His Most Suitable Bride (2 page)

Odd. The
maddening crush
had never bothered her before. He’d seen her happily mingling amid the largest of crowds. He couldn’t help but wonder again at her sudden presence.

“Please, come in and relax, partake in the desserts the Tabor has provided for my father and me tonight.”

Gesturing to his right, Reese stepped aside to let the woman pass.

The widow went directly to the small buffet table and studied the offerings. After a moment, she released a weighty sigh. “There are too many choices. Come closer, Callie.” She waved the girl forward. “I shall rely on you to fill my plate.”

“Yes, Mrs. Singletary.” Callie hesitated only a beat before moving, her steps surprisingly graceful for a woman of her height, a mere head shorter than his six feet two inches.

She floated along like a snowflake, slowly, smoothly and icily controlled. Eventually, she emerged from the shadows completely and Reese’s heart kicked an extra hard beat.

His stomach knotted with tension.

Did Callie know the way she’d ruthlessly secured her pale blond hair off her face displayed her arresting features in startling detail?

His stomach rolled again.

This was not a new reaction for Reese, nor was it in any way a pleasant sensation. Callie Mitchell disturbed him.

He shook aside the thought, not wishing to dwell on how she made him...
feel.
Yet he could not look away from those sculpted cheekbones, the perfectly bowed lips and green, green eyes the color of summer-fresh leaves.

What a picture Callie Mitchell made. So pretty. So perfectly upright. Not a hair out of place. Not a wrinkle in her gown. An image that didn’t completely ring true. The woman was too controlled, too perfectly put together.

Reese sensed she hid something a little wild beneath that measured calm. He’d sensed it from the start of their acquaintance and thus had made a point of avoiding her more often than not.

“Mr. Bennett, how are you enjoying this evening’s performance so far?” Mrs. Singletary asked him the question as she sat on a chair beside him, settling her skirts around her with practiced ease. “Do you not find the music lovely?”

“Lovely, no. I find it extremely haunting.”

A soft gasp came from Callie’s direction.

He ignored the sound, and the woman. “The story itself is far too tragic to be considered enjoyable,” he added.

“Isn’t that interesting?” The widow reached out her hand and accepted the plate full of tea cakes and chocolates from her companion, who for some reason looked entirely disconcerted. “Callie made those exact observations not twenty minutes ago.”

“Indeed.” Uncomfortable hearing that he and Callie shared the same opinion, Reese adjusted his stance and deflected the conversation back to the widow. “I believe you were instrumental in bringing this particular troupe of performers to Denver. What do you think of their efforts so far?”

It was the perfect question to ask. The widow set about telling him her precise opinion. In great detail.

Listening with only half an ear, he nodded at all the appropriate places. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Callie returned to the buffet table. She contemplated the offerings once again. A delicate frown of concentration spread across her brow.

She huffed out a small frustrated breath. Though it had taken her no time to decide what to pick out for her employer, she seemed at a loss when it came to filling her own plate.

Reese found himself oddly riveted.

Would she choose a soft, gooey confection? Or something with more substance? Maybe a mixture of both.

He had no idea why it would matter to him. What could her choices possibly mean in the grand scheme of the evening’s events?

“Oh, my, Mr. Bennett, that is quite the fierce expression on your face.” Mrs. Singletary’s voice cut through his thoughts. “I take it you disagree with me.”

He silently filed through the widow’s last words. “In my opinion, four duets are three too many.”

She let out a soft laugh. “You haven’t enjoyed one moment of the tonight’s production, have you?”

“No.”

His brief response seemed to amuse her further. “I see even in matters of entertainment I can count on your candor.”

It did not occur to him to be anything less than frank.

“But, truly, are you not pleased with any portion of tonight’s performance?”

“Not in the least.”

Watching Callie’s attempt to make a decision, however, enthralled him to no end.

Mrs. Singletary made a disapproving sound in her throat. “Are you considering leaving the theater early, then?”

“I am.”

“I cannot persuade you otherwise?”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

He continued watching Callie hover over the buffet table. She was being so very, very careful and working so very, very hard to pick just the right confections to put on her plate. Her scrupulous process was oddly sweet and utterly adorable and Reese couldn’t bear to watch another moment more.

“Pick one of each, Miss Mitchell.”

