Chapter 19

Elise wobbled on the ice and threw out her arms to balance herself against the slippery magnetism that seemed determined to drag her down. Her shoes had no tread or traction, which made the trek down Main Street more difficult. To make matters worse, she’d left her coat behind in the dormer room at the hotel.

She’d been too frantic to get help and had forgotten how the biting November wind caused the temperature to drop, turning puddles into tiny skating ponds. Her linen shirt and skirt were threadbare and provided little protection, no more than the shift she wore underneath.

Her mind screamed at her to move faster and flashed with the image of Fanny curled up into a ball on her bed, rocking back and forth without saying a word. The sight had frightened Elise when she went back to the hotel to change her skirt after spilling syrup on it.

Instead of finding an empty room, Fanny was there, her bodice ripped, blood streaking her skirt, and bruises around her neck—bruises in the shape of fingers. Elise tried to get Fanny to talk, to tell her what had happened. Had her boss beat her up again? Had she been attacked by someone on the way to work earlier in the morning?

But Fanny hadn’t answered any of her questions. She hadn’t spoken a word except to whisper that she wanted to die.

Elise panicked and ran to fetch the one person who might be able to assist. Thornton. Although he hadn’t worked in the dining room since his brother’s visit last week, he’d been in his office at the depot most of the time, poring over charts, figures, and diagrams with Mr. Hewitt. She hadn’t talked with him often or for very long, but she still cherished the rare moments when he’d come to the kitchen for an extra cup of coffee or to ask her about her day.

She tried not to think about Rosalind. Still, Elise had replayed in her mind dozens of times the conversation with Thornton. He’d claimed he didn’t love Rosalind. He certainly didn’t seem to be pining after her. Even so, the fact that he had ties to a woman back east, while not surprising, was still unsettling. Yet it shouldn’t have been, as she didn’t have any claim on Thornton and had never pretended there could be anything between them.

Yes, they’d had a brief lapse in judgment in the pantry and had crossed a boundary. Yes, she could admit they shared an attraction. And yes, she’d enjoyed every second of being in his arms and had relived the moment too many times to count. But that didn’t mean anything, just as his kiss hadn’t meant anything at the Chicago depot.

Her cheeks stung from the cold as she hurried along.

“Elise?”

At Thornton’s call, coming from the direction of the depot, she almost slipped and fell.

“What are you doing outside without a coat?” He hustled toward her, letting the depot door bang shut behind him. He shrugged out of his navy coat, which he wore over a matching vest. After the weeks of wearing casual attire while he’d done manual labor, she could admit he made a dashing figure in his fancier garments.

He draped his coat about her shoulders and pulled the lapels together, surrounding her with his spicy scent. He frowned. “Your teeth are chattering. We need to get you inside right away.” He began to guide her toward the depot, but she pulled back.

“No.” Her breath came out raspy from the tightness of her lungs. “It’s Fanny. She’s been hurt—attacked by someone. I’m afraid she might attempt to take her own life.”

From the blankness of his expression, Elise knew he had no idea who Fanny was. Nevertheless, he nodded, his expression turning grave.

“She needs help.” Her voice echoed the urgency that had been building inside her. “Can you help me save her?”

Thankfully, he didn’t ask any questions, reminding her of the day of the riots in New York City when he’d escorted poor Isaiah inside the mission. Thornton had acted first and asked questions letter. She appreciated that about him.

With the support of Thornton’s steadying arm, the walk back to the hotel took little time. Once inside, Elise raced up the stairs leading the way to the third story. When they ducked through the low doorway, Thornton stopped short as he took in the cramped quarters.

“Is this where you live?”

“No. It’s home to a group of trolls.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course it’s where we live.”

The lines creasing his forehead deepened as his eyes touched on each cot, including the one Fanny occupied. “There are five of you living in this tiny space?”

“Six.” Elise wound through the maze of clothes, bags, and other personal items that covered nearly every inch of floor space. She nodded to her bedding in the narrow spot where she slept. “Apparently, Hewitt only made arrangements for the original five employees, so I sleep on the floor.”

