Darby: Bride of Oregon (American Mail-Order Bride 33) Read online

  She was determined to put the man out of her mind until she understood what he had planned for her. For all she knew, he would pick her up at the train station in Portland and put her on a ship bound for China. The look he’d given her, just after he’d slapped her, promised he’d be capable of doing just that.

  She tugged her handkerchief out of her sleeve, dabbed at her eyes, then chided herself for letting her mind wander again.

  There was a murmur of deep voices from the entryway and the four girls fluttered away from each other to sit on separate furnishings. Their inviting smiles magically appeared the moment a gentleman walked into the room.

  He gave a little bow in their general direction, then turned and bowed to Rosemary. His eyes lit up when he noticed Darby, but her hostess stepped slightly in front of her and shook her head. The fellow nodded, then wandered in the other direction.

  Darby was fascinated. If she did get away from Rand and end up on the streets, would she be able to find a place like Rosemary’s in which to make a living? Now that she knew what kind of work was required, would she be able to stomach it?

  The gentleman offered his arm to a short girl with dark hair, then he led her from the room with a disturbing smile on his face. And Darby, knowing the gist of what would transpire between the two, couldn’t suppress a chill.

  Elton, standing just inside the door, frowned at Rosemary, then looked away. Apparently, the guard was a bit revolted too.

  There were more voices in the entryway. Someone drunk, it sounded like. Or perhaps just a little too pleased to be there.

  The girls took their places and set their smiles. Then everyone in the room turned to the doorway.

  Rand Beauregard stepped into the room and Darby’s heart jumped. He spoke quietly with Elton only for a moment, then walked directly to the far end of the room where he spoke with all three of the girls at once. They gathered around him like they were old friends and laughed at something he said. Then, as if he were playing some child’s game, he tapped them each on the head, again and again, until his hand stopped. The girl he touched stuck her lip out and sat on the couch. Then Rand offered an elbow to the other two, turned, and escorted them out of the room.

  Two? Why would he need two?

  With Rosemary partially blocking her from view, Rand couldn’t have known she was there. But if he had, would he have done any differently?

  Don’t be a fool.

  What did she expect? For the man to have picked her? Of course not!

  Darby stood and Rosemary took a step back. The woman wouldn’t look her in the eye. “I’m sorry about that, Miss.”

  Darby looked at Elton. The man was fuming mad. And she finally understood that it had all been arranged. She was supposed to see Rand choose those girls and go blithely on his way. He wanted to hurt her.

  Well, it was only fair. She’d hurt him soundly enough to deserve a little pain herself. And she’d been deserving it since the moment she’d decided to answer his advertisement. And her mind went back to the day she’d first read it.

  “Margaret?”

  “Mm?”

  “How long does it take, do ye reckon, to make a man fall in love with ye?”

  “Less than a night, if the trollops are to be believed.”

  Well, she was better equipped to answer that question now. And it definitely took longer than that. In fact, three weeks wasn’t long enough.

  Slowly, deliberately, and just as determined as she’d been to get away from Rand two nights before, Darby strolled toward the doorway. Elton watched her. He turned and prepared to escort her back upstairs, but then had to watch silently as she continued to the other end of the room. When she settled into an overstuffed Victorian chair and forced her lips into a pleasant smile, she was sure the guard gasped. But he covered the slip with a cough.

  Rosemary fled.

  Elton stopped coughing abruptly. Male voices echoed from the entryway at his back. His eyes widened, but to his credit, the man remained at his post.

  The girl sitting on the couch opposite Darby raised her brows as if to ask if she knew what she was doing. Darby gave her a little nod, but on the inside she was terrified of what might truly happen. What if Rosemary didn’t seek Rand out to tell him what she was up to? Or worse yet, what if Rand didn’t care? What if he thought that a place like Rosemary’s was a suitable home for any Scottish skirt-wearing monster?

  Hearty laughter preceded two gentlemen into the room. The taller of the two gave a nod to Elton as he dropped something into his own suit pocket. His face lit with a smile when his gaze fell on Darby. He gave the other girl only a cursory glance, but his friend looked immediately smitten with the lass.

  Darby felt each step the man took. Or was it her heart beating hard and slow?

  “Good evening,” he said, with a little bow. His moustache curled along with his smile. “You’re new.”

  “Aye.” Considering where they were, there was no use pretending she was shy.

  “My name is Lionel.”

  “And I’m Darby.”

  He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Scottish?”

  “Aye. Go on, then. I give ye permission to flee.”

  He laughed. “But Scottish is my favorite flavor.”

  She blushed so suddenly she grew light headed. He tugged on her hand and pulled her easily to her feet. Then he kissed her on the head and spoke against her hair. “Let’s get you upstairs where you can lie down, shall we?”

  Horrified that he would say such a thing in mixed company, she looked around to see if the other two had overheard, but they’d already disappeared.

  She took a deep breath, then another, and planted her feet before he could lead her any further. “Just a moment,” she said. “Just give me a moment.”

  She took another deep breath and the room righted itself. “Just so we’re clear. I don’t work here.”

