Bartered Bride, page 3
“Mr. Kennebrae?”
Jonathan looked up to see eight pairs of eyes staring at him. He looked from one board member to another, hoping for a clue as to what topic was under discussion. His lawyer inclined his head slightly toward the papers in Jonathan’s hand. Ah, thank you, Geoffrey.
Jonathan pushed back from the table, his chair creaking. “Gentlemen,” he said as he rose, “I apologize for my inattention. The decision on the Chicago property will require finesse. I agree that it would be a sound business investment. I wish I could go myself, but matters here require my presence.” He turned to the director of finance. “Jacobson, you will travel to Chicago and talk to Summerton face-to-face. Tell him if we are to strike a deal, it must be done before the first of the year. I’ll make decisions on the other two matters on the agenda and get back to you. That is all, gentlemen.”
Jonathan turned his back and stared out the window at the street below and, beyond that, to the rock-strewn shore. “Geoffrey, I’d like you to stay.”
Jonathan waited until the door closed before turning around. His lawyer and best friend lounged in his chair, rocking slightly, tapping his fingers on the padded arms.
“Geoff, I’m in an awful mess.” Jonathan jammed his fingers through his hair.
“I wondered what had that normally razor-sharp brain of yours as dull as a lake stone. I felt like I was talking to a statue this morning.” Geoffrey Fordham laced his fingers and rested his hands against his lean middle.
“Grandfather is the one who has dulled my wits. You wouldn’t believe his latest scheme.”
“It must be pretty bad to have you in such a lather. What’s he doing? Getting married?”
Jonathan rubbed his palm across the back of his neck. “Hah, I wish. No, he’s gone a step further. He’s trying to maneuver me into matrimony.”
Geoff blinked. “He’s nagging you? Why should that bother you? He nags all the time.”
“Not nagging, negotiating. He’s negotiated my nuptials without even bothering to tell me. He finally saw fit to enlighten me yesterday before dragging me off to meet the bride.”
Geoff burst out laughing.
Jonathan scowled. “It’s not funny. I tell you, I was poleaxed.”
“I’m sorry. I can see you’re worked up, but I have to wonder why. It isn’t as if your grandfather’s holding a shotgun to your head. He can’t force you to marry anyone.”
Jonathan shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the table. “He doesn’t need a shotgun. He’s got something a lot more powerful.”
“What?”
“If I don’t marry to his wishes, he’ll disinherit me. Everything I’ve sweated blood for over the last eight years will be yanked out of my hands. I don’t know how to do anything else, nor have I ever wanted to. But if I don’t do as Grandfather says, there’s no Kennebrae Shipping, no property in Chicago, no Kennebrae House, nothing. It will all go to Noah and Eli, as long as they, too, marry according to the master plan. He’s already rewritten his will.”
Geoff’s eyes stretched wide, and his hands fell slack in his lap. “That’s ridiculous. Is he mad? I knew nothing of this. Who prepared the will? Did he show it to you?”
“He’s not mad. He’s determined. Fixated on the subject. He intends to create a conglomerate of the wealthiest families in Duluth through marriage. And no, I didn’t see the will. Wasserman probably drew it up. This place is rife with lawyers. Grandfather thinks you’re not seasoned enough to handle his personal affairs, you know.” Jonathan shook his head. “He says the will stands unless there is some legal or moral reason why the lady should prove unacceptable. But he must’ve had her checked out pretty thoroughly, or he’d never have thrown down the gauntlet like that. And he’s not bluffing. Last night we made a social call on the woman he intends me to marry.”
“So who’s the blushing bride?”
“Miss Melissa Brooke, only daughter and heir of Lawrence and Almina Brooke of Castlebrooke.”
Geoff whistled low. “Brooke Grain and the Northstar Railroad? Ambitious of the old man. And you met her last night? Is she as beautiful as people say?”
“I’ll let you decide. Grandfather and I are attending a party at Castlebrooke today. You can come along as my guest and meet her yourself. Then you can rack your brain for a way out of this mess.”
