The True Love Wedding Dress (30 page)

Upon the bed lay a coverlet of some sort, a rich, cream-colored . . .

Penny dropped her carpet bag to the floor and took a step closer, not believing her eyes. It could not be. But it was. Spread across the bed was the magical ivory gown she had been searching for only hours earlier. She pressed her fingers against her lips, both touched and amazed. Had Josh arranged to leave it here in her cabin? And how on earth could he have known that the dress meant something special to her?

Reaching out with tremulous fingers, she ran her hand lovingly across the lustrous fabric.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

She spun around so fast that she nearly lost her balance. Or was it the shock of seeing him that caused her to sway on her feet?

Josh steadied her, and his hand upon her elbow assured her that he was real. He was real and standing there in front of her, the top of his head almost skimming the ceiling, his expression somber. His dark chestnut hair was neatly slicked back, and he was dressed like a gentleman in a dress coat and necktie.

“Wh-what . . . ?”

She scarcely knew where to begin, with so many questions rattling around in her head. And the lump in her throat was bringing her perilously close to tears.

“I was hoping you would wear it for me again.”

The timbre of his voice sent goose bumps skittering along her arms.

“The gown?” She searched his face for an explanation, although already a tiny kernel of hope had begun to blossom within her.

“Yes.” He took hold of her other elbow, drawing her near. “I think it would make a lovely wedding gown, don’t you?”

Joy surged up from the tips of Penny’s toes, but she dared not give way to it just yet.

“Do you ask this because of Eliza? So that she can have a mother? A family?” She took a shallow, shaky breath. “Because you don’t have to marry me in order to have someone look after her, you know.”

Yet if Josh were to ask her to stay only as a governess, and not as his wife, how could she say yes? Would it not be torture to live in his house, loving him as she did, knowing that he did not feel the same?

A shadow of a smile played across his lips. “I won’t lie to you. Eliza clearly adores you and that matters a lot to me. I haven’t seen her so happy—ever, I think.”

Penny dug her fingernails into her palms.

“But,” he continued, his grip on her growing stronger, “as crazy as that child is about you, I doubt that her feelings could hold a candle to mine. What happened between us last night—” The look in his eyes softened, and Penny felt her knees do the same. “Honestly, it scared the hell out of me. I’ve never felt this way about a woman. Nothing even close. And it took me a few minutes to figure out what it was and what I wanted to do about it.”

“And that’s why you ran off this morning?”

“Well, that and I had to see to the honeymoon plans.”

Penny’s eyes widened with laughter as she reared back in his arms. “Honeymoon? You were that sure of me, were you?”

Josh lifted one shoulder, his expression both sheepish and smug. “Sweetheart, I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve been with my fair share of women, and well . . . you pretty much showed all your cards last night.”

Blushing furiously, Penny shoved at his chest. “You conceited beast! Why, I don’t know that I can marry a man as bigheaded as you.”

He laughed and drew her close against him, plainly showing her that his head wasn’t the only sizable part of his anatomy.

“You can marry me, and you will. Wearing that white dress. And we’ll honeymoon in San Francisco, and we’ll work real hard at giving Eliza a little brother or sister.”

Hearing Eliza’s name, Penny gasped. “Oh, but Josh, we can’t go to San Francisco! Eliza was so terribly upset when I left. We have to turn the boat around so that we can go back and tell her.”

Josh wagged his head. “As friendly as the captain and I are, my dear, I don’t think he’d take kindly to my ordering his steamer back to port. Besides, Eliza probably already knows. I left a note for her with Mrs. Murphy, explaining our plans.”

“
Your
plans,” Penny primly corrected. “And I hope to goodness you left out the part about us working on a baby brother or sister.”

“Hmm. I can’t remember if I did or not. But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to disappoint her. So . . .” He lifted his brows suggestively, his blue eyes gleaming. “Why don’t you put on that beautiful dress for me?”

Penny curled up on her tiptoes, kissed him—and he kissed her back—then whispered, “So you can take it off?”

“Oh, yes.”

 

 

P
enny was in the process of slipping on a pair of butter-soft kid gloves, when she paused for a moment to admire her wedding ring. Splaying her fingers in front of her, she beamed proudly at the simple gold band Josh had given her almost a fortnight earlier. Although their honeymoon at San Francisco’s famous Lick House had been more wonderful and more luxurious than anything Penny could ever have dreamed, she was nonetheless eager to return to Seattle. She was a wife now. And a mother. She had a home to tend.

“Ready, sweetheart?” Josh called from the open doorway of their suite as he checked the hour on his pocket watch.

Penny nodded, while counting again the numerous trunks to be loaded onto the steamer for their return trip home. Her new husband had proved to be an extravagant shopper, having purchased what Penny believed to be half the contents of San Francisco. China, clothing, furniture, books—she’d had to beg him to stop, warning that his excessive generosity was likely to sink the boat.

“Two, three, four . . .” She spun slowly around. “Wait a moment.”

“Penny, we’re already running late.”

Penny pursed her lips and gave her husband a playfully reproving look. “And whose fault is that?” she asked, gesturing toward the enormous canopy bed, which Josh had refused to let her leave that morning.