Her responding flinch warned him his suggestion had come out harsher than he’d meant. He softened his voice. “There is no need to be particular. There is plenty to go around.”

“I... Yes, thank you.”

She began filling her plate with more enthusiasm. Halfway through, though, she looked up and stared briefly into his gaze.

Briefly was enough.

For that single moment, Reese caught a hint of something disturbingly familiar in her eyes, a willingness to push the boundaries when no one was looking. Dangerous, dangerous territory.

He knew he had a split second to make a decision before it was too late, before he forgot who this woman was and that he’d once been engaged to her sister. He could continue staring at Callie, attempting to fight off this unwanted fascination a few seconds more. Or he could turn his back on her.

He turned his back.

There. She was no longer riveting.

Reese was no longer enthralled.

Everything was back as it should be.

Chapter Two

T
he following morning, Callie woke early, with gritty eyes, a foggy brain and an uneasy heart. The bright August sunlight had yet to filter through the curtains’ seams. Considering her gray mood, she preferred the muted dawn light. The events of the previous evening had left her feeling anxious and mildly out of sorts. It was as if her world had been tilted slightly off-kilter and she couldn’t seem to regain her balance.

Whenever she found herself in need of comfort, she turned to her Bible. The Psalms especially had a way of putting matters into perspective, her favorite one reminding her to lean on the Lord and not on her own understanding.

Unfortunately, her mind kept wandering back to last night, to Reese. To the time they’d spent in his opera box.

Something had shifted between them, something new and utterly perplexing.

There’d been that awkward moment when he’d leaned forward and urged her to pick one of every dessert on display. His voice had held equal parts kindness and frustration, the odd mix of emotions confusing her even more. So she’d done as he suggested and filled her plate with sweets she had no intention of eating.

After that, he’d turned his back and avoided speaking to her directly for the rest of the intermission.

She’d been relieved. Then filled with despair.

Then relieved all over again.

Sighing, she curled her fingers around her Bible and pressed the book to her heart. Reese was so handsome, and in many ways so familiar, yet she hardly knew him. For all their interactions through the years, they’d never stepped beyond polite pleasantries.

Last night had been no different. Except...

Everything had been different.
Reese
had been different. The way he’d looked her directly in the eyes, as if she mattered, for herself, had left a peculiar feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Had anyone ever told her that she would one day be the center of Reese’s attention, even for a few precious moments at the opera, she would have declared them quite mad. He’d barely spared her a glance before last night.

This was getting her nowhere. Callie was reading far too much into his behavior, looking for a hidden meaning where there was none. Now she was running late for breakfast.

She dressed quickly, choosing a basic gray dress and practical, low-heeled ankle boots. She secured her hair with extra pins this morning, smoothing and tugging until every stray curl had been ruthlessly tamed into submission.

Feeling more herself, she went in search of her employer.

She found Mrs. Singletary in the morning room, perusing the
Denver Chronicle,
which was laid out on the table in front of her. Her treasured cat, Lady Macbeth, slumbered in the bright sunbeam at her mistress’s feet. A tray with pastries, coffee and two soft-boiled eggs in enameled cups sat untouched beside the newspaper.

“Good morning, Mrs. Singletary.”

The widow looked up, frowned. “No, dear, absolutely not.”

Callie’s feet ground to a halt. “Pardon me?”

“That dress simply will not do.” The words were spoken without meanness, but the censure was there all the same.

As if to punctuate her mistress’s disapproval, Lady Macbeth cracked open an eye and studied Callie through the narrowed slit. A delicate sniff and she returned to her nap, chin resting lightly on her front paws.

Callie tried not to feel offended. But, really, dismissed by a cat? It was beyond humiliating.

Worse, Mrs. Singletary wasn’t through inspecting Callie’s attire. “That color is all wrong for you.”

Perhaps the dull gray did clash with her skin tone. But no more than it had the other three times she’d worn the dress in Mrs. Singletary’s company.

“The fit isn’t right, either.”

Callie resisted the urge to cinch the black ribbon around her waist tighter. Mrs. Singletary was correct on both points. The color was unflattering and the dress was, indeed, too large. That had rather been the point. Still, the widow’s blunt appraisal stung. “I thought you didn’t care what I wore.”

“Now, see. That is where you went wrong. Of course I care. I care a great deal.”

