MARGARET: Suffragettes Mail-Order Bride (Choice Brides Agency #3) Read online

  “One of my associates, Richard Drake – he’s decided to end our contract early,” he said.

  “Oh,” said Margaret. “What did you do for him?”

  “He’s a tailor in town. He gets his wool and hides from me. Well, he got his wool and hides from me. He’s decided to take his business elsewhere.” Jake snorted. “Good riddance. I’ve had just about all I can handle of that family.”

  “Did he mention why?” Margaret asked.

  Jake’s eyes flickered over her, for some reason lingering on her hair. Margaret had to slot her fingers together to keep them from trying to smooth it down. It had grown more hot and humid while they were walking around the ranch and she feared that her curls had become unruly despite her best efforts to keep them contained in her braid.

  “Well – I guess since you’re going to be living here in town, you should probably know,” Jake said. “I used to court his daughter.”

  Margaret told herself that what she was feeling wasn’t jealousy. That she was just concerned about what this had to do with the business of Jake’s ranch. She tried not to imagine what he would look like in the arms of another woman – kissing her, holding her, probably laughing with her. Those thoughts were immediately replaced with thoughts of Margaret in his arms, being kissed and held, and Margaret swallowed thickly and prayed that she wasn’t blushing.

  “I see,” she said.

  “It ended before I met Elizabeth,” he continued. “I had no intention of marrying her – she was too frivolous.”

  Margaret thought she could remember Elizabeth mentioning something about Jake having grown tired of frivolous women.

  “I see,” she said again.

  “But now her father’s pulled out of our contract – and he’s included a postscript congratulating me on my mail-order fiancée in the most sarcastic terms he could manage with pen and paper. Makes me think there might still be some bad feelings there.”

  “Well, how do we fix it?” Margaret asked.

  He looked annoyed. Margaret wondered if he was already regretting his decision to marry her. It was one thing to want a wife who would be a partner in life and the day-to-day running of a ranch, and another thing entirely when that partner wound up costing the ranch more than they were bringing in.

  “You know,” she began uncertainly. “If you wanted to send me home… I would understand.”

  “Why would I do that?” he asked irritably.

  “If having me here is going to affect your business –”

  “I said don’t worry about it,” Jake said, cutting her off and crumbling the letter into a ball. He laid it next to his plate and rubbed his hands together. “Like I said, I’ve had about all I can stand from that family. Truthfully, it’ll be a relief to be able to cut all ties.”

  Margaret thought there must be more to it than that, but she held her tongue. He clearly didn’t want to discuss the matter.

  “So what would my duties be, as your wife?” she asked, putting on a deliberately lighter tone. “Apart from raising your nephew.”

  “I already said –”

  “You were very vague, as I’m sure you know,” Margaret replied. Then she raised an eyebrow at him. “Unless you’re not entirely sure what to do with me?”

  Jake’s jaw worked like he was chewing on his tongue. “I thought you wanted to be a teacher?”

  “I am a teacher,” Margaret told him. “I don’t have a position at one of your schools, yet. But that doesn’t change what I am.”

  “How’s your mathematics?”

  “Better than yours, probably.”

  She hadn’t meant it to come out as a challenge, but Jake didn’t look offended or annoyed. He looked almost amused.

  “Probably,” he said. “Then maybe you can take a look at my books when you’re not busy chasing hens out of my nephew’s hair?”

  She tossed her braid over her shoulder and smiled. “I happen to think that hen made a fine chapeau. Will’s fashion is just ahead of his time.”

  Jake smiled at that, and his eyes rested on Margaret’s face.

  His shoulders were beginning to relax. He didn’t look as annoyed or defensive as he had after he’d read the letter from Richard Drake, and Margaret counted that as a point in her favor.

  “You just wait – your nephew will be beating off the local girls with a stick once they see his clucky new accessory.”

