Hannah's Beau. Renee Ryan

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СКАЧАТЬ in his flock.

      But, still, it was only an instinct. And she’d said she was a friend of his parents’. Calling on the patience he’d used with Jane, Beau commanded this woman’s gaze with his. He saw a deep pain there, much like the look in the eyes of the women he’d met in Mattie’s parlor house.

      Despite knowing she couldn’t possibly be one of them, not with her obvious connections to his parents, why could he not stop comparing them? Was it the way she dressed with the sort of expensive, flamboyant clothing that captured his attention?

      “Please. You must help me find Tyler,” she said. “It is a matter of grave importance.”

      Moved by the distress in her eyes, the somber tone in her voice, his breath turned cold in his lungs and ugly possibilities assaulted him. He touched her sleeve. But her arm seemed very fragile, too fragile for handling, and he let go gently. “Tell me what sort of trouble my brother has put you in? Miss…”

      “Southerland. Hannah Southerland. But I think you’ve misunderstood me. That is—” she sighed and folded her hands in front of her “—I am not in trouble. It’s my sister.”

      Southerland? Beau knew that name well. But the odds were too great that there could be a connection between this woman and the imposing reverend. Thomas Southerland was many things, including a respected member of the Rocky Mountain Association of Churches. He was also a man who openly questioned Beau’s dedication to Christ because of Beau’s penchant for ministering to hard drinkers, gamblers, prostitutes and the like. Although the age of the two would make a father/daughter relationship possible, Beau could not imagine a situation where the man would allow his own girl to travel alone.

      Besides, this woman was too delicate to be related to the stern, hard-faced reverend. Except…there was something about Miss Southerland that was familiar to him. A look, a fierce determination, perhaps?

      “Miss Southerland, my mind has been occupied all morning with pressing concerns of my own. I’m afraid I’m not following you.”

      Her answering sigh was filled with impatience—at him—at herself—at them both? “I’m not making myself clear.”

      She blew out a miserable breath, and he realized her cheeks were growing red from the frigid air.

      Where were his manners? Had he been so long out of polite society he’d forgotten the basics?

      “Let’s find another place to talk. Out of the wind and cold,” he offered.

      She nodded, but in the next instant she was jostled by a passing man. Beau reached out to steady her, quickly releasing her when she cast an odd look at his hand on her arm.

      “I am staying at the Palace Hotel, several blocks in that direction.” She pointed behind her. “There is a respectable restaurant on the ground floor.”

      “The Palace Hotel it is.”

      Beau fell into step beside her. A dull drumming started at the base of his skull. His brother, her sister…

      The news couldn’t be good. But he held his tongue as they crossed the street and continued forward. Two blocks later, as they entered Denver’s business district, the seedier buildings of Market Street morphed into more respectable brick and granite structures.

      Beau quickly noted how Miss Southerland drew sidelong looks and murmurs from some of the men they passed along the five-block trek. Did she not see their interested stares? The speculation in their eyes? Hoping to shield her from the predators, Beau shifted her slightly behind him as they walked.

      Best not to take any chances.

      Once they turned onto 16th Street, the Palace Hotel loomed large and impressive before them. The nine-story building was one of a kind in the West, viewed as the best in town for both its elegance and service. Built exclusively from red granite and sandstone, the hotel was fashionable, eye-catching and well-dressed. Beau hadn’t seen so handsome a building since he’d left New York seven years ago to pursue his education.

      Upon entering the large structure, Beau took note of the opulent decor of rich fabrics and expensive mahogany paneling as they crossed the marbled lobby.

      In no mood to sit through the ordering of food and subsequent false pleasantries as they waited to be served, he stopped walking. “Perhaps we should conduct our business here.” He indicated two chairs in the corner of the room.

      They would be out of the common traffic area but still visible enough to be considered decent. Potted plants in priceless urns lined the perimeter of the room. Several were grouped around the two chairs he’d pointed out and created an alcove of sorts.

      Once she was settled, Beau began the conversation with complete honesty. “Miss Southerland. I must confess my imagination has been running wild. Tell me what has happened.”

      She placed her hands gently in her lap. Once again, Beau was struck by her refined movements. There was nothing hard about this woman, which was at odds with her boldness in coming in search of him.

      “I don’t know quite where to start,” she said in a very low, very quiet voice. What sort of woman could look so fragile and yet travel hundreds of miles alone? She had a strange blend of polished confidence and naiveté about her that didn’t mesh with his first impression of a woman seeking attention.

      His interest was stirred, but his plan for the future did not include a beautiful woman who drew attention to herself by merely existing.

      With that thought, Beau shut down any personal feelings and looked deep into her eyes again. He saw a vulnerability that she tried to cloak as tightly as she’d cinched the velvet coat around her tiny waist.

      The woman stirred his compassion. Yes, that was it. His compassion.

      Nothing more.

      “Perhaps you should start at the beginning?” he said in a gentle tone.

      “Yes. Of course. The beginning.” She nodded, sat up straighter and squared her shoulders. “I suppose I should first tell you how I know your brother.”

      He offered an encouraging smile.

      “Until three days ago, I was on tour with the same company as Tyler.”

      Beau’s heart sank at her words. She was an actress, just like Jane. Although in light of her connection to his parents he should have expected this. A cold, unreasonable anger began to stir inside him, outdistanced by a sense of dread. He held his odd fury in check. Barely. He had no doubt that audiences adored this woman—how could they not?—but he also knew the public had once adored Jane, as well.

      A fresh image of the broken woman he’d left in Mattie’s brothel shot through his mind. No longer able to fill theaters with her talent and youth, she’d turned to a life of prostitution.

      And now this woman, this actress sitting before him, with her youth and beauty and painful vulnerability, could easily end up in the same predicament as Jane.

      Alone. Dying. Destitute.

      The temper he rarely acknowledged swirled up so fast, so unexpectedly, his throat ached from having to swallow back the emotion.

      Lord, show mercy to this СКАЧАТЬ