Finally a Bride

Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One

Denver, Colorado, 1894

Molly Taylor Scott knew most people considered her a delightfully charming, sometimes frivolous young woman who loved being engaged almost as much as she loved the Lord. Molly would agree with this summation of her character, mostly. However, she would argue one key point.

She was never frivolous.

Especially when it came to matters of the heart. Thus, as she stood outside Denver’s most exclusive millinery shop, surrounded by several would-be suitors, she treated the situation with utmost gravity.

Twirling her parasol, she gave the men her undivided attention. A rather difficult task, when one of the four seemed determined to monopolize the conversation. Molly stopped listening to the conversation as something—someone—exited the Arapahoe County Courthouse one block north.

Senses poised, she turned her head ever so slightly and caught sight of Garrett Mitchell moving at a clipped pace in her direction. He looked incredibly handsome today, every bit the successful attorney he’d become in the past few years.

Eyes cast forward, he made swift progress down the lane, never once looking at Molly or acknowledging her presence. Still, her breathing quickened and her heart stuttered.

Stupid, stupid heart. An undertow of anger rolled through her. Interesting thing, anger; it signified she still cared.

She really shouldn’t still care.

Not about Garrett Mitchell. Or those sculpted features framed inside dark blond hair, or that brilliant mind lurking behind the oh-so-handsome face, or that cowboy swagger that had stayed with him long after leaving his family’s ranch.

Why, why, why did he still affect her so? He’d walked away from her seven years ago. And I let him.

Molly sighed. Better that, than give in to fresh despair.

A masculine clearing of a throat drew her gaze back to the man on her right. “Miss Scott, you must agree to attend the opera with me this evening.” He took her hand and beamed down at her. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

A chorus of objections and counter invitations rose up from the other three in their group. Repeating his request a second time—or was it a third?—Mr. Giles Thomas gripped Molly’s hand tighter and commanded her stare with an earnest one of his own.

He was not classically handsome, and he was certainly no Garrett Mitchell, but he had a pleasant enough appeal with his brown hair, brown eyes and rather ordinary brown suit.

“I’m afraid, Mr. Thomas, I must decline your lovely offer.” She smiled brightly, even as she carefully extricated her hand from his bearlike grip. “Mrs. Singletary has already requested my company in her box this evening.”

At times such as these Molly was ever grateful for her position as a personal secretary and companion to the most prominent widow in Denver. As if speaking her employer’s name could summon the woman herself, Mrs. Singletary exited the millinery shop, her arms overflowing with her purchases.

Welcoming the interruption, and feeling guilty for waiting outside while her employer shopped, Molly set her parasol against the building and hastened forward. “Let me help you.”

She retrieved the boxes, juggling the heaviest with her left hand and shifting around several more with her right. Sensing an opportunity to play the gentleman—a shade too late by Molly’s estimation—Mr. Thomas and the others began snatching boxes away from her.

She stumbled under their enthusiastic efforts, careening backward. A pair of strong hands captured her shoulders and steadied her. Once she had her balance, the hands dropped away.

Head spinning, heart pounding wildly against her ribs, she barely managed to push the name of her rescuer past her trembling lips. “Garrett.”

A slow, affectionate smile spread across his face. Just as quickly, it disappeared. “Molly,” he said in a bland tone.

“I...that is...” She swallowed, words backing up in the throat until she thought she might choke on them. “Thank you.”

“Watch your step. The footing is uneven here.”

“Yes, I—”

He tipped his hat, muttered a hasty farewell and was gone.

Breathing hard, Molly blinked after his retreating back. It was always the same whenever their paths crossed. A brief moment of understanding, followed by an awkward exchange of stilted words and then...nothing but a bone-deep sense of loss that left her heart aching.

No. Oh, no. No more wallowing. No more wishing for what might have been. Molly was finished with Garrett Mitchell and unrequited love. She was also finished with the four men still arguing over her.

Unnaturally quiet throughout her tête-à-tête with Garrett, as well as now, Mrs. Singletary eyed Molly with a speculative, almost calculating gaze. At last, as if finally finished weighing the situation, she held up a hand. “Gentleman, that’s quite enough.”

All four went very still, very silent.

“This boorish behavior is not helping your cause with the young lady.”

Hastily worded apologies rang in the air.

“Not to me, you scoundrels.” Mrs. Singletary shook her head in annoyance. “Miss Scott is the one you have offended.”

And thus began another round of excuses stacked upon blame.

Only half listening, Molly nodded and smiled and generally wished to be anywhere but here. In silent understanding, Mrs. Singletary winked at her then resumed her glowering.

The expression of disapproval did nothing to hamper the woman’s remarkable features. She had been a renowned beauty in her day. Her hair was still a rich, golden brown. Her face remained smooth of any sign that two decades had come and gone since Mr. Singletary had won her hand in marriage.

The argument continued, reaching ridiculous proportions, until Mr. Thomas pushed forward. “Since you have denied me your company this evening, you must allow me to escort you home now.”

More disputes arose.

Again, Mrs. Singletary took control. “None of you will be escorting the lady home, for the simple reason we are not heading that way just yet.”

Since the widow was one of the most powerful women in town, not many folks were brave enough to chance her displeasure. Molly’s current admirers proved no exception.

“Now, my dear, be so kind as to retrieve my packages from these young men and say goodbye.”

There was a moment of jostling, followed by a bit of tugging and pushing but, finally, Molly was once more in possession of Mrs. Singletary’s purchases.

After another flat-eyed scan of the group, the older woman dismissed the lot of them. Grumbling under their breaths, they scattered in four different directions, eventually absorbed by the noise and bustle of the busy Denver streets.

“Where to next?” Molly asked, breathing a sigh of relief. “The dress shop, perhaps?”

“Not today. I have a mind to study my hats before deciding if I need a new gown or two to match.”

She considered the boxes in her hands. “Did you find anything worth wearing immediately?”

“Hardly, but I trust you will put them right soon enough.”