Courtship, Montana Style. Charlotte Maclay

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      Chapter One

      “There is no question, my dear, you will be the most beautiful bride Marin County has ever seen. Trés elegant. Your wedding will be the social occasion of the year.”

      The owner of Gloriana’s Bridal Boutique hovered around Elizabeth Tilden, all part of the service in the most extravagant bridal shop in the most exclusive county in California, located across the bay from San Francisco.

      Gloriana lifted the veil from Elizabeth’s head and clipped it to a hanger. “I know you will not be as foolish as one of our patrons, a young lady who walked out of the church at the very last minute last week with the groom already standing at the altar. Such a waste. All that food at the reception and such a lovely gown.” The boutique owner made a tsking sound and shook her head.

      Elizabeth wondered if canceling the wedding meant the woman was foolish—or courageous, a trait Elizabeth sorely lacked. She hated disappointing anyone and shied away from confrontation. For as long as she could remember, she’d been a nice girl.

      But sometimes nice girls finished last.

      Where had that other bride found the backbone to walk away from her own wedding?

      Lowering the zipper at the back of Elizabeth’s gown, Gloriana said, “I have no such fears you will do such a naughty thing, walking out on your handsome husband-to-be. Your family would be so upset. Yours is one wedding day that will go off like clockwork, as they say.”

      With care, Elizabeth stepped out of the tulle-and-lace gown with its rows and rows of tiny pearls and grand sweeping train. She felt far less confident about her fast-approaching wedding day than Gloriana did.

      Three days to go, and what Elizabeth saw in the full-length mirror was a reluctant bride. Not terrified. Not simply getting cold feet or having second thoughts. But a bride who no longer believed marriage to Vernon Sprague was the smart thing to do, no matter how vigorously her family encouraged her match to the wealthy investment counselor.

      But she’d never have the audacity to risk a terrible scene with her mother. Or Vernon, for that matter. Hadn’t she already buckled under their combined wishes more times than she cared to count? If only things had turned out differently….

      She’d grown up a member of the country-club set and met Steve Poling when she was an awkward twelve-year-old. For her it had been love at first sight. Or perhaps adoration was a better word.

      It took Steve several years to notice her, but by high school they started dating. At least while she was home for summer vacations they saw each other. He was fun to be with, bringing an excitement into her otherwise restricted life. His bold even sometimes reckless behavior appealed to her.

      By the time Elizabeth entered college, they were dating each other exclusively—except she attended a private women’s college in New England and he was studying petroleum engineering at UCLA. After they both graduated they planned to marry. But first Steve wanted to get his career on solid footing. Then came his chance for a grand adventure—an oil exploration trip to the Amazon River basin. He couldn’t resist the opportunity.

      Only after he’d left town had she realized she was pregnant. Steve hadn’t hesitated once he learned she was expecting. He arranged to fly home. They’d marry—

      Even after a year, Elizabeth’s throat still tightened on the painful knowledge that if he hadn’t been coming home to marry her in haste his plane never would have crashed. He’d be alive today. And they’d be together, she, the man she’d loved all through adolescence and the baby they’d created together.

      A small army of assistants dressed as French maids flitted into the private dressing room, scooping up the gown and veil to be safely wrapped for the trip to Elizabeth’s home and thence to the same church on Saturday that had seen equally extravagant weddings for three prior generations of Morley-Tilden women.

      Still in her satin slip, Elizabeth sat down after everyone had left the dressing room. Despite her worries, she smiled at the precious sleeping baby in the carrier she’d placed on the floor next to the plush-velvet couch. Suzanne.

      Her baby…and Steven’s.

      As unintended as her pregnancy had been, Suzanne was now her life. Her love.

      That was far from the case for Vernon, who had shown little interest in her three-month-old daughter.

      Elizabeth’s parents had been heartsick—and embarrassed—to learn she was pregnant and unwed, a social scandal, they’d said. With grief weighing her down, Elizabeth had agreed to become engaged to Vernon Sprague, a wealthy investment counselor with considerable political clout. The perfect brother-in-law to enhance her brother Robert’s political ambitions. The marriage—of money, influence and wealth—would take place after the baby’s birth. There would be no disgrace for the Tilden name.

      Through a haze of despair and guilt, Elizabeth had agreed to the arrangement. As usual she had given in to the wishes of her prominent family.

      But now she was responsible for another person’s future happiness. She needed to decide what was best not only for herself but for her baby as well, a far more important decision.

      She ran her fingertips over the blond fuzz on the top of Suzanne’s head, so light in color it was barely visible and as soft as down. A deep, abiding love filled Elizabeth’s chest, making it difficult to draw a breath.

      How in heaven’s name could she raise her daughter to be a strong woman when she’d always been such a weakling?

      Since her morning visit with her older sister, Elizabeth had more doubts than ever about her impending marriage. Victoria, like their mother, lived with the knowledge of her husband’s infidelities and was miserable because of it.

      Not only had this past year left Elizabeth with nagging questions about Vernon’s faithfulness, but he’d already talked about hiring a nanny and sending Suzanne to boarding school as soon as she was old enough.

      Elizabeth balked at the suggestion and they’d had a terrible argument, the issue as yet unresolved. But she vowed she would never give her baby over for someone else to raise. She’d experienced too much of that in her own childhood.

      Struggling with indecision, idly she picked up a women’s magazine on the coffee table and flipped through the pages. An article caught her eye about Montana’s Foster Dad of the Year, a rancher in a remote part of the state who provided refuge for unwanted children.

      That’s what Elizabeth and her baby needed. A refuge. A place where she would have the time and freedom to decide what was best for their future without the interference of her family and the pressure she had so much trouble resisting.

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