Perfectly Mismatched (Sweethearts of Jubilee Springs Book 1) Read online

  “G’night, Miss Northcliffe.”

  The perplexed tone in Latham’s voice indicated he’d hoped for more. A bit presumptuous, by Declan’s reckoning. He stepped forward and waited for her hand to slip into his extended one. When her soft skin slid against his rough palm, he closed his fingers around her hand and captured her gaze. “ ‘Good night, sweet princess, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!’ ”

  “You know Shakespeare?” Her fingers tightened, and she pulled their joined hands under her chin. “I love reading his lyrical works.” She smiled until the waxing moonlight caught the sparkle of her teeth.

  “Aye, as do I.”

  Latham cleared his throat.

  Declan wiggled his fingers until she released his hand. “Codladh sámh.”

  She leaned on the stair railing. “Is that Irish?”

  For a moment, he let the whispery whoosh of her voice sift through the cool air. “’Tis Gaelic.”

  “What did you say?” Her eyes shone.

  “Sleep well, Miss Aurelia.” He stooped to grab the lantern and held it high to light her way. “Now, inside with ye.”

  Smiling, she spun and dashed up the stairs, turning for a final wave before disappearing behind the closed door.

  Latham kicked at the dirt. “How is it fair that you speak those funny poetry words?”

  As he turned toward the bunkhouse, Declan chuckled and shrugged. “Ever heard the saying ‘all’s fair in love and war?’ That about sums up the situation, don’t ye think?”

  Chapter Five

  Aurelia awoke on Saturday with a sense of purpose. Although she would never have initiated the parlor game herself, she’d quite enjoyed playing Charades the previous evening. Either the camaraderie of the women or the competition against the men had sparked congenial feelings. Probably being outspoken helped. A couple of the shyer women weren’t bold enough in their pantomimes, which often led to frustrated attempts at guessing their intent.

  After dressing, she sat at a scarred wooden table by the window and put pen to paper.

  Dearest Rilleta.

  You will never guess what I did last evening—played Charades. Me! Even more surprising, I had fun. Real fun. Like we used to have when we were schoolgirls. I didn’t realize how Papa’s mandated social events were so much work. I was always on guard about paying the correct compliment and presenting the most proper appearance. Of course, I will miss mixing in society and having fine things.

  From what I’ve seen so far, living in Jubilee Springs will have benefits—not particularly in the place itself but the people. The brides have been welcomed with open arms, and the townspeople seem happy to see us. They put on a social last night (nothing like we’ve ever attended, but I could tell the residents were proud of the event), and the Howards, the owners of the boarding house where I’m staying, have been accommodating.

  Missus Millard is most solicitous about connecting people with her graphology system. I feel a bit guilty about how I disregarded that stipulation and aim to set the record straight with the prospective grooms this evening. (more to come on the men)

  I urge you to forget about looking for a finishing school or any further education. Today, send a letter to the Colorado Bridal Agency and get yourself registered as a mail-order bride who wants to be matched only with a man in Jubilee Springs. I know we planned for you to relocate as soon as I married. But why not have the train fare paid by someone else? Once you get here, you’ll be close by—believe me, nothing is too far from anything else in this town—and I can help advise you on your choice of husband.

  The town is much more rustic than I ever imagined, to say the least. But I know now, I should have read about the area or asked more questions. That was my fault. We brides experienced a few awkward moments of being gawked at upon arrival. So many bachelors live in this town. I’ve learned some of the other women come from dire circumstances, so our situation of needing to live a quiet life is not so special.

  The two “matches” made for me couldn’t be more different than bread and cake. Byron Latham tends toward the unrefined end of the socially adept scale, and Declan MacNeill has a wider view of the world. He’s from Ireland and speaks with a delightful lilt. I can see in his emerald eyes he’s lived through sadness. This is not to say his manners are impeccable, but he quoted Shakespeare last night. And you know how I love The Bard.

  Spend your remaining time with Auntie Gwen’s cook learning several basic meals to prepare and how to clean. Those are the skills you’ll need—not perfect elocution or penmanship. Buy a pair of sturdy boots and pack your winter coat. Trade in half of your gowns and acquire several calico dresses or skirts of serge and plain blouses in both our sizes. Our regular clothes are not suitable here, and they certainly won’t help us blend in. I must end this so I can get it posted with haste.

