All in Good Time (The Gilded Legacy) - By Maureen Lang Page 0,70

that way. . . . She turned, wishing either Jane or Remee would walk out the front door. Perhaps Dessa should have learned by now how to refuse a man, except that she had encountered so few of them while living her nomadic life with Sophie, and her frantically busy one since settling in Denver.

“Thank you for your kind words, Mr. Foster, but I really must get back to work on my garden.”

Still, he made no move to depart. “You know where that leaves me, don’t you?” The timbre of his voice was light, appealingly playful. Flirtatious. “With no alternative but to arrange a fund-raising opportunity for you.”

Dessa’s weary heart picked up a beat. “What sort of opportunity?”

“To do exactly as you wish: raise money for Pierson House. Why not? I have a theater, don’t I? A business that can be dedicated—at least for one special day—to a cause more worthy than fattening my own pockets?”

Caution tempered her interest, but interest definitely ignited. Urgently. “Here, in this neighborhood of the Fourth Ward? Raise funds for an alternative to . . . well, to certain kinds of businesses this area of the city is known for?”

“You’d be surprised how those on the polite edges of the ward claim one thing while doing another. I’m sure we’ll soon have everyone in Denver talking about your Pierson House.”

“You’re willing to do this just because I won’t go to the opera with you?”

“Opera is not the point. I simply and honestly want to spend time with you. What better way than to work toward the same goal—together?”

Dessa continued to eye him. He was eager, all right. And a theater was a viable venue to raise a significant amount of money. But was it proper? She recalled how Remee had described Foster’s Verandah. As respectable as this end of town could get. What did that mean? More importantly, what would it mean to other donors supporting Pierson House?

But how could she not consider the opportunity, especially in light of losing the Plumsteads’ support? Was it just a coincidence that Mr. Foster should come along on this very day and present her with such an idea? Or was it all in God’s timing? God was known for answering prayers nearly instantly . . . and in unusual ways too.

Together, she and Mr. Foster might raise enough not just for next month’s payment, but to pay down a good portion of her entire debt to the bank. To Mr. Hawkins. Would Dessa’s impatience to open Pierson House be forgotten if she could pay off the loan without complete dependence upon the regular donors?

She removed one of her gloves again and extended her hand. “All right, Mr. Foster. Your offer is too generous to refuse. Come inside, won’t you? Perhaps we can start planning right away.”

21

ON SUNDAY MORNING, Henry ordered breakfast a full two hours earlier than usual for the only day of the week he did not go to the bank. He then summoned his driver, Fallo.

“To the City Garden, sir?” Fallo asked as he opened the carriage door. He never called it City Park or Denver Park as others did, but rather what the city hoped it would become one day: a vast garden to attract respectable citizens and discourage those who only wanted to escape the city’s laws.

“No, Fallo. No walk today, at least not for now.” He handed Fallo a slip of paper with an address scrawled on it, the same slip Henry had been given yesterday afternoon by a man he’d hired to bring him information. It hadn’t taken long to figure out where Reverend Sempkins was the pastor, and just as quickly he had verified that Dessa Caldwell attended there regularly, along with the White family. Henry even knew where they sat.

As Fallo looked at the address, he uttered a cough no doubt meant to cover a gasp of surprise. Henry settled himself in the carriage without so much as a glance Fallo’s way.

Henry knew what this meant, this venture into society. What more common way was there to join a community than to attend one of its churches? Every habit he had nurtured since he’d settled in Denver protested this as the wrong thing to do. This sort of action would undoubtedly have people thinking he wanted to get to know them. He’d likely receive more invitations to social events, to dinners. All things his diligently private lifestyle had diminished, despite the brief period of resuscitation Jane’s prank at the bank