The Last Honest Seamstress (18 page)

He held his hands up in defense. "I wouldn't presume."

"Then what changed your mind? What happened to the romantic? I want the truth, not pretty lies about how you've suddenly decided you're a lonely man, and I'm the only woman who will suit you. I've heard those lines too many times to ever believe them. If you're going to convince me to say yes, you must have some immediate, horrendous need. Something dire enough to convince me of this change of heart. Something that plays on my sympathies." She folded her arms.

"The bank's balking at giving me a loan." He was serious now and it caught her off guard.

"What? How can they? You still have your ship. That has to be worth enough to back any loan you could want."
 

"They don't believe a single man is a good risk."

Fayth unfolded her arms and leaned toward him. Indignation welled in her. She felt her cheeks flame with it. "That's absurd! How can they make such a claim?"

"The bankers are in a position to be extremely selective. They seem to think I'll default and go sailing away into the sunset with my collateral, leaving them holding the debt. I have no family to anchor me here, to keep me working hard."

"Then show them; get a loan in San Francisco." She couldn't keep her voice from shaking. Father always warned that it wasn't becoming for a lady to lose her composure, but when faced with
 
unjust circumstances, Fayth couldn't contain herself.

He shook his head. "Tried that. They're only lending to the biggest players. My best bet is to sell my waterfront property. Sell out to the big wharfingers, take the profit, pay off my debts, and invest the rest in the shipping business. Do you know anything about how the shipping industry works?"

She shook her head.

"All ships pay a docking fee to the wharf owners. I've always tried to run an honest business and keep my fees low. If I sell my wharf property, I'll be at the whim of other wharfingers, who are sometimes only greedy, at others, downright criminal. The wharfingers hold the power in this business. They dictate who docks and when. If they decide you're not worth their trouble, you sit out in the Sound with your goods spoiling. The big wharves always cater to the major lines and large ships. Small guys like me get squeezed out. Waterfront is already at a premium. If I sell, I'll never get it back and I'll lose my autonomy."

"No! That's insufferable! We can't let that happen." She realized too late that she’d linked herself with him. Were the bankers out to ruin every respectable business in town?

"Exactly."

"I must confess, Captain, I sympathize with your situation. Every bank in town has denied me a loan as well." Her voice shook. "Nobody believes a woman alone can make a go of it. The only woman who seems to be above it all is Miss Gramm. No one minds a madam making money.

"But I can't get a loan because I'm undercapitalized,
so they say.
If we married, the bankers would expect your business to be used as collateral against any money I borrow. And I would borrow. Are you willing to risk that?"

"I've already considered it. The benefit to me outweighs the risk. You have faith in your abilities as a businesswoman?"

"Certainly."

"You think you can make it on your own?"

"Yes."

"That's good enough for me. My assets aren't holding me back from the loan, and I've reason to believe they'll sway the banks in your favor. We'll make a gentleman's agreement not to mix our business funds. Let the banks think what they will."

He seemed sincere about the marriage being business only, but why this sudden turnabout in philosophies? She wasn't quite convinced.
 

"A marriage would complicate your personal life. I have no family to worry about. How about you, Captain?"

"You've thought this out since the last time we discussed it." He smiled, unruffled. "Grandam and Mam have long been pressuring me to marry."

"Not under these circumstances, I imagine. What would you tell them when no grandchildren came? What would I say if they pressed me?"

"That you were barren."

His response was so deadpan, she laughed. "No one gets the better of you, do they?"

"Not if I can help it."

"How would you feel about that? Not ever having children?" She shouldn't ask such a personal question, but since she was considering marrying the man . . .

"It was you, I believe, who stated I was married to the sea. With such a mistress I have no time to be a good father. You?"

"I'm not used to children, or family. I can live without them." Her tone was sharper than she intended.

"Then you accept?"

"Not so fast. I have a further concern. You mentioned mistress in jest, but I've had enough scandal to last me a lifetime. I don't want to be disgraced, in that way, here in Seattle. You must agree to take your pleasures elsewhere and be discreet about it." She couldn't tell if she shocked him.
 

He nodded his assent too quickly. "I have no intention of disgracing you."

"So you say now."

"I'm a man of my word."

Did she look as skeptical as she felt?

"Accept my offer, Fayth. You aren't going to get a better one. Accept and we both get what we want."

"What is it you want, Captain?" Her heart pounded in her ears. Could she really be considering accepting?
 

"A loan, the survival of my business."

His answer was both pleasing, and disappointing. But wasn't this what she wanted, too? How could she say no?
 

"You are a man after my heart, Captain. I accept your offer and pledge what you have offered me. I promise you my fidelity, and give you my word that I will do my best to bring honor to our name."

A strange, almost triumphant light shone in his eyes. "Excellent. I'll rent us a house. I have my eye on one already. A small, yellow clapboard with a view of the Sound."

"Separate bedrooms?" She wavered. Could she do this?

"Of course."

"I must say, Captain O'Neill, I am disappointed, although not surprised, in the death of another romantic."

He swept out of his chair and was on one knee before her before she realized what he planned to do. He pulled her hand from her lap and enclosed it between his. "Miss Fayth Sheridan, I'm deeply, ardently in love with you. Please end my suffering and consent to be my wife." He winked at her and mouthed, "The romantic lives."
 

She laughed.
 

The room grew still. All the restaurant's patrons watched them as she quietly whispered back.

"Just so you know that I have not lost my jaded view of the world, I must tell you that under no circumstance other than one this desperate would I marry you. But as it is, I give my consent." She winked back. "A cynic never dies."
 

