The Matrimony Plan. Christine Johnson

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СКАЧАТЬ I’m overwrought. The letter…” How could she explain to a mere stranger that her mother had lied and cheated to get her into art school? He wouldn’t think any better of her for having such a family. “There’s no excuse,” she said ruefully.

      “Perhaps.” He surveyed her for intolerable seconds. “But it takes character to admit fault.”

      Warmth rose from deep inside, sweeping through her with shocking speed. They’d barely met. She’d insulted him, and yet he forgave her. “Thank you,” she whispered.

      He laughed and held out an arm. “We all make mistakes. May I escort you to wherever you’re going?”

      Where was she going? Now that she’d met Mr. Blevins and had even been forgiven by him, she had no destination. Think of his needs.

      She smiled at him. “You must want to look over the site. Baker’s Field is south and east of here. We could walk, but my brother, Blake, should be here with the car soon.”

      “Your brother? I thought—” His brow furrowed. “I expected your father.”

      “Daddy? Why?”

      Instead of answering, he dropped her hand and took off at a run. What on earth? Felicity spun about and instantly saw what had caught his attention. An envelope—her envelope—bounced along the ground. She must have dropped it in her confusion.

      “Oh, no,” she cried, running after both the envelope and Mr. Blevins.

      Suddenly, a black dog streaked across both their paths, snatched the envelope and took off toward the depot.

      “Slinky, no.” The town stray would chew the letter. He’d ruin it, and Mother would be furious. Felicity abandoned propriety and hobbled after the dog as fast as she could. “Give it back. Slinky, bring it here.”

      As if he heard her, the mutt paused, head cocked and one ear flopped over, but as soon as she drew near, he took off again.

      “No,” she cried in exasperation. Her head spun, and she could barely catch her breath. She’d never get the letter back.

      Worse, Mr. Blevins was laughing.

      “Stop it,” she cried. “It’s not funny.”

      He wiped his eyes and tried his best to keep a straight face. “I’m sorry, Ms. Kensington, but that’s no way to get something from a dog. He thinks you’re playing a game.” He whistled. “Here, boy. What did you call him? Slinky? Here, Slinky.” He held out a hand, palm up, and after a little more cajoling, the dog came to him.

      He patted Slinky’s head and pried the letter from his jaws. He then held it out to her.

      The envelope had been chewed, bit through and was soaked in dog saliva. Gingerly, she took hold of one corner. “It’s ruined.”

      “Allow me to wipe it off.” He offered his handkerchief.

      She sniffled. “That won’t help the holes or the dirt.”

      “The words are still the same. I’m sure we can piece it together.”

      She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” Indeed it didn’t. She’d found her Mr. Blevins, and he was smiling at her. He might be a little less than elegantly attired, but he liked her. Surely he could love her. And she could clean him up. With a little effort, a decent suit and a haircut, he might pass as quite stylish. Yes, she could do this. In two months, maybe less, she’d be Mrs. Robert Blevins.

      “Thank you,” she breathed, holding his gaze a bit longer than respectable.

      His smile curled around her heart. “I’ll see you again?”

      She nodded, and for a moment she thought he would take her hand, but then a motorcar horn honked. Not just any motorcar. Daddy’s Packard. After a backfire and a cloud of blue smoke, the car stopped and Daddy sprang out.

      “Sorry I’m late, Pastor Gabriel.”

      Pastor? Felicity reeled. This man she’d let take her hand, the one she’d promised to see again, was Reverend Meeks? He was supposed to be old and gaunt and ugly, not handsome and charming.

      Her head whirled. She gulped the tepid air. Her ears rang. A minister. She’d agreed to see the new minister, her new minister, but her plan was to attract Mr. Blevins. Pastor Gabriel wouldn’t get her out of Pearlman; he’d tie her to the town—and Mother—forever. Her plan was ruined before it had even begun.

      She stifled a sob, and then, as the world around her blurred, she did what any woman in such circumstances would do.

      She fainted.

       Chapter Two

      Gabriel Meeks caught Ms. Kensington a moment after her eyes fluttered shut. She’d paled, and he rushed to her side, knowing she was about to faint.

      Time paused the instant he touched her. Such beauty. Delicate veins laced her eyelids. Her ebony hair glistened, its tendrils like spring vines. The artist Alphonse Mucha could not have drawn a more beautiful woman.

      The heady scent of roses overwhelmed his ordinarily good sense, leaving him gaping at her as seconds ticked away. From the moment he first saw her in the general store, he longed to know her better. Never did he imagine he’d hold this beauty in his arms. How perfectly she fit the cup of his shoulder and crook of his arm, as if God had made them two halves of the one whole.

      “Lay her down,” barked her father, head of the Church Council, as he stripped off his jacket. “Get the blood flowing to her head.”

      Though Gabriel wished he could hold her forever, he did as instructed, placing her head on the folded jacket. Spying the chewed envelope, he snatched it up and began fanning her face.

      Still, she showed no sign of coming to.

      “Do you have smelling salts?” he inquired.

      Mr. Kensington shook his head and squatted beside him.

      Gabriel fanned harder. Ms. Kensington hadn’t moved, and her color hadn’t improved.

      “What if she doesn’t wake?”

      “Don’t worry, son. She’ll come around in a moment. They always do. I’ve seen my share of ladies dropping off. Why I remember one dance where…”

      Mr. Kensington’s story brought back a painful memory. Years ago, a girl who Gabriel had escorted to a dance claimed to feel faint. He left her on a sofa and went to fetch water. Upon his return, he spied her escaping to the garden with another man. His older brothers laughingly informed him that he’d just been initiated into high society. According to them, girls used this trick all the time, and he’d fallen for it. The humiliation still stung.

      He hoped Ms. Kensington wasn’t that type of woman, but her expensive clothing and snobbish attitude put her squarely with the rest of the upper class. He’d been hoodwinked once. Never again.

      “Perhaps we should fetch a doctor,” he said brusquely.

      “Nonsense.” СКАЧАТЬ