Love Inspired Historical July 2015 Box Set: The Marriage Agreement\Cowgirl for Keeps\The Lawman's Redemption\Captive on the High Seas (11 page)

The answer was painfully obvious. Fanny wanted a happy marriage like that of her parents. She also wanted a family of her own.

Jonathon could give only bits of those things, never the whole.

In the end, he would disappoint her. What was worse, he wondered. A ruined reputation that Fanny might never recover from fully? Or a childless marriage with a man who could give her only fragments of the life she wanted?

Neither was ideal.

He waited for her stories to end, then took her hand and walked with her back to the hotel. He didn't speak, but used the silence to organize his thoughts, to think through their options.

The things Jonathon wanted for himself must not be factored into his decision. He must act in Fanny's best interest.

It was the one gift he could still give her.

* * *

With their walk officially over, Fanny watched helplessly as Jonathon disappeared inside his office. She continued staring at his shut door, trying to pinpoint exactly when things had gone from bad to worse between them.

For a small portion of their time together in the park, she'd felt closer to him than ever before. As she'd talked about her childhood, she'd watched him visibly relax. He'd been approachable and attentive, until suddenly, he was neither.

One minute he was listening to her stories, smiling, eyes laughing, then, abruptly, his guard was up again.

A sigh leaked out of her. What had she done to change his behavior so dramatically?

As she thought back through the various stories she'd told, someone bumped into her, knocking her slightly off balance. She shifted to regain her balance. At the same moment, a pair of strong hands settled on her shoulders.

She looked up, sighed again. “Garrett, I didn't realize you were standing there.”

He gave her a wry smile. “That's probably because you were staring at your boss's door so hard you practically bored a hole in the wood.”

“I was just...that is, I was—”

“You don't have to explain yourself to me.”

No, she didn't. When he continued watching her, his gaze running quickly over her face, she redirected the conversation in his direction. “How's Molly feeling this afternoon?”

“Exhausted and queasy. I left her resting in our room.” He shook his head in wonder and awe. “I still can't believe we'll be welcoming our first child in less than five months.”

The look of utter contentment in her brother's eyes sent a wave of yearning through Fanny. Garrett was going to be a father. She would soon have another niece or nephew to spoil.

Fanny had always believed children were a blessing straight from God. If she married Jonathon, she would never know that joy.

She sighed again.

“Fanny.” Garrett took her arm and drew her toward a tiny alcove decorated with potted plants. “Tell me what I can do to make things easier for you. Name it and it's done.”

Her brother meant well, she knew, but his soft voice and concerned expression only managed to annoy her.

She blew a wayward strand of hair off her face. “I love you for worrying about me. But, Garrett, I've suffered through gossip before.”

“Not like this.”

She shoved at the stubborn lock of hair. Why wouldn't it stay tucked behind her ear? “The speculation and whispers certainly feel the same.”

“The gossip is much worse and you know it.”

She resisted another sigh. “Phoebe and Penelope Ferguson are prone to exaggeration. What happened between Jonathon and me was really quite innocent.”

Garrett flicked his gaze over the crowded lobby, then shook his head in disgust. “In situations such as these, the truth hardly matters. The perception is that you and Hawkins—”

“I know what the gossips are saying.”

He nodded. “Have you thought about your next step?”

In truth, she hadn't, not really. She'd been too busy pretending the problem would simply fade away. The interested stares from the men and women still milling about in the lobby dispelled that notion. She was going to have to make a decision about her future.

Garrett touched her arm, dragging her attention back to him. “Come live with Molly and me in Saint Louis.”

The offer was so Garrett. Fanny wanted to hug him for his concern, for his readiness to rescue her. “I want to stick close to home, near Mother.”

“Saint Louis is a train ride away.”

“Still too far,” she said, shaking her head. “Besides, running away isn't the answer, not this time.”

“Was it the answer last time?”

“I believe so, yes.” Closing her eyes, she drew in a careful breath, thought about the woman she'd once been. “I needed to go away and work out my convictions on my own. I had to find out who I was beneath the facade I presented to the world.”

“Did you discover what you were looking for?”

“I'd like to think I did.” She stared off into the distance, tapped her finger against her chin. “I know more about what I want out of life and, consequently, what I don't.”

“How does Hawkins play into your future?”

Sometimes Garrett could be such a lawyer. Well, she wasn't a witness in a courtroom he could intimidate with his pointed questions. “That's between Jonathon and me.”

“In other words, mind my own business?”