  I am anxious for you to join me on this new adventure. Crossing my fingers and wishing that is soon. Love, Aurelia

  P.S. After re-reading the letter, I realize how differently I sound, but I can assure this is your older sister.

  Before she made any alteration to the wording, she folded the sheets and addressed the outside of the envelope. The sky through the window held only a few puffy clouds, but Aurelia grabbed her shawl on her way downstairs. As she crossed the lobby, she spotted Missus Howard coming out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel.

  “Oh, Miss Northcliffe. Sorry, miss, but breakfast service is over.” Dark brows wrinkled, and the woman shook her head to send her long braid to her back.

  “I slept late. Guess traveling made me more tired than usual.” She swung the shawl over both shoulders and tucked the letter in her reticule.

  “Living at this elevation will take some getting used to. Don’t exert yourself.” Missus Howard gave her a wide smile. “You’ll want to save energy for the dance tonight.”

  “I’m just going for a stroll.” Aurelia stepped outside and breathed in the wonderful scent of fresh bread from the bakery across the street. The air still held a crisp note as she walked next door to the mercantile to post her letter. The sign above the lintel read Simon Brinks, proprietor.

  Both people behind the counter were busy filling orders so Aurelia wandered the aisles to see the available items. Finally she stood at the counter and held out her letter. “I’d like to post this, please.”

  “I guess you’d be one of those brides.” The woman ran her gaze down Aurelia’s length before glancing at the address. “I’m Missus Brinks, and I suppose I’ll be seeing you now and again.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Most times when she posted a letter, the transaction was business-like, not personal.

  “Kansas City, Missouri, huh.” Missus Brinks’ gaze narrowed. “Is that where you’re from?”

  “Sorry, I’m in a hurry.” Knowing the time would come for getting acquainted, Aurelia paid for the stamp, and then wandered along the boardwalk. This time, she looked into the windows of each business and observed people working as lawyers, salespeople, or craftsmen. Skilled at various professions, these were tradesmen and tradeswomen who produced tangible items or needed services to the townspeople.

  What can I possibly contribute? Her steps echoed as she considered what skills she possessed. Picking the right accessories for a gown or selecting wine choices to match a meal or combining perfumes for a unique blend. Those were the tasks she was most complimented on. A truth she might now have seen if her life hadn’t been turned upside down. At the front window for DeMitri Bakery, she paused, unable to deny the hunger gnawing at her stomach.

  The display case held an array of golden-brown breads and rolls of various shapes and sizes. But what drew her gaze was the smiling and laughing dark-haired family within. Without hearing what they said, she could hear the affection being spoken. From the teasing smiles to the pout of annoyance when the young girl’s braid was tugged by a brother.

  A pang tightened her throat. How much time had passed since Twin Oaks had laughter within its walls? S
he stepped inside, yearning to breathe the same air as this loving happiness. A crazy hope crossed her mind that some would rub off.

  “Morning, miss.” A smiling young woman with flashing brown eyes waited behind the case. “What may I serve you?”

  Aurelia surveyed the selections, and her mouth watered. “Everything looks wonderful. I skipped breakfast, so what do you suggest?”

  From the back room came rapid-fire words in a foreign language. This time, she did hear the love in their voices. Without a doubt, she knew that was what she wanted. Her father had tried to fill the void left by her mother’s death with achievements and accolades. She braced her hand on the case at the sudden shaking of her knees. He’d even convinced her those cold rewards were what was important in life.

  A paper bag rustled. “Miss, here are two jam tarts I think you’ll like. Five cents, please.”

  Aurelia dug into reticule for the right coin. “The ones on the tray look delicious.”

  “Are you one of the brides?” The woman’s gaze dipped downward then reconnected.

  “I am, and I suspect I’ll become a regular customer.”

  After a quick glance over her shoulder, the young woman learned close. “I think you’re so brave.”

