Love Inspired Historical July 2015 Box Set: The Marriage Agreement\Cowgirl for Keeps\The Lawman's Redemption\Captive on the High Seas (44 page)

Chapter Thirteen

“T
here. That's the last stroke.” Rosamond stood back and admired the white paint drying on the classroom wall. “What do you think?”

“Very nice.” Beryl gave her a weak smile and listlessly began to clean up the mess from their work.

For the past month, Rosamond had done everything possible to cheer her friend, but nothing seemed to work. With Percy exploring the San Juan Mountains, hopes for a renewal of their romance had faded. In fact, Rosamond's own emotions constantly teetered on the edge of depression, even as the work they'd completed gave her a feeling of satisfaction. In another month, classes would begin and her dream of becoming a teacher would become a reality.

She removed the tarpaulins covering the desks and rolled them to the side where Rand could remove them tomorrow. He and Nate had hung doors and finished the roof, tasks that she and Beryl couldn't manage. How could she and Beryl have finished the school without the help of her older brothers now that Tolley was gone? Thoughts of her younger brother always brought a pang to her heart.

“There you are, Miss Northam.” Adam Starling peered into the classroom, his eyes bright with interest. “Say, this is a mighty fine schoolhouse.”

“Hello, Adam.” Rosamond waved him into the room. “Will you be attending our classes?”

“Yes, ma'am. My pa says I can come.”

“I'm so pleased to hear that. Aren't you, Miss Eberly?” Removing her paint-spattered white apron, she gave Beryl an encouraging nod.

“Yes, indeed.” Beryl's perfunctory remark wasn't supported by even a hint of emotion.

To make up for it, Rosamond brightened her smile. “How is your father, Adam? Has he recovered from his injuries?”

“He's getting better every day, ma'am.” Adam surveyed the room, clearly admiring it. He ran a finger over a desk in the front row, his expression filled with awe. “Is this where we'll have our history lessons?”

“Yes, it is.” Rosamond felt a tiny thrill inside. What an eager scholar this boy was! Having an actual student show such interest brought her dream even closer to reality. “Miss Eberly's science and mathematics classes will be next door.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Adam gave Beryl a polite nod, but his preference for history was clear.

“Did you come to help?” Rosamond appreciated the young men's labors, but most were now too busy with their farm and ranch work to volunteer more time.

Adam jolted. “No, ma'am. I mean, I'll be glad to help if you have a job for me. But Mr. Wakefield sent me over to invite you to inspect the hotel. He asked me to escort you there.”

Rosamond felt her jaw drop. She stared at Beryl, whose wide-eyed astonishment mirrored her own. “Has he indeed summoned me?” She tried to keep the frost from her voice. After all, Mr. Wakefield's cruel deeds weren't Adam's fault.

Adam didn't appear to be intimidated. In fact, a crooked grin teased at one edge of his lips. “No, ma'am. Not summoned. It's an invitation.”

Was the hotel already finished? Rosamond had done her best for the past month to avoid the Main Street corner just one block away, and not even so much as look in that direction. For surely by now, Mr. Wakefield's horrid Palladian facade would be in place, a sight she didn't wish to see. Now she could no longer avoid it. She had a responsibility to Father and to the community to make sure the Englishman hadn't made a muck of the hotel that was supposed to bring much welcomed business to Esperanza.

“Very well, Adam. Thank you.” She noticed Beryl putting on her bonnet and gathering her reticule. “You're coming, of course.”

Beryl hesitated. “Well...”

“Ma'am?” Adam shifted his feet. “Um, Mr. Wakefield said to bring just you.”

Rosamond turned away from the boy so he wouldn't see her anger. Did this man think he was the lord of the manor and could decide who could come or not come to the hotel? Beryl didn't need this further rejection. And if Garrick—
Mr. Wakefield
—knew where Adam would find Rosamond, he must know her dear friend was with her. Why would he so cruelly exclude her?

“You go on.” Beryl dabbed Rosamond's cheek with her handkerchief. “That spot of paint doesn't match your shirtwaist.” She fussed with Rosamond's hair. “If you're going into battle,” she whispered, “you should look your best.”