He started to pull her hand to his lips, but she did him one better and bent to brush his lips lightly with hers. She shouldn't have done it. The jolt of attraction that leaped between them almost caused her to reconsider marrying him.
 

A loud cheer erupted from the tables around them.

She straightened jerkily, shaken, realizing they were the center of attention.
 

He shouted to the watching crowd. "Miss Sheridan has agreed to become my bride."

 
Congratulations echoed from all corners. Someone called for a celebration drink. As liquor licenses were still suspended, water had to suffice. Amid it all the Captain's eyes never left hers.

"Day after tomorrow," he said. "Marry me day after tomorrow."

"Yes." She couldn't help feeling that she'd been somehow bamboozled, but how could that be? She was getting what she wanted.

Fayth could only describe the Captain as beaming when he lifted his water goblet and toasted. "To us."

Pastor Wilson's office was a tight, tidy cubbyhole at the back of the church. Neatly lined bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes of sermons shadowed the walls. In the heat they emitted a warm scent of leather and dust, creating a pleasing aura of piety, hominess, and solemnity.

Con stood with Bailey, waiting for Fayth's arrival. The sun glinted in from a small window behind him, adding to the stifling heat in the room.

"Hang in there, old man," Bailey said, and slapped him on the back. Did he look that nervous?

Fayth stepped over the doorsill, accompanied by the swishing of skirts. Following her was a distinguished looking couple who must have been her cousins. Con recognized Sterling Kelley as a representative of the Minneapolis and St. Cloud Railway who was active in city affairs, and nodded to acknowledge him and his wife, but in truth, barely noticed them. Man alive! He restrained himself from punching the air in victory. She had shown up.

Fayth looked beautiful, like a pale pink rose in the dress she wore. She had fixed her hair in a light, airy style and her cheeks were nicely flushed, a good sign. She looked nervous, but why shouldn't she be? This was her wedding day.
 

He was nervous, too. But not, he presumed, for the same reasons. He had no doubt he wanted this. He only hoped he wasn't wrong for marrying her, believing he could make her love him, lying to her about his motives. He had no intention of remaining a celibate business partner.

Bailey crowded the wall to make room as the bridal party filed in. The room was just wide enough to accommodate them all.
 

Pastor Wilson stood across his desk from the group. "Shall we begin? The bride and groom will face each other."

Con turned, and impulsively took her hand in his. Slender and small, it trembled in his grasp, but she didn't pull it away. He gave it a little squeeze of encouragement. He would have winked at her if she would have looked up. What was she afraid of? She believed this was just business. He meant to prove her wrong.

"We are gathered here today to join this man and this woman . . ."
 

Lost in thought, trying to appear calm, he didn't hear another word until Fayth's tremulous voice echoed the pastor's, reciting promises to love, honor, and obey him. Did she lie so easily? It would have been a complete mockery if he didn't believe she could love him someday. Then he spoke his vows with a clear conscience. He would protect and honor her. He loved her. Someday he'd show her how much.

She looked surprised when Bailey handed him a ring and he slipped it on her finger. Her hand shook as she held it out to him.

"If anyone has a reason why this couple should not be married, let him speak now, or forever hold his peace."
 

She stood rigid. For one crazy, interminable instant, Con imagined her voice raised in objection. The moment passed. No one spoke.

"By the powers vested in me, I now pronounce you, man and wife."

Fayth exhaled a small, nervous breath.

"Well, what are you waiting for Captain? Kiss your bride." The pastor smiled.

Con seized the moment and pulled her into his arms. With one arm he encircled her waist in a firm grip, and with the other hand caressed her cheek before cupping the back of her head, tilting it to his. His mouth came down on her soft, trembling lips. The scent of rose water filled his senses. In his arms, she flushed and yielded against him. There was hope; there was hope yet. He released her to cheers and congratulations.

 
Mrs. Kelley's smile reached ear to ear. Bailey said something about him being an old dog and shook his hand.
 

Pastor Wilson laid out a license for them to sign. "Ladies first.”

Fayth signed quickly, with a flourish, and turned away without watching him sign. Mrs. Kelley tugged at her and pulled her back a few steps from the desk to whisper in her ear. He wasn't supposed to, but he heard her words as he signed his own name to the license.

"Fayth! That was the kiss of a man in love if ever I saw one. It was almost scandalous."

At least one woman recognized him for what he was. When would Fayth? Later, alone in the carriage as they pulled away from the church, he stared at her, couldn't pull his gaze away from her. He knew he grinned like a fat frog, ear to ear, but he couldn't suppress that either. "Well, Mrs. O'Neill—"

"Mrs. O'Neill." She tittered. "I just can't believe that I
am
Mrs. O'Neill."

"Take your time getting used to it. You have a lifetime."

"Yes." She sounded thoughtful.

"Any regrets?" Why did he ask such a foolish question? Odd as it was, he wanted to hear her reassurances, even if she manufactured them.

"No, of course not. You?" Her hands were tightly knotted in her lap.

"I'm happy."

"Good. We made a fair deal."
 

Only a fair deal?

She held her left hand out in front of her, as only women do, examining the garnet ring on her finger. "You shouldn't have. I mean, you didn't have to."

"I didn't?" He had spent the better part of yesterday afternoon hunting for just the right one, before settling on the oval garnet set in gold filigree. The best jewelry stores had burned down in the fire. Their stock was melted, destroyed, or later, looted. He'd been lucky to find one at all, let alone one so fine. "And let people think that I don't love my wife?"