Thornton muttered something under his breath.

Elise made her way to Fanny and knelt next to the cot. Thankfully, in the short time Elise had been gone, Fanny hadn’t attempted to take her life. She gently touched the young woman’s back and took it as a good sign when she didn’t flinch as she had the other times. “It’s me, Elise,” she said softly. “I’m back and I’m going to help you.”

Fanny didn’t respond except to duck her head deeper into her arms.

Elise grabbed a blanket from the floor and wrapped it around Fanny. “Listen to me, Fanny. I want to move you someplace safe and warm.” But where? Perhaps another hotel room, if one was available.

She looked at Thornton, hoping he’d have an idea. He was stooped under the low ceiling, his face still lined with disbelief. Perhaps now after seeing their cramped living space, he’d understand why the charges for their boarding were too high. But now wasn’t the time to get into an argument about it. Fanny was their priority.

“She’d benefit from a bed,” Elise said. “Somewhere private.”

“She can have my room at the depot,” he offered. “I’ll move out and find somewhere else to live.”

“Really?”

“I won’t hear of anything else. Why don’t you move in with her to watch over her? It’s a double bed, big enough for two. ”

Elise could only stare at him, at the sincerity in his expression and the turmoil in his eyes. Her throat tightened with a sweet ache. He was truly a good man. No, he wasn’t perfect; he still had much to learn about the plight of people like her. But at least he was willing to learn. Even more, he was willing to make changes.

He’d done everything he could to help her glean more information about Marianne and the situation back home—sending letters and telegrams, having his New York agent do some investigating, even offering to make contact with Marianne on his next visit back east. Although she worried about her sisters every day, she knew Thornton was on her side. He was generous and kindhearted in helping her, and his willingness to care for Fanny proved it even more.

Fanny didn’t protest when Thornton lifted her into his arms. Elise tucked the blanket around the battered woman. Together they made their way to the depot, to Thornton’s room across the hall from the Grays.

The bedroom was spacious, as big as the one she shared with the women at the hotel. The place exuded style and wealth. A broad chest of drawers flanked by a gilded mirror stood against one wall. The double bed was graced with an elegant nightstand containing a globe lantern. Two wing chairs were positioned on either side of a corner stove with old-looking books stacked in piles around them. A lovely thick rug covered most of the floor.

Thornton deposited Fanny gently onto the bed, quickly gathered his belongings except his books, and then exited the room with word that he’d fetch warm water. Elise wasn’t exactly sure where to begin helping Fanny, so she was relieved when Mrs. Gray arrived and took over.

“I’ll clean her up,” Mrs. Gray said after she’d examined Fanny. “This isn’t something for a young innocent like you to witness.”

Elise reluctantly relinquished Fanny’s care to Mrs. Gray and returned to the dining room. When Mrs. Gray descended later, her face was ashen and her lips set grimly.

“How is she?” Elise asked quietly as Mrs. Gray limped into the kitchen and crossed to the stove.

“She’s been badly abused.”

“Did she talk to you?”

Mrs. Gray shook her head as she poured herself a cup of coffee, unable to hide the tremor in her hand. “Do you have any idea who’s responsible?”

“My first guess is her employer, Mr. Kraus, the tailor.” Elise thought back to all the times that autumn when Fanny returned to the dormer with one new bruise after another. Fanny had complained about his brutality, and Elise had no doubt Fanny’s stubborn personality had only escalated the situation. She’d likely resorted to passive measures that had incited Mr. Kraus further. Elise knew firsthand how irritating Fanny could be when she set her mind to it.

“Sadly I think you’re right.” Mrs. Gray took a sip of her coffee, without adding her usual teaspoon of sugar and cream, almost as if the occasion were too severe. Only bitterness would suffice. “I’ve seen the bruises he leaves on his wife and child, which shows him for the twisted soul he is.”

“I don’t know for sure,” Elise hastened to explain. She didn’t want to spread false rumors and jeopardize Fanny’s chances of returning to her seamstress work.

“Mr. Quincy is already investigating,” Mrs. Gray said. “I’m sure we’ll know soon enough.”