  The whisper spoken with awe caught her off guard. Me? That was not at all how she felt. Aurelia nodded an acknowledgement and hurried across the street to the boarding house. Ten minutes later, she climbed the stairs to her room, quite proud she’d made her own cup of tea. Her first step toward independence.

  *~*

  After his second visit to Hensa’s Bath House in the same number of days, Declan realized the townspeople must be raking in the profits from this courting business. He stood in front of the cracked mirror on the wall of his bedroom and ran a brush through his damp hair, hoping to tame the waves. A new cream-colored shirt clung to his torso and tucked into the waistband of black linsey-woolsey trousers. He’d even sprung for a length of black satin ribbon to tie under his collar. His budget had taken a big hit this week. Of course, acquiring a wife would have the same result.

  All day, he’d thought of how relaxed Aurelia had been while playing Charades, how he’d seen a special sparkle light her eyes and a carefree smile flash in his direction more than once. Tonight, he would be spending several hours in her company, and he couldn’t wait.

  The walk to the River Valley Inn took no more than five minutes. Declan hesitated a moment on the inn’s wide porch and tucked his bodhrán under an arm. He slowed his breathing and watched the sun tinge the mountaintops a wonderful rosy gold. Sunsets were a favorite tonic to his soul. As soon as he stepped inside, he spotted the owner, Jude Debenham, lingering in the doorway to the dining room. “Evening, Jude.”

  Jude extended a hand. “Good to see you, Declan. And you’ve brought your drum.”

  Grinning, he held up the small framed instrument. “Aye, I’m always ready to add the steady beat of me instrument to any dance.”

  “Most of the special guests are here. Follow me.” Jude crossed the dining room to the space set aside for the occasion. Several rectangular tables stood together to form a single banquet table to hold eighteen diners—the ten miners, five brides, Missus Millard, and both Prosperity Mine owners, Clive and Royce Bainbridge.

  Declan scanned the occupied seats and when he spotted Aurelia, he had to swallow against the sudden lump. She was as lovely as he remembered. A light green blouse with lace around the upright collar and cuff edges contrasted well with her red-brown hair.

  “Ah, Mister MacNeill”—Missus Millard waved a hand—“your chair is to the left of Miss Northcliffe.”

  He nodded at those seated he knew as he walked to the designated chair. The fact Latham wasn’t there yet meant he had a few minutes of her total attention. “Evening, Miss Northcliffe.”

  “Mister MacNeill.” A smile graced Aurelia’s lips as she met his gaze.

  After he set his drum under his chair, he glanced up and saw that every other table was filled, and the diners focused in their direction. Evidently, the townspeople were eager to see how the miners and brides were getting along. “I wonder how Jude found enough plates to serve all these folks.”

  She stifled a giggle behind her hand. “Your statement makes me assume a dining room filled to capacity isn’t normal on a Saturday night.”

  “Aye.” The light-hearted sound kicked up his heart rate. “Ye look lovely tonight.”

  “Thank you, Mister MacNeill.”

  “I wish we could be friendlier and use our first names. Yers rolls off me tongue.”

  Her eyes widened. “But I’ve never heard you say it.”

  Smiling, he tapped a finger on his temple. “Only in me mind.”

  “I’d like that, Declan.”

  Footsteps hurried across the floor. “Sorry for being late. Fell asleep in the tub.” Latham stood at the end of the table, running a hand through his wet hair. He jabbed a finger toward Aurelia. “I see my chair. Howdy, all.”

  Several people murmured their greetings to him and the other few miners who followed until all the seats were filled.

  “Folks.” Jude stood at the head of the table near Clive, a small notepad in his hand. “The choices tonight are either beef or roasted chicken, both with potatoes and vegetables. What can I bring you?”

  Declan sat back as the diners stated their preferences, noting that Aurelia chose the chicken. He listened to the conversation of other couples, gauging how the friendships were developing, and joined in when addressed. Plenty of demure smiles and sideways looks confirmed the wisdom of the Bainbridges’ plan. Getting in a word with Aurelia was tough, because she carried on discussions with Harold Calloway and Jared Manning across the table with ease. Latham asked a few questions, but she didn’t linger with her answers. Then he realized that the conversation he desired with her was of a personal nature and best done when they were alone. Being a patient man, he was content to eat the well-prepared food and be in her company.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his empty plate slide to the side and be replaced by a small plate with a slice of chocolate cake. Aye, a fine treat to top the meal.

