The Unintended Groom
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“Can you believe it? I mean really. What difference does that make? I still can’t believe they even suggested such a thing. As if I’m not capable of running my own business. I’m just as smart as any man. My stepfather, who is a brilliant business man, taught me...” She prattled on and on until she remembered she was talking to a potential business partner. “Sorry. As you can tell, I’m quite frustrated over this whole situation.”
“I can see that,” Harrison said with an amused chuckle. “Now, it is my turn to tell you something, Miss Bowen.”
Her stomach tensed, wondering what he was about to say. Was he going to back out of this deal before it ever got started? “What’s that?” She held her breath waiting for his answer.
“Once we get this business up and running and I get my investment back, plus interest as you stated in your ad—” his eyes twinkled along with his half grin “—then I plan on heading back to Boston to claim my inheritance and to run my father’s businesses.”
Abby’s stomach relaxed. “Just as I had hoped.”
He frowned.
“Oh.” She waved her hand. “No offense to you personally. It’s just that I was hoping things would turn out this way, and they have. Like I said, the only reason I took on a partner was because of the license. I really didn’t want nor need one. So as soon as we, if you’re interested, get this theater up and running, I will no longer need a partner. After all, the town didn’t say how long I had to have one, now, did they?” She smiled.
“That plan may backfire on you, Abby.”
“What do you mean?” She frowned.
“They could revoke your license.”
“They can?” She hadn’t thought of that. “Surely they wouldn’t. Would they?”
“Yes, then can, and from what you’ve told me about them, I suspect they would, too. So here’s what I propose.”
Propose? She gulped.
“Even though I will be leaving, I am willing to remain your partner. A silent one, in name only, if you will. And I will only take a dollar a month from you.”
“That’s hardly a partnership.”
“This would not be an equal-share partnership. The way I see it, you are helping me a vast amount more than I am you. I want to reciprocate by helping you, too, by remaining your partner in order for you to keep your license. You will be able to run the business the way you want without any interference from me. That way we both come out of this arrangement with exactly what we want—nothing more, nothing less.”
“Do you think the town will object to you not being here?”
“I don’t see how they can. You will still have a partner. I would even be willing to come back for let’s say—” he rubbed his chin “—once a month for six months.”
“You would do that?”
“Yes. I would. I am convinced that when they see the revenue your business will bring this town, and see what an amazing cultural place it will be, they will no longer care about such matters in time, anyway.”
“You really think so?”
“I do. Or I wouldn’t have said so.”
Abby’s insides danced with the fact that everything was going to work out the way she’d always hoped it would.
* * *
Harrison couldn’t believe his good fortune. This was working out better than he had imagined. Only one question he needed to ask before he made this deal. “Do you have a dollar figure in mind of what you will need from me?”
“Yes. Five hundred dollars.”
That was it? He thought he would have to put up thousands and live on an even stricter budget than he was right now over the next three months. Relief poured over him, but he didn’t allow his face to show it. She didn’t need to know about his dire financial situation, and five hundred was definitely doable.
Right then, he determined that even though he would get his money back and then some, he would help her as much as he could to make her business a success. Not that she needed his help or anything, but he wanted to make sure her endeavor came to fruition.
“So what do you think?” Abby asked. “Are you in?”
Harrison turned his attention onto her and smiled at the expectant look in her eyes. “Only one question first. I hate to ask, but I need to know how you can guarantee a profit so quickly.”
“Oh, that.” She waved her hand as if she were brushing away his comment. “The reason I can is because even if the business doesn’t make a profit right away, the investor will. I am going to give them fifteen hundred dollars once we get the place up and running.”
Harrison swallowed his shock. Not only would he get the amount his father’s will stipulated, but his initial investment, as well. This was almost too good to be true. Maybe it was. Suspicion crawled over him. “Why would you do that?”
“Because. The investor or business partner, whichever you prefer, will be helping me to make my dream come true, so I want to make it worth their time. Your time. That is, if you’re interested.”