Throughout the rest of the evening, Elise took turns with Mrs. Gray in sitting with Fanny. Later, Thornton came in wearing a grim expression, yet he didn’t make mention of what he’d discovered, and Elise was too busy to attempt to corner him and ask about it.

She tried to coax Fanny into eating or drinking something, but Fanny only shook her head and turned away from her to stare at the wall. Once the light was out, the embers burning in the stove cast a warm glow over the room. Elise stood at the edge of the bed, debating whether to sleep on the floor or crawl in next to Fanny.

A real bed with a real mattress. The idea of spending just one night in comfort was more than tempting. She pressed her hand against it, feeling it mold to her weight.

“Sleep with me” came Fanny’s plea, barely audible. “Please.”

Elise’s chest constricted with the need to cry for this beautiful woman who lay broken and used and defeated. Fanny hadn’t deserved any of the heartache she’d faced in her life, not one bit of it. Not any more than Elise had deserved her heartache. They were the kind of women who were dispensable, easy to use up and cast off when the last amount of worth had been sucked out of them.

Tentatively, Elise sat down on the mattress, allowing herself a moment of pleasure. Then she swung her legs up, tucked them under the soft down comforter, and lay on her back. She stared up at the ceiling.

Thornton’s masculine scent lingered in the fibers of the comforter and mattress, and for a brief instant she imagined him lying next to her, his body brushing hers, his warm breath on her neck as it had been that day in the pantry when he’d come up behind her and held her. Her heart pattered faster at the memory.

Beneath the cover, Fanny’s hand touched Elise’s. At first Elise thought it was an accident. But when Fanny’s cold fingers gripped hers, Elise realized Fanny was holding on to her in more than one way.

Tears sprang to Elise’s eyes. “I won’t let you go,” she whispered, turning toward Fanny. Though Fanny was facing the wall, she’d reached out to Elise and there was hope in that. Perhaps Fanny was telling her she needed her, that with Elise by her side she’d be able to make it. Yes, it would be a dark and difficult journey ahead, but they’d walk it together.

“I won’t let you go,” Elise whispered again.

Fanny squeezed her hand in reply. And that was all Elise needed.

Was that the way it was with God too? When she was hurting and crushed by the weight of heartache, was God there holding on to her hand, telling her He’d never let her go?

Elise rested her hand on the ring necklace that lay against her chest, feeling the little cross through her nightgown. I won’t let you go. This time the whisper was God’s, and it came from deep in her soul, reassuring her and also warning her. Although she’d faced trials before, darker days loomed ahead, perhaps the darkest yet.

She needed to hang on to Him the same way Fanny clung to her. Maybe this time she’d be able to face the storms with courage and become the kind of woman her Mutti always believed she could be.

Shouts woke Elise out of a dream where she’d been floating in warm sunshine on feathers and fluffy cotton and soft down. She sat up with a gasp and for a moment tried to remember where she was. The warmth and comfort surrounding her was foreign, almost surreal.

The slamming of a door made her jump, causing the bedsprings to squeak. She blinked, combed her hair out of her eyes, and at the sight of the corner stove and its orange glow, she remembered. She was in the depot, sleeping in Thornton’s bed with Fanny.

Fanny? Elise patted the bed next to her and exhaled a relieved breath at the feel of Fanny’s warm body near hers.

Outside the depot came more shouts, even some cries.

“What’s all the noise?” Fanny asked sleepily.

Elise slid to the edge of the bed, letting the down comforter fall away. Immediately the chill of the room crawled over her skin, making her shudder. “Don’t worry,” Elise whispered. “You stay here and I’ll go see what’s wrong.”

Elise stuffed her bare feet into her boots and grabbed her coat from a hook on the wall. Slithering into the worn garment, she opened the door. Across the dark hallway, Mrs. Gray stood in her bedroom doorway in a robe, her hair plaited in a single braid that fell over her shoulder and hung down in front. She held a lantern, which illuminated the fear radiating from her eyes and turned her skin to a waxy yellow.