“You’ve said nothing before.” Head down, Callie lowered herself into a chair facing her employer. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s quite simple. You have been in my employ for precisely four weeks since I plucked you out of the Hotel Dupree kitchens where, I might add, your talents were completely underutilized.” The widow leaned forward, trapping Callie in her gaze. “You are no longer underpaid kitchen help, but my trusted companion. It’s high time you look the part.”

Callie carefully placed a napkin in her lap. She should have known this was coming, should have prepared for this eventuality. Mrs. Singletary was the best dressed woman in Denver. Of course she would care what her companion wore.

“We will begin rethinking your wardrobe today.”

So soon? “What’s the hurry?”

“As I already mentioned, how you dress reflects directly back on me.”

Well, yes. Yet Callie couldn’t shake the notion that the widow had a different reason for wanting her to dress better.

“Besides—” she smoothed her hand over the newspaper, turned the page with a flick “—one must always be prepared for the unexpected visitor.”

Something in the way the woman made this casual remark put Callie immediately on guard. “Are you expecting anyone in particular this morning?”

“No one out of the ordinary, dear.” She picked up her spoon and tapped one of the eggs perched in its enameled cup. A perfect series of cracks webbed out in every direction. “Only my attorney.”

Callie’s heart lurched. “Reese? I mean...Mr. Bennett is coming here?” She swallowed back a gasp of dismay. “Today?”

She wasn’t ready to see him again, not yet, not until she could process their odd interaction at the opera last night.

“He will be here this morning, and I should warn you.” The widow turned another page of the newspaper. “Now that Mr. Bennett is once again overseeing my business affairs, he will be around quite often, perhaps even daily.”

Callie breathed in sharply, the only outward sign of her discomfort. Her brother Garrett had handled the widow’s business affairs until he’d married Molly and left town for a position in St. Louis. It stood to reason that Reese, as the senior partner in his firm, would take over in Garrett’s absence.

If only her brother hadn’t felt the need to strike out on his own, away from family and the prominent Mitchell name. Callie missed him so much. Molly too, nearly as much as she missed Fanny.

Oh, she was still angry at her sister, but this was the first they’d been apart for more than a few days at a time. With only a year separating them in age, they’d done everything together.

Now Fanny was living in Chicago. And Callie was here in Denver working for Mrs. Singletary. Not alone, precisely, but definitely more lonely than she’d ever been in her life.

“Did you hear what I said, dear?”

Callie started. “Er...no.”

“I said I want you to change your dress before Mr. Bennett arrives.”

Again, she wondered,
why the hurry?
Yet she didn’t feel comfortable enough to ask the question a second time. “Yes, Mrs. Singletary, I’ll do so immediately following breakfast.”

“Very good. Something in blue would be most preferable.” The widow went back to reading the newspaper in silence.

Left alone with her thoughts, Callie picked up her spoon and gave the egg in front of her a good hard whack. The shell exploded into a hundred little pieces.

Pushing the ruined egg aside, she selected a pastry off the tray. As she ate, she silently reviewed the contents of her closet. She didn’t own anything in blue. In truth, none of her dresses were any more exciting than what she currently wore.

The green one was the most modern in fit and style. However, the color was a sort of drab olive. Better, she supposed, than gray. Decision made, she brought the pastry to her mouth once again.

“Don’t even think about putting on your green dress.” The widow made this announcement without bothering to glance up. “The color is horrid on you.”

Callie dropped the pastry back to her plate. “Surely, it’s not...horrid.”

“Horrid.”

Trying not to feel insulted, Callie pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and thought a moment. “Perhaps the yellow one with the ivory lace collar?”

“No.”

“The soft pink—”

“Not that one, either.” At last, Mrs. Singletary removed her attention from the newspaper and looked up. Her unwavering gaze bore into Callie’s. “You are far too pretty to hide behind pale, lifeless pastels and neutrals.”

As those were the only colors in her closet, Callie frowned. “Which dress would you have me wear?”

“None in your current wardrobe.” The widow placed her hand atop Callie’s. “Those we will donate to charity.”

She jerked upright, working for breath. “But if I give away all my dresses what, then, will I wear?”

A robust smile spread across the widow’s lips. “Leave that to me.”