❧
“Melissa!” Mother’s sharp voice pierced a lovely dream. “It’s well past time for you to be up. You need to get dressed.”
Melissa rolled over and buried her head under the pillow. “Not yet, Mother.” Quick hands yanked the pillow away, letting the brutal sunlight assault her eyes.
“Young lady, I do not understand your laziness. You’d sleep until noon every day if I let you. Now get up. Sarah’s drawn a bath for you. I’ve invited a few friends for luncheon today. Including Mr. Kennebrae. It’s been so unseasonably warm that I thought a terrace party would be nice.”
Melissa groaned, yawning and stretching. Delightful. Another meeting with her fossilized groom. The lace cuffs of her nightgown flopped back as she lifted her arms over her head. “What time is it?”
“Past ten thirty. Now get moving. And wear the blue dress, the one with the matching parasol.” Mother’s shoes tapped on the glossy floor, and she swept out, closing the door with her customary bang.
At noon Melissa let herself out the back doors onto the terrace. The breeze ruffled the lace at her throat. She blinked in the bright sunshine glinting off the waves. Maybe she should go back in for her hat.
Too late. Mother advanced on her, grabbing her elbow and steering her toward the buffet table. “Melissa, come stand beside Mr. Kennebrae, and greet your guests.”
What had Mother in such a flap? She was as jumpy as a frog with the hiccups, as their gardener would say. Her grip on Melissa tightened, and they all but ran to Mr. Kennebrae’s chair. “No, no, not that side. Stand here.”
Melissa found herself directed to stand between the wheelchair and. . .Jonathan. A curious tickle started under Melissa’s heart and caused it to beat double-time. His eyes were as dark, his jaw as firm as she remembered. What was it about him that so appealed to her? She turned to greet Mr. Kennebrae. She swallowed hard. “Good afternoon, sir.”
“My dear, so delightful to see you again. You’re as pretty as a rose. As you should be on a day like today.” He took her fingers between his gnarled palms and patted her hand, his dark eyes sparkling with life.
She forced a smile. This was getting beyond funny. If only she hadn’t slept in, she could’ve confronted Mother about the absurdity of this situation. But the concert had lasted so long, and then she’d had to go—
Melissa intercepted a look from Mother who inclined her head toward Jonathan.
Melissa turned. “Good afternoon.”
“Miss Brooke.” His brows came down, his lips stiff. He looked like a thundercloud just before a squall. Perhaps his employer was giving him a bad time today. His animosity was clearly directed toward the man in the chair.
Again a pang of regret hit her middle. Such a waste, a handsome man like that, forced to be a body servant to an ambitious old man. Perhaps she would get a chance to talk to him later, make him feel more a part of the doings. But for now she must concentrate on being pleasant to Abraham Kennebrae so as not to embarrass her mother.
Knots of guests milled around the fountain and the gazebo and and across the green lawns. How many people had Mother invited? The staff spread luncheon on a buffet table laden with flowers, silver, and Mother’s best linens. She certainly was laying it on thick for a mere garden party. And why were there no young people? Melissa recognized many of the women as friends of her mother’s.
She put her finger to her mouth to bite her nails before she remembered she was wearing gloves. What was the matter with her? Just get through the luncheon then confront Mother head-on about this proposed engagement. It wasn’t too late to back out. No one knew of the arrangements. A little patience and it would all be over.
❧
“She’s beautiful. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just go through with it?” Geoffrey held out his plate to the servant and accepted the walnut chicken salad he offered.
Jonathan shook his head. “No. I won’t be pushed into this. And besides, she’s hardly even glanced my way. All her time’s been spent cozying up to my grandfather. Guess she knows which way the tide’s running.” He vowed for the tenth time since arriving to stop letting his eyes wander to the girl seated beside his grandfather at the head table. She sat, stiff, her back straight. The breeze teased tendrils of hair on her neck, drawing his gaze again to her rosy cheeks, her lively eyes, her slender throat. Stop it.
Geoffrey cast a glance back over his shoulder, studying Jonathan’s face. “Are you jealous?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’d swear your eyes have gone from brown to bright green.”
