Chapter One

Cora

The office of the bridal broker offered only two types of chair, too soft or too hard. Nothing in between. Cora Singleton discovered this on her first visit when she selected the soft variety and very nearly plunged into the abyss. The other chairs, with their straight, wicker backs, forced her into perfect posture, which wasn’t unpleasant, but also wasn’t very comfortable. No matter. Her visit would be brief.

She sat in the chair directly in front of Miss Petit’s desk.

“I’m afraid I must bring up an indelicate subject, my dear.” Miss Petit folded her hands. “This sort of thing comes along every so often and puts me in a regrettable position.”

Cora schooled her features to keep from showing any sort of panic. If the man who’d offered for her insisted she be examined by a doctor, she’d have to abandon her plan to escape Boston. While she could fool some people, a physician might be a different story.

“Mr. Tarrant wants some assurance…” the woman’s words drifted off.

“Assurance?” Cora coaxed her lips into a gentle smile. “Assurance of what precisely?”

Miss Petit flushed. The color started at the base of her neck and crept along the lined skin to her jaw and slowly spread over her face. She pursed her lips with displeasure.

Cora remained silent.

“Dear Cora.” The woman smiled. “You’re one of the loveliest girls I’ve ever had the pleasure to work with. You seem so much more,” she paused and considered her words. “Refined. Genteel. It’s quite astonishing that you endeavor to undertake such a journey. Usually the girls who come through my doors possess fewer options.”

Cora held back an unladylike snort of disbelief. Not likely.

“And I’m certain a girl of your breeding wouldn’t be one to compromise her morals.”

Cora stiffened.

The woman closed her eyes and with a shudder let out a deep breath. Her shoulders sank. She opened her eyes again and gave Cora a resigned smile. “I might as well simply come out with it. Mr. Tarrant wants to be certain that you’ve retained your innocence.”

Cora let out a breathless laugh. “My innocence?”

“Yes, I’m afraid that’s it. He wrote me separately and asked that you swear you’re coming to Texas without the stain of sin.”

Without the stain of sin? That was certainly an easy answer. She was innocent. None of the men in her circle gave her anything more than a wan smile, before hurrying away. Boston’s upper crust ignored her, at best. She was an outcast, even in her own family. Especially in her own family. She was indeed innocent. That was an easy answer.

“I can swear to that. Certainly.”

Miss Petit smiled with relief. “Of course. I could have guessed. I hope Mr. Tarrant understands how lucky he is to get a beauty like you, even if he is a man of tremendous means. It’s not often I get an inquiry from a man who owns 25,000 acres. He’ll thank his lucky stars when he sees you. I’d give anything for that red hair. It’s the perfect shade of, what do they call it?”

“Titian.”

Miss Petit beamed. “That’s it! That soft, golden red simply takes my breath away. Every time.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Regarding that detestable subject, Mr. Tarrant wanted me to have you swear on the Bible, but we won’t bother.”

“I don’t mind in the least. I’ll swear to anything, as long as he doesn’t ask me about my fondness for sweets.”

“Sweets? I don’t believe a word. Not with your willowy figure. We’ll lay the entire matter to rest. What an uncouth thing to ask of a young lady. He’s going to fall head over heels when he sees you. Tell me, do you have the temper to go with the red hair?”

“Temper? Me?”

The woman tipped her head back and Cora watched her throat tighten with laughter. Did Miss Petit really want to know the extent of her temper? No one accused her of having a temper aside from her brothers. Last month, James suggested she live in a home. An asylum, really. He’d managed to evade the Waterford bowl she’d hurled at his bald pate, but not the teacup that followed.

“You don’t need to breathe another word, Cora. I should have your train tickets ready in the next few days. They’re first class, of course. I never permit my girls to travel all the way to Texas with the common riffraff.”

“I look forward to the trip. I haven’t set foot on a train since my parents passed away.”

Miss Petit shook her head. “How did they die?”

“Rheumatic fever.”

“Tragic.”

Cora’s eyes stung. She blinked back the tears. A moment ago, she’d been calmly imagining her trip to Texas, but the mention of her parents made her hopes and dreams seem foolish. She’d leave Boston and the last memories of her parents. For what? For a world she couldn’t begin to imagine.

As the youngest child and the only girl, her parents had doted on her. Her father joked that he’d chase all of Cora’s suitors away, so he could grow old with his wife and lovely daughter beside him. He enjoyed nothing more than spending the evening with his “two girls” at the symphony or theater.