“What’s happening?” Elise asked.

“The new feed store is on fire.”

“Oh no!” The chill on her skin turned icy. “Thornton? Did anyone tell him?”

“He’s already out with the rest of the men attempting to keep it from spreading to the nearby houses and businesses.”

An awful dread thumped against Elise’s chest, and she started down the steps. She could imagine how discouraged and frantic Thornton would be. He’d already made so many sacrifices for the town and the people who lived here. In doing so, he’d jeopardized his ability to win the competition with his brother. Of course, he hadn’t come out and said so, but she understood it nevertheless. Now with a fire about to destroy the little chance he had left of staying in the challenge, he might grow desperate. What if he did something stupid in his attempt to save the building?

“You can’t go out there,” Mrs. Gray called after her. “It’s much too dangerous for a young woman.”

“I need to make sure Thornton’s safe,” she said over her shoulder.

“Please be careful.” Mrs. Gray’s admonition trailed after her. Even after Elise stepped outside, the dear woman’s motherly concern followed her and warmed her against the frigid cold of the night. The shouts and calls from the far end of Main Street drew her attention, as did the bright flames leaping out of the shingled roof, darting into the starless night sky.

Her heart sank at the realization the building was already engulfed. The brigade of men lined up from the well to the fire, passing buckets along from one hand to the next. But they wouldn’t be able to combat the serpent of fire winding through new pine, greedily licking and consuming everything in its path.

Sparks and small flames tossed by the never-ending prairie breeze had landed upon a nearby residence. The outline of one man in particular on the roof made Elise’s stomach churn. Thornton’s lean but muscular frame wasn’t hard to miss, especially because he was still attired in his business clothes. Almost as if he’d never gone to bed.

Elise couldn’t be sure of the time, but she guessed it was well after midnight. She didn’t want to think about the fact that after giving his room up to her and Fanny, maybe he hadn’t found a new place to stay.

Regardless of the cold that numbed her fingers and toes, she hurried down the street toward him, slipping and sliding on the ice the same way she had earlier in the day. When she arrived at the residence, she took a place in one of the bucket lines. As she worked, more people, including women, joined in the effort.

The fire at the feed store blazed higher and crackled louder. Soon it became apparent they wouldn’t be able to save it. So their efforts shifted to the buildings surrounding it. They doused them with water, and more men gathered with Thornton on the rooftops wielding wet blankets and beating out sparks before they could ignite.

The hungry flames feasted on the feed store until they consumed everything, leaving only a black skeleton in its place. When the last of the flames on the surrounding buildings was extinguished, Elise collapsed to the ground with some of the other women, her gaze straying once again to the rooftop where Thornton had tirelessly worked and still stood watching the last of the flames devour the feed store.

“Elise.” At the gentle voice next to her, she tore her attention away from Thornton to find Reinhold kneeling beside her. “You need to get out of the cold.”

He wrapped his coat about her shoulders over her own, which was now damp and cold from the icy water splashing her in the haste of passing the buckets. He slipped his arm around her and began to raise her to her feet.

“I want to help,” she protested.

“There’s nothing more to do,” Reinhold said, gathering her frozen fingers into his warm ones and blowing on them.

The heat of his mouth against her flesh awoke her to the ache in not only her fingers but also her toes. Reinhold was right. She’d likely develop frostbite if she didn’t get warmth back into her body soon. But she also wasn’t ready to leave Thornton. Yes, he was safe. But for a reason she couldn’t explain, she wanted to be near him, talk to him, comfort him.

“You’re freezing.” Reinhold blew against her fingers again. At the painful pricking, she cried out before she could stop herself.

Without waiting for her permission, he scooped her up into his arms and began striding toward the depot.

Elise glanced over Reinhold’s shoulder at the rooftop where Thornton was standing. She caught a final glimpse of him and realized he was staring after her. She wanted to demand Reinhold put her down so she could race back to Thornton, climb up onto the roof with him, and hug him. She could only imagine how discouraged he was at that moment. But it was unrealistic to think about going to him now in front of everyone.