“Don’t be a fool. Jealousy would imply I wanted the girl for myself. Which I don’t.” Jonathan stopped abruptly when he intercepted a quizzical frown on the young woman serving the lemonade. “Let’s go sit down.”
They wove through the guests to the head table. Grandfather sent Jonathan a sharp look when he would’ve taken the chair farthest from Miss Brooke. Stifling his irritation, Jonathan set his plate down beside her.
She smiled at him, and he chided his heart for beating faster. You’re an idiot to let her affect you like this. Get ahold of yourself.
The food was surprisingly good. He had not expected to be hungry. Of course he hadn’t been able to eat his breakfast, downing several cups of strong coffee instead. This whole situation had him unsettled and well out of his routine. The sooner it was sorted out, the better.
Almina Brooke beamed on her guests, looking much like a lake bird who’d landed a large fish.
Jonathan intended to be the fish that got away.
“Abraham, I’d love to show you the late-fall roses.” Almina dabbed her lips and waved to masses of blooms in an arrangement near the fountain. “I love having the conservatory. It means fresh flowers all year round.” She gave a pointed glance in Jonathan and Melissa’s direction.
Jonathan almost groaned. Not subtle, pushing them to be together like this.
“And, Mr. Fordham, would you be so kind as to join us?”
Geoffrey dropped his fork, midbite, with a clatter onto his plate. He snatched his napkin and wiped his mouth. “My pleasure.”
Jonathan frowned at his lawyer for deserting him so eagerly. Geoffrey shrugged, wide-eyed and innocent. “I’ll be back.”
Almina adjusted her skirts. “Oh no, Melissa, there’s no need for you to come along. Stay here and keep Jonathan company.”
Jonathan sat staring at their retreating backs. Geoffrey gave him one sheepish glance over his shoulder then scuttled away behind the wheelchair. Traitor.
Melissa cleared her throat gently and laid her cake fork aside. She appeared about to speak but subsided. What was there to say, after all?
Well, he couldn’t just sit here like a ninny. But frankly he had little experience talking to girls and none whatsoever in talking to prospective brides. “Kennebrae Shipping is doing well this quarter.” Oh, you idiot. Can’t you think of anything better?
“Is it? How nice.” She gave him a puzzled glance then looked away in the direction Grandfather had gone.
“Four new Kennebrae ships will take to the lake this year. Business is booming.” His mouth was like a leaky hatch cover. Words kept spewing out.
A small line formed between her dark arched brows, but she nodded politely. “I suppose you know a lot about what goes on at the shipping offices, being so close to Mr. Kennebrae?”
“Yes, I attend all the board meetings and help oversee the day-to-day running of the company.” Surely the girl knew that. She didn’t think he was some sort of dilettante, sponging off the family business and doing no work at all?
Miss Brooke laid aside her napkin and took her gloves from her lap, inserting her hands and tugging them on with quick jerks. “You don’t have to try to sell Kennebrae Shipping to me, sir.”
Such a dolt. Of course she didn’t want to hear about the company.
“I apologize, Miss Brooke. It’s just that I’m more than a little concerned about this marriage business. My entire future’s at stake here. I’d like nothing more than to call a halt to the entire affair, but I feel powerless. And no one is more stubborn than Abraham Kennebrae.”
“Unless it would be my mother.” She clapped her hand to her mouth and looked about her guiltily. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it.”
“Why not? It’s true. The entire idea is ridiculous, and the sooner it’s squelched, the better. I had no idea anything like this was in the works.”
“I couldn’t agree more. I’ve been so distressed since Mother informed me. I don’t think I slept a wink until nearly dawn.” She lifted her glass for a sip of lemonade.
Relief flooded through him. If neither of them wanted the marriage, then surely there was some way to call it off without jeopardizing his inheritance. “I’m so glad you feel that way. And it isn’t just myself I’m thinking about here. The time to act is now, before the engagement is announced. After that it will be too late. Your reputation would suffer if the engagement was called off after the formal announcement. I wouldn’t want that to happen to you. Not with you being a pawn in this entire chess match.” He smiled at her, his blood heating when she returned the smile. Geoffrey was right; she was a beautiful girl, and in other circumstances, perhaps. . .
