The Bride (The Wedding Series) - By Christine Dorsey Page 0,1

from the West. From Montana.”

Eleanor’s fingers stilled and she glanced up quickly, but her eyes dropped to the emerald green carpet of grass before John could meet her gaze. “How fascinating.”

“I own several copper mines,” John said, hoping to stir a bit more interest in the object of his quest. But before she could respond—if indeed she intended to—they were joined by a short, dumpling shaped woman garbed in miles of folded and tucked scarlet satin.

She eyed John with mistrust then clamped her ringed fingers around Eleanor’s elbow. “Sir Alfred is waiting for you by the fountain. I can’t imagine what you were thinking, Eleanor. Come along.”

“Yes, Mother.”

John expected her to leave without a backward glance but before she turned to follow her mother, Eleanor paused. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bonner,” she said, then swallowed. Her expression when she looked up at him was almost apologetic, but that wasn’t what had John stumbling over his words.

“The... the pl... pleasure was all mine.” Heated color rose past his winged collar. The sensation was one he hadn’t felt since he was a boy. And it wasn’t welcome. But then neither was the stammer in his speech. He had worked hard to rid himself of that imperfection; hadn’t been bothered by it for years. But standing there with the cool sea breeze filtering through his dark hair he felt like a child again. He could almost feel the heat of New Orleans creeping up his spine, smell the sour scent of stale sex, and hear the practiced moans of his mother as she entertained her current client.

God, what was it about Eleanor Fiske that had caused him to make a fool of himself? Were her eyes that disarming? John watched Eleanor trail along behind her mother whose hat sported a life-size stuffed bird and took a deep breath. He’d never seen eyes that shade before. They were green, but not exactly. More the color of the sea in the Caribbean, a cool, clear turquoise.

John’s jaw tightened. It mattered not at all if her eyes were green or brown or bright purple, he reminded himself. What he should concern himself with was getting her to say more than three murmured words to him and to keep himself from stammering in reply.

After clearing his throat, John turned toward his host. “Your daughter seems pleasant enough.” All signs of the stammer were gone.

“I told you she was reserved.”

Reserved, hell, the woman was painfully timid. And after seeing her domineering mother John could understand why. But he said nothing and apparently Franklin took that as a sign that John wasn’t satisfied with their agreement.

“Your marrying Eleanor isn’t a good idea. I said so from the moment you came to me with your ridiculous scheme.”

John’s brow arched. “As I recall you found nothing ridiculous about the money.”

“Would you keep your voice down?” Franklin glanced about nervously, but there was no one paying them any heed.

“Ah, that’s right. You think no one knows of your unwise speculation in the stock market. Or how you were unable to pay off your debt.”

John was in New York arranging for the sale of one of his mines when he heard of the financial woes caused by speculation on the East spur railroad stock. Most of the financiers were able to cover their losses without too much difficulty. But rumors swelled about Wall Street that one man, Franklin Fiske, would be in serious trouble if he couldn’t come up with a considerable amount of cash quickly.

A few discreet inquiries had told John all he needed to know about Franklin Fiske and his marriageable daughter. With bank notes in hand John walked across Wall Street and demanded to see Franklin Fiske. He’d found the pillar of society pacing back and forth in his mahogany paneled office. John offered him the cash he needed to cover his losses and Franklin had jumped at the salvation. He wasn’t getting out of the payment.

“I’ll get the money to pay you back somehow,” Franklin was saying as he pulled a large handkerchief from his frock coat pocket and wiped at his face. He perspired heavily though John thought the temperature very pleasant.

“I don’t want your money Franklin.” John had more money than he’d ever need. “I want you to live up to your end of our bargain.”

“But you can’t possibly want her now that you’ve seen her...” Franklin’s face mottled red. “I mean... I’ve given you the introduction you wished. And I’ll agree to