She managed a weak smile. “Something like that.”

“For what it's worth, I believe Jonathon Hawkins is a good man.”

“I agree.” The very best of her acquaintance. If only he would embrace the person she knew him to be.

“Fanny.” Garrett touched her arm again. “Tell me what I can do to make your sadness go away.”

“I'm fine, really. I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Then I'll leave you to your thoughts.” He turned, then swung back around and tugged her into his arms. “I hate seeing you unhappy.”

“I'm not unhappy.” Chin lifted, eyes dry, she stepped out of his embrace. “I trust everything will work out eventually. The Lord already has the solution in place and will reveal the answer in His time.”

“My offer still stands. You can come to Saint Louis anytime. The door is always open.”

Though she knew she wouldn't accept his generosity, she appreciated the invitation. “Thank you, Garrett. I'll let you know what I plan to do about my future.”

He glanced back at the crowd, scowled. “Make a decision soon, Fanny. Time is running out.”

“I know.”

He kissed her on the cheek and then was gone.

Alone again, she returned her attention to Jonathon's door, and she saw Judge Greene knock once and then enter a second later.

Fanny frowned.

What sort of business did Jonathon have with his father? Or was it the other way around? Was the judge the one who'd called for a meeting?

A protective instinct stole through her. She moved a step closer to Jonathon's office, thinking maybe she could catch part of their conversation.

Perhaps if she pressed her ear to the door—

She froze, horrified at the direction of her thoughts. Oh, the depths to which she'd sunk. Eavesdropping and lurking in shadows was completely, utterly beneath her.

Still, what could it hurt to move a step closer to Jonathon's office?

Chapter Eleven

S
tanding behind his desk, Jonathon stared in stunned silence at Joshua Greene, not quite believing the conversation he'd had thus far with the man who'd fathered him. Jonathon didn't know whether to laugh at the irony of the man's gall or slam his fist into that sanctimonious square jaw that looked entirely too much like his own.

Jonathon grasped for a calm that hovered just out of reach.

“Let me see if I understand you correctly.” He chose his words carefully, keeping his expression blank. Greene didn't deserve a single reaction from him, not even a sneer. “You have come to congratulate me on ruining a young woman's reputation.”

Two dark eyebrows lifted, haughty, arrogant arches over feral, ice-blue eyes. “You are intentionally twisting my words.”

Maintaining his relaxed posture proved impossible. Jonathon stalked around his desk, stopping several feet from the cold statue who'd fathered him.

The other man stood his ground, unmoving, his gaze so direct it felt like a physical assault.

Jonathon couldn't hold back his sneer a moment longer. “By all means, Judge Greene, please, clarify your earlier statement.”

“There's no need to use that antagonistic tone. I simply came here to commend you on your success. You have linked yourself with one of the most well-respected, prominent families in Colorado.”

Anger and insult warred within him. Jonathon shoved down the volcanic emotions with a hard swallow. “You think I put a woman's entire future at risk for the sake of an alliance with her family? You think me that calculating?”

“Not calculating.” The judge gave a nod of approval. “Merely shrewd.”

“Shrewd.” Jonathon repeated the word, hardly able to speak through his gritted teeth. This man, so distinguished on the outside, had a black heart, far uglier than he'd realized.

“I'm actually quite proud of your ingenuity,” the judge continued. “And now, I believe the time has come for me to publically acknowledge our connection. If worded properly, the voters will find my honesty refreshing. They are already enamored with your climb out of poverty. Add in my heartfelt sorrow over a youthful indiscretion and I'll win over the hardest of hearts.”

“Ah, now I understand. This is about your run for the United States Senate.”

The man cocked his head in silent acknowledgment, completely unrepentant of his scheming agenda. “Cyrus Mitchell has withheld his support of my candidacy up to this point. However, if you step up and marry his daughter, and I then acknowledge you as my son, he will be forced to reconsider his position.”

It was over, Jonathon thought. The last shred of hope for reconciliation with the man who'd fathered him was good and truly gone.

Not once in his childhood had this man acknowledged his existence. Only now, when it served his own purpose, was the venerable judge willing to claim Jonathon as his son.

Casting a brittle, bitter grin in the judge's direction, he paced to the bookshelf, ran his finger along the binding of his Bible. Just this morning, he'd followed Fanny's suggestion and had read Psalm 139, specifically verse 13, a bold reminder that he had a Heavenly Father who loved him. Jonathon didn't need an earthly father's public acknowledgment.