This woman wanted her dream. And she wanted it badly. He had a feeling she would do whatever it took to fulfill that dream, too, including giving the large sum she had guaranteed just for the trouble of helping her out. Before he’d left Boston, he’d had a background check done on her and knew she was good for the money. The woman came from wealth and her own bank account was hefty. The way he saw it, he had nothing to lose, and everything to gain. Not only would he get what he wanted, he would be helping her to get what she wanted. A mutual benefit arrangement. Those were the best kind of business deals. “I’m interested. Count me in.”
She clutched her hands together with a smack and tucked them to her chest. Her smile lit up her whole face. “Excellent. Thank you!” She tossed her arms around him, gave him a firm hug and released him just as quickly. Her exuberance was contagious. He found himself wanting to hug her in return, but he didn’t dare. “You won’t regret this, Harrison, I promise.”
He had a feeling that promise would hold true. Normally he would have had a contract drawn up, but that would only delay things. Knowing how much this meant to her, his gut told him she would hold to her end of the bargain, so he wouldn’t bother with a contract this time.
They continued to talk about what needed to be done, the expenses, her plans, his thoughts and the whole general situation. An hour later, he looked at his watch. Three o’clock in the afternoon. “Well, I should go now.” Harrison stood. “What time would you like me to come this evening?”
“Five-thirty. Dinner will be served at six.”
“Very well.” They walked side by side to the front door. There, he grabbed his fedora off the hat rack and held it in his hands, then shifted his focus onto her smiling face. “I will see you at five-thirty, then.”
“Looking forward to it.” They stood there for a moment looking at each other.
“Until this evening.” With those words, he opened the door and stepped outside. Outside where the detestable smell of sulfur lingered in the air. But that vile stench didn’t detract from his fine mood. For the first time in years, hope glimmered inside him. At the bottom of the steps, he stopped and looked up at the bright June sun. Forsyth would say God had arranged this whole thing because He loved Harrison so much. But Harrison didn’t believe in a loving God. How could he? His life had clearly proven otherwise.
Chapter Three
Standing in front of the free-standing mirror, Abby perused her appearance. The sides of her hair were pulled back and held with pearl combs and a dark blue ribbon. Tiny curls framed her face, and the rest of her hair hung loosely down her back. Her white, tufted-cotton bustle gown with the dark blue lace and ribbons and midlength sleeves would be cool, but not too cool for a warm evening in the Colorado Rocky Mountains. But just in case it wasn’t, she snatched up her knit shawl, then skipped downstairs to see if Veronique had everything ready.
The words to “Amazing Grace” sung by either Colette or Zoé, whose singing voices were very similar, floated through the massive room as she made her way into the formal dining room. “Hi, Zoé.”
Zoé, the middle sister to Veronique and Colette, turned from placing a silver chafing dish on the mahogany serving table and smiled. “Good evening, Abby,” she said in the same strong accent all of the sisters spoke with. Her soft gray eyes were the first thing a person noticed about Zoé. While the color was soft, because of the way her eyes were shaped, they appeared hard as if she were angry all the time, which she wasn’t.
Abby looked at the long table set for two. Her mother’s silver candelabra stood tall in the middle. Silver pedestal dishes set on each side piled high with fresh fruit and French pastries. Wedgewood bone china and crystal glasses sparkled like bright sunshine raining down on a clear mountain brook here in Colorado. Silverware...polished to perfection. “This looks great, Zoé.”
The eighteen-year-old girl’s face lit up. “You think so?”
“Yes. I sure do.”
“Zoé,” Veronique hollered from the other side of the swinging door.
Wisps of chestnut-blond hair swayed when Zoé yanked her attention in that direction. “I will be right there.” She curtsied and scurried into the kitchen.
Abby followed. Fresh bread, beef and pine aromas from the wood stove met her nostrils.
Veronique stood in front of the massive cook stove, wearing the same blue-and-white uniform as Zoé, stirring something in one of the copper pans sitting on the stove with a wire whisk. Without looking, Veronique told Zoé to grab the pastry-wrapped cinnamon apples out of the oven.
Colette sat at the table, slicing and peeling carrots. She, too, wore a matching uniform.
