Renee Ryan - His Most Suitable Bride

Finally, Callie floated deeper into the room. She caught sight of him and froze. “G-good afternoon, Mr. Bennett.”

He gave her a curt nod. “Miss Mitchell.”

Breaking eye contact, she reached down to pick up the large tabby cat threading around her skirts like a black-and-white ribbon. Despite the added weight in her arms, she stood perfectly straight, her spine as unbending as a board, her lips pressed in a flat line.

While she held completely still, and silent, he took the opportunity to study her more closely. She’d pinned back her hair too tightly again. And the dull gray of her dress made her look almost sickly. All she needed was a pair of spectacles perched on the bridge of her nose to complete the masquerade of a spinster twice her age.

Reese’s lips twisted in annoyance.

Callie Mitchell was deliberately masking her beauty. A gorgeous swan draped in ugly duckling’s clothing. And she was doing so on purpose. But why?

Why did the woman wish to make herself unattractive?

What was she hiding?

Chapter Three

Callie held Lady Macbeth tightly against her for two equally important reasons. The first was so the cat could serve as a kind of furry shield between her and Reese. The other was a bit more practical. Holding the overweight animal gave Callie something to do with her hands.

Oh, but she desperately wanted to reach up and smooth her palm over her hair, to tuck away any stray curls. The gesture would only reveal her nervousness.

No one could know how anxious she felt in Reese’s company, least of all the man himself.

But, really, why was he watching her so intently?

His unwavering focus made her beyond uncomfortable, slightly breathless. Perhaps a little afraid.

Not of him—never of him—but of herself. Of what she might do if he continued looking at her like...like that. His eyes practically bore into her, as though she was a puzzle that needed solving. That if he looked long enough and hard enough he could uncover her secrets.

She shivered at the prospect. He could never know the terrible mistake she’d made in Boston.

If only he wasn’t standing so close, Callie might have a better chance of regaining her composure. She could smell his familiar scent, a pleasant mixture of books and leather and some woodsy spice all his own.

The man should not smell so good. The result left her poised in stunned immobility. And badly wanting to fidget.

At least he seemed equally uncomfortable. He was as self-possessed as ever, but also appeared wary. Of her? Possibly.

Probably.

No doubt her being Fanny’s sister accounted for Reese’s discomfort. But there was something else, too, something much more disquieting than their connection through his ex-fiancée.

“Mr. Bennett.” Mrs. Singletary’s voice broke through the tension hanging in the air. “Was there anything else you wished to discuss before you depart for your office?”

Jerking slightly at the question, he turned to face the widow directly. “No. Our business is sufficiently concluded.”

“I assume I can expect your list by this afternoon.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I will work on it later today, as soon as I’ve revised the contracts.”

“That will be acceptable.”

Tucking his leather briefcase under his arm, he squared his shoulders. “Good day, Mrs. Singletary.” He nodded in Callie’s direction. “Miss Mitchell, always a pleasure.”

His stilted tone said otherwise.

Callie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as she watched him leave the room. The moment he stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind him with a determined snap, she set Lady Macbeth back on the floor.

The cat waddled over to her mistress, pawing at the widow’s skirt. Mrs. Singletary ignored the animal and fixed a scowl on Callie.

She winced. “Is something the matter, Mrs. Singletary?”

Fists jammed on her hips, the widow circled Callie, her gaze narrowing over the dress she wore. “I am waiting for an explanation.”

Callie feigned ignorance. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“You are an impertinent, headstrong young woman, Callie Mitchell.” Although she attempted a stern tone, the widow’s lips twitched, as if fighting back a smile. “If you didn’t remind me so much of myself I would be seriously displeased with you right now.”

“Your disappointment would be no less than I deserve.”

The widow’s smile came fully now. “Indeed.”

“So you are not angry with me?”

“I should be, but no.”

Best not to push the subject, Callie decided.

“Cook has several questions about the menu for Friday evening.” Callie moved casually through the room, running her fingers along a stack of books on the shelving to her left. “She seems to be confused as to how many guests will be attending. I told her twelve. She thought it was only ten.”

“Cook is right. You are wrong.” The widow wagged a finger at her. “And that was a wonderful attempt at distracting me, but it won’t work.”

“It was worth a try,” she muttered.

“You changed back into that ugly gray dress, and I want to know why.”

“It’s not ugly. It’s just—”

“Dismal, drab, dreary. All three apply equally.”

Yes, she supposed they did. “I was going to say respectable.”

“I thought I made myself clear.” Mrs. Singletary circled her again, clicking her tongue as she made a second, slower pass. “You were supposed to remain in the blue dress all day.”

“It needed several alterations.”

“Not even one.”

Callie pressed her lips together, but refrained from responding. What could she say, anyway? That she felt too pretty in the dress? That would only encourage the woman in her efforts to update her style.

“At the risk of being redundant, and I do so hate to be redundant, I will say it again. The way you dress reflects directly back on me.”

“I know, Mrs. Singletary. But my goal is to blend in with the crowd, not stand out.” She attempted a smile. “It would be unseemly of me to attract attention away from you.”

“That’s utter nonsense. With the right clothing and hairstyle you would, I think, be a great beauty, even more attractive than your sister.”

Callie felt panic gnawing at her, tearing at her composure. No one was more beautiful than Fanny. “Please don’t say such a thing.”

After the incident in Boston, Callie had made sure her sister outshone all others, including Callie. Especially Callie. She’d chosen Fanny’s dresses and steered her toward the proper hairstyles to set off her unusual amber eyes and doll-like features.

How she missed her sister. As the only two girls in a house full of brothers they’d grown up with a special bond between them. They’d had their share of arguments through the years, the majority following Fanny’s broken engagement. Nevertheless, Fanny was Callie’s favorite person in the world. She missed her so much she thought she might weep.

As if sensing her fragile state, Mrs. Singletary pulled Callie to a chair and urged her to sit with gentle pressure on her shoulders. “Why do you insist on playing down your assets?” Her gaze softened, her tone warmed. “When there are so many to highlight?”

“Scripture teaches us that we are not to focus on external adornment.” Callie lifted her chin. “The Lord doesn’t look at outward appearances but what is in our heart.”

Could she sound any more pompous, prudish and self-righteous? The moral high ground was a dangerous place for a woman like her...with her sordid past.

“I’ll not deny God doesn’t look at the things we humans look at. But Scripture also teaches that we are not to hide our light under a bushel. And, Callie, my dear, you are the very essence of light.”