for two suitors. I have found them.”
The march toward the men was quick, passing in the blink of an eye. Florence was tongue-tied as she found herself suddenly standing in front of them. Mrs. Rosemary inclined her head to the men.
“Hello, gentlemen. I’m so happy to see you here.”
They both dropped at the waist in exaggerated bows that Florence might have found silly on anyone but them. She watched as they took turns kissing the offered hand Mrs. Rosemary held out.
“We thank you for creating such an opportunity for us, Mrs. Rosemary. We are forever indebted to you for all your hard work.” The red-haired man spoke, and Florence nearly swooned at the Scottish brogue she heard in his voice.
“Brendan, you are too kind. Now, it is time for me to return the favor you bestowed upon me by introducing you to one of my dearest friends. Florence Wickes-Barnes. She’s the sheriff’s daughter and a fine young lady. She works for me in the dress shop as a seamstress and is one of the most talented I have ever had the pleasure of teaching. Sharp as a whip. And,” Mrs. Rosemary paused in her praise, “very welcoming to different expressions of love.”
The trio stared at one another with slightly rounded eyes. Neither man moved, standing stiff as boards, and Florence swallowed down the feeling of an impending shriek in Mrs. Rosemary’s direction. The other woman did what she wanted. That included having a blunt manner of speaking. One did not get the luxury of accepting Rosemary Stark piecemeal. It was either the whole woman or nothing. As such, Florence forced a smile to her lips and cleared her throat, stepping forward.
She would smooth this over as well as she was able. “Pleased to meet you both.” Florence held out her hand to them, anticipating a handshake, but neither man moved, still staring at Mrs. Rosemary as if expecting the other woman to suddenly perform an acrobatic routine. Her hand shook slightly from holding it out, and Florence fought against the wince she wanted to give. Her plan for recovering the introduction falling flat as neither man came forward to take her hand. She would have to think of another way to form some kind of relationship with them.
Florence cleared her throat delicately and moved to step back but was stopped when a hand reached out to clasp hers. It was a gentle grip but firm. The feel of calloused fingers on her knuckles had her heart beating wildly. She wanted to thread her fingers with his but instead, she stood still and smiled at him, waiting for him to speak like the lady they all supposed her to be.
“Pleased to meet ye Florence Wickes-Barnes. My name is Brendan Black.” His voice was lovely. Dark and warm, rich like honeyed whiskey and Florence blushed at the warmth of his hand on hers. There was something about the man that was closed off slightly even as he touched her. Florence could have sworn he was in a different room, not a foot in front of her with an air of indifference that clung to him like the wool of his suit.
“Good evening, Brendan.”
“This is my partner, ah,” Brendan stopped and cleared his throat. “My business partner. Anselmo Ortega.”
She looked to where Brendan gestured and Anselmo smiled at her, taking her other hand in his. Her fingers twitched in his grip and breathing was suddenly a feat. How was she to maintain the facade of a lady with both Brendan and Anselmo holding onto her hands.
Smiles were one thing, but touch, that was an entirely different matter.
“Pleased to meet you, but there is no need for you to call me Anselmo.”
“Oh?” Florence asked, voice dropping an octave when he came forward and placed a kiss on the back of her hand. “Then what am I to call you?”
“Beautiful women get special privileges with me. Call me, Ansel,” he told her, smiling up at her where he was bent over her hand.
Florence managed a nod of her head. “Ansel.”
Mrs. Rosemary tittered beside them and leaned close, kissing Florence’s cheek and pinching it as she drew away. “I’ll leave the three of you to it then. Please enjoy the singles dance.” She turned and swept away with a flick of her skirts before any of them could speak. When they were alone, Ansel squeezed her hand.
“Florence is a lovely name.” He was still holding onto her, and Florence cleared her throat, drawing her hand away before anyone noticed. Though she wanted two suitors, two husbands, she did not wish to draw anyone’s attention before she was good and ready.
“Thank you,” she demurred and aimed a smile at both men. “When did you arrive in our fair town?”
“Month before last, but we have mainly been at work. Brendan here is absolutely horrendous at keeping us working. This is our first true reprieve from the business.”
“And what business might that be?”
“Mining,” Brendan said then, his voice had gone a touch gruff. “We’re here to mine. There are some promising sites outside of town and with the railroad, it’s a lucrative move for us.” He touched Ansel’s arm then stepped back from her. “If you’ll excuse us, Miss Florence.”
“But only for a moment,” Ansel interjected, quickly shooting her a wink. “We would never leave a fair lady such as you for too long, Florence.”
She nodded, watching the men step away. Their heads were bent together as they spoke. Whatever the subject was, it was serious. She edged closer on the pretense of looking at the cluster of silk lamps beside her, but was unable to catch their conversation other than the hushed tones of their voices. Somewhere behind them on the stage, the band began to play a waltz and she nearly cursed. Now was not the time for music. She was trying to eavesdrop and how was she meant to do so with that infernal music playing?
Florence turned to the side casting a furtive look in the men’s direction. Brendan was touching Ansel, his hand splayed across the small of the other man’s back. The touch was slight but it was intimate as was the way Ansel turned leaning into the other man as they spoke. These were the touches of lovers. Mrs. Rosemary was right.
“How am I to ask for a place with them over there?” Florence whispered, sipping from her drink. The burn of the liquor was masked by the sweet flavor but it warmed her all the same as she contemplated her options. Ansel was amenable to her, she could see that. Brendan would take a bit of effort but she could manage it if only they were to--She stopped her spiral of thoughts when they turned and started back towards her. The men were coming and she needed to collect herself if this was going to go right.
She smiled at them when they came to a stop in front of her. “Is everything all right?” she asked.
“Yes, of course, nothing but a bit of business,” Ansel replied taking a glass from a passing server. He held out a drink to Brendan and smiled at the man. “Isn’t that right?”
The other man nodded sipping from the drink but saying nothing.
“Ah, well, I hope you’ve been having a lovely time in Gold Sky. I grew up here and there’s no other place like it.”
Ansel nodded sipping his drink. “We’ve come to see that. Mrs. Rosemary has made it abundantly clear that all styles of living are welcome here.”
“She does take it upon herself to be the unofficial welcoming committee,” Florence conceded.
“You have two fathers,” Brendan said suddenly, startling Florence. It wasn’t a question. It was an observation and she paused, giving the man a shrewd look.
“Yes, that’s right. I have two fathers. The sheriffs in town.”
“Is that what Mrs. Rosemary meant by you being accepting of all types of love?” Brendan asked, earning an elbow to the gut from Ansel.
“Brendan, this is not what we talked about,” he hissed but Brendan shrugged and rubbed his side.
“We are not fighting over one woman,” he shot back and Florence raised an eyebrow.
“And why would you be fighting over anything?” she asked in confusion.
“Because we aim to marry.”
“As do I,” she informed them.
Brendan crossed his arms and took a step closer. His emerald eyes were intent on her and she found she enjoyed the attention. “And there is only one of you, but the two of us. How could we not fight over you?
Florence laughed, raising her glass to her lips and taking a sip. “That’s quite easy, gentleman. I aim to marry the pair of you.”