Morrow Creek Runaway

Their gazes met. Rosamond broke that contact first. In the game of cat and mouse they were playing, she wanted to win.

“You’re suggesting something that’s preposterous. You don’t know the woman I am. It’s better for you if you never do.” Rosamond squared her shoulders, then inhaled. “I asked you here to my parlor to tell you, privately, that you have to leave.”

Her confident tone would have fooled another man.

Miles was different. He took a step closer. “Go ahead, then.” He gestured with his hat. “Tell me I have to leave.”

Rosamond wavered. He’d known she would. “I—”

“Tell me you want me gone, and I’ll leave forever.”

That appeared to stymie her. “If you’re leaving anyway, why did you bother to tell me the truth about who you are?”

Because I wanted you to trust me. But Miles couldn’t say that, so instead he shrugged. “I had to tell you. Just to see what you’d do. It’s a bad habit of mine, being curious.” For so long, he’d been curious about her. “I reckoned that any woman who’s contrary enough to refuse a puppy would have an interesting reaction to a revelation like my name.”

“I see. And have I satisfied your expectations?”

Not in the least. He still wanted to see her smile again, to hear her laugh, to know that she wanted him there simply because she wanted him, not because he’d maneuvered her into doing it. But since beggars couldn’t be choosers...

“Partly. My expectations are partly satisfied,” Miles conceded. “I guess we’ll never know what could have been.”

She was audacious enough to agree. “I guess we won’t.”

Against all reason, he admired Rosamond for her spirit. It turned out that she possessed even more resilience than anyone had credited her with. Given the conditions they’d put up with at the Bouchard household, that was saying a great deal.

“Take care, Mrs. Dancy.” He put on his hat, then headed for the door. “I’m sorry I can’t stay. I would have liked to have joined your society—to have courted one very special woman.”

He meant her, of course. Rosamond divined as much and appeared flummoxed by it. Typically, she recovered quickly.

“If you mean me, I’m not a part of my mutual society,” she informed him, turning toward the mantel. “I don’t participate. And you’re in no position to evaluate such a thing anyway.”

“Too late. I believe I just did.”

“And I’ll be the one to say when you should leave.”

He laughed. “Now, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m no woman’s patsy, Mrs. Dancy. Not even yours.”

She frowned. “I wish you’d quit calling me that.”

“Mrs. Dancy? It’s your name.” Now.

“I thought you wanted to apply for membership in my mutual society.” She gave him a clear-sighted look. “You said so.”

“At this point, I might need convincing.”

“No one needs convincing to join my mutual society.”

He waited, clearly indicating otherwise.

He won. Rosamond rushed in to fill the space between them.

“It’s a very reputable organization, where like-minded men and women can meet and converse under sociable circumstances. We engage in poetry readings, nonwagering card games, and dances and fetes of all kinds. All the members are properly vetted, ultimately by me, but also by my staff. My members possess good characters and fine hearts. They’re capable of providing a reasonable living and a secure home for each other.”

“Do the men in Morrow Creek know your ‘girls’ are former prostitutes?” Miles inquired. “Because it would be only fair.”

Rosamond seemed surprised he’d guessed the truth. But only for an instant. “My friends’ pasts are their own concerns,” she told him, rallying to their defense without hesitation. “As far as anyone needs to know, they are upstanding women.”

“Some with fatherless children to raise. Is that a bonus for your members? I’d imagine some might not see it that way.”

Her eyes flashed at him. “There are many fatherless children in the West. I was a fatherless child after my parents’ passing. If you are concerned about being saddled with an urchin that’s not your own, then you should definitely not—”

“You’ve misunderstood me,” he broke in, delivering her an assessing look. When had his Rosamond become so cynical? “I like children. I think you saw that yourself this morning.”

In fact, he’d loved those little rapscallions. Being around them had reminded Miles of being in his own rollicking household in the tenements, with his beleaguered but loving mother trying to hang laundry, cook corned beef and change the diapers of his younger siblings all in quick succession. Mary Callaway had managed admirably.

At times, Miles had helped her care for the littler children. In a busy household with a strong woman at its head, everyone pulled their weight. Even his rascally father had done his share of bathing and storytelling and spoon-feeding porridge.

Unexpectedly, Rosamond gave a heartfelt smile. “Yes, they did seem to love you out there in the yard, didn’t they?”

Her smile almost undid all of Miles’s good intentions. Almost. He needed to be smart. He needed to be tough. He needed to be resolute. But when faced with Rosamond’s sunny smile...

All he wanted to do was be beside her. Forever.

Nevertheless... “But you can count me out, all the same, Mrs. Dancy. I’ve decided that people who hesitate over caring for puppies cannot be trusted. So I’m rejecting your society.”

She gawked at him, obviously at a loss for words.

“Perhaps we’ll see each other in town someday,” Miles went on with a tip of his hat. “Goodbye, Mrs. Dancy. And good luck.”

Then, with a few thuds of his boot heels, he left the woman of his dreams behind—and, in the process, took the biggest gamble of his life so far.

Chapter Five (#ulink_3c2eafd5-dd20-50b0-bbe3-cc7732a80883)

Rosamond was just finishing her third cup of strong coffee when Judah Foster strode into her breakfast room with his hat in his hands. Surprised by his swift arrival—since she’d only just sent him on his latest errand twenty minutes earlier—Rosamond clattered her coffee cup into its saucer.

“That was fast,” she said. “Did you run all the way?”

She glanced past her security man with an instant smile on her face, half expecting to find Miles Callaway standing there, all tall and handsome and confounding. She’d sent Judah to fetch him—or, failing that, to deliver a note to him—but it wasn’t beyond reason that Miles might impulsively decide to come for breakfast instead of simply answering her summons later.

After all, Miles had done several unexpected things so far, Rosamond mused—including arriving at her doorstep in the first place. His pretending not to be Miles Callaway—not to know her—had roused her suspicions. But when he’d told her his name two days ago, his unexpected truthfulness had gone a long way toward disarming her defenses.

So had his telling her he was giving up on his search for “his Rose.” It was significant that she’d nearly burst into tears upon hearing the news, Rosamond knew. She’d realized then that she didn’t want to lose Miles so soon after seeing him again.

She wanted to trust him. She couldn’t possibly trust him.

But if Miles wasn’t in town at Arvid Bouchard’s behest...

Well, if he wasn’t, that changed things completely.