“You're right.” Rosamond accepted her friend's help. “Pray for me.” As she said the words, guilt crept in. She hadn't truly prayed for weeks. Not since the day after the fire, when she'd made up her mind to have nothing more to do with Garrick Wakefield. Maybe after today, that could become possible. For now, she must inspect the hotel, make the necessary suggestions and leave him to his own devices.

“There. Much better.” Beryl's winsome smile broke Rosamond's heart. “Go on, now.”

Rosamond squeezed her hand. “I'll see you at church on Sunday.”

She donned her blue bonnet and gloves and then left the schoolhouse to walk up dusty Main Street beside Adam. As they neared the hotel, she looked toward her destination. To her astonishment, instead of a Palladian facade, the building had a charming second-floor balcony along the front adjoined to the one on the south side, with a single door on each end that would permit guests to enjoy the fresh air without going downstairs and through the lobby.

Beneath the L-shaped balcony, new boardwalks had been laid, and several of the storefront shops were already occupied, with signs proclaiming Open for Business. One glass window read Mrs. Ryan's Millinery, a shop Rosamond planned to patronize often.

She entered the hotel reluctantly, preferring to turn around and go home. Adam opened one of the double doors leading to the lobby and gave her a little bow. “Ma'am.”

“Why, thank you.” She gave him a nod of approval. Her future student wouldn't see her distaste over being forced into this situation.

Inside the lobby, she drew in a quick breath at the stunning beauty of the large room. The chandelier had been moved to a central spot near the front desk, just as she'd requested, and floral relief patterns circled the exquisite crystal gaslight fixture and extended to the corners. Elegant gold-and-blue-striped wallpaper provided a charming backdrop for the blue brocade chairs and brown leather divans. Although Rosamond had helped choose the decor, seeing the reality thrilled her beyond all that she'd expected. Not a spot of dust lay on any of the furnishings, and a pleasant fragrance wafted through the air from vases holding a variety of flowers.

“This way, ma'am.” Adam beckoned to her, indicating the tall, wide archway into the dining room. For the first time, she noticed that he was wearing a rather fine pair of well-fitting brown trousers, a sparkling white shirt and even a little bow tie, a far different ensemble from his usual rustic clothing worn for his job at the livery stable.

Was this Mr. Wakefield's doing? If so, how could he be so kind to Adam and yet think nothing of causing pain to vulnerable people like Tolley and Beryl?

She stepped through the archway into the large dining room, which could easily seat seventy or eighty guests at the heavy round oak tables placed randomly around the room. One table near the center was set with a lustrous white damask cloth, fine china and sparkling crystal. A tall crystal vase filled with dark red roses graced the center of the table, the scent of the flowers vying with the aroma of roast beef for preeminence in the vast hall.

On the other side of the table, Mr. Wakefield awaited her. He wore his finest black suit, a gold brocade waistcoat and white shirt, looking every bit the aristocratic Englishman he was, except for the bolo tie she'd bought for him on the Fourth of July...and a little curl that had somehow escaped his perfectly coiffed hair to lie beguilingly across his wide forehead.

As she approached him, a sweet, vulnerable expression stole over his winsome, handsome face, and his brown eyes held a hope for...what? Her approval of his work? She could grant him that, for the hotel was indeed magnificent. But she steeled herself against any attempts to renew their former, ill-advised friendship.

“Rosamond, you are a vision of loveliness, as always.” He pulled out a chair. “Please join me.”

She hadn't planned to sit. Hadn't planned anything at all. Of course Mr. Wakefield would think only of his own appearance. If he intended to invite her to dinner, why hadn't he considered that she might wish to wear her best, too? Wasn't that the English way? To “dress” for dinner? And here she was, dressed in an old shirtwaist, a split skirt and well-worn boots because she'd ridden to town to paint the schoolrooms. Huffing out a sigh, she removed her gloves and bonnet before sitting at the table.

“Thank you for coming.” He took his place on her right. “I hope you weren't inconvenienced.”

“Not at all, Mr. Wakefield.” She must be polite, mustn't shame her parents.

“Mr. Wakefield?” Puzzlement crossed his face as he leaned toward her. “Why—?”

“What happened to your Palladian facade?” Even though interrupting him was rude, she refused to quibble with him over the formal way she would address him from now on.