“Do you think there is a way to dissuade them? I don’t see Mother budging. She’s so pleased with herself. And my father, he’s the king of his empire, but he’s putty in Mother’s hands. She’s got his heart set on the match and in such a way that he thinks the entire thing was his idea.”
“Don’t blame it all on your mother. The old man had a hand in it, too.” Jonathan jerked his chin in his grandfather’s direction. Geoffrey pushed the chair along the flagstone path.
“I’m so glad I’m not the only one who sees the absurdity of the situation. I don’t know what my parents were thinking. It’s clear the age difference is too great. Why, it’s scandalous.”
That stung. How old did she think he was anyway? They couldn’t be more than a dozen years apart. He didn’t know much about such things, but he’d guess that was an average age spread for a married couple these days.
His attention was drawn from her by someone tapping a spoon against a glass.
“Goodness.” She put her hand on his arm. He wondered if she even realized it. “Father’s home in the middle of the day.”
Lawrence Brooke tapped a glass again, and all conversation died down. He raised the glass. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us on such a momentous day for our family.”
Melissa’s grip tightened on Jonathan’s arm. He looked down at her, her face pale to the lips, her eyes wide. “Oh no,” she moaned.
“My wife and I”—Almina had joined Lawrence Brooke, tucking her arm into his elbow and beaming on the crowd, her gaze lingering longest on Jonathan and Melissa—“are pleased to announce the engagement of our daughter, Melissa, to Mr. Jonathan Kennebrae. Please join us in congratulating the happy couple.” He lifted the glass in their direction.
A polite wave of applause welled up.
Melissa stood, knocking her chair over onto the grass. She put her hand to her mouth, turning her head wildly from Jonathan to her parents then back again.
Jonathan rose slowly, easing up on numb legs.
“Kennebrae?” She whispered so low he had to stoop to hear her. “Your name is Kennebrae?”
“Of course it is. What else would it be?”
She blinked, staring at him. “But I thought—” Her throat spasmed as she tried to swallow. “I thought. . .”
He caught her just before she hit the grass in a dead faint.
Five
Melissa slumped against him. Jonathan’s arms reached around her, grabbing her to keep her from disappearing under the table. “Miss Brooke?”
When she didn’t respond, he stooped, tucked his hand behind her knees, and lifted her in his arms. Her head fit into the crook of his shoulder, her breath dusting his neck. Jonathan looked around for a place to set her, but only the hard, white metal chairs met his eye.
Guests gaped, frozen in surprise. It had happened so fast that it seemed no one knew just what to do.
Except Almina Brooke. She advanced on him like a coming storm, eyebrows drawn down, mouth pinched in exasperation. “That foolish girl. Please accept my apologies, Mr. Kennebrae. Melissa, Melissa, stop playacting this minute.”
Melissa didn’t stir in his arms. He had a strange desire to clasp her tighter, turn his back, and shield her from her battleaxe of a mother.
People stared, leaning in, listening to every word.
“Mrs. Brooke, perhaps it would be best if we continued this discussion inside?”
Almina took a moment to realize her audience, plastered a concerned look on her face, and beckoned him. “Of course. Please bring her into the house.”
Jonathan strode through the crowd, his anger, both at Almina Brooke and Grandfather, steaming through his veins. Of all the ridiculous positions.
A maid opened the terrace doors, her face crumpled in worry.
Jonathan nodded his thanks.
“Bring her through here, sir.” The girl scurried ahead to a pair of double doors on the left.
His footsteps echoed on the hard floors as he followed her into a gold and blue parlor.
The maid plumped a cylindrical pillow, beribboned and tasseled.
Jonathan felt a strange reluctance to let go of the burden in his arms. The delicate scent of roses drifted up from her hair. Dark lashes rested on her pale cheeks. Her lips parted, and he found himself staring at them. So soft, so perfect.