Instead she relaxed in Reinhold’s arms and allowed him to carry her to the dining room. He deposited her in one of the chairs and ordered her not to move. He went into the kitchen, where she could hear him banging around. Mrs. Gray joined him and soon appeared with a basin of warm water and a hot cup of coffee. Not long after that, Mr. Gray returned, his face and clothes covered in soot, his hands raw and red.

The news he carried was dismal. The feed store was completely destroyed, and several of the surrounding businesses had been damaged. They sat and talked for a while and tried to warm themselves, until finally dawn began to light the sky.

All Elise wanted to do was go and find Thornton, but instead she trudged back upstairs and readied herself for the day, moving soundlessly so she didn’t awaken Fanny.

As she stepped into the deserted dining room, her heart leaped in her chest at the sight of Thornton talking to Mr. Gray. His back was facing her, but she could see the singe marks all across his coat and shirtsleeves where flying sparks had landed and burned through his clothes. His hair was disheveled and gray in places from ash. At Mr. Gray’s glance her way, Thornton spun as though he’d been waiting for her. His face, like Mr. Gray’s, was smudged with soot and bronzed from the wind and cold. But thankfully he didn’t have any evident burn marks.

His dark eyes drank her in like a man dying of thirst.

Mr. Gray cleared his throat. “I think I’ll go wash up and change clothes.”

Thornton didn’t acknowledge Mr. Gray’s statement, but instead continued to stare intently at Elise. Feeling overwhelmed by what she saw in his expression, she only nodded at Mr. Gray as he passed her. When they were alone in the dining room with only the occasional noises coming from the kitchen that told her Mrs. Gray was busy with breakfast preparations, she cocked her head at Thornton and attempted a smile. But it came out weak and wobbly.

“How are you?” she managed to ask.

He shook his head and dropped his eyes, but not before she saw the defeat there.

She crossed to him, wanting to comfort him but unsure how. “Thornton . . . I’m so sorry.” Even though she knew she shouldn’t, even though she was crossing the boundary between them again, she reached up and pressed a hand against his cheek.

He leaned into it and closed his eyes tightly. When he opened them again, he whispered, “Elise, I’ve failed. The challenge is over. I might as well send word to Bradford tomorrow that I’m withdrawing. When I return home next week, I’ll tell my father I’m done. Bradford can have leadership of the company.”

She pushed down her hesitancy and brought her other hand to his face so she was cupping both cheeks. “You haven’t failed. Maybe on paper you’ll fall short of Bradford, but what you’ve accomplished here in Quincy can’t ever be taken away from you. Look at all the people you’ve helped and all the lives you’ve changed. That’s not failure. That’s success.”

He studied her face. “I’ve always wanted to prove to my father I could do anything Bradford could. I wanted to show him he has every reason to be as proud of me as he is of my brother.”

“He should be proud of you. I’ve never known a better man than you.”

His arms moved to her waist, and he pulled her toward him, causing her to wrap her arms around his neck—not that she minded. In fact, she found herself relieved, finally where she’d longed to be all night.

She buried her face into his neck, savoring the day-old stubble on his chin scraping against her temple and cheek. She had the sudden urge to whisper the words I love you. The strong urge took her completely by surprise.

Did she love this man? Or did she only mean to comfort him with the words?

She squeezed him tighter. It didn’t matter right now how she felt. His feelings were all that counted. He was hurt and frustrated and discouraged.

“Maybe you won’t be the leader of your father’s company,” she murmured against his neck, “but you’ve earned the respect and leadership of this town, of these people. And that makes you a good man. Actually a great one.”

His hands splayed across her lower back, and one of them slid up her spine, making a trail until he reached her shoulder. Then his fingers encircled the back of her neck and turned her head slightly, enough for his breath to caress her lips.

Sweet warmth swirled inside her as his mouth brushed lightly against hers. But it was enough to stir a desire for more. She grazed her lips back against his, relishing the soft texture and curves.