  Jake chuckled lightly. His eyes crinkled at the edges and there was a definite lift to his smile which made Margaret’s chest lurch. It was unfair, she thought, that he could be so handsome and kind to his nephew, and offer her the biggest slice of pie, and chuckle at her jokes, but still be nothing more than a partner to her. His mother seemed to think that he entertained some hopes towards her, but if that were the case then surely this letter from Richard Drake would be enough to remind him of what, exactly, he was gaining and losing in this arrangement? Would he suddenly decide that Margaret wasn’t worth the trouble and send her packing before the wedding?

  “In fact,” she went on, aiming for an even lighter tone. “I imagine that in a few years, everyone will be dressing in feathers. See how your Richard Drake likes it when people are swarming the chicken coops instead of his stores.”

  Jake’s shoulders shook. He wasn’t laughing out loud, but there was a smile in his eyes. “That sounds good,” he said.

  “Of course it does,” Margaret replied. “Your nephew is clearly a genius. Putting the hen on his head just proves it.”

  Jake rubbed a hand over his jaw, suddenly thoughtful. “Don’t you mean our nephew?” he asked.

  “Well –” Margaret pulled herself up short, surprised. “Yes, I suppose I do,” she said.

  Because that was part of the arrangement, wasn’t it? In marrying him, she would be marrying his family. His mother and his nephew would become her mother, and her nephew. Marrying him would give her a family again.

  Suddenly, Margaret felt a lump rising in her throat. She truly hadn’t considered things in that way – she’d been so concerned with financial security, with knowing she would have a job and a roof over her head, that the thought of a family had completely left her mind.

  “Yes, you’re right – our nephew,” she said, swallowing hard to cover up her distress, hoping that the smile she forced onto her face was enough to hide what she was feeling.

  A family. A mother, and a nephew, and a husband. That was more than she’d allowed herself to hope for, ever since the fire. As she considered that, a thought crossed her mind: would Jake want children?

  She felt herself beginning to flush as she considered what would be involved in making children. She’d had that talk with her mother the moment she’d turned eighteen. If he wasn’t interested in her as anything other than a partner in business, would he even want to be with her romantically? Would he just content himself with Will as his only son and heir?

  As these thoughts raged in her head, Jake gave her a long look. Finally he nodded. “Our nephew,” he said. “And our ranch. You should sit down with my mother tonight and she can fill you in on what’s usually expected of women who help their husbands on ranches.”

  “Oh – are you not –”

  “I’ve got to go, actually. Work to do.”

  He stood up. Margaret stood up as well, watching as he turned and headed towards the doorway. When he got there, he paused and looked back at her.

  “Since we’re getting married,” he said, “you might as well call me Jake.”

  Margaret nodded. “Jake,” she said softly with a smile appearing on her lips. “And you may call me Margaret.”

  He nodded and left, leaving her alone in his mother’s dining room with the crumbled up letter still on the table. She considered reading it, then decided not to. She was a little bit hurt that Jake wasn’t planning on helping her understand her role on the ranch – instead, passing her off to his mother. Cora was a lovely woman, but Margaret was still uneasy at the thought that Jake couldn’t take the time to explai
n it himself. Did he not want to? Was he still indifferent to her, or annoyed with her for costing him valuable business?

  During their conversation, she’d thought that perhaps Cora was right – that perhaps there was some spark between her and Jake, something which could kindle into a romance if fanned properly. He’d laughed at her jokes. He had seemed to enjoy their conversation. But then, it was as though a switch had turned in his brain and he was suddenly as indifferent to her at the end as he was in the beginning. She wondered what she had done.

  She was settling herself back in her seat when Cora returned to the room.

  “Where has that boy gone off to – has he left you all alone?”

  Cora continued her tirade as Margaret nodded along, too lost in her own thoughts to pay close attention.

  Eleven

  “Jacob, are you listening to me?”

  “Whether I want to or not, Mom.”

  “You get your cleverness from me, you know,” she said, walking along next to his horse and grabbing the bridle so he couldn’t give in to temptation to gallop away.

  Jake sighed and dismounted. His boots hit the dirt with a heavy thud, kicking up some dust. Jake took Toby’s bridle from his mother and walked the horse towards the barn, keeping his head dipped down so she couldn’t see his face and praying she would grow bored and go back inside.

