The Cowboy's Baby Bond (21 page)

He bowed with the perfection of a diplomat. “Pleased to meet you, Miss O'Keefe. I am Mr. Decker.”

* * *

The three women stared at Roland with mouths agape. What on earth was wrong with them? The brunette had recovered sufficiently that he did not expect a repeat of the fainting spell, but they all looked as if he had just said the most shocking thing possible. Yet all he had done was introduce himself.

Behind Fiona O'Keefe a fourth woman squeaked and dropped a glass of water. The liquid splashed on Fiona's skirts while the glass rolled over the edge and into the lake far below.

The redhead turned on a tiny mouse of a woman. “How could you be so clumsy? Do you know how much this dress cost?”

The startled young woman looked ready to burst into tears. “I'm sorry.”

Fiona O'Keefe relented, though she looked none too pleased. “I planned to wear it to dinner at the captain's table. Now what will I wear?” She turned back to Roland. “I had hoped to make a fine impression.”

Roland stifled a groan. Clearly she intended to impress more than the captain. “I can assure you, that you cannot help but impress anyone you meet.”

That turned Fiona O'Keefe's distress into triumph. “I hope to see you later,
Mr
. Decker.”

Her emphasis on his title perplexed him, as did the peculiar looks the other three women shot in his direction. The mousy woman hid behind the others as if afraid he would strike her. The brunette kept glancing between him and her friend with an almost wistful look. That friend, on the other hand, had rapidly moved from shock to confusion to disappointment. A moment later, she straightened her elegant neck, tossed back her loose chestnut locks and steeled her shoulders in much the same way Eva once had.

He choked back the bitter memory and turned his attention back to Fiona. “Perhaps we shall meet again.”

He would do his best to avoid her. Fiona O'Keefe had all the makings of a woman intent on capturing a husband, and marriage was the last thing Roland sought. Even if he was the marrying type, he certainly wouldn't choose the fiery redhead. The no-nonsense lady who had stuck by her stricken friend was much more intriguing. From her unusual height to her lively green eyes, she was a woman worth knowing. Alas, he had no time for pleasantries, not with a potential investor at his elbow.

“Perhaps I might convince the captain to add you to our company,” Fiona O'Keefe suggested with a coy smile.

Roland wished he wasn't already included at the captain's table. With Miss O'Keefe present, he would not be able to conduct a moment's business with Mr. Edward Holmes, the investor from Chicago that he was trying to interest in his plans for a glass factory. He chose his words with care. “I have been invited already.”

After warbling her delight, Fiona O'Keefe swept down the promenade deck and into the nearest door.

“I know it's not the Christian thing to say, but that woman is insufferable,” the take-charge woman muttered.

Roland had to stifle a grin. He liked a woman who spoke her mind.

“Now, Pearl,” the brunette scolded with a touch to her friend's arm. “She did help me.”

Pearl. Roland rolled the name around on his tongue. A pearl was a bit of sand that irritated an oyster long enough to become a gem. He had a feeling the name fit.

The brunette had settled her attention on him. “Thank you, Mr. Decker. Your assistance was most gallant.”

Her wide eyes and stunning dark curls would captivate most men. Perhaps they might interest his brother, who desperately needed a wife. Maybe he could convince Garrett to come aboard long enough to meet her when the ship stopped in Singapore. If the purser refused to let him board, Roland would bring the lady to Garrett. A simple dockside meeting might set ablaze the dried-out tinder of his brother's heart.

He answered the brunette but couldn't stop watching the lady named Pearl. “Thank you, miss, but any gentleman would do the same.”

None of the women pointed out that no one else had come to assist them.

Instead, the victim graciously accepted his response. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Decker. I am Miss Amanda Porter, and this is my friend, Miss Pearl Lawson.” She paused, apparently hoping he would give his Christian name, thus putting them on a level of intimacy that he did not care to initiate.

“Pleased to meet you, ladies.”

Amanda frowned. “Pearl is the new schoolteacher in Singapore, Michigan.”

“Is that so?” He had not imagined any of them would be getting off at Singapore. He looked at Pearl anew. Her take-charge, plainspoken demeanor might fare well in the rough-edged society of Singapore. “I wasn't aware we needed a new teacher.”