Then with a groan his mouth captured hers fully, with an urgent, almost demanding pressure. There was nothing sweet about his touch anymore. Instead it was powerful and full of needing her. He’d lost a building tonight. Maybe even lost the competition and his father’s company. And now he needed her to be there for him, to care about him anyway, regardless of who he was and what he stood for.

She rose on tiptoes to show him she did care. She cared about him and wanted him to know what an honorable and worthy man he was. She molded her lips to his and met his passion with her own—a passion she hadn’t known existed in her. But as she pressed herself against him with both her body and soul, all the things she loved about him suddenly overwhelmed her until she was breathless.

She loved him. She couldn’t deny it any longer. She loved him more than anyone or anything. And because she loved him, she wanted him to be happy. To succeed. To win.

He needed to win. If he became the leader of his family’s company, he would have the power to make even more changes, to do even greater good. With his combination of sharpness and sensitivity, he’d be the better man to take over.

Yet how could he win if he held on to her? She wasn’t a wealthy lady of his social class who could bring a large dowry and help increase his status in society. He required someone elegant, refined, and graceful. Someone who was familiar with his world, who would be able to live in New York City and fit into the lifestyle he was accustomed to. Someone like she imagined Rosalind to be.

All Elise wanted was a quiet life with her family here in Quincy. She wanted to work hard, live simply, and carve out a new future. In the most secret of places, she’d allowed herself to fantasize about expanding the dining room to include a bakery.

Reality tapped on her shoulder with its hard bony finger, and she broke her connection with Thornton’s kiss and buried her face into his shirt. His chest rose and fell in rapid succession, and she could hear the thudding of his heartbeat. His breathing by her ear was ragged, making her pinch her eyes closed and fight the urge to lift her mouth to his again.

For a long moment they stood there, arms wrapped around each other, neither of them wanting to let go. But the more she lingered in his strong embrace, the guiltier she felt. She would only hold him back from all he was destined to do. A man of his position and wealth could do great things if given the chance. And she wanted him to have that chance. She could help give him that chance.

But she’d have to let go of him. At the same time she’d have to convince him to let go of her. And she knew he wouldn’t do that easily. After kissing her so passionately, his honor and sense of integrity would prompt him to offer courtship. She could no longer ignore the fact that he liked her, thought she was attractive. The jealousy with Reinhold had already shown her that.

“Elise?” he said in a low tone.

She fought back her longing to throw caution aside and be with him no matter what would come of it. She had to stay strong. For him. She would have to make him understand how much he needed to win the contest. She’d have to show him why it was so important to the people in this town that he end up their leader and not Bradford. And she’d have to do it quickly.

She pushed away from his chest. He resisted for only a moment before releasing his hold on her. She stepped back, and the chill of the room immediately engulfed her. “You can’t give up yet,” she said past the ache in her throat.

He cocked his head, his eyes warm and hungry. He reached out for her as though he meant to pull her back into his arms and kiss her again.

No! she cautioned herself. You have to make this sacrifice for him. For the greater good of all the people he’ll one day be able to help.

Even as she took a step back and slipped out of his grasp, his fingers grazed her arms. “You have to win the challenge, Thornton.”

Shadows then moved back into his expression. “I can’t. It’s over.”

“It’s not over,” she insisted. “You can’t let it be over.”

His shoulders slumped and he shook his head.

“If you care about the people of this town, for people like me, for my sisters, for women like Fanny, for the construction workers and farmers and the many other laborers who depend upon you, then you have to win.”

He didn’t move. Instead he stared at her, giving her a glimpse into his dark, brooding eyes as he weighed her words, sifting through the implications of what she was proposing.

“Your competition isn’t just about beating Bradford or proving something to your father. It’s about you moving into a position where you can use your leadership for good.”

“I understand what you’re saying, but the contest is over in just one month. There’s not enough time to repair everything the fire damaged and destroyed. And to continue building the rest of what the town needs . . .”

“We can find a way.”

Thornton walked to the window, raked his hand through his hair, and sighed wearily. “I’ve used up almost all my funds, Elise. Either I can buy the supplies to build or I can pay the workers. I can’t do both. Not until I find a new source of revenue.”

