A Love All Her Own (5 page)

Marcus motioned the waiter over and paid for their meal.

“You don’t have to pay for mine. They can put it on my hotel bill.”

Marcus shook his head as the waiter left the table. “No. I asked you to have dinner with me.” He got up and pulled out her chair.

As Marcus guided her through the dining room, they were stopped several times by diners who knew him, and he made sure to introduce her to the people at each table. By the time they left the dining room, she knew she’d never remember all their names; Marcus knew them all, and she’d just have to count on him to remind her.

He walked her to her room and, after taking her key, unlocked the door. “Wait here.” He entered, and Abigail assumed he was checking the room to make sure no one was there. When he came out, he handed the key back to her. “Everything is fine. I hope you sleep well.”

She took the key and was surprised when an electric spark shot up her arm at the brief touch of his fingertips against hers. “I—thank you for dinner. It was delicious.”

“You are welcome. Thank you for putting up with my company.” He grinned at her, and that dimple at the corner of his mouth seemed to deepen as he looked down at her.

She couldn’t help but smile back. “It was nice to have company. What time should I be ready in the morning?”

“I’ll be here to pick you up at nine o’clock.”

“I’ll be ready.”
I did it today; surely I can do it tomorrow.

Marcus gave a little salute and turned to leave. “It looks as if your pot of tea is arriving.”

Sure enough, a bellboy was bringing her tea tray. Marcus waited until he set it down on the table in Abigail’s sitting room and left. Then he turned to Abigail again. “You sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She nodded and stepped inside the room. “I’ll see you then.”

“Lock the door. I won’t leave until you do.”

“All right.” Abigail stepped inside and shut the door. Then she turned the key in the lock and wondered if he was waiting to hear the click it made.

“Good girl. Good night, Abigail.”

“Good night, Marcus.”

It was only when she crossed the room and took out her earrings while looking in the mirror that she realized she was smiling. She moved to the side of the window and pulled the drapes aside just a bit to look down at the street, wondering if Marcus was still in the hotel talking to the agent who was in the lobby that night or if he’d already left.

She watched for a moment longer until a man who looked to be about Marcus’s size walked out. From the gaslight below, she was pretty sure it was he, and when he turned and looked up, her heart did a flip. Was he looking up at her room? She quickly dropped the drape and moved away from the window. Even though she didn’t think he could see her looking out, she wanted to be sure.

She poured her tea and sipped, thinking back over the evening. If she had to be protected, she supposed it could be worse. Marcus was actually very easy to be around—not to mention how entertaining it was to watch for that dimple
.
All in all, maybe it won’t be so bad having someone to watch over me.
Especially since Marcus had decided he would be the one to escort her around town.

❧

Marcus walked outside the hotel and didn’t try to stop himself from looking up at the windows of Abigail’s room. Watching over her was his job, after all. The light still glowed, and he imagined her sipping her tea. Was she thinking back over the evening?

He hoped she enjoyed herself as much as he did. It had been a treat to have such a lovely woman sitting across from him for dinner. Most of the time, he ate alone, and he’d found Abigail to be quite captivating as a dinner companion.

She seemed to want to come across as tough and independent, but he had a feeling she was anything but. Something in the expression in her eyes made him want to know more about her—something that reached out to him in a way he’d never experienced before.

He felt protective of her, and this feeling had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that her father had hired him to do just that. He wanted to know what it was that made her look so vulnerable and why her wedding had been called off. Perhaps it was time to find out more than what Jacob had told him. Marcus felt an urgent need to know all he could about Abigail Connors because she was quickly becoming more than just a client to him.

He headed home, determined to find out all he could about her and looking more than a little forward to the next day. While he walked, he prayed that the Lord would help Abigail with whatever it was that made her look so sad when she thought no one was watching her.

Five

Abigail was proud of herself the next morning. She managed to put her hair up the way Bea had explained to her, and she was dressed in her favorite Sunday dress when Marcus picked her up for the ride to church.