Cora didn’t tell Miss Petit how her older brothers intended to sell Singleton Manor, so they could support their wives in the manner they demanded. It was a matter of time before she’d be forced to leave her home and depend upon the charity of friends.

“I miss them every day,” Cora said. “I live alone, and have for the last year. It’s just me in the house day after day. I’m lost without them.”

“Of course, you miss your parents, dear girl.” Miss Petit gave her a sympathetic smile. “But now you’re embarking on a new life. Just a few days away. I must say I’m always a little envious of my girls when they set off.”

“I am excited. And nervous. And a hundred other things.”

Miss Petit sighed. Her smile faded, and her frail shoulders drooped with exhaustion. She winced as she pushed away from the desk.

Cora moved quickly, circling to the back of the desk. Twice, she’d seen Miss Petit nearly fall. Watching the woman struggle against her obvious pain never failed to upset Cora. Marigold Petit was the embodiment of kindness. Over the last few months she’d become precious to Cora.

Miss Petit refused assistance, and while Cora wouldn’t help her, she’d position the wheelchair in the right spot and wait in a manner that she hoped appeared unobtrusive. She didn’t want to humiliate the woman. Cora knew the pain of being treated like an invalid, but she didn’t want Miss Petit to hurt herself either.

“Damned polio. If I weren’t confined to a wheelchair, I’d be on that train with you, dear.”

Cora smiled, a rush of warmth blooming inside her. “And if you were on the train with me, I wouldn’t have so many butterflies.”

Miss Petit positioned herself next to the wheelchair and shifted to the seat, her teeth clenched, and eyes squeezed shut. Cora stood stock still, ready to assist, but without hovering. Slowly, Miss Petit inched her way onto the chair. When she was situated, she lowered the armrest and gave Cora a tired smile.

“Daria, my assistant, will have the train tickets,” she said. “But I do hope you’ll find me, to say good-bye.”

Cora clasped her hands and considered the woman’s words. Good-bye. Of course, she would find Miss Petit to say good-bye. As she looked down at the old woman’s face and studied the faded blue of her eyes, it occurred to her that Miss Petit might be the only person in Boston that she would miss.

There were her friends, of course, but most of her friends had drifted away. Some had married. Some wrote letters or stopped by for the rare visit, but, mostly they were embarrassed by her. And her brothers were no different.

One day she’d been a glittering debutante and the next she’d been the source of her family’s shame. Not long after her illness, her parents took to their beds, both consumed with raging fevers. Her brothers often remarked that at least her parents had the good manners to die from their illness.

“I will come to say good-bye to you, Miss Petit. I wouldn’t dream of leaving without seeing you one last time.”

Miss Petit grasped her hand. “I’d hoped as much, Cora.”

The woman squeezed her hand and let it drop. “I always insist on taking at least a dozen meetings with the girls I send to the West. It’s important that I know them and can assure my clients that I choose a woman of quality and high moral fiber. It’s always bittersweet to see them leave, but in your case, I actually feel a little heartsick.”

Cora didn’t know what to say. She shifted her weight and tried to respond with something appropriate.

Miss Petit went on. “But you’ll write, of course. I can’t wait to hear about your new life and Mr. Tarrant. I’m sure, over time, you’ll grow to love him, and God-willing, have children. A big and happy family.”

Cora swallowed. “God-willing.” And if he doesn’t send me right back.

Miss Petit pushed herself away from the desk, and with slow, painful movements, wheeled herself to the window. Cora moved beside her and stood in front of the woman, trying to appear natural and relaxed.

The sun warmed the spot near the window, despite the cold late-winter day. The night before, snow had fallen and lay deep outside, but the sun had come out, offering a dazzling view of Miss Petit’s garden.

“I’ll take my leave then,” Cora said. “Shall I tell Daria you’re ready for your afternoon tea?”

Miss Petit nodded. “That sounds lovely, dear.”

Cora noted how the woman’s shoulders drooped. She looked exhausted. Miss Petit had run the bridal brokerage for years. She was a fixture in Boston. Cora wondered how much longer she would carry on her work. Cora had been lucky to have Marigold Petit help her find an arrangement in Texas. Despite a thousand misgivings about her plan, she dared feel a small flutter of excitement.

“Thank you, Miss Petit,” she said softly. The woman gave a nod, dismissing her. Cora left, shutting the door behind herself. She wrapped her cloak around her shoulders, said a few words to the assistant, ordering Miss Petit’s afternoon tea, and left for the empty halls of her home.