“You can’t give up. Not when you’re so close.”

When he nodded slowly, she gave a sigh of relief. Surely he could figure out something. He was smart enough to face the challenge.

He continued staring out the window. The sky was dark, the town quiet. After the busy night, she suspected most people would be late in rising. “Maybe I’ll go back east this week instead of next,” he said quietly. “I could work on convincing my father’s lawyer to give me a loan.”

Elise didn’t understand the financial workings that went into building a town like Quincy and had no additional advice to offer, except one. “While you’re there, you need to announce your engagement to Rosalind.” The name came out stilted, as if her lips were conspiring against uttering the name.

His head snapped up, and he spun to face her. His eyes were wide with disbelief. “You’re jesting with me, aren’t you?”

She wished she were. She wished this was one of those times of witty banter that she loved engaging in with him. Unfortunately, she was entirely serious even though her heart cried out against it. “You have to marry her in order to win. You know you do.”

“I don’t love her.”

“You’ll learn to.” She forced the words out. “If you give yourself the chance.”

“No. Not when I love you.”

At his declaration, all but her wildly racing heart came to a standstill. Had he just told her he loved her? He surely couldn’t mean it. How could he?

Before she realized it, he was already halfway across the room, striding toward her with a determination that made her stomach flutter. Something told her he was planning to pull her into his arms and kiss her again. If she let him, she wouldn’t be able to let go of him. Maybe ever.

She grabbed the nearest chair and dragged it in front of her. “Wait.” Her voice wobbled.

The chair and perhaps the hesitation in her voice stopped him. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and stood on the opposite side of the chair, his face drawn and his eyes tortured. “Elise,” he whispered hoarsely, “don’t do this.”

She couldn’t pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about. He cared about her. And she cared for him. They’d just shared a kiss that had expressed the depth of their emotions. Yet that was all it could be. A kiss. A moment in time. Nothing more.

“We could make it work,” he started.

She shook her head and cut him off. “Bradford said your father is pleased with your choice in Rosalind. And we both know I’m not the kind of woman your father would want for you.”

“It doesn’t matter what he wants.”

“Yes, it does.”

Thornton jammed both hands into his hair and stared up at the ceiling, frustration evident in every sooty crease of his face.

“When you’re done building Quincy, you’ll return east. You’ll have a life there, working for your father’s company and making a difference in the lives of those you hire, treating them like real people. You’ll need a woman in your life who understands your world and wants to be a part of it, and that’s not me.”

He didn’t respond, but the muscles in his jaw twitched, and she knew he was listening to her.

“I want to live here. I love being away from the filth and danger and busyness of New York City. I love running the dining room. I feel freer here than I have since I lost my parents. And I hope I can bring my sisters out here so they can experience this freedom too.”

He finally looked at her. His eyes were glassy with a pain so sharp, it pinned her in place. He didn’t offer any objections, which told her with sinking clarity he’d already had this debate with himself in the past and had come to the same conclusion.

While she should be relieved at his acceptance of her wisdom, her chest ached anyway. Maybe she’d wanted him to fight just a little harder for her, for them, even if it wouldn’t lead anywhere.

“When I go back, I’ll look for your sisters.” His words came out choked.

“Thank you.”

He nodded. “And when I find them, I’ll put them on the first train headed west.”

She shook her head. “I can’t pay you right now, and I won’t be in debt to you any more than I already am.”

“Blast it all, Elise,” he said, knocking the chair before spinning and striding away. “Let me do this, all right? I want to do it.”

The anguish in his voice halted her further protest. He returned to the window and stared outside once again.

She hated that she’d had to cause him pain, but in the end, their separation would be for the best, wouldn’t it? If it soothed him to do this one last thing for her, how could she say no?

“I’d be grateful to you,” she said softly. It would only make her love him even more. But she couldn’t tell him that.

He nodded, and somehow she could see that was all he wanted to say. Their conversation was over. And so was their relationship.

She had to leave before she broke down, lost all determination, and threw herself into his arms. With a resolve that used up the last of her strength, she crossed to the kitchen and left him behind.