door.
Angel and Miss Jennings were on the floor, covered in an assortment of women’s underthings. The lid of one of the round-top trunks rocked back and forth on the floor. It had been years since giggles had echoed off the walls of the big house, and the way these two were going at it, the men in the bunkhouse had to hear it. An unusual fluttering happened in Ellis’s insides.
Angel plucked a few frilly garments off her head. Seeing him, she giggled harder. “Oh, Pa.” She covered her snickering mouth. When she caught air again, she continued. “You should have seen it. As soon as we released the latch, the top flew off like a blasting cap.”
Miss Jennings had one hand covering her lips, and her tiny shoulders shook with mirth. Lace hung over her head. He couldn’t tell if it was a petticoat or a pair of pantaloons, but the sparkling gaze of those unique eyes and the flush of her dainty cheeks sent a shiver racing up his spine like a mini bolt of lightning.
Chapter Two
Constance had put it off long enough. She’d been scrounging up courage all evening. Squaring her shoulders, she walked down the dark hall to Ellis Clayton’s office and, before she lost her nerve, rapped on the door. He hadn’t joined them for dinner, nor had he been back from the barn when Angel showed her where she could take a bath—which had been heavenly. But an hour ago, while staring out her bedroom window, she’d seen him cross the yard, once again hoisting his coat collar up against the snow. After checking her image in the mirror and making a few minor adjustments to her hair, she’d left her room. The past half hour, she’d paced the upstairs hall, listening to his downstairs movements. She may have found an ounce of courage, but a solution to her current situation remained as far away as England.
The opening of the door made her flinch. She’d knocked, so the action shouldn’t have startled her, but it did.
Ellis lifted a brow. “Miss Jennings? Is there something you need?”
Tugging the shawl about her shoulders and twisting her fingers deep in the yarn, she nodded. “I’d like to speak with you, if you have a minute.”
His lag increased her anxiety. She curled her toes to keep them from twisting her about for a fast exit. After what seemed like an eternity, he stepped back, holding the door wide, and waved an arm for her to enter.
Thick carpet softened her footsteps. The office was as elaborate as the rest of the home. Totally unexpected in the wilds of Wyoming Territory, but in some ways, so similar to her childhood home in Richmond, she wanted to sigh with memories. Shelves stacked with books from the floor to the ceiling covered two walls, and a large fireplace not only warmed the room, but provided a friendly glow. A massive desk sat in the center of the room, positioned so one could gaze out the large windows framed with olive-colored drapes that were tied back to sway along the glass panes from ceiling to floor. The familiar scent of leather-bound books filled the air and had Constance taking a deep breath.
“Have a seat,” he offered, pointing to the set of matching armchairs in front of the desk while he walked behind it.
Memories snuck forward, of her father stationing himself just as Ellis was. She’d often sat on the corner of Papa’s desk, thudding her heels against the wood. Now wasn’t the time for childhood recollections. She had to quell her nerves, and offer her proposition, which would include sharing some of her past. Ellis deserved an explanation in exchange for his kindness if nothing else, but there were some things she’d never be able to tell anyone.
The mantel clock ticked away, mindless to the noise its steady movement created. Constance took another deep breath before she began, “I’d like to start by saying thank you. I know Angel put you in a predicament by offering me lodging, and I appreciate how you handled the situation.”
Ellis leaned back in his chair, eyeing her in an interesting way. Almost as if he was cautious or surprised. Even without his thick coat and big brimmed hat, he was a large man. As he folded his arms, the dark brown shirt stretched over the bulk of chest, straining the buttons holding it together.
He didn’t offer an acknowledgment. Her mouth had gone dry, she wet her lips before continuing, “I would like to explain my situation, and hopefully work out an agreeable arrangement.”
One dark brow, the same rich shade as his hair, arched, but he quickly relaxed it. Ellis was good at hiding his emotions, and reactions, but she’d already seen that. “I—” she started again.
“Excuse me, Miss Jennings,” he interrupted, “where exactly are you from?”
She wasn’t surprised. He’d want facts not justifications. “I was born and raised in Richmond, Virginia. My family owned a tobacco plantation. Prior to the war, that is.”
“And afterward?”
“There was nothing left afterward.” She’d never been back to Virginia, but had heard everything was gone and believed her source.
“Your family?”
“Nothing left, Mr. Clayton. They all—my father, mother and three brothers—perished in the war. My brothers died on the battlefields and my parents during the raid that left our home nothing more than ashes.”
“I’m sorry,” he said respectfully.
She nodded. Years had eased the pain, but the loss would forever live in her heart. Memories of a happy childhood helped. As did her belief someday she’d find a place she could call home again.
He leaned forward and rested both elbows on the edge of his desk. “How did you survive? If you don’t mind my asking?”
“I survived because I wasn’t there. When the war broke out, my parents sent me to England. I had two great aunts in residence there and I lived with them.”
“When did you return to the United States?”
So this is how it would be, him asking questions, her answering. It wasn’t as she had planned, but it might be better. Once in a while she tended to ramble and could accidentally say more than she meant to. She’d already done that once today. “A few months ago.”
“Really? The war ended a dozen years ago.”
“I know. After my family perished, there was no reason for me to return. Besides, my aunts were elderly and depended on me to care for them. One died in December of last year. The other in January of this year.” Constance hoped that was enough to satisfy his curiosity, but not so much that he’d want to know more.
“I see,” he said. “It’s my understanding you lived in New York?”
A quiver rippled her spine. Ashton must have shared that bit of information. Keeping her chin up, she nodded. “Yes, that’s where I saw Mr. Kramer’s request and responded to his call for a wife.”
His expression said he wasn’t satisfied with her answer, but once again, he didn’t ask specifics. Instead he offered, “I’m sorry about Ashton’s untimely accident.”
“Thank you. I am, too. Though I had never met him, I mourn his loss.” It was the truth. Without Ashton, her future looked pretty bleak. “Could you share with me how he—it happened?”
“Angel didn’t tell you?”
Fighting the