Abby wasn’t too keen putting on fancy dinners, but she had better get used to them for when she opened her dinner theater. “Something sure smells good, Veronique.” Abby raised the lid on one of the pans, leaned over and breathed deeply. “Umm. What is that?” She pointed to the dish.
“It is filet de boeuf charlemagne,” Veronique explained without taking her eyes off the pan she was stirring.
“Trans-la-tion...?” Abby drew out the word and let her sentence hang, waiting for Veronique to interpret what she’d said into English.
“Beef tenderloin Charlemagne.”
“Huh?” Abby frowned.
“Simply put, it is beef fillet steaks with mushrooms. What I am making now is a béarnaise sauce. I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I will. I haven’t eaten anything of yours yet that wasn’t absolutely delicious.”
Veronique flashed a quick smile Abby’s way before putting her attention back onto the saucepan.
Abby glanced up at the kitchen clock. Five-twenty. “Well, I’ll get out of your way. Mr. Kingsley will be arriving in a few minutes.”
Veronique nodded as she placed the copper lid on the pan she’d been stirring. She removed it from the heat, tossed a pot holder onto the breadboard counter then set the pan down.
Abby had just turned to leave when she noticed a tray of strawberry and apple tarts. With a quick glance back at Veronique, like a little kid sneaking an early dessert, she snatched a strawberry tart off the plate and tossed it into her mouth.
Through the dining room and into the main room of the mansion she went, munching happily on the delicious treat.
A knock came at the door. Abby chewed fast and swallowed. Colette, Zoé and Veronique were busy, so she hollered, “I’ll get it.” Her heels tapped along the floor as she made her way to the front door. She swung it open and blinked. There stood Harrison holding a small boy in each arm.
“I’m sorry, Abby, that this notice is so late, but a few minutes ago, the boys’ nanny and my valet came down sick. Must’ve been something they ate this afternoon because my sons aren’t sick. The food they ate wasn’t the same as what Miss Elderberry and Staimes ate. I don’t know anyone in town, and I won’t leave my boys with a perfect stranger. So, I’m here to let you know that I won’t be able to make it to dinner this evening. I’m sorry.” Remorse wrinkled his handsome face.
Abby glanced at the two boys. A fresh ache filled her heart, but she refused to let it get her down or to dwell on what could never be. Instead, she sent the boys and their father her most inviting smile and quickly swung the French doors open. “Don’t be silly. There’s no need for you not to stay. Besides, there’s more than enough food. I’ll just have Zoé set two more places and find something for the boys to sit on. It’ll be just fine.” Now she just had to convince herself of that by reminding herself that God had a plan, as vexing as that could be sometimes. She leaned toward the boys, eyeing each one with a smile. “And who might you boys be?”
Neither of them said a word; they just tucked their tiny shoulders closer into their father’s chest and eyed her warily.
“This one here—” Harrison nodded toward the child on his right “—is Graham. And this one—” he nodded at the child on his left “—is Josiah.”
“Hello, Josiah and Graham. Welcome to my home. Won’t you come in?” she said to the twins who resembled their father in much, much younger versions. They even had Harrison’s light brown hair and grayish-blue eyes. Except neither of their eyes had a portion of hazel coloring like their father’s did.
“Can you say hello to the nice lady?” Instead of saying hello, they buried their faces into their father’s shoulder.
“It’s okay,” she mouthed, and waved him in with her hand. She moved out of the way, and Harrison stepped inside. “Are you sure about this, Miss Bowen? We really hate to impose.”
She wasn’t sure of anything, but she’d make herself be. “It’s Abby, and of course I’m sure or I wouldn’t have said so. Listen, why don’t you take the boys into the parlor, and I’ll inform Veronique there will be extra guests this evening? I’ll be right back.” Abby whirled around and headed toward the kitchen. Those adorable boys in their skirts and knee socks resurrected the pain shoved deep down in Abby’s heart and soul. The one she rarely allowed to surface into her actual consciousness lest it rob her of her happiness completely. “Lord, help me get through this evening.”
