To Capture His Heart, page 1
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Book design: © Shadow Mountain
Art direction: Richard Erickson
Design: Heather G. Ward
© 2022 Nancy Campbell Allen
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Allen, Nancy Campbell, 1969– author.
Title: To capture his heart / Nancy Campbell Allen.
Other titles: Proper romance.
Description: Salt Lake City : Shadow Mountain, [2022] | Series: Proper romance | Summary: “Photographer Eva Caldwell and Detective Nathan Winston fall in love while working together to capture a criminal at Nathan’s mother’s summer matchmaking party”—Provided by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2022019502 | ISBN 9781639930517 (trade paperback) eISBN 9781649331236 (eBook)
Subjects: LCSH: Man-woman relationships—Fiction. | Photographers—Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Romance / Historical / Victorian | FICTION / Romance / Clean & Wholesome | LCGFT: Historical fiction. | Romance fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3551.L39644 T58 2022 | DDC 813/.54—dc23/eng/20220603
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022019502
Printed in the United States of America
Lake Book Manufacturing, Melrose Park, IL
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Other Proper Romances
by Nancy Campbell Allen
My Fair Gentleman
The Secret of the India Orchid
Beauty and the Clockwork Beast
Kiss of the Spindle
The Lady in the Coppergate Tower
Brass Carriages and Glass Hearts
The Matchmaker’s Lonely Heart
To Mark
How glad I am we are on this journey together.
Thanks for being my person.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
About the Author
Chapter 1
Evangeline Caldwell finished developing the last of Sir Henry Blake’s family photos and wiped her hands on a cloth. She surveyed the results hanging across the darkroom with satisfaction, knowing the family would be pleased despite their notoriously fussy expectations. She glanced at her assistant, ten-year-old Sammy White, and smiled. The formerly homeless orphan was surprisingly effective at his position, which she had initially offered as a means of keeping him out of trouble. Now, she well and truly depended on his help.
“Almost used all the developing liquid,” Sammy said as he took the clean towel she offered.
She nodded. “I’ll be purchasing several items tomorrow in Town.” She picked up a pencil and paper and added the liquid ingredients to the list.
“’S a good thing we keep runnin’ out. Means we’re busy as bees.” Sammy grinned, and she tousled his hair.
“A good thing, indeed,” she agreed. “I cannot imagine how I would do this without your help.”
“Nor can I.”
She looked at him askance as they left the room, and he laughed. “I suppose we ought to add humility to your list of lessons from Mrs. Burnette.”
“Ain’t bragging if it’s a fact.”
“I doubt that to be true.” They climbed the stairs out of the cellar, and she closed the door at the top. He dashed into the kitchen where the delicious smell of freshly baked scones hung in the air. Eva heard the typical slap and scolding from the cook, Mrs. Peters, as Sammy must have snatched a warm scone from the tray. For all that Mrs. Burnette and Mrs. Peters complained about the boy’s incorrigibility, however, their consistent chastisement lacked any real sting.
“I’m off to meet Charlotte at Amelie’s house,” she called to Sammy. “We’ll develop another batch tomorrow. Behave yourself and mind your studies with Mrs. Burnette.”
Sammy rolled his eyes but mumbled, “Yes, miss,” around a mouthful of scone.
“Geography and maths today, young man,” Mrs. Burnette said as she descended the staircase. “We’ve fallen behind, what with you spending so much time making pictures downstairs.”
Eva smiled as the brusque housekeeper-turned-tutor-turned-caretaker lectured Sammy while she joined him in the kitchen. She heard Sammy’s voice rise in protest at the reminder of his pending bath later in the evening. It was an argument that had become a veritable ritual twice weekly. “ . . . should be glad I don’t insist on nightly bathing,” Mrs. Burnette was saying now.
Eva had placed her new springtime pelisse on the coatrack near the front door, and she now shrugged into it, buttoning the front. She secured her new hat at just the right angle atop her dark curls and retrieved her valise and gloves from the side table. Then she made her way out the front door into the brisk spring afternoon.
The cab ride to her cousin Amelie Hampton Baker’s house took ten short minutes, and as she paid the driver, another cab pulled alongside the curb. Eva smiled at her other cousin, Charlotte Duvall, who was returning from a visit home to the countryside. Charlotte hopped down from her cab, paid the driver, and grinned at Eva, her green eyes bright and her deep auburn curls shining like burnished fire in the sunlight.
Charlotte clasped Eva close in a warm embrace and said, “Mercy, I missed you! Have you taken loads of photographs in my absence?”
Eva laughed and pulled back, squeezing Charlotte’s arms. “Loads and loads. And what have you done for one long month at home with your brothers and father?”