“I find this conversation so very strange.” She pulled her hand free from beneath Mrs. Singletary’s and placed it in her lap. “You’ve never once said a word about the way I dress.”

“We were still getting to know one another. Now we are friends.”

Callie widened her eyes. Mrs. Singletary considered her a friend?

“And from one friend to another, you need to make smarter choices in your attire. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were deliberately trying to camouflage your natural beauty.”

Callie pressed her hands together in her lap and fought off a strong desire to defend herself. Once she’d attracted the wrong man’s attention and barely avoided disgrace. Better to be safe than put herself on display and risk another mistake.

“Finish your breakfast.” Mrs. Singletary leaned back. “We have much work to do before Mr. Bennett arrives.”

What did Reese have to do with—

Oh, no.
Mrs. Singletary couldn’t be thinking of making Callie more attractive for Reese. A match between them was... Why, it was impossible.

Tongues would wag all over town.

The potential for scandal made the very idea ridiculous. Reese’s business would suffer, along with his reputation. And what about Fanny? Callie would never hurt her sister, not for anything in the world. And especially not over a man.

No, Callie wouldn’t dare attract Reese’s attention. Yet she couldn’t allow anyone else to so, either, not before Fanny returned home and made things right with him.

While it wouldn’t be easy seeing Reese and Fanny together again, it would be better than seeing him with someone else. Callie really hoped Fanny would come to her senses soon.

“If you are finished eating, we will begin.”

“Begin?”

“Populating your wardrobe with more suitable gowns.”

Callie could think of no good reason to refuse her employer. She set her napkin on the table and forced a smile. “I’m at your mercy, Mrs. Singletary.”

Thirty minutes later, she stood in the widow’s private dressing room, facing a full-length mirror. Two maids hustled about her, securing buttons, fluffing material in one spot, smoothing out wrinkles in another.

The dress was supposedly one of Mrs. Singletary’s castoffs. Callie had her suspicions. Who could not want this gorgeous silk creation? The color was that of the Colorado sky, a deep, rich blue that somehow brought out the green in Callie’s eyes. The fit was perfection. The silver buttons added just enough elegance without being too much for day wear.

Even with her severe hairstyle, Callie looked beautiful. She
felt
beautiful. But the woman staring back at her from the mirror was not Callie Mitchell. Not anymore.

Never, never again.

“Let’s have a look at you.” The widow paraded around her, considering her from various angles. “Much better.” She nodded her head in approval. “You were born to wear jewel tones.”

Once her closet had been filled with nothing but vibrant colors, Callie thought wistfully.

The housekeeper entered the room and announced, “Mr. Bennett has arrived for your meeting, Mrs. Singletary.”

“Thank you, Jane. Tell Winston to show him to my office.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The housekeeper turned to go then caught sight of Callie. Her eyes rounded with shock. “Oh, miss. Look at you. Why, you’re positively glowing.”

Callie sighed at her reflection. She
was
glowing.

She’d never felt more miserable in her life.

* * *

Reese gathered up the contracts he’d brought with him and stuffed them in his leather briefcase. “I’ll make the changes you requested and send over the revised versions before the end of business today.”

“That will be fine.” Mrs. Singletary sat back in her chair, eyeing him closely, her hands primly clasped in her lap.

He’d worked with the woman long enough to know she had more to say. Something he probably wasn’t going to like.

When she remained silent, he braced himself and said, “Is there something else I can do for you, Mrs. Singletary?”

“On the contrary, it’s something
I
can do for
you.
”

He stifled a groan. Despite her unconventional reputation, the widow meant well. She had a kind heart. Her charity work spoke for itself. But she was also considered a matchmaker of the first order. A terrible thought occurred to him. Surely she wasn’t thinking of making him her latest victim.

“I’m probably going to regret this, but tell me. What is it you believe I need?”

“A wife.”

Reese pulled in a sharp breath and resisted the urge to snap back, to tell her he didn’t need—or want—her input on such a personal matter.

She is your most important client,
he reminded himself. One he knew well. Her meddling was never malicious and, more often than not, had a way of bringing about good rather than harm. Eventually.

Even if he suggested, oh-so-gently, that she mind her own business, all she would say was that he was her business.

From a certain angle, she would be correct. Everyone in town knew he was her personal attorney. His actions reflected on her.