  “Mmm, that’s delicious.” Aurelia smiled as she forked another bite. “Back home, I usually skipped dessert. But I’m so hungry since reaching Colorado.”

  “Blame yer appetite on the altitude.” He winked and chuckled at her quiet gasp. Surely, a bit of the devil had invaded his soul if he enjoyed seeing her off-kilter.

  By the time the people at the long table were done, the rest of the room had emptied. Jude closed the restaurant doors. “Now, ladies, please step outside while the men help set up the room.” Following the innkeeper’s directions, the men lifted and stacked furniture to allow for an open area for dancers and a couple of tables for refreshments.

  “Too bad the women were herded outside.” Latham brushed his hands together. “I wouldn’t mind showing Aurelia my muscles.”

  “Uh, huh.” Declan wasn’t sure that’s what would impress the lady in question. Seeing the room set to rights, he wandered out to the back veranda. Jude had gone all out and strung Chinese lanterns on the railing and along the inn’s rear property line. The glowing lights cast a mystical aura over the women, making each lovely in her own way. As he approached, he noted Aurelia’s skirt was of a vibrant green with quilted outlines of vines and flowers. The emerald color was his favorite and always reminded him of Ireland. He wanted to think he’d divulged that preference in his letters, and she’d chosen the outfit especially.

  He waited a few feet away until Aurelia noticed him, and then curled his fingers to beckon her closer. “Latham and I agreed to split the dance time in half to allow for uninterrupted conversations.”

  “So, you’re here to escort me inside?” She glanced downward and bit her lip. “I’d hoped to speak with both of you together about something.”

  “Escortin’ is Latham’s honor.” Her hesitant behavior was unlike how she’d been only minutes earlier. “F
or the first hour, I’ll be accompanying the fiddler. Then ye’ll be me partner. Be warned, Aurelia, I’m not inclined to share yer time.” He’d almost said that she was all his. That brought him up short. But he had no time to contemplate that revelation, because Latham arrived.

  “Ready to join in the hot-footin’, Miss Northcliffe?” Grinning, Latham slapped his hands together and rubbed them.

  “Actually, sirs, I have an admission to get out of the way before we join the others.” She clasped and unclasped her hands, and then she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Her eyes glittered in the lantern light. “Before any associations between us progress, I want you to know I wasn’t the one who wrote the first letter to the matchmaker. I acknowledge I was supposed to, but I had my younger sister write it. Although, in my defense, the vocabulary and syntax are all my own.” She cleared her throat. “I apologize if the ensuing matches made based on that handwriting have not been entirely accurate.”

  Declan scratched at his bristly chin. By rights, he ought to be angry, or at least irritated by her admission. Instead, he recognized the gumption she’d displayed in making the concession that she had come to this event under false pretenses. Besides, she was here and he already had tender feelings for the well-spoken woman. But he’d let her stew in her own juices for a bit longer. “Understood.” After a quick nod, he went inside and carried his drum and a chair next to the fiddler. A glance through the window showed Aurelia still outside, talking and moving her hands, while Latham scratched his head.

  As soon as the music started, the dancing got into full swing. He twisted his wrist to hit each end of the hickory tapper on the drum skin, creating a pleasing hollow sound. Those who’d shared dinner paired off and moved with varying degrees of ease around the floor. Declan noticed a thin woman in a faded dress who had to be coaxed into the activity. An attempt to watch all the couples ended when he caught sight of Aurelia gliding across the floor. Why she was waltzing with Royce, he didn’t know, but she moved with such elegance.

  Bachelor miners and townspeople cut in as often as they could, some with more success than others. The tunes changed from reels to waltzes to two-steps to square dances. Each time he saw Missus Millard sail by, she was in the arms of a different partner. Which made sense in a town with so many bachelors. He was glad he’d stated his intentions. When his hour came, he wanted Aurelia to honor his expectation of dancing only with him. Was he staking his claim?