  But he wasn’t that lucky.

  “I don’t know what you were thinking courting Dick Drake’s daughter,” she said, following him through to the barn. “She’s about as empty-headed as a rattlesnake and twice as poisonous. Should have known she’d try to sabotage you when you left her.”

  “You’re right, Mom,” Jake said tiredly.

  She was right, as it turned out. Abigail may not be the owner of Drake’s tailor shop, but she owned her father’s heart and wallet. If Richard Drake was ending his business relationship with Jake’s ranch, it was because Abigail wanted him to.

  Jake shook his head at himself, wondering not for the first time why he’d wanted to be with her in the first place. She was beautiful. But that was all. He should have expected her to turn on him like this.

  “And I suppose you’re planning on taking Margaret to the party tonight?” Cora asked.

  Jake stepped through the darkened barn, tied up Toby, and started undoing his saddle. “I was planning on it,” he said.

  “What did she say when you told her?”

  “I was hoping you would.”

  Cora was a woman who didn’t need to speak to get her point across. All she had to do was look at him with her eyebrows raised, a frown on her lips, and an air of disappointment, and Jake knew exactly what she thought of that.

  “You haven’t told her.” It wasn’t a question.

  “It hasn’t come up yet,” he said.

  He’d actually planned on asking her to go with him to Abigail’s party earlier, after lunch. They’d been talking – Margaret, it turned out, had the kind of deadpan humour he loved the most. She had a way of saying ridiculous things with a completely straight face that made Jake want to double over with laughter. He’d kept himself in check when they were talking, but it was a nice talk. And then he’d read that damn letter.

  He was glad Margaret wanted to help and a little worried that one of her first suggestions was to leave the ranch. True, the fact that he’d arranged for a mail-order bride had probably hastened Abigail’s vengeance. Abigail had probably been working under the assumption that Jake would come back to her at some point. It was true that Margaret’s offer to leave may well have been the thing that saved his contract with Richard Drake, if he’d still wanted it, but the fact that she’d been so ready to go troubled him. Jake had hoped she’d accepted the fact that he needed her to help him raise William – she’d seemed to get along with the boy well enough. But could he have been mistaken? Could she still be upset about not knowing about it in advance?

  “I’m going to tell you right now, son, no marriage ever went well without communication.”

  “I know, Mom.”

  “She likes you, I can tell.”

  “She likes my dogs better.”

  “Why wouldn’t she? They’re always excited to see her – you seem to enjoy pretending she’s not there.”

  Jake started rubbing Toby down, hoping the smooth motion would distract from his mother’s words, which had a bit too much truth in them for his liking.

  He found it best to look away when he saw Margaret. She was far too beautiful for him – it was distracting, and he needed to remember that she wasn’t there to be his wife in the true sense. She was there because she needed financial stability and a home, which he could provide. He would need to remind himself of that every time he was distracted by her tempting lips, the smooth skin of her cheeks, and the wayward curls which framed her face and made her look like an angel from a picture book. Every time he saw her he wanted to run his fingers through those curls and kiss those lips.

  It wouldn’t do to let himself wish for something he couldn’t have – and he definitely didn’t appreciate his mother getting his hopes up.

  “Would you help Margaret get ready tonight?” he asked.

  “You shouldn’t spring this on her without warning,” Cora said sternly. “The poor girl is still settling in, the last thing she needs is to pretend to enjoy herself at one of Abigail Drake’s parties.”

  “She’s going to be my wife – people should meet her,” Jake said. “Besides, if she can’t handle one of Abby’s parties, now’s the time for us to know about it.”

  Cora pursed her lips and shook her head at him. “Throw her in the deep end, then?” she asked.

  “That’s how I learned to swim!” he said, putting on a cheerful tone as he gave his mother a winning smile. He didn’t say that it was the way he and his brother had learned how to swim. He hated the look she got in her eyes whenever Hank came up in the conversation.

