Renee Ryan - His Most Suitable Bride

Wrinkling her nose at the ornery animal, Callie carefully pulled papers out from beneath the furry belly. She managed to free the bulk of them when the cat gazed at the new pile with narrow-eyed intent.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Callie snatched the papers off the floor and placed them on the table next to Mrs. Singletary’s book.

Not to be deterred, Lady Macbeth went after a lone sheet of paper that had landed farther away than the rest.

Callie moved a shade quicker. “Ha.”

Swishing her tail in hard, jerky movements, Lady Macbeth stalked off toward the fireplace and curled up on a rug near the grate.

Disaster averted, Callie glanced down at the paper in her hand. There was a crease in the center of the page, indicating it had once been folded in two. Written in a bold, masculine hand, it looked like a record of some kind, an inventory perhaps.

The third item from the top captured her notice. Loves children, wants several, at least five but no more than seven.

Beneath that odd statement, was another equally confusing entry. Must come from a good family and value strong family ties.

Callie frowned.

What sort of list had she stumbled upon?

Realizing it was none of her business, she pressed the paper into Mrs. Singletary’s hand. “This is clearly meant for your eyes only.”

The widow scanned the page in silence then clicked her tongue in obvious disapproval. “That man is going to be my greatest challenge yet.”

At the genuine look of concern in the woman’s eyes, Callie angled her head. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, dear. Not just yet.” The widow refolded the paper at the crease and stowed the list inside a pocket of her skirt. “Later, perhaps, once I consider my options I shall ask for your assistance.”

Her tone invited no further questions.

Shrugging, Callie searched the floor around her. She found no more papers. “I think that’s all of them.” She sat back on her heels. “Would you like me to leave you alone to review the papers Mr. Bennett sent over?”

“Thank you, yes.” The widow nodded distractedly. “I would.”

“I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Callie rose to her feet and started for the door.

“Not so fast, dear.”

She pivoted back around. “Yes, ma’am?”

“About the dinner party I have planned for Friday evening. I should like for you to attend as one of my guests.”

Callie felt her eyes widen in surprise. In the entire month of her employment she’d attended precisely none of Mrs. Singletary’s parties. “You wish for me to attend as...as...a guest?”

“Quite so.” The widow moved back to her chair and began spreading the legal papers across her lap. “Now that one of the ladies has declined her invitation there will be too many men at the table. Your presence will even out the numbers.”

A hard ball of dread knotted in Callie’s stomach. In the span of a single day, her perfectly ordered world was no longer so perfectly ordered. But aside from direct insubordination, Callie saw no other recourse than to agree to her employer’s request.

“If you wish for me to attend your party then, of course, Mrs. Singletary, I am happy to oblige.”

“Excellent. Most excellent, indeed.”

Again, Callie turned to go.

Again, Mrs. Singletary called her back. “One final thing, dear.”

Forcing a bright smile, she turned around a second time, preparing herself for the rest. Because, of course, there was more. With Mrs. Singletary, there was always more. “Yes?”

“When Jane and I were cleaning out my closet this afternoon we came across a lovely crimson gown that isn’t at all the right color for my complexion. The garment would look far better on, say, a woman with—” the widow pinned Callie with a sly look “—flaxen hair.”

Wasn’t that convenient? Callie thought miserably, as she smoothed her hand over her light blond flaxen hair.

“I should like for you to wear the dress to the party.”

Naturally.

Callie suppressed a sigh as yet another piece of her ordered life chipped away.

“Is there anything else?” she dared to ask.

“That is all for now.” The widow waved a hand in dismissal. “You may go.”

This time, when Callie stepped into the hallway, the widow did not protest her departure. A small victory, to be sure. But with the day she’d had, one she gladly claimed.

* * *

Despite a last-minute meeting with a new client, and the onset of a thundershower just as he left the office, Reese arrived at Mrs. Singletary’s home a full minute before the designated time on the invitation. He stepped into the foyer at the precise moment a large grandfather clock began chiming the top of the hour.

As he shook off the rain, the widow’s butler stepped forward and took his hat. “Good evening, Mr. Bennett.”

“Good evening, Winston.” Reese handed over his coat and gloves next. “Am I the first to arrive?”

“You are one of the last,” the butler informed him. “The other guests are gathered in the blue sitting room.”

“Has my father arrived yet?”

“Twenty minutes ago.”

Twenty minutes? That seemed pointlessly early. Or had Reese read the invitation incorrectly? There was one way to find out. “Thank you, Winston. I’ll see myself to the parlor.”

“Very good, sir.”

Reese spared a glance at the grandfather clock in the foyer as he passed through. One minute past seven. Certain he’d arrived on time, he nonetheless increased his pace.

Pausing at the threshold of the blue parlor, he took in the scene. He counted eight people in the room already.

His father stood near the fireplace, where a small fire had been lit presumably to offset the damp air created by the rain. A woman in a red dress stood beside Reese Bennett Sr., her back to the entrance. The deep, rich color of her gown offset her pale blond hair. Twisted in one of those complicated modern styles with several tendrils hanging loose, the resulting effect was mesmerizing.

For reasons unknown, Reese could do nothing but stare in muted wonder. Then, the woman turned slightly, presenting her profile.

His stomach rolled in recognition.

His throat burned. His heart pounded. And still he continued staring, unable to look away. With the firelight brazing off her, Callie Mitchell reminded him of a lighthouse beacon calling to him, promising shelter, as if he was a floundering sailor in need of a safe haven.

Reese swallowed.

He should not be this aware of Callie. Nonetheless, a new alertness spread through him, a sublime shift from one state of being to another.

The sensation rocked him to the core.

He looked away, at last searching the large parlor.

Mrs. Singletary held court on the opposite end of the room, conversing with one of Denver’s most prominent couples, Alexander and Polly Ferguson.

Their son Marshall, a man Reese considered a friend, was here tonight as well, as were two of his seven sisters. The young women were beautiful, with golden, light brown hair and cornflower-blue eyes. He was certain he’d met them previously but at the moment found it difficult to tell them apart. To further complicate matters, he recalled each of their names started with the letter P.

Both were in their early twenties and fit most of his requirements for a bride.

Were they here for his benefit?

If so, the widow had wasted no time in presenting viable candidates for his consideration.

One of the Ferguson daughters turned her big blue eyes in his direction. Reese shoved away from the door.

He’d barely taken two steps when Mrs. Singletary broke away from Mr. and Mrs. Ferguson. “Ah, Mr. Bennett, you have finally arrived.”

At the hint of censure in her tone, he wondered again if he’d gotten the time of tonight’s gathering wrong. “I hope I haven’t kept everyone waiting.”