didn’t think it was right for him to be alone, so I asked that the letters be written for him. It’s not as though he was a very good writer anyway. Well- Jeb was the one who did the writing, I’m afraid.”

              This was all too much for her. She found herself shaking from upset. “All of this time, I’ve been talking to someone completely different. It was nothing but a trick, and I’ve been meant as the punchline!”

              “Not at all!” Jim protested. “It was an honorable intention. You must believe, Thomas was a good man. I am sure given time, you two would have gotten on very well.”

              She stood up. Louisa was upset, but she hadn’t forgotten the family had just lost one of their own. “I’d like to be shown my room. I thank you for the hospitality, but tomorrow I’ll need to secure my own room in town, if you don’t mind.”

              “Of course. Ann, would you take her to the guest room?”

              It was getting dark, so Ann lit a lamp and took the young woman upstairs. “Please don’t be too cross. Uncle meant well. I didn’t approve, but.. Thomas was the eldest among us and it was getting on time.”

              “Let’s say no more about it. Thank you.” Louisa said stiffly, as she was taken to her room. When the door closed behind her and she was sure she was alone, she fell onto the big feather bed, finally allowing herself to cry.

*****

              The town of Oak Ridge had very little to offer a single woman. Once she had settled into the Napier Boarding House, Louisa found herself with nothing much to do but look for work.

              This was an unexpected turn of events. She had come to Colorado Territory with enough emergency money to last her through a month of hardship, though that wasn’t the intended purpose of the money. It had primarily been meant for the purchase of a wedding dress and other necessary finery for a ceremony of such life-changing importance. It was fortunate she hadn’t bought a dress in Baltimore as she had originally intended. She’d feared that the long journey might cause some mishap to ruin the dress, so she’d decided to delay purchase until arrival. It also offered her a measure of protection in case Thomas had proven to be a cad.

              The largest building in town, by far, was the Lucky Star. Serving as the social center of the community, it had been built practically overnight, surpassing the church on the other end of town as the biggest edifice until then. She smiled to herself, feeling there was a statement that could be made there, and not a very good one.

              Though she’d had breakfast already with the Bradfords, she felt it might be nice to have a cup of coffee before working on her correspondence. Letters would need to be written to both father and Rebecca, after which she’d start looking for work.