The Proposition

“It’s improving the blood flow to my ocular nerve. I can feel the tingling.” Bessy replaced her eyeglasses and tucked the contraption into her reticule. “You don’t know what it’s like to wear spectacles.”

“How much did that cost your folks?”

“Only fifty dollars to restore my sight.”

Jessica gasped. Most men earned a dollar a day. She knotted her hands in her skirt. The poor girl and her folks would know the truth soon enough.

“It’s worth a try. What’s the harm?” Bessy asked.

Jessica remembered that she’d once thought that herself. Placing an arm around each girl, she led them down the stairs and out the door. “The harm is you’re being taken advantage of for your money and integrity.”

While they walked, Jessica peered at her sister’s trusting face and saw a reflection of herself before she’d gone to Montreal, before she’d relied on Victor Sterling, her father Franklin Haven, and Dr. Abraham Finch. Her father had promised to ship Jessica permanently back to Montreal for her own good if she confided in her sister about her own shameful flaws.

You’ll ruin your chances with another man if you let your confinement be known. Father had tried to be helpful but had succeeded only in tearing a rift between himself and Jessica.

Her new stepmother, Madeline, was barely older than Jessica. The mayor’s four-year-old marriage had gone through difficult times with several separations during the first three years. Jessica’s stepmother had an ill sister who lived a hundred miles away, and she would often leave for months at a time to care for her. Jessica had always suspected there were other underlying problems—such as dealing with two adolescent stepdaughters and their doting father. However, since Jessica had been away, Madeline’s sister had miraculously recovered and the mayor and his wife seemed happier.

Neither one was particularly fond of the fact that Jessica had a job, but she believed both were grateful that it occupied her time. Her father likely saw it as a healthy distraction to Jessica’s worries, and Madeline was likely grateful it gave her more time with her husband.

Madeline was kind enough, but she and Jessica lacked a sentimental bond. Jessica’s real mother was a faded memory of a woman with gold earrings and ready arms for hugging. She’d slipped to her death on a patch of ice when Jessica had been six.

Neither her stepmother, sister, nor the family butler knew the true reason for her trip to Montreal to the “charm school,” otherwise known to Jessica as Miss Waverly’s Home for Unwed Mothers.

It’d been agony going, but nothing compared to the agony of returning empty-handed.

They turned the corner at the pub and bumped into a crowd of uniformed officers, one of whom was standing at the back speaking with the commander and his wife, glaring at Jessica.

She could almost hear Travis Reid’s growl.

Heavens, she thought, trying to shrink from his visual range. So he’s been told the news.

She’d never seen him in his scarlet uniform. The vision took her by surprise. The deep red color brought out the thick black luster of his hair, sharpness of his black eyebrows and cutting bite to his dark blue eyes.

“Oh, my word,” whispered Eloise. “A whole herd of handsome Mounties.”

“Miss Haven,” said Superintendent Ridgeway, the fort’s commander. “Hello.”

Jessica nodded warmly to his wife and the group exchanged pleasantries. Standing beside the commander was his sister—a possessive woman in her forties and widowed. She stepped toward Travis and draped an arm through his. “Are you coming inside?”

“In a minute.”

“I’ll save you a seat.”

His gaze speared Jessica’s. She was riveted by the anger infusing his dark face. He was going to Devil’s Gorge anyway, so what would be so difficult in taking her along?

“We’ll go inside and wait for you there,” said Eloise. “Our folks are already inside,” she explained to the others, pointing to the stained-glass door. The group made way for the women. “My father has arranged for a photographer from the newspaper.”

That was why everyone was dressed up, and although Jessica felt like an outsider wearing her everyday skirt, she had no desire to be photographed. Quigley’s Pub belonged to Travis’s sister and her husband, and the town had been invited to celebrate in the birth of their first child.

Jessica was struck again by the differences in their families. Travis came from labor-class roots. His folks had settled in Canada from Dublin almost thirty years ago and owned a busy cattle ranch. The senior Reid had been an Irish copper, disenchanted and seeking his fortune in the great new world. Two of his three sons were already Mounties, following in his police footsteps. But a cloud of rumor surrounded them—that the senior Reid had taken bribes in Ireland and was chased out of the country. Jessica’s father often reminded her that their lineage could be traced to English royalty, but she never mentioned it. Being the mayor’s daughter entailed enough difficulties.

As she dared a glance at Travis’s sweltering dark looks, she could very well imagine him with a sword to someone’s throat, whispering a black threat. He’d never do it for money, but if the cause were right—

“Let me join you young ladies inside,” said Annabelle Ridgeway, a round matron dressed in green ruffles. Pulling the commander’s sister with her, she followed Eloise and Bessy inside. Several Mounties stood at the door, ushering them in. When one of the officers winked at the younger women, they blushed and smiled.

The commander chewed on an unlit cigar and nodded to Jessica and Travis. “It’s all worked out. Travis is leaving at six in the morning, and you and your chaperon are going with him. I’ll leave you to figure out the details.”

“Oh,” said Jessica, catching her breath as the older man entered the pub, leaving them behind. Travis didn’t budge. Nor did he speak, but he was seething.

She felt like a moldy piece of cheese being inspected. “Say something, please.”

“Congratulations. You got your way. You used your power and position—your father’s, not even your own—to force your company on me. Now it’s an official order from my commander. I have to escort the mayor’s daughter safely to Devil’s Gorge.”

“This is important to me. It’s not a trivial whim—”

“Neither was my journey. It was supposed to be a personal leave. I’ve been arranging it for months and was looking forward to being alone. Now I have to watch over you.”

Her loose wavy hair bounced on her shoulders. “You don’t have to watch over me. Mr. Merriweather and I are perfectly content to—”

“I have to watch over two incompetent—”

“I said you don’t have to watch—”

“You haven’t changed a bit.”

His cold words felt like a slap in the face. “Why do you dislike me so much?”

“Because I know you.”

She stumbled back.

No, you don’t, she wanted to scream. You knew me years ago but you don’t know me now. It was something words alone couldn’t prove. Only the passage of time could. But she’d done more damage by forcing his hand like this.

She pressed a shaky palm to her gurgling stomach. She wouldn’t argue. But when her lips trembled, her mood darkened. “What makes you think you’re so superior to me?”

“Ha,” he snorted. “I think I’m superior? I’m not here to prove anything to you. I wanted you to leave me alone. Why do you have to butt into people’s lives? You butted into Caroline’s and now you’re butting into mine.”

“I didn’t want that for Caroline—”

“I don’t want to hear—”

“She made it difficult—”

“Leave her alone. She’s dead.”

The cold blade of truth sliced the conversation.

Jessica spun away and headed for the pub, the fabric of her long-sleeved blouse whipping through the air. “We’ll meet you in the morning at the fort’s gate, at five minutes to six.”