Regina Scott - Frontier Matchmaker Bride

“Except Lizzie Ordway,” she reminded him. “She chose to devote herself to teaching.”

“Wise woman.” He offered her his arm as they came to the end of the boardwalk, but she used both hands to gather her skirts out of the mud instead.

“I agree.”

She said it so firmly. Why did he doubt she believed it?

“If you and the Literary Society are so determined that every gentleman take a wife, why would you allow some ladies to avoid taking a husband?”

There was a prim set to her mouth. “Some people of either gender lack the spirit of compromise and congeniality necessary for a good marriage.”

“And what makes you think I’m not one of them?”

“Because I know you.”

So she thought, but Hart had gone out of his way to keep his past quiet, his present private. It was best not to make too many friends you’d only end up having to investigate one day.

“If you know me so well, you ought to understand this isn’t going to work,” he told her.

“Nonsense. I must insist that any number of fine, upstanding women might meet your criteria and win your heart, but for one thing.”

From what he’d seen, there were few enough women who could truly appreciate the life of a lawman on the frontier. But he found himself curious as to what might stop them from agreeing to his suit.

“What’s that?” he asked as they rounded the corner.

She met his gaze. “You.”

Hart jerked to a stop, then recovered himself. “Well, I could have told you that. And I’m not changing.”

“Not in character,” she assured him as he set out once more. “Although you might work on some traits. Patience, openness to new ideas...”

His glare only made her giggle. The happy sound could not fail but make him chuckle too.

“Very well,” she acknowledged as they neared the sheriff’s office. “You don’t want to change. Personally, I’m not sure why you would need to do much. I would have thought any lady could see from your exploits reported in the papers that you have high morals, an outstanding work ethic and a chivalrous nature.”

He wasn’t sure whether to thank her or laugh. What a paragon she thought him. He settled for a humph as they reached Arno. The gelding bobbed his head as if agreeing with everything Beth had said.

Traitor.

“If I’d make the perfect husband,” Hart said, “why is it a challenge to find me a wife?”

He’d hoped to prick her bubble of optimism, but she merely raised her chin, the breeze tugging at her platinum curls. “A woman wants more in a husband. She seeks a gentleman, a fellow who appreciates music, the arts.”

He raised a brow, and Arno snorted as if doubting Hart could ever measure up. “In Seattle?” Hart asked.

“Anywhere,” she insisted. “And I cannot believe you insensible to such refinement of spirit. You read literature.”

“Dime novels,” he reminded her. “Adventures, mysteries.”

“And what are the great novels of the past if not adventures. Dickens, Scott, Fenimore Cooper.”

He hadn’t read anything by those authors, but he’d have to ask Mr. Pumphrey about them. Or perhaps her brother John. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d borrowed books from the scholarly logger.

“No,” Beth continued, “we merely need to prove to the ladies that you are Seattle’s most eligible bachelor.”

A weight fell across his shoulders. It was not unlike the feeling that came over him before he moved in to apprehend a felon, as if he was about to meet his destiny. “What do you mean, Beth?”

She gazed up at him, eyes shining with a light that sent a chill through him. “I intend to show you to best advantage—grooming, clothing, domicile, social prominence.”

Hart’s stomach sank. “Now, wait a minute...”

She gave Arno a pat and stepped back. “No time to waste. I can see this will require all my time, all my energy. I’ll have to move into town for a while.”

“Town.” The whole idea seemed to be spinning out of control. “Your brothers won’t like that.”

She waved a hand as she was so fond of doing, as if the movement wiped away all his arguments. “They’ll survive. They have their wives to assist them now in any event. And I don’t expect it will take more than a month or two.”

Two months of this? He’d never survive.

“You can’t put up in a hotel,” he protested. He certainly couldn’t protect her there. “Too many men.”

“I’ll speak to Allegra Howard. I’m sure she’d let me stay with her and Clay.”

Very likely she would. The Howards and the Wallins were old friends. But if Beth was staying with the Howards, she’d be just across the paddock from his cabin. He could see her every morning before he left for work, every night when he returned. Likely she’d be at the table when he ate with the Howards as he sometimes did.

She beamed at him as if she had no idea she’d boxed him into a canyon and was standing guard at the entrance. “Just think, I’ll be right at hand to help whenever you need.”

That was what he feared.

Chapter Five

Hart hadn’t been enthused about Beth’s idea to move into town from Wallin Landing, but Allegra was as welcoming as Beth had hoped when she called that afternoon to ask a favor. The dark-haired beauty had come with Beth’s sisters-in-law and Maddie Haggerty in the second Mercer expedition bringing brides to Seattle, but the widow had become engaged before she ever reached Seattle’s shores. Her onetime sweetheart had sailed with the expedition and convinced her to marry him instead.

Now her daughter from her first marriage, Gillian, had been joined by a little brother, Georgie. Beth had watched both children grow. Gillian was thirteen, and Georgie was seven, fair-haired like their fathers but with their mother’s refined features. They were equally excited to have Beth come stay with them.

“You can tell me all about the latest styles,” Gillian gushed.

Georgie made a face. “Dresses, bah. You can show me how to shoot. Pa says you’re better than he is.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Beth demurred, thinking of the stalwart businessman who was the boy’s father. Clay Howard had traveled the country, including working on the California gold fields, before settling in Seattle. He knew how to take care of himself.

Her family, however, wasn’t so sure about her. The first people she told about her plans when she returned to Wallin Landing that evening were Drew and his wife, Catherine. She generally cooked and kept house for her oldest brother’s logging crew, after all. Drew would have to make other arrangements while she was in town.

“Out of the question,” he said when she went to his cabin across the big clearing at Wallin Landing. “You have too much to do here.”

He seemed so determined, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed. Strangers took one look at his broad shoulders, his muscular build, and concluded the blond giant must be a bear of a man. His family and friends knew the warm heart that beat inside that massive chest, and felt free to ignore his edicts.

Catherine, ever the reasonable one, put a hand on his arm as if to restrain further comments. Raised near Boston and trained to be a nurse, she had an elegant way about her Beth could only admire. She was certain it had something to do with Catherine’s pale blond hair and light blue eyes.

“What will you be doing in Seattle, Beth?” she asked politely.

Beth couldn’t tell them the whole truth. She’d promised Hart to keep quiet about the matter. And her brothers didn’t like to encourage her matchmaking, for all none of them might have married without her help.

“I’ve promised to assist Allegra and the Literary Society in a matter,” she said.