* * *
Harrison lowered himself onto the settee in the parlor, and settled a son on each leg. When Staimes and Miss Elderberry came up sick at the last minute, Harrison’s own stomach had taken ill. Not from food sickness, but with worry. He feared upsetting Miss Bowen by ruining her dinner plans, but he didn’t. Women of his society back home in Boston wouldn’t have been so gracious. They would have shunned him for days, and some indefinitely over something like this.
He would have hated it if Abby would have shut the door in his face. And even though it couldn’t be helped, he wouldn’t have blamed her. After all, a lot of hard work and hours of preparation went into making a meal, not to mention the food that would have gone to waste if he hadn’t been able to come.
Relief skimmed over him the instant Abby had smiled and opened her doors to him and the twins, and his stomach stopped hurting. He no longer had to worry about how she would be with the children.
Harrison’s lips curled, knowing he wouldn’t have to miss dinner with the twins. He and his sons almost always ate breakfast and dinner together, unlike most of his friends who sent their children away to boarding school or left them with a nanny twenty-four hours a day. That wasn’t for him or his boys. No, he never wanted his children to feel like he had growing up—unwanted and unloved.
Just then, Abby breezed into the room, holding a medium-size box with toys sticking out of the top. “I found these in the attic. I was going to send them to my nephews, but I’m sure Josiah and Graham would enjoy playing with them.” She set the box on the coffee table in front of his sons.
Their eyes widened, but at first they did not move. Finally, he slid them both to the floor and nudged them in that direction. They slipped from his protection, and with their heads together, they gazed into the box.
“Go ahead. You can play with them.” They looked up at her, then at him as if seeking his approval. He nodded.
Each one quickly snatched a toy, and together, they headed over and sat down on the floor near the fireplace. They had each selected a section of train, and when Harrison brought the box over to them, they began removing the rest of the toys from the container.
Knowing they were occupied and having fun, Harrison came back and placed his attention on Abby. “Thank you for that. And thank you for understanding about the ruined dinner plans. I really hated to do that to you.”
Abby waved him away. “It’s nothing. Really. And you didn’t ruin a thing.”
“By the way, I meant to tell you, you look very nice this evening.”
“You mean compared to earlier?” An amused smirk curled her lips.
“Oh. I see how that sounded. My apologies. I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant you look very nice.” She did, too. Dressed in a striking white dress that showed off her trim figure, and with her shining hair hanging freely down her back, she looked stunning. Even her hands looked nice. Her long graceful fingers weren’t red like they had been earlier.
“I had it first, Siah!”
Harrison’s attention darted toward his boys.
“No. I did!” Josiah yanked it from his brother’s hands.
“Boys. That’s enough.” He stood and headed toward them, but he was too late.
Josiah snatched the toy in question, raised it and whacked Graham, hitting him squarely in the head. The wail that ensued could surely be heard in Boston.
Harrison picked up his screeching son and held him close, patting his back and speaking soothing words to him.
Abby was at his side in an instant, worry etched on her face. She dropped to her knees and started talking to Josiah. Harrison couldn’t hear what she was saying because Graham’s cries still filled his ears.
Minutes passed before Graham’s tears finally let up. Harrison leaned him back to check the top of his head. A small amount of blood streamed through his hair. “Abby, do you have a washcloth I can use?” Oh, how he hated having to ask, hated having to bother her with this. She was going to think he was far more trouble than he was worth.
She stood, holding a tear-soaked Josiah in her arms. “I sure do. I’ll be right back. If it’s okay with your father, would you like to go with me, Josiah?”
He wiped his eyes and slowly nodded, then looked over at Harrison. Remorse and trepidation filled his son’s eyes. “You may go with her. But before you do, you need to say you’re sorry to your brother. It is never okay to hit someone else. Do you understand that?”
Josiah nodded. “Saw-ree, Gam.”
Graham wouldn’t look at him. Instead, he buried his face into Harrison’s collar.
“Graham, what do you say to your brother?” Harrison asked.
The boy did nothing.
“No. Come on. It’s time to make up. Give your brother a hug.” He put him on the floor.
Abby lowered Josiah, as well.
Graham shook his head.
“Very well, then, Graham. You will not be allowed to play with Miss Abby’s toys any longer.”