Dropping his hand, he gave a nonchalant tug on his waistcoat, then faced Judge Greene once again.

“This conversation is over.” He'd given the man too much of his time already, not only today, but in all the years he'd allowed him to take up residence in his thoughts. “You know the way out.”

The judge made no move to leave the room. “You won't do better in a wife than Fanny Mitchell. Your tactic was really quite brilliant. You would have never secured her interest by conventional means.”

The barb hit its mark, the message clear. He, the illegitimate son of a callous, calculating man and his prostitute mistress, didn't deserve a woman like Fanny.

“Consider yourself fortunate you are in a position to marry the girl.”

“You mean,” Jonathon scoffed, his blood icing over in his veins, “unlike the position you found yourself in when you ruined my mother's reputation?”

“Our situations are vastly different.” The judge sniffed in disgust. “I already had a wife when I met Amelia Hawkins.”

Jonathon knew better than to ask, yet he couldn't help himself. The words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Would you have married my mother had you been a free man?”

Greene held his stare, a hard, ruthless look in his eyes now. The world seemed to stop on its axis.

“I would not have married your mother under any circumstances. She was already compromised when I met her. She would never have made a man such as me a proper wife.”

Jonathon thought of his half brother, the son so much like the father. The legitimate spawn of this self-serving man and his
proper
wife was, at this very minute, in the process of setting up his mistress in her own little house with Jonathon's money.

Did Judge Greene know what his heir was up to?

Would it matter if he did?

As if from a great distance, Jonathon heard the rest of Greene's words, heard him expanding on his mother's lack of pedigree. A part of him listened, taking it all in, realizing the true condition of this man's soul.

He is my father. I come from this ugliness.

But he also came from Amelia Hawkins.

He thought of the woman who'd given birth to him. Somewhere, deep down, he'd known she wasn't educated or refined or even proper. But she'd been unspeakably beautiful. Men of quality had sought her out over the other girls in Mattie's brothel. Looking back with the wisdom of age, Jonathon realized why. Amelia Hawkins's ethereal beauty had been her greatest attribute.

“...and so my advice would be to secure Miss Mitchell's hand in marriage as soon as possible.”

Jonathon felt his jaw clench so hard he feared his back teeth would crack from the pressure. He didn't need advice from this man.

Yet one truth could not be denied. If Jonathon didn't marry Fanny, if he abandoned her to her fate, he would be no better than the man who'd fathered him.

Though he couldn't give Fanny what she wanted—family, children—he could give her other things. Comfort, security, his complete devotion.

“We're through here.” Jonathon laced finality in his words. “You will leave my office and my hotel at once.”

“I'll go.” His eyes full of the cunning he'd wrongfully attributed to Jonathon, Greene headed toward the door, then paused halfway through the room. “You should know I plan to release a statement in the
Denver Chronicle
about our connection, once you do the smart thing and marry the girl.”

“I can't stop you from going to the newspaper.” Jonathon maneuvered around the other man and set his hand on the doorknob. “But
you
should know that if asked about our connection, I will respond with complete and brutal honesty.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It's a promise.” Jonathon yanked open the door.

Fanny all but tumbled into his arms.

“Oh.” She fought for balance, stumbled a step to her left before righting herself. “I was just about to knock, but I see you anticipated my arrival.”

Jonathon eyed her closely, wondering why her gaze seemed unable to find a place to land. “Was there something you needed that couldn't wait?”

Her hands fluttered by her sides, then gripped one another at her waist.

“There's a...a problem with one of the guests. The situation must be addressed immediately.” She cut a quick, furious glance at the other man in the room. “Judge Greene, I'm sure you understand.”

“Indeed, Miss Mitchell, I understand perfectly.” He gave her a charming smile, with a hint of smugness around the edges. “It's lovely to see you again.”

Her scowl deepened. “I'm sorry I can't say the—”

“Fanny.” Forestalling the rest of her response, Jonathon put a protective hand on her shoulder. “The judge was just leaving.”

She turned her gaze to Jonathon, nodded slowly, then made a grand show of stepping aside to let the other man pass. “Please, Judge Greene, don't let us keep you.”

Affection filled Jonathon's heart, warming him from the inside out. Righteous anger suited Fanny. Her face glowed.

Judge Greene paused at the threshold to stare into Fanny's eyes. “I'm sure we will see more of each other in the coming weeks, Miss Mitchell.”

“I doubt that very much.” Her smile was all teeth. “We rarely run in the same circles.”