“You clearly don't have children, then,” Pearl stated.

“Uh, no.” His brother might have mentioned the need for a schoolteacher, but as a bachelor Roland had little interest in such matters.

“Pearl,” Amanda cautioned her friend before turning back to him. “I'm afraid the long journey from New York has wearied us. Pearl isn't usually this forward.”

Roland suspected Miss Pearl Lawson was behaving exactly as she always did. Those thrust-back shoulders and strong chin indicated she took no nonsense from anyone. Rather refreshing. Usually women simpered around him. He'd endured cloying attention, batted eyelashes and every manner of feminine wile down to the feigned swoon. He didn't know if Amanda Porter's fainting spell had been genuine, but he doubted Pearl would ever stoop to that deceit. She seemed honest and straightforward, without one bit of artifice.

“I'm Louise Smythe,” a voice squeaked from behind the two women, drawing his attention from Pearl.

Roland had forgotten about the fourth woman. “Miss Smythe.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Mrs. Smythe, actually. But my husband was killed in the war.”

“My sympathies, ma'am. Most families lost someone. Two of my cousins never returned.”

She bowed her head, as if overcome.

Roland glanced back to see Holmes had joined them at some point. He made further introductions and then began to angle the investor toward the gentlemen's lounge. “If you will excuse me, Mr. Holmes and I have business to attend to. I hope to see you ladies later.”

“You will hardly be able to avoid Fiona,” Pearl noted, “since she will join you at dinner.”

“Ah, yes...dinner.” Why did she have to remind him of that now-onerous task?

He opened his mouth to say more, but Holmes interrupted with an even more unwelcome proposition. “Why don't all of you join us?”

Roland couldn't stifle this groan. Four women would hinder any attempt at striking a deal before they reached Singapore. “I doubt there would be enough room at the captain's table.”

“I—I have other plans,” Louise Smythe spluttered, slipping into the background again.

Mr. Holmes accepted her regrets but not the protests of Pearl and Amanda. “I happen to know that there is ample room.”

Pearl's expression had tightened, as if she dreaded the thought of dining with them, but Amanda clapped her hands with delight.

“The captain's table! It will be wonderful, won't it, Pearl?”

The no-nonsense woman looked like she was about to make an excuse, but after a pleading look from Amanda, she gave in. “We would be delighted.”

“It will be an excellent opportunity to get better acquainted,” Amanda said, again glancing between Pearl and him. “Won't it?”

“We will have plenty of time to get acquainted once we all disembark in Singapore,” Pearl stated.

“All?” Roland didn't miss that little word. “You're all going to Singapore? Why? There's nothing for women to do there. Except the school, of course.”

Now Pearl looked perplexed. “But you are expecting us.”

“What?” He backed up a step. “I'm not expecting anyone, least of all four women.”

Amanda looked like she would burst into tears. Louise Smythe bit her lip.

Only Pearl stood strong. “Then there has been a very grave mistake, Mr. Decker.”

Prickles ran up Roland's spine. Whatever mistaken impression these ladies had come to believe, he wanted no part of it.

“Indeed there has.” He bowed stiffly. “Good afternoon, ladies. Mr. Holmes and I have business to attend to.”

Then, like a coward, he escaped to the safety of the gentlemen's lounge to decipher what had just happened and figure out how he was going to get out of the mess.

* * *

The thought of dining with Mr. Decker knotted Pearl's stomach. Gazing at him from afar had been pleasant. More than pleasant. Those brilliant blue eyes drew her in like no other man, but she'd let her fancy roam where it had no business going. Pearl Lawson was a schoolteacher, under contract to teach, not marry. Despite his peculiar behavior, Mr. Decker must want to marry at once. His advertisement had drawn three eligible women. Thus far. There could be many more already in Singapore. To give Amanda equal footing with Fiona, she'd agreed to her friend's pleas to join him for dinner, but it would be difficult not to let her suddenly unruly emotions run wild.