  He seemed surprised, but the tug on her hand proved he was undeterred. He was rather handsome, she supposed.

  “Darby, go upstairs.” Rand appeared behind her would-be seducer and though he spoke to her, Rand kept his attention on Rosemary’s customer. “She’s not on the menu.”

  The man laughed and took both her hands in his. “I think that’s up to her.”

  “No,” Rand said. “I’d say it’s up to her husband.”

  That finally surprised the man enough that he dropped her hands and stepped away from her. Elton appeared at her side and his message was clear as well. Go or be carried.

  She nodded at Lionel, and strode through the room like the queen she used to feel—until Rand Beauregard had decided she was Scottish trash.

  What scared her was how close she’d come to making his judgment of her a reality. And as she climbed the stairs to her temporary prison, she vowed she would never make that mistake again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Rand’s stomach churned with worry. He’d hired the private car to take them back to Portland, but no matter how much he was willing to pay, there was no tempting a conductor to hold the train.

  The last order he’d given Elton was to have her to the train on time. And no matter how much the man disapproved of what Rand had done in the brothel, he wouldn’t have agreed to an order if he hadn’t intended to obey it.

  So where were they?

  The train would leave, with or without her, in five minutes. The question was would it be leaving without him?

  If she’d managed to get away from four full grown men, should he just let her go and forget her? If he asked the church for an annulment, would she show up in five years and claim to still be his wife?

  She was a Scot. He wouldn’t put anything past her.

  Hell, for all he knew, she was kith and kin to Captain McClintock himself.

  It put a bitter taste in his mouth to do it, but he stepped out onto the platform to wait. If the train began moving and she still hadn’t arrived, he’d jump on and good riddance.

  His stomach roiled a
gain. Then his heart jumped when Elton’s tall head was visible in the mob at the gate. The man parted the crowd and hurried through, but there was no woman with him.

  Damn her!

  “Where is she?” He didn’t care who heard him.

  “They’re coming. We had a little...disagreement.” He tilted his head to show the beginnings of a large bruise under his eye and Rand was suddenly worried what kind of shape the woman would be in. He couldn’t very well show up to a bunch of fanfare holding the hand of a beaten woman. But if she had been roughed up, it would be his fault for not giving clearer orders.

  The train whistle sounded just as a couple of men separated from the crowd and hurried through the gate. He recognized Palmer, then realized the second man was Darby in her britches. The reason the pair walked so close together was because they had metal cuffs around their wrists—one set between them.

  “You shackled her?” No matter how angry he’d been—still was—with her, he was appalled.

  “No choice. She nearly got away from us.” Elton tipped his hat back. “I think we taught her too well how to slip around without being followed.”

  “All aboard!” The engineer hollered in their direction. Everyone else had boarded. And a good thing too. Rand didn’t need a bunch of Nosey Nells wondering why a woman in shackles went into his private car, only to see a finely dressed woman step out again in Portland.

  Palmer hurried up the steps and for a second, it looked like she considered not following. But then she hopped up on the lower step just as the train tugged itself into motion. Rand and the others hurried up the next set of steps just in time.

  They all gathered in the private car. Elton was ready to explain, but Rand held up a hand to save him the bother. There was no need.

  “Just take the shackles off.”

  “You know she’ll bolt,” Palmer warned.

  “Yes,” he said. “I’m sure she will. Eventually.”

  Her gaze snapped to his.

  Well, at least she was listening.

  Masters placed her bags on the floor and the four men split up. Two ahead, two behind. But a lot of good it would do. If the woman was insane enough to jump from a moving train, they were lucky to have gotten her onto it in the first place.

  Lucky. Hah!

  He remembered feeling very lucky just a few days ago when his high class wife was willing to don a pair of britches and sit a saddle in order to help him. But look how that had turned out.

  No. There was nothing lucky about this.

  She rubbed one of her wrists, but stopped as soon as he noticed. She put a hand on the wall to steady herself when the train tugged again. Apparently, she didn’t want to sit.

  Well, he wasn’t going to stand all the way to Portland, so he moved to a comfortable chair and took a seat. From his inside pocket, he pulled out the folded papers he’d prepared in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep.

  “I have a proposition,” he said, and waved the papers.

  “A petition for an annulment?”

  He smirked. “That would be much easier, I know. But no.” He could tell he had her attention. So he gestured to the small couch across from him.

  She narrowed her eyes for a few seconds, then made her way over to it. The train car swayed and threw her off balance, but he resisted the urge to reach out. What had she said? We Scots are scrappers. I’ll make out just fine.

  She slipped onto the couch and held onto the arm as if she was prepared to run at the first sign of trouble.

  “Don’t worry, Miss McClintock.” The stress was a reminder of one of the many lies she’d told him. “If you don’t like my proposal—uh, proposition, you can ride this train all the way back to Massachusetts if you like. I won’t stop you.”

  “Well, I reckon ye must need something from me or ye would have left me in the woods that day, aye?”