Graham turned wide eyes up at him, then rushed to his brother and hugged him long and hard. Pretty soon they were giggling. His sons sat down on the floor again next to the toys.
“That didn’t take long.” He turned to Abby, who was smiling up at him.
“You sure handled that nicely.”
Her words made him feel proud. His biggest fear was failing as a father. “Thank you.”
They smiled at each other.
“I’ll run and get that washcloth now.”
“Thank you.”
Harrison watched his sons as Abby exited. He sighed. Great first impression they were making.
Abby entered the room a few minutes later holding a bowl and a clean cloth. While Harrison and Abby cleaned his small wound, Graham squirmed and fretted, acting as though they were torturing him or something. When it was all over, he settled back onto the floor and started playing as if nothing had happened.
“Mademoiselle, dinner is ready.”
The woman standing only a few yards from him was tall with chestnut-blond hair and grayish-green eyes, who spoke with a French accent very much like Colette had earlier.
“Harrison, this is Zoé, Colette’s sister. Oh. I forgot to introduce you to Colette earlier. I was, um, a bit disheveled.” Abby’s soothing laughter reminded him of the musical sound of a sparrow songbird back home in Boston. “Anyway, Zoé, this is Mr. Harrison Kingsley.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.” She curtsied.
“Nice to meet you, too,” he said. Even though he wasn’t used to people in his society introducing him to their help, he liked it. He liked the informality a lot. Back home it sure wouldn’t be acceptable. But, then again, he wasn’t back home. He was here. A quick glance at Abby, and he was glad he was, too.
“Shall we head into the dining room?” Abby asked.
His heart plummeted to his perfectly shined shoes. Abby had no idea what she was getting herself into when she’d invited his boys to dinner. He should have warned her before accepting her generous offer.
Abby’s arm rested on top of Harrison’s. “It’ll be okay. I have several nephews and nieces. I know how they can be.”
Harrison let out a long breath of relief. It was nice not having to worry about someone wanting to whisk his rambunctious sons off to another room. Or even worse, a boardinghouse, like Prudence had wanted to send them to once they were married. Over his dead body would he have ever allowed her or anyone else to send his boys away.
Good thing this whole arrangement with Abby was strictly business because with her kind heart and gentle way with his boys, he could easily fall for her. And he was never going to let that happen again. He’d been duped once before by a pretty face and a sweet disposition toward his children. Prudence had always acted like she loved children. Loved his sons. Even though he hadn’t loved Prudence, something she was very much aware of, it was because of her love for his sons that he had asked her to marry him. He hoped love would eventually follow. However, he soon discovered that her fondness toward them had been nothing but a ruse to marry a man who could keep her in the style she was accustomed to.
He’d never forget the day when Prudence had roughly handled his boys and said intolerable and cruel things to them. Of course, she didn’t know Harrison had been nearby. Thankfully, he had been. He had immediately put an end to her abuse as well as their relationship, and sent her away for good that very day.
Thus, Harrison needed to remind himself often that Abby was a business partner and nothing else. One look at her smiling blue eyes and sweet face, though, and he knew keeping it strictly business was going to be a challenge.
* * *
The early morning sunrise peeked through the curtain in Abby’s sparsely furnished bedroom. Snuggled under the red-and-white quilt Mother had sent along with her, Abby rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
Her thoughts drifted to the calamitous dinner from the night before.
Poor Harrison had been so mortified.
Not her; she laughed the whole time—inwardly of course.
The near-four-year-olds’ antics had more than tickled her, even when they’d tossed glazed carrots at one another and a piece had landed in her hair. And even when they’d dumped mashed potatoes and gravy onto the floor, or when they’d spilled their milk all over the white linen tablecloth.
The whole thing had been hilarious to her, but not to Harrison, who had profusely apologized, repeatedly. She had assured him none of it had bothered her, that nothing in this world was worth getting fidgety over, and that they were just things that could be washed.
Other than those few incidences, everything had gone quite well. Dinner conversation flowed freely until the boys had fallen asleep with the sides of their faces resting in their dessert.
She and Harrison cleaned them up before he left with the promise of arriving early the next morning.