She shouldn't be concerned. Handsome men had never flocked to her side. Amanda was the pretty one, the one who drew men's attention. Amanda desperately wanted to marry and have a family. She was the one who was responding to Mr. Decker's advertisement. Pearl had no business thinking of Mr. Decker in any manner except as the object of Amanda's affection. Still, it would be difficult to sit with the man at dinner and not let her thoughts roam into forbidden territory.

Provided they were even admitted into the dining saloon. Third-class tickets did not entitle them to meals, and they could not afford to purchase them. This invitation promised to turn into an embarrassing fiasco.

She worried her gloves while Amanda tidied up before dinner. Since they were already wearing their best gowns, they could not change, but a little brushing off of the dust and adjusting of the hair might make them more presentable.

“I wish I had a silk gown like Fiona's.” Amanda sighed.

“Yours is infinitely prettier.”

Amanda blushed. “But it's not silk, and it's handmade.”

“By an expert seamstress.”

“You don't think he knows I made it, do you?”

“I doubt his business is tailoring or dressmaking.” Pearl brushed at the wrinkles creasing her rust-colored skirt. “Besides, why would he look at your gown when your features are so much more pleasing?”

“Do you think so?” Even more color dotted Amanda's cheeks. She turned back to the tiny mirror loaned to them by another third-class passenger. “I think he was more interested in you.”

A shock bolted through Pearl. Could a handsome, well-off man like Mr. Decker be attracted to a tall, ungainly woman like her? “Impossible. Moreover, I am not the one responding to his advertisement.”

Amanda bit her lower lip as a frown creased her brow. “Did you notice how he reacted when you pointed out that he must be expecting us?”

Pearl had to admit that she'd noticed. “Perhaps he didn't understand.” Surely a man who advertised for a wife would expect someone to answer that advertisement. What if Mr. Decker turned out little better than Hugh Bellchamp, first luring women to Singapore and then dashing their hopes? “He must have misunderstood.”

“Perhaps.” But Amanda looked as skeptical as Pearl felt.

“We could send our regrets and dine on our cheese and biscuits as planned.”

“Oh, no. We must attend,” Amanda urged. “I couldn't send regrets. Not now.”

Thus they found themselves approaching the doors of the dining saloon at precisely seven o'clock. Many passengers milled about waiting to be seated. Pearl hung back to look for Mr. Decker, but he found them first.

“Miss Lawson. Miss Porter.”

She couldn't help noticing that he addressed her first and lingered longer over her hand. If Amanda noticed, she did not remark upon it. They then proceeded to discuss the day's weather, the prognosis for that night and the usual inquiries into health and well-being.

At last the steward indicated he was ready to seat Mr. Decker's party. Soon Pearl would find out if she and Amanda would be refused entry.

When Amanda moved toward the steward, Mr. Decker pulled Pearl aside. “I hate to ask this of you upon such short acquaintance, but I beg you to remind Mr. Holmes that you are the town's schoolteacher.”

Pearl frowned. “Why?”

Instead of answering, he retrieved Amanda and nestled her on his left arm while holding out his right for Pearl.

She shook her head. This moment must belong to Amanda.

Without a single comment, the steward led them to the table situated at the front of the room. The captain, resplendent in his uniform, stood to greet them. Pearl breathed out in relief. They would not be refused. Naturally Fiona O'Keefe was already there. Judging by her expression she was not pleased to see that Mr. Decker had brought guests. When he seated Pearl next to Fiona, the woman's irritation visibly rose.

The entire seating arrangement was peculiar. Considering Mr. Decker's request, Pearl had expected to be seated next to Mr. Holmes. Instead, Amanda took that place, with Mr. Decker on her other side. From this distance, Pearl would have to shout for Mr. Holmes to hear her.

The meal began with a light beef broth, elegantly served in china bowls emblazoned with the ship's insignia. On a less calm sea, those bowls would spill their contents all over the linen tablecloths, but tonight the bowls remained perfectly in place.

The gentlemen maintained the bulk of conversation, first complimenting each of the ladies and then discussing the voyage before drifting into talk of business. To each man's delight, Amanda gave them her full attention, irritating Fiona even more.

At the first lull in the conversation, Fiona proclaimed, “This is the finest ship I have ever sailed on, Captain. Is it new?”