“Oh. That.” He sat back, but rather than the dismay she expected, he smiled. And her heart dipped. Why must he be so devastatingly handsome? “It seems the builders were off a bit when they laid the foundation. They didn't leave enough space for the facade.”

Rosamond studied him for a moment. The facade had meant so much to him, and yet he wasn't upset about the error. “I see.”

“A small loss, hardly worth mentioning.” He nodded to Adam, who'd taken up a post across the room beside the kitchen. The boy disappeared through the swinging door. “I hope you won't object to my ordering dinner for us.”

Rosamond drew in a breath to indeed voice her objection, but the aroma of roast beef once again teased her senses. She'd started work early this morning and now could feel genuine hunger gnawing at her stomach. She wouldn't be so foolish as to reject some much-needed sustenance before her ride home.

“Thank you. It smells wonderful.”
Oh, no
. Why had she said that? She didn't want to compliment anything he'd done to set this little scene.

Adam reappeared and placed steaming plates of food in front of them, while Roberts came from the kitchen with coffee. Rosamond picked up her fork, but Mr. Wakefield gently touched her hand.

“Would you permit me to offer thanks?”

Setting down her fork, Rosamond could only nod. She'd forgotten that he was a man of faith, albeit one whose faith didn't always prevent him from being a hypocrite. He probably believed in the divine right of kings to rule other people with impunity.

He said a short prayer that sounded heartfelt, thanking the Lord for the food, for the hotel, for the present company. When he ended the prayer, Rosamond echoed his
amen
, feeling very much like a hypocrite herself.

“I do hope you enjoy the roast beef.” He gave a nod toward her plate, and she realized he was waiting for her to begin eating. “In the absence of our soon-to-arrive Chef Henri, Roberts has initiated our kitchen. He began his life in service as a boy in my uncle's kitchen and learned many skills before Uncle's butler elevated him to footman. And then, of course, he became my valet.”

“Mmm.” Rosamond savored the rich flavors of the tender meat and creamed potatoes. Roberts was an excellent chef. She knew he'd enjoyed working with Rita in the kitchen at Four Stones. Maybe that was his true calling. Had Uncle even asked Roberts which job he preferred? Had Mr. Wakefield demanded that he become his valet? “I'll be sure to tell him how much I enjoy his cuisine.”

Mr. Wakefield spent more time talking than he did eating, although he still managed to clean his plate as well as any hard-working cowboy...of course, with better manners. But what good were superficial manners when a man's heart harbored such unkindness? Rosamond's stomach ached, but not because of the food.

“After we finish dining, I should like to take you on a tour of the guest accommodations.”

“I'd like that.” Not really, but she had a responsibility to inspect the hotel. Once she gave Father a report on the progress of his pet project, she could be done with it.

“I must say, Rosamond, you are a lady of few words today.” Mr. Wakefield gave her a look that puzzled her, as though he were suddenly shy. “I thought perhaps, with both of us being too busy to visit each other these past weeks, that we might have many things to discuss.”

To her relief, she didn't have to answer him because Roberts approached the table. “Sir, may I bring dessert?”

“Ah. Yes, of course.” Mr. Wakefield turned to Rosamond. “That is, if the lady agrees.”

She smiled at the valet-turned-chef. “I'd like that very much.” She wouldn't be so rude as to turn Roberts down, not when his hazel eyes exuded such enthusiasm.

“If you give me a moment to whip the cream, I shall bring it straightaway.” His returned to the kitchen with a decided bounce in his step, eager to display more of his culinary skills.

Mr. Wakefield cleared his throat. “Rosamond, you must permit me to tell you how much I ardently admire you.”

Rosamond stared at him, her pulse racing. What did he mean to say?

“From the moment I saw you in the Denver train station, I've been drawn to your beauty and goodness. Although I realize the disparity between our families and friends, my heart will not be denied. I am forced to admit that I love you, Rosamond. I've considered the differences in our upbringings, but you have somehow escaped the hoydenish behaviors of your friends and the hostility and tomfooleries of your younger brother. All of their flaws I will gladly overlook to win your hand. Although my income is small, I will find a position in one of my uncle's enterprises to support you in a style that will not make you ashamed. We'll have a good life, and you'll do very well among my acquaintances. They'll consider you an original, a true treasure. Please say that you have some small care for me and that my appeal to your heart is not in vain.