He grinned wolfishly, not the least bit contrite.

“Josh, I don’t see the old trunk from the attic. The one with the white gown?”

Josh leaned against the doorjamb, peering into the suite. “It must have already been taken to the ship with my luggage.”

Penny frowned. “But it was here a few minutes ago.”

Josh jingled his watch chain. “Darling . . .”

“Yes, yes, I’m ready.” Gathering her bonnet and cloak, Penny cast one more curious glance around the hotel room. “Honestly, Josh, I would have sworn that trunk—”

“It’s probably being loaded onto the steamer as we speak,” he said, placing his hand upon her back to guide her out of the room.

“Of course.” Penny smiled faintly at her own foolishness. Obviously the trunk hadn’t simply vanished. “I must not have seen the porter collect it.”

But the trunk did not make it onto the steamer that afternoon, nor did Penny ever again lay eyes on the ivory gown.

There was still magic to be done.

 

 

H
indsight is always better than foresight. Faith Randolph had heard that old adage since early childhood, but for the life of her, she couldn’t see how it applied now. Though the decision she had made two months ago to flee Brooklyn had ended with her and her six-year-old daughter, Charity, sleeping behind the livery stable these last three nights and picking through trash bins for food, Faith wouldn’t have gone back in time to do a single thing differently. Her daughter’s survival had been at stake.

In retrospect, Faith did wish that she’d been less trusting of her fellow travelers. She’d never expected all her money to be stolen from her reticule while she napped at a way station. Now only a single penny stood between her child and starvation.

“Maman,” Charity wailed, “I’m hungry.”

Faith squeezed the child’s grubby little hand as they trudged along the plank boardwalk for what seemed the hundredth time that morning. “I know, sweetness. Let’s say a little prayer that Maman will find a position of employment soon.”

Faith’s feet hurt, and her throat burned with thirst. It was approaching noon, and the morning’s coolness was fast giving way to sweltering afternoon heat. Soon she’d have to take Charity back to the livery stable so the child could have some water. Just the thought made Faith shudder. Back in Brooklyn, they would be lunching in the formal dining room, clad in fashionable day dresses. Here, they were reduced to wearing servant’s clothing to disguise their identities, eating morsels of food others had tossed away, and drinking from a horse trough.

I will not cry,
Faith assured herself as she stared across the unpaved street at the Golden Slipper, No Name’s only saloon. Judging by the scantily clad women she’d glimpsed through the upper windows, she suspected the establishment also served as the town brothel. A sign posted outside the batwing doors read, DANCING GIRLS WANTED. It was the only job advertisement she had seen. Shoving a tendril of sable hair from her eyes, she thought,
Not that, please, God
. She’d do what was necessary to care for her daughter, but she sincerely hoped she could find something respectable.

“Maman, look!” Charity cried, her voice edged with more excitement than Faith had heard in two weeks. “That man is selling candy.”

The peddler seemed to feel their eyes on him. After anchoring the doors of his wagon open, he waved them closer. “Come, madam. Have a look at my wares. I’ve a little of everything here, including a sweet for the child.”

Faith would have ignored the hawker, but Charity started across the dusty thoroughfare, tugging her mother along behind her.

“And what would suit yer fancy, my fine little miss?” the peddler asked as Faith and Charity reached the wagon.

Taking in the display of candy, Faith could well imagine how Charity’s mouth must be watering. “I’m sorry,” she informed the man politely, “but I’m temporarily without coin.”

“No worries. ’Tis a gift I’ll be making of it.” The peddler waved his hand over the collection of sweets. “What do ye fancy, lass?”

“Peppermint!” Charity cried. “I
love
peppermint.”

The eager hunger in Charity’s large brown eyes forced Faith to swallow her pride and say, “Thank you, sir. You’re very kind.”

The hawker handed Charity a striped stick of candy. While her daughter popped the sweet into her mouth, Faith took inventory of the other wares. It seemed only polite to feign some interest, given the fact that the peddler had just given her child a treat.

Faith’s gaze snagged on a lovely dress, hanging toward the back of the displays on a rod crowded with garments far less fine. A wedding gown? For reasons beyond her, Faith couldn’t stop staring at the dress.

“Ah, so it’s an eye for silk and lace that ye have,” the peddler said with a chuckle. Using a wooden drop-down step, he pushed himself up to take the gown from the rod. “Not that I can be blaming ye. ’Tis a fine piece of frippery.” He swatted at the garment and sent a layer of dust flying. “Sadly, I’ve been packing it around for nigh on a year. Not much of a demand for fancy wedding dresses in these parts. It’s taking up space I could put to more profitable use.”

He pushed the dress at Faith.

“No, no,” she protested, even though she’d never seen anything quite so lovely. The gown had simple, elegant lines, which had always been her preference. The ivory silk underlay was sleeveless with a scalloped, fitted bodice, a fitted waist, and a full skirt that fell in graceful folds. The lace overlay was longsleeved and high-necked with a delicate band collar, fastening down the front with countless lace-covered buttons. The effect was modest, yet alluring as well. “I’ve no use for a wedding gown, I’m afraid.”