His parents were waiting for them, and while Mr. Wellington greeted her by clasping her hand in his, Mrs. Wellington gave her a hug as soon as Abigail turned to her. Then she took over from Marcus and led her into the church. From the moment Abigail entered the church, she felt at home.

Mrs. Wellington introduced her as they made their way to a pew near the front of the building. Over and over again, Mrs. Wellington said, “Please meet Abigail Connors, the daughter of dear friends of ours in Eureka Springs.” She’d give the parishioners’ names, too, and Abigail could only hope she would remember some of them. As she took her seat beside Mrs. Wellington, she realized that she hadn’t been to church since she’d broken her engagement to Nate. She couldn’t face having to explain everything to the people she’d gone to church with all her life.

Now she wondered why. Had she been afraid that they’d be talking about her behind their hymnals? Or that they might be thinking that the broken engagement was what she deserved? She’d known those people all her life, yet. . .had she really? As the service got underway with prayer and singing, Abigail realized that through the years she’d gone to church more because it was expected of her than because she wanted to be there. . .needed to be there.
Oh, dear Lord, please forgive me. Please help me to become the child You want me to be, and please forgive me for putting everything else in front of You.

Abigail blinked back tears and hoped that no one noticed. She’d been so concerned with herself she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d prayed. Nor could she really recall listening to a sermon all the way through. But today was different, and she found herself holding on to every word the minister was saying about forgiveness of others and one’s self. She was beginning to realize that she had much to ask forgiveness for.

She was still thinking about the sermon when the service ended and she and Marcus followed his parents back to their home. Mrs. Wellington’s dining table was set with fine china and crystal—for twelve. Before Abigail had a chance to become nervous, several of the people she had been introduced to earlier arrived, and she strived to remember their names. The minister and his wife arrived last, and everyone seemed to want to talk to Abigail.

“We are so glad to meet you, Miss Connors,” a man she’d been introduced to earlier said. “I’ve heard wonderful things about your family. How long are you planning on staying in Hot Springs?”

“I’m not certain. I’m looking into some things for my father.” Abigail spoke the truth. She was going to do as requested, and she had no idea when she was going home. No time soon—that was for sure.

“Would you happen to know the Joneses? They are dear friends of ours and moved to Eureka Springs a couple of years ago.”

“No, I don’t believe I’ve met them. It’s possible my parents would know them, though.” Abigail felt faint for a moment. If they knew people in Eureka Springs, it was possible they’d heard about her wedding being called off and had heard any number of things about her.

“We’d love to have you to dinner one evening soon,” his wife said.

Her tone was very nice and friendly, and Abigail tried to put her fears to the back of her mind. “Why, thank you.” At least it would get her out, and she supposed she should get to know some of the people in town. It might be that she would be staying for quite some time. Abigail just wished she could remember their names. “That would be lovely.”

“I’ll send you an invitation this next week, then.”

“I look forward to it.” She was going to have to ask Marcus who the couple was, because hard as she tried, she couldn’t recall their names.

But she did remember the next person who came up to her and asked if she’d be free for lunch during the next week. Abigail had been introduced to the young woman and her husband before church—and recalled that her name was Sally Monroe.

“I’m certain I will be available,” Abigail said. Sally appeared to be about her age, and she was quite nice. “I’d love to have lunch.”

“How about Tuesday? I could meet you at your hotel, and we could have lunch there.”

“That should work fine.” They set a time, and Abigail found herself looking forward to getting to know Sally better. She didn’t really miss her friends in Eureka Springs as much as she thought she might. And that, too, was strange to her for she saw some of them almost every day.

Mrs. Wellington called everyone to the table, and Abigail wasn’t disappointed to find herself sitting next to Marcus. He’d almost disappeared into the background while others had come up to speak to her. Now he leaned near and whispered, “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. I just wish I could remember that couple right across from us.”

