The Most Eligible Bachelor Romance Collection: Nine Historical Romances Celebrate Marrying for All the Right Reasons (71 page)

It had already begun.

She could open a cooking school here. She had endorsements from twelve prestigious families, well, thirteen including Mr. Baker’s. Eliza and Linny had found a building down on Commerce Street for her to rent, two blocks from the Natatorium, where she could take an apartment. Nothing stood in the way of her happiness, except her indecisiveness about Julian.

Tabitha laid her napkin on the table. “Misery, can I go see my frogs?”

Irie took her own napkin and wiped Tabitha’s milk-and-cookie-crusted mouth. “Off with you, but no more kissing.” She folded the napkin and laid it in the lap of her simple gray skirt.

“I won’t. Promise.” Tabitha scrambled out of her chair and across the gazebo’s planked floor.

“You’re good for her,” Mama said.

“You think I should have said yes to Duke for Tabitha’s sake?”

“What I think is my baby is all grown up.” With a sigh, Mama placed her cup in the saucer. “I’ve accepted Mr. Joe Leonard’s marriage proposal.”

“The grocer? The one who sits behind us at church?”

Mama actually rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to sound so shocked.”

Irie slapped her hand down on the table. “Mama! Can you blame me? I just found out my forty-nine-year-old mother has had a suitor for who knows how long, and I don’t find out about it until after he proposes.”

“He proposed a week before you returned from Boston.”

Four months ago! Irie gulped the last of her lukewarm coffee. She put the cup down and rested her hands in her lap. With more calm than she felt, she managed to say, “How long have you and Mr. Leonard been courting?”

“Eleven months.” Mama touched Irie’s hand.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think you were ready to hear it, and you needed the hope of us having a life in San Francisco. You needed to hope for something besides Duke.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I want my happily-ever-after. As much as I love you, I don’t want to leave my life here.”

“You could have remarried years ago.”

“Yes, but I never found a man I wanted to change my life for, until Joe.” Mama’s grip tightened around Irie’s hand. “Is Julian Parish that kind of man for you?”

Irie paused. Would she give up her plans for a life with Julian? After many hours in Bible study and prayer, she’d had no answer, but now it seemed clear. Julian was a good man, despite his own share of relationship wounds. As hard as she’d tried to fall in love, she hadn’t been able to see him as more than a friend, because she hadn’t been courting him for the right reason. Duke would always be her first love. He didn’t have to be her last. And it was all right if Julian wasn’t her second.

Irie nipped her bottom lip as realization grew. She smiled. “I wouldn’t change my plans for Julian, but I will change my plans. I love Fort Worth. I love being able to see my mother whenever I want.”

Mama gasped. “You aren’t leaving?”

“I’m staying for you and for me.” Irie winked. “Besides as the daughter of the bride, I have a wedding to plan.”

Duke walked Linny Cartwright onto the ballroom floor for the first dance. As they waltzed in time to the music, Irie was nowhere to be seen.

Sweat broke out on his forehead. His tuxedo had too many layers. His shoe-clad feet missed his broken-in boots. Over a hundred people filled the ballroom, stuffy despite the open windows. Talkative mothers. Proud fathers. Doting couples. Bachelors on the hunt and young women looking to be swept off their feet. With all the music and talking, he wanted nothing more than to sit in a far corner, away from all the attention. He would have chosen not to dance at all, were it not for Linny putting him on the spot this morning.

Duke focused his attention on the young woman waltzing with him. Like Eliza, the dainty redhead in her virginal white gown no longer wore the “When You Want to Be Kissed” perfume. She smelled of gardenias and had a look of serenity, like a garden fairy from one of Tabitha’s books. She was opposite Eliza Rayburn in every possible way.

“Delightful evening, isn’t it?” he said to fill the awkward silence between them.

“Oh yes,” she said in her soft-spoken voice. She smiled. “No lady yearns to be proposed to while she’s standing next to a pile of manure.”

Duke stumbled but quickly recovered his steps. “What?”

Linny and her smile remained unfazed. “I said, no lady desires to be proposed to while she’s on a date with another man.”

“That isn’t what you said.”

“I am honored by your attentiveness.”

Duke felt his jaw set in an angry line. He hadn’t come to the cotillion to be condescended to, especially by one of The Twelve. “If you wanted to lecture me, why rope me into dancing with you?”

She blinked, yet her expression remained as tranquil as ever. “Where else would I have your undivided attention?” Her fingers tightened around his. “As I said, no lady dreams of being proposed to by a man who has not properly courted her. If you’d had it all under control, Duke Baker, you wouldn’t have butchered the proposal.”

“Ahh. You’ve been talking to Eliza.” He glanced around the room. “Where is she?”

“Calf-roping, I believe.”

“Calf-roping? At this time of night?”

Linny nodded, and petals from the white gardenias in her hair fluttered to her shoulder. “Her actions stem from our desire to help you and Irie. You’re a good man, Duke Baker. You merely are not the man I want to marry. As is the case with my new friend Eliza, I am helping you because doing so benefits me. My mother will believe my very-soon-to-be devastation stemming from your rejection, and she will insist upon a European holiday, the very trip she’s refused to take me on for nine years.” Her melodic voice sped up as the music began to wind down. “Fortunately for you, Eliza and I are here to save your sorry hide. Women like grand romantic gestures. If you wish to repair what you’ve destroyed with Irie, you will think of something.”

“Julian Parish is courting her.”