“An oversight I plan to remedy immediately.” Having given his opinion on the matter, he ambled past her without another word.

As she gaped after his retreating back, Fanny's shoulders lifted in a noiseless sigh. “I don't like that man.”

“That makes two of us.”

Overcome with an emotion he couldn't name, Jonathon wanted to pull Fanny into his arms and kiss her soundly on the mouth. With the gentlest of touches, he instead reached up and tamed a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. “You mentioned a problem with a guest?”

“Oh, yes. It's...not precisely a problem. Just something I failed to mention earlier.”

“Go on.”

Her expression turned sheepish. “My parents have requested you dine with us this evening. They would like to eat somewhere other than here in the hotel.”

“Any particular reason why? When we have a perfectly respectable restaurant on the first floor?”

She gave him a slow, appealing smile. “I believe my father mentioned something about the four of us needing a change of scenery.”

Jonathon felt his own smile show itself at last.

“Well?” That stubborn strand of hair escaped once again. “Are you available to dine with my parents and me tonight?”

“My dear, sweet, beautiful Fanny.” He tucked the curling wisp back in place. “Tonight, I'm all yours.”

Not only tonight, he thought, but if he had his way, every night to come.

* * *

Fanny paused briefly at the entrance of the restaurant, her arm looped through Jonathon's. Her parents were a few steps ahead of them, suspended in a similar pose. All gazes turned in their direction and as soon as the whispering began, her mother let out a long, weary sigh.

Fanny's sentiments exactly.

Tonight was supposed to have been a break from the melodrama of the past few days. Apparently there was nowhere she and Jonathon could go in Denver to avoid the gossip. Now, her parents were at the center of the firestorm with them.

Would the stress be too much for her mother?

Fanny's heart endured a tight, panicky squeeze at the thought. But then she noted that her mother's breathing seemed to be coming at a normal rate.

Relieved, Fanny glanced around the restaurant. Rivaled only by the Hotel Dupree, the Brown Palace's rich, expensive decor was considered the height of fashion. The dining room was no exception. Bone china adorned every table. Engraved silverware and crystal goblets completed the elegant place settings.

Wondering what he thought of his competition, Fanny glanced up at Jonathon. His gaze gave nothing away.

Her first inclination was to ask him to escort her out of here, away from the whispers and pointed stares. But her mother seemed to be handling the situation with her usual grace and poise. Fanny would attempt to do the same.

Besides, if she was going to remain in Denver, then she had better get used to the unwanted attention.

At least tonight she didn't have to suffer alone. Jonathon and her parents stood with her. People continued watching them—especially the women—and by the look of their pinched, sour faces, directed mostly at Fanny, many would like to see her brought low.

“Is this a stupendously bad idea?” she asked in the barest of whispers.

Jonathon leaned his head a discreet inch closer. “We will know soon enough, perhaps even before the first course is served.”

His response did nothing to dispel her concerns. But then he smiled. And the prospect of spending a few hours under the watchful stares of their fellow diners seemed slightly less awful.

“Smile, Fanny.” Jonathon pulled her a shade closer. “I am certain we have nothing but a delightful evening ahead.”

She wasn't nearly so confident, but managed a slight lift of her lips.

“Since you agree, let us enjoy ourselves fully.” His soft tone and gentle expression instantly lightened her mood. “I have it from a reliable source that the food in this restaurant is of the highest quality.”

Since Fanny was the so-called reliable source, she could only laugh and shake her head. His responding wink made her think of happy futures and sweet kisses under the stars.

Out of the corner of her eye she watched her father pat her mother's arm, and the tender gesture spoke of their years together. Watching their easy intimacy, Fanny felt something move in her heart, a desire to have what they had. A bond that withstood life's hardships and grew stronger with time.

If only—

The maître d'hôtel appeared and directed them to their table. They were settled in their chairs with little fanfare, their orders taken quickly and efficiently.

To Fanny's surprise—and tremendous relief—the other diners lost interest in them halfway through the first course of their meal.

Jonathon and her father fell into an amiable discussion over the various investments they'd recently acquired. Fanny and her mother discussed far more important matters, specifically, the latest hat and clothing styles from Paris.

“You can never go wrong with the acquisition of property,” she heard her father say. “Land is a finite commodity.”

Jonathon agreed. And so began a lengthy discussion of their various individual real estate holdings.

As the evening progressed, the four of them fell into an easy rhythm. Conversation flowed effortlessly, skipping from one topic to the next, sometimes including everyone at the table, sometimes only two or three.