  Cora left him there to finish rubbing Toby down. Jake might have lingered there a while longer than he should have before heading into the house to get ready for the party. He couldn’t help putting it off as long as possible.

  Jake and Abigail had been sweethearts in school. Abby was easily the most beautiful girl in class, and she had the sort of bright, talkative personality people would mistake for cleverness. As they grew into adolescence, Abigail became more and more aware of her own virtues – her beauty, her charm, and the power her father’s money gave her. Jake would admit that he could take some responsibility for that. He’d encouraged Abby’s conceit by telling her repeatedly how wonderful she was.

  Upon reflection, Jake knew he didn’t love Abby. He never had. It wasn’t until he’d watched his brother fall in love with Katy Montgomery that Jake had realised how shallow his relationship with Abigail had become. It was less of a relationship and more of a constant reassurance of her perfection – with Jake getting very little in return.

  It had hurt to end things, but Jake became more convinced every day that it had been the right thing to do.

  In the main house, Jake took a quick bath and ran a hand over his stubble, thinking he should probably shave. He pulled his best suit out from the wardrobe and pulled it on. Jake didn’t particularly care about looks, but he thought having Margaret on his arm would require him to put some effort into his appearance. She was stunning, and he didn’t want to let her down.

  The house started to fill with noise as the ranch hands came in from the fields and started pitching in on making dinner. Jake could hear Tom’s excitable voice elevate above the others as he demanded that Greg not hog the potatoes. Jake made a mental note to plant more potatoes next season – Tom was still a growing lad, and William would soon be eating like an adolescent as well. If he wasn’t careful, the boys would eat him out of business.

  Jake stomped down the hall and called out: “I’m heading out – don’t burn down my house!”

  The men shouted their farewells. They didn’t know Richard Drake had pulled his business out o
f the ranch. Hopefully Jake would be able to replace the income before the ranch started to feel the strain. The loss of Richard Drake’s business would be a blow – but Jake was ready for the challenge. He was just glad he had Margaret to pick up the strain of caring for William while Jake focused on the ranch.

  Jake loved William. From the moment he met his baby nephew, Jake had been head over heels with the boy. But he wasn’t sure if he was ready to be a father. He didn’t know how to make the transition between fun uncle and guardian. He hoped that Margaret, with her background in teaching and experience with children, would be able to steer him in the right direction.

  He trudged up to the barn and quickly hitched up Toby to the smallest buggy. Then he walked down the slim path that led to his mother’s tiny cottage and let himself inside. He could hear women’s voices in the kitchen.

  “Mom?” he called.

  “In here!” she said.

  William came charging through the doorway to the kitchen and threw himself into Jake’s arms. He always did that. It made Jake feel as though his heart was swelling in his chest as he hugged his nephew tight. The poor kid has lost so much – more than Jake had at his age, more than any child should – but he was still capable of so much joy. He still held onto bear, though. Bear had once belonged to William’s father, Jake’s brother, and it was a wonder it wasn’t falling apart at the seams. Jake felt himself get choked up every time he saw the boy clutching it.

  “Margaret looks really pretty,” William said into Jake’s ear.

  Jake’s stomach lurched with nerves. “Did your grandma tell you to tell me that?”

  “Yep.”

  “Right.”

  He put the boy down, running a hand through his hair and telling himself there was nothing to be nervous about. Because Margaret wasn’t expecting him to be romantic. She wasn’t marrying him for love – she was marrying him for stability. Really, he ought to start considering her a business partner, rather than a wife. Because that’s what both of them wanted.

  Repeating that in his head like a mantra, he followed William into the kitchen. Cora and Margaret were sitting at the breakfast table and, as promised, Margaret looked lovely. Her dress was a fine soft cream. Jake didn’t know anything about fashions but he’d never seen anything like it on the women in Montana – it must have been a Boston fashion. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a nest of curls that probably would have looked like a mess on anyone else. On her it looked elegant and completely intentional. He wondered whether she’d gotten his mother to help her, or whether she’d learned it from one of her friends in Boston.