“Oh yes, the handsome fireman.” She sighed, smiling still. The music stopped, and she stepped out of his hold. “Oh, the tangled webs we weave…. Alas, he is unable to attend the cotillion. Now get to work, cowboy.” She broke into tears and fled the ballroom with a swirl of white skirts. Her mother pushed through the crowd to run after her.

The room silenced, the floor emptied.

Realizing the number of gazes on him, Duke adjusted his sleeves. He squared his shoulders, headed to the refreshment table near the entrance, and grabbed the first crystal cup he could reach. He downed the slushy peach liquid. Despite the sweetness, he drank another. Not the most enjoyable way to begin the evening.

“You aren’t looking well,” Dad said, walking up to him. He stopped next to Duke, who set the empty cup on the end of the table, next to a dozen other used cups.

“I’m not feeling well.”

“What did you say to Linny?”

“Enough.”

As the music began for another dance, Dad grabbed Duke’s elbow and pulled him off to an empty, shadowed corner. “Son, I love you, and I wasn’t going to marry Alice Rayburn until you were settled. What you do with your life is your decision. I’ve decided not to put my life on hold anymore. I’m marrying Alice at the end of the month and will live at her house.”

“Isn’t that quick?”

“At our ages, we see no reason for a lengthy engagement or grand wedding. You can stay here with Tabitha.” He paused. “Also, Mrs. LaCroix has accepted Joe Leonard’s proposal.”

“The grocer?”

“They attend the same church.”

Duke gave his head a little shake. He hadn’t known Irie’s mother was being courted by anyone. Not to say Leonard wasn’t an upright citizen. “Does Irie know?”

“Yes.” Dad’s gaze shifted from him to the crowded ballroom, likely looking for his intended. “Mrs. LaCroix is stepping down as housekeeper after Alice and I marry.” Duke stared absently at the wall behind his father. With Mrs. LaCroix not working at Baker House, Irie had no reason to come back to the house to visit.

Dad clenched Duke’s arm. “I am sorry I put you through this rigmarole of a courtship. Tell me there’s at least one of The Twelve you could consider marrying.”

“I love Irie.”

Dad’s eyes widened as quickly as his mouth gaped and his grip lowered.

“You don’t have to look so shocked,” Duke said grimly. “I do still have a heart.”

“I never thought of her being one of The Twelve. She’s family,” Dad muttered. He ran a hand through his hair. “When did this happen?”

Duke shook his head. “I don’t know. One day she was Irie, the shy girl I used to tutor in algebra. The next she was this captivating woman rejecting my marriage proposal because I wasn’t what she wanted.”

“You proposed?”

“Yesterday. At the stockyards. You don’t have to look so mortified.”

Dad mumbled something under his breath. “You proposed to a woman
at the stockyards.
Can you fault me for being aghast at my own son’s lack of romanticism?”

Duke cringed. “In hindsight, I see how it wasn’t the best location, or timing, but I was desperate,” he said with a groan. His chest ached. “She’s the wife I want. I’ve lost her. I’ve been stuck in a rut of grief, thinking if I could just find a mother for Tabitha, all would be well. I never considered my happiness. I want Irie by my side.”

“She’s here,” Dad said brightly.

Duke turned to the entrance. His heart leaped and—heaven help him—he gasped like the besotted turkey he was.

There stood Irie, in a red satin evening gown with silver metallic netting over the bodice and skirt. White elbow-length gloves. A jeweled choker circled her neck. Black strands of hair cascaded from the simple bun at her nape.

Grand gesture.

He had to think of a grand gesture. But not just any one. It had to be something Irie would find romantic. Something significant to her, yet would show his love was real. Think, think, think. When she was instructing him on how to find ways to court The Twelve individually, she’d said something. Something about gifts, words, and actions should convey the love you bear for those to whom you give, act, and speak.

His fingers tapped the ribbon stripe down the sides of his slacks.

Pursue.

He frowned at the almost audible response. This was one of those times he needed a more specific heavenly answer. Maybe God had given him one in the form of Linny Cartwright. Irie deserved to be properly wooed, pursued, and courted. One hour, one day, one week wasn’t enough time to court a lady properly. For two people who had known each other for fifteen years, he still didn’t know the reason for her divorce, and she didn’t know what he had gone through during the last years of his marriage.

Her gaze shifted around the room then settled on him. A little curve to her lips. A little tilt of her head. Then her smile shifted into a look of concern.

Usually he looked so devastating in his evening attire. What had Duke so frazzled? It had to be the horde of people in the ballroom. She’d help him until she found one of The Twelve to stand by his side. And then she’d find Julian to break things off.

Irie took a step toward Duke.

“Miss LaCroix,” came a male voice to her left. “It’s time I met the woman who taught my girls to cook.”

She turned to see the four Hightower girls surrounding their burly father. “How do you do?” she said and shook his proffered hand. She glanced over her shoulder.

Duke was gone.

She turned back to the Hightowers and listened to the doting father praise her teaching skills. For the next two hours of the cotillion, she listened to gratitude from each of The Twelve’s parents, including Eliza’s mother and Mr. Baker, who cheerfully announced his engagement and congratulated her on her mother’s. Julian never appeared. Nor did Eliza. Linny Cartwright had disappeared, too.

Needing a moment alone, Irie made her way to the refreshment table. She reached for a cup—

“Don’t.”

She turned to Duke, whose forehead glistened with sweat. “Where have you been? People have been asking about you.”

“I—” He motioned to the doors. “Can we talk where it’s quieter?”

Irie looked about the ballroom. The music played. People danced. Those who weren’t dancing milled about the room in conversations of their own. They could spare a few minutes of conversation.