“They are the Bransons: Peter and Emily.” His voice was low and for her ears only.

“Oh, thank you. They want me to come to dinner soon.”

“You’ll enjoy yourself. They are very nice people.”

As the meal progressed, they all seemed to go out of their way to make Abigail feel welcome in their town. The minister and his wife were very nice, also.

“We’re very glad you joined us today. It’s sometimes hard to go to church when you are away from home.”

Abigail didn’t want to admit that there’d been times at home when it had been hard for her to go. “Your church has a very good feeling to it. Everyone was very friendly and welcoming.”

“We hope you’ll join us again.”

“I’m planning on it.”

The afternoon passed quickly. After dinner, they played a game of croquet in the big, shady backyard, and Abigail enjoyed herself immensely. After everyone else had left, the Wellingtons insisted that she stay for a light supper, and by the time Marcus took her back to the hotel that evening, she didn’t feel quite so alone in a new town.

He walked her to her room and, after checking inside, joined her just outside the door once more. “What time do you want me to pick you up tomorrow? Didn’t we decide on around ten?”

His smile showed his dimple, and as Abigail looked into those blue eyes, her heart fluttered against her ribs. “Yes, we did. I’ll be ready.”

“Good.”

“I’m sure you’ve had second thoughts about telling my father you’d be responsible for me. Between doing what you’ve been hired to do and doing what your family expects you to do, you certainly have your work cut out for you.”

He leaned against the door frame and looked into her eyes. “Yes, ma’am, I believe I do.”

The look in his eyes kept her from taking offense.

He shoved himself away from the door frame and gave her a push. “Lock up. Sleep well, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See you then,” Abigail breathed as she backed into her room. She shut the door and turned the key.

“Good night,” Marcus said from the other side.

She could hear him walk away as she whispered, “Good night.”

❧

Marcus walked out of the hotel after he’d had a word with Morgan and Ross, who were changing shifts. Abigail didn’t know just how true her words were. He certainly did have his work cut out for him. . .and the biggest part of it was making sure he didn’t begin to care too much for his client.

He’d watched her this afternoon at his parents’. She wasn’t nearly as confident as she would like everyone to think she was. And she seemed a little. . .apprehensive, especially when the Bensons had first gone up to talk to her. She’d turned quite pale for a moment. He wondered why. There was so much he didn’t know about Abigail Connors, and the more he was around her, the more he wanted to know about her. He’d put a man on it first thing tomorrow.

Marcus glanced up at her window and fought the urge to wait until her lights went out before heading for home. He had an agent there in case she needed anything, and he’d see her the next day. He chuckled and shook his head. Abigail Connors was taking up entirely too many of his thoughts.

❧

Abigail was glad to see Bea early the next morning. She’d washed her hair and needed the maid’s help in making herself presentable. Bea also gathered the gowns that needed to be pressed and the other garments that needed to be washed and took them down to the hotel laundry for Abigail.

“Thank you, Bea,” Abigail said as the young woman put her hair up for her.

“You are welcome, Miss Connors. I’m glad to do it. I talked to the manager, and he said that if you need me to help you on my days off, I could. So just let me know what you might want me to do for you and what time you need me. One of the regulars who’d taken a month’s leave is back, and I’ll only be working on Tuesdays and Thursdays now.”

“Oh, well that will work out wonderfully for me. What are you being paid for your day here?”

Bea told her, and Abigail nodded. “I’ll pay you that for each day you come to help me out. I’d like you on Saturday mornings and the weekday mornings that you aren’t working. If I need you to help me get ready for a special evening function, do you think you could do that?”

“Of course! I’d be happy to.” Bea’s smile was wide.

“Good. I’ve been able to make myself presentable, but I have to admit that I’ve missed my housekeeper. She always helped me get ready to go out. I’m hoping to learn more from you so that I can manage on my own better.”

“I’ll be glad to help,” Bea said. “It’s really not that hard. You’ll do fine.”