“Oh.” Charlotte rolled her eyes and linked an arm through Eva’s. “Survived, but only just. Convincing them I’m no longer their infant sister is a task by itself.”
They approached the front door of Amelie’s tidy townhome and Charlotte knocked briskly. “Our darling cousin is no longer a young maiden,” Charlotte said as an aside with one brow raised. “Do you suppose she’ll share any secrets?”
Eva laughed and bumped her hip against Charlotte’s. “Silly, we aren’t supposed to know there are secrets to be shared.” Eva was genuinely amused but also had to admit, if only privately, that she doubted the existence of any secrets she might find interesting. She had squelched that curiosity nearly six years earlier when her heart had been spectacularly broken. She’d been exceptionally leery of anything resembling vulnerability ever since.
The door swung open wide to reveal Amelie, who squealed and leaped on them, and the three women wrapped together in a tight bunch. “I’ve missed you so much!”
“And how is your new husband?” Eva asked, placing her hand alongside Amelie’s cheek.
“Wonderful, of course!” Amelie beamed. “He’s just inside, but once he’s said hello, I’ve made him promise to leave us alone in the parlor so we can gossip.”
Amelie looked well and whole, and Eva was relieved. Seven months earlier, Amelie had narrowly escaped death at the hands of a man under investigation by Scotland Yard’s Criminal Investigation Division. Last month, she married Michael Baker, the detective conducting the investigation, and was apparently flourishing.
Eva and Charlotte followed Amelie into the house, past the stairs, and down a corridor to the parlor they’d helped her decorate before the wedding. The walls were papered in soft tones, the furniture a lovely counterpart, and a small fire glowed in the hearth. Catching Eva’s eye, however, was a gentleman who rose with Michael as they entered.
Detective Winston, Michael’s partner, was as handsome a man as any Eva had seen. The cousins had worked closely with the two detectives during their investigation the year before and had developed genuine friendships. There was something about Detective Winston that caused Eva’s heart to thump, whether because of his tall stature, thick blond hair, or tawny-colored eyes, she was unsure. Or it might have been the smile that crossed his face whenever he saw her, or the fact that he enjoyed conversing with her about photography, even welcoming her as a stand-in for crime scenes when the police photographer was unable to document for them. She genuinely liked him and considered him a true friend. I
“Ladies,” Michael said, his grin extending to his bright blue eyes. “Wonderful to see you.” He clasped Eva’s hand and then Charlotte’s. “I would say Amelie missed you dreadfully, except I’d then be obliged to admit I did as well.”
“That would never do,” Charlotte said, chuckling. “Would tarnish your reputation as a fearsome detective.”
“Precisely.” Michael nodded once, still smiling. “I’ll trust you not to breathe a word of it to anyone.”
Eva mimed locking her lips closed with a key and tossing it over her shoulder.
“Ladies, lovely to see you again,” Detective Winston said, edging forward as Michael stepped to one side and placed a hand under Amelie’s elbow.
“Detective.” Eva smiled at him and placed her hand in his larger one. It was firm, and she felt the warmth of it through her thin glove.
“Miss Duvall,” he now said, taking Charlotte’s hand, “I trust your vacation was delightful?”
Charlotte’s lips twitched. “‘Delightful’ would be stretching the truth a bit too far, but I did enjoy the bulk of it, yes.”
“We shall vacate the room and retire to the study,” Michael said. “Nathan has much to tell me before I return to work in the morning.”
Nathan. Short for Nathaniel. Eva had heard Michael using the familiar version of his partner’s name for months, and she felt what her mother had often called “a little case of the envies.” She didn’t envy Michael his professional relationship and friendship with Detective Winston, but she did wish it within her purview to be on such familiar terms.
Detective Winston tipped his head and met Eva’s eyes once more before heading toward the door with Michael. There was an element to the glance, a certain something Eva couldn’t define, but lately, she’d noticed it more. A half smile played on his lips, and there was something in his eyes, as though he knew a secret he might eventually be prevailed upon to share. Whatever it was, it had her heart thumping again, just once.
She watched his retreating form before finally turning her attention to her cousins, who both watched her with interest. “What?” she finally asked them as they all sat together on the long sofa.
“Has it gotten worse in our absence, I wonder?” Amelie asked Charlotte, tapping her lip with her fingertip.
Charlotte lifted a shoulder. “Time will tell. Hopefully, old wounds have healed by now. She may require a nudge, so our return is timely, no doubt.”
Amelie nodded. “No doubt.” They both regarded Eva again, who couldn’t say she liked the look of their scrutiny.
“Whatever you’re thinking, I need nothing of it.”
“Of course, of course, certainly not,” both cousins answered on top of each other.
