Finally a Bride

“I would never wish for you to be unhappy.” The widow squeezed Molly’s hands. “I’ve grown quite fond of you.”

Molly smiled, really smiled. “And I you.”

“You would tell me if you were uneasy with this arrangement?”

“Absolutely.” She inwardly cringed, reminded yet again how quickly fibbing had become a part of her character. Thankfully, she was spared from further soul-searching when Mrs. Singletary’s manservant, Winston, entered the room.

Standing at attention, he made his announcement with a dignified flourish. “Mr. Garrett Mitchell has arrived.”

“Thank you, Winston.” Mrs. Singletary released Molly’s hands. “Please send him.”

He sketched a bow. “Very good, madam.”

The moment the butler turned, the clock began chiming the hour.

Of course Garrett would arrive on time. Trying not to sigh, Molly shut her eyes and battled a wave of emotion, only to open them again and find him striding across the ornate rug. He headed straight for her, his golden, tiger eyes unreadable in the dim light.

Trapped in the moment, she drank in the sight of him. He’d shaved recently, his face free of stubble now. He wore elegant evening attire, perfectly appropriate for a night at the opera. The pristine white of his starched shirt stood in stark contrast to the black of his tailored coat and vest.

Halfway across the room, his eyes captured hers. And held.

An unwelcome jolt of longing crawled up her spine and landed in the center of her heart.

Molly’s reaction was the same whenever he was near. Her mind raced. Her thoughts scrambled.

Her vision blurred.

This evening, she had no route of escape, no pressing matter awaiting her in another part of the house.

She was trapped, good and truly trapped.

Panic reared, morphed into a far more complicated emotion. Anticipation. Something different flickered in Garrett’s eyes tonight, something that spoke solely to her. Something she didn’t dare name.

The questions were there, too, questions about his sister’s situation. He wanted to know what Fanny had confessed to Molly in private.

He wasn’t going to like what she had to relay. But would he understand?

She briefly wondered if she could withhold the information from him, and decided the point was moot. If Garrett Mitchell wanted answers, he would get them. His resolve to help his sister was just that strong.

Because of that, Molly’s fondness for the man went up a notch, putting her heart at greater risk than ever before.

Chapter Six

Caught inside Molly’s stare, Garrett nearly tripped over his own two feet. Exquisite in a gown of dark blue silk and silver lace, the modern cut emphasized her trim figure, while the unique color combination made her eyes take on a full shade lighter than usual. The effect was striking.

She was stunning from every angle. The exotic curve of her lips, the shy tilt of her head, called to him.

He took a step closer.

When he nearly stumbled again, he broke eye contact and looked down. A monster ball of black-and-white fur had taken up residence at his feet, hindering further progress.

The creature looked like a cat. But Garrett had never seen one quite so large. Or so fat. A moment more of staring through that mean, narrowed gaze, and the animal crouched low. It swished the fluffy plume of a tail, crouched lower still, danced on its hind quarters and then...

Launched its massive body into the air, landing smack in the middle of Garrett’s chest.

He staggered under the blow, arms instinctively wrapping around the mound of fur. After his own awkward dance, Garrett caught his balance. Frozen in place, he and the beast eyed one another for a taut moment.

A slow blink on his part, another swish of the bushy tail on the cat’s and then the purring began—loud, guttural, uninhibited.

“Garrett Mitchell.” Smiling broadly, Mrs. Singletary peered around his shoulder. “Meet Lady Macbeth.”

The widow had named her pet after one of the most heartless female murderers in all of fiction? Wary now, he angled his head and studied the enormous cat with careful focus. Certainly big enough to be a killer.

Did she have the heart of one, too?

Mrs. Singletary answered his unspoken question on a laugh. “Any mouse in a two-mile radius is doomed.”

“Ah.” He chuckled along with her. “So the Lady earns her keep.”

“And then some.” This last statement came from Molly, spoken in an amused tone as she reached around him and scratched the cat behind the ears. “She likes you.”

Trying to decide if that was a good thing or not, Garrett shifted the animal in his arms.

The purring took on an unrestrained edge.

“She really likes you.”

Arms overflowing with giant kitty, he answered in his best philosophical tone. “I guess we can add cat wrangler to my list of various talents.”

“So it would seem.”

They shared a laugh. It felt surprisingly good to enjoy the moment with Molly, like old times. But as those big, expressive blue eyes held his a moment too long, his breath clogged in his throat. The impact of all that beauty was like a gut-punch.

“My sweet girl doesn’t usually like men.” Retrieving her cat, Mrs. Singletary looked from him to Molly and then back again. “You are a rarity, Mr. Mitchell.”

Sensing an undertone in her words, Garrett’s smile tightened. “Am I?”

“Of course. My cat is an excellent judge of character, don’t you agree, Molly?”

When she sniffed in response, Garrett’s shoulders stiffened.

Mrs. Singletary laughed outright.

“I wish to leave for the opera at once.” After a quick kiss to the cat’s head, she set the animal on the floor then retrieved her reticule off a nearby table. “I prefer to arrive early whenever possible.”

“Whatever you desire.” Garrett gave her a short bow of his head. “I am your humble servant for the entire evening.”

“Wonderful.”