  He suddenly realized she was laying on the brogue a little thick in order to irritate him. And what was more, she’d done so in the forest too. When she’d been speaking to Rosemary’s customer, her accent hadn’t been so pronounced, and she hadn’t been trying to hide her nationality then.

  “All I will admit to,” he said, “is, at the time, I thought it best to keep my options open.”

  She looked doubtful, then impatient. “Let’s hear it, then.”

  He slapped the papers on his knee. “This is a contract. If you sign it, you’ll be agreeing to carry on as if nothing has changed. You’ll continue to be Mrs. Rand Beauregard for the next fifteen years, or until I am elected Governor, whichever comes first.”

  She snorted. “Governor?”

  “I’m deadly serious.” Then, reluctantly, he revealed his plan to her, starting with the next mayoral election. Thankfully, she kept her thoughts to herself until he was finished. “I understand it might take me longer than what I have planned. Thus, the 15 years. If I am in the Governor’s office for my first term when the 15 years has elapsed, you’ll be expected to stay on for a second term, if I can get re-elected. You’ll also agree not to sabotage any elections.”

  “Sabotage.”

  He shrugged a shoulder and offered her the papers.

  She took them and glanced through them. “Anything about children?”

  He shook his head and tightened his gut to keep his voice steady. “No children. My wife, is unfortunately barren.”

  For a second or two, she looked like she’d been punched in the stomach and was having difficulty swallowing. Then he realized, to a woman, having the option of children taken from her would probably feel much the same. Only the pain would last longer.

  But if he was going to get through the conversation, he had to remember she was a proven liar. He had to be cautious, and he couldn’t let his emotions hold any sway.

  They had no past between them. The few weeks he’d spent with Lady Beauregard, he’d spent with another woman entirely. Lady Beauregard was dead and gone. And this was the woman who had killed her.

  He realized he’d done just what he’d been trying to avoid, letting his emotions in the room. So he took a deep breath and braced himself for rejection. If he were to get an annulment, he would have to marry very soon to wipe away any memory Portland would have of his first failed marriage. It would cost him a few years politically, but he would get over it.

  He tried not to think of how many lives might be lost because of those lost years. It would only make the rest of the trip intolerable. As it was, he wanted to have her decision so he could go to the dining car and start drinking. And he would keep drinking until he had to sober up for the Portland fanfare.

  What a ridiculous idea, to have people greet them at the train. He should have called it off as soon as he’d reached Seattle. He could have sent a telegram. But then he’d come up with the contract and forgotten about the reception until it was too late.

  Hopefully, Jez would have kept the plans small.

  Jez. She was bound to give him one hell of a time for this.

  After reading through them again, the woman folded the papers again and held them tentatively between two fingers. Not a good sign. But then again, he didn’t know which would be worse—to have her sign them or throw them in his face.

  “So,” she said. “I commit to living as yer wife for 15 years. I live in the house. Ye live...”

  “In a separate part of the house, whenever I am home.”

  “And this says I’m not allowed in the city without ye?”

  “No. You’re allowed in the city anytime you wish—in the daylight. At night, for social events, you would have to accompany me. Otherwise, Portland, at night, is off limits to you.”

  “Until?”

  “Until the contracted 15 years. However, if I become Governor earlier than planned, and fail to get re-elected, you will be free to go, even if the 15 years have not passed.

  “May I have friends? May I have people come to the house?”

  “Women friends, yes.”

  She laughed. “I wasn
a suggesting—”

  “We can add a section about pregnancy. If you agree to what is there, and sign it, you’ll be committed. But we’ll have the papers drawn up properly, add whatever else we agree on, and we’ll sign again.

  “And just what would this new section decree?”

  “That, if you were to become pregnant, you would have to go away until the child is born, then return...without it.” She gasped, but he continued. “You have to understand. If I had a child, or there was a child my enemies believed was mine, it would never be safe. It has nothing to do with fidelity at all.”

  She stared at him for a minute, then slowly nodded her head. “I see. No need for fidelity...for either one of us, because you will keep your...women friends.”

  He smirked. “Oh, no. I do require your fidelity. I insist on it.”

  “Then why a new section in the contract?”

  “I said I require it. I didn’t say I expect it.”

  She got to her feet then. The car bounced her around, but she didn’t reach out to balance herself, as if she was in such shock it never occurred to her that she might tumble over.

  “Sit down, Darby!”

  She blinked, sat, and shook her head. “You don’t get to call me Darby. You may call me dear, my wife, even sweetheart if necessary. But you will never call me Darby.” She tossed the papers at him and the disappointment he felt was a surprise. And the pain in his middle nearly doubled him over.

  “I want that added to yer bloody contract,” she said.

  He frowned, confused.

  “I won’t sign this. But I’ll sign the final contract. I’ll stay 15 years. I’ll stay faithful if it kills me. But you will never call me Darby.”

  ~ ~ ~

  As Rand made his way to the dining car he assured himself the only reason he was glad she’d agreed was because he wouldn’t have to face the welcoming committee alone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Every time the train stopped between Seattle and Portland, Beauregard worried she wouldn’t get back on again. He kept his distance, but watched her like a hawk.