Eva was relieved when Charlotte placed both hands on Amelie’s knee and said, “Now dearest, you must tell us all of the secrets. Every last one, if you please, and leave nothing out. We,” she continued, placing one hand on her chest modestly, “your humble spinster cousins are at your mercy. If you do not impart of your newly acquired wisdom, we may find ourselves wallowing in eternal ignorance. So, you see, our happiness, or lack, rests squarely on your shoulders.”
Amelie tipped back her head and laughed. “Well,” she managed as she sobered and dropped her voice, “I will say this. Had I known what I was missing, I would have made an earnest effort to evade my chaperones.”
Charlotte’s eyes sparkled, and Amelie’s cheeks flushed a becoming pink. The sound of the gentlemen across the hall as they laughed together during their own conversation had Eva feeling a bit flushed herself. Her mind wandered, and she wondered if she would see Detective Winston again before he left the Baker residence; she hoped so. He laughed again, and she felt warmth unfurling in her midsection. He really was such a lovely man and a dear, dear friend.
Chapter 2
“Nathaniel Joshua Winston, I’ll not hear another word of protest. You were unable to attend last year, and I understand.” Mrs. James Winston, Christine, widowed for two decades but still handsome of face and figure, pointed her pen at her son. She sat at her parlor writing desk, making a list. Christine was a consummate list maker, a habit that served her well. She was efficient and ruthless in her efforts to run a well-organized life, and Nathan realized with sinking clarity that his protestations would get him nowhere.
Every summer, his mother hosted a house party at the family property in Seaside, on the southern coast. It was different than most, however, because it served as a fundraiser for special projects Christine supported. This year, the money would benefit a girls’ school in desperate need of funds. Potential guests received an invitation to apply for the event, along with proposed donation amounts. Because the guest list varied each year, the party was unpredictable and entertaining. Christine had a waiting list for people wishing to be considered.
He tried again. “Mother. Mama. I do not have time to devote to the house party this year either. It lasts for ten days.” He sat on a yellow-and-red-brocade settee and rested his elbows on knees, weary to the bone. He had just concluded a significant arrest in a grueling case, and he was tired.
“I know you’ve finished that nasty business in Wickleston; I read the dailies. Consider yourself fortunate I held off until that investigation was complete. Nicely done, incidentally.” She flashed him a smile and turned back to her journal, which was thick with papers, invitations, photographs, household accounts, and lists upon lists. A record of a full life. Any other time he’d have looked upon it with affection; now, the logbook represented what was surely to be an event he’d rather avoid at all costs.
“Thank you. I have finished that ‘nasty business,’ yes, but that does not mean I am free of obligations. I have new cases, of course.”
“Of course, but you surely must sleep sometime. You may as well rest your head at the holiday house in Seaside. With the recent rail addition, we are an accessible ride from Town.”
“Wouldn’t that be a waste of time? If I’m only sleeping there, I may as well remain at my flat. Besides, my absence would free the use of my bedchamber to another guest. I’m certain you’ll have plenty.”
She shot him an arch look. “I will indeed have plenty—this year, the list is curated to include mostly single young people.”
Nathan held his breath. His argument was falling flat. The beachside home accommodated their entire family plus twenty guests easily, with room to spare.
“Mother,” he tried again.
“No ‘Mama’ this time?”
“Would it help my cause?”
“Not if your cause is anything other than agreeing to be present for this gathering.”
He leaned back against the arm of the settee with a sigh and closed his eyes. “You do not need my presence at the summer holiday fundraiser.”
“On the contrary; your presence is very much required.”
A fissure of worry settled uncomfortably at the base of his spine. It had been a handful of years since his mother’s last attempt at matchmaking, and he’d grown complacent by assuming she had given the matter up as a lost cause. He would court someone when he found the time, and time was not an item he possessed in luxurious amounts. He couldn’t even say he possessed any in frugal amounts.
“I’ll not be party to any endeavor that sees an end to my bachelorhood. You know I haven’t the time nor inclination for it.” Unbidden, an image flashed in his mind, a woman with black hair and brown eyes, achingly beautiful and incredibly witty. He blinked, recognizing the yearning that accompanied it.
Evangeline Caldwell was one of society’s rising stars in the realm of independent women. As the world approached a new century, opportunities and attitudes were shifting, and what once had been considered scandalous now seemed plausible. Before long, a woman may have the luxury of professional pursuits or education that would allow her to postpone marriage until a time of her own choosing. Eva would have her choice of suitors when she decided she wanted them, and as far as Nathan could tell, she hadn’t much more time on her hands than he did. His mother would understand—she was a fixture at suffragette events, with his four younger sisters usually in tow. Eva and his family would get along famously, he was sure of it. The thought left a feeling in the pit of his stomach, but it wasn’t nausea-inducing.