Her sweetness touched Abigail. It was nice to hear encouraging words, even if they were from someone she barely knew—and a maid at that. Not normally one to exchange small talk with servants, Abigail surprised herself by confiding in the young woman, “Thank you, Bea. I hope so. But I’m afraid I’ve been quite spoiled.”

By the time Marcus came to pick her up to visit the bathhouses, Abigail felt she looked very nice. She’d chosen a blue-and-brown-plaid walking dress, accessorized with a blue hat and parasol. Bea had arranged little curls to peek out from under the hat on Abigail’s forehead, and she felt quite stylish when Marcus arrived.

He looked quite nice and professional in his suit and bowler. Seeing that dimple flash as he smiled gave her that fluttery feeling again, and she wasn’t sure she welcomed it. She wasn’t even sure what it meant as she’d never experienced it before.

“You look very nice this morning,” he said as they went downstairs. “Have you decided which bathhouse you want to visit first?”

She shook her head. “I thought maybe we’d just start out from here and visit the closest one first.”

“That sounds good to me. It’s a lovely day out. Would you like to walk?”

They stepped outside. Noting the blue, cloudless sky, Abigail nodded. “Yes, let’s. It will be easier than getting in and out of a buggy, anyway.”

Marcus chuckled. “That’s what I thought. Besides, this way you can see more of the city up close.”

Abigail did feel a little nervous as she and Marcus set out for the first bathhouse. This was the first time her father had ever sent her to look into any kind of business venture for him, and she wanted to make him proud. “What is the difference between the springs at home and the ones here in Hot Springs?” she asked as Marcus took her arm and steered her out onto the walk.

“They are totally different. The springs here are hot.” He grinned down at her. “Hence the name of the town. The springs in Eureka Springs are not hot. They are known for what many believe to be their mineral healing properties. Our springs start out at around 143 degrees and have to be cooled before they can be used in the bathhouses. Many people who have suffered from ailments have found that the hot waters have helped them. Others come because they think the hot baths are good for them and that they make them feel better.”

They arrived at the Big Iron Bathhouse first, and after introducing herself to the receptionist, Abigail asked if she could make an appointment.

“For a bath? My dear, look around you. We have several people waiting now. No, we cannot accommodate you now.”

“No, I don’t want a bath. I’d like to make an appointment to tour the facility.”

“You mean you don’t want a bath? You just want to look around?”

“That’s right.” Abigail didn’t feel she needed to explain any more than that.

“Well, I’m not sure. You’d have to talk to the manager about that.”

“That’s what I’m wanting to do. Is he in?”

“No. He won’t be back until this afternoon.”

Abigail didn’t want to lose her temper with Marcus standing right beside her. “All right. May I make an appointment for tomorrow?”

The receptionist looked at her book. “He can probably see you this time tomorrow.”

“That will be fine. Please put me down for that.” She handed her a business card her father had made for her, calling her a representative of the Connors Bank of Eureka Springs
.
“Please tell him I am representing my father’s bank.”

The receptionist’s tone quickly changed. “I’ll be glad to, Miss Connors. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

The lobby had been somewhat dim, and Abigail opened her parasol against the brightness of the light outside.

“You handled that very well.”

“Thank you. She wasn’t very helpful, was she?”

Marcus chuckled. “Not until she found out your father is a banker.” He shook his head. “It always bothers me when people are treated differently depending on their circumstances or how they look. I guess that is why I think so much of your father. When I went in, he didn’t know that I was the grown son of his good friends. I didn’t want that to be a factor in whether or not he gave me a loan.”

“He is a very special man.” It suddenly struck Abigail that the deferential treatment she’d always received had been more because of her father and his position in town rather than anything she’d ever done. She wondered why she’d never really thought about it before. Deep down she knew the truth, but had she thought it was her right to be treated so well just because her father was so well thought of—or because of how wealthy he was? If so, how impertinent of her.