Mail-Order Viscountess (Lords of the Rockies #3)

Chapter 1

Butte, Montana Territory

The crate hit the wagon bed with a satisfying thud, and Thomas Balfour scraped a sleeve across his forehead as he turned for another.

The morning sun had climbed higher over Butte’s ice-hardened streets, melting some areas into slush.

Though his breath still formed small clouds as he moved, loading supplies for the ranch had burned through the cold in his limbs.

The physical exertion felt good. Better than standing still. Better than thinking.

“That’s it for the baking goods.” His older brother James hefted another wooden box alongside where Thomas placed his. “Mrs. Wang will be happy they finally have these spices back in stock.”

Thomas grunted and pushed a crate of nails and tools in next to the others.

James had been acting strange all morning—cheerful in that forced way that meant he was hiding something. And James’s wife, Rose, had been glancing at Thomas with an expression he couldn’t quite read. Pity, maybe. Or concern.

Were they hiding something from him?

The mercantile’s back door stood propped open despite the cold, and Rose’s voice sounded from inside, discussing fabric with the shopkeeper.

It didn’t seem like all three of them had needed to come on this supply run, especially since Butte lay a full day’s wagon ride from their ranch.

Thomas could have handled it alone, or James and Rose could have made a holiday of it—newlyweds that they were.

But his oldest brother, Enoch, had insisted. Something about having help if the weather turned bad and the road became impassable. At least coming to town had given Thomas the chance to order the last of the supplies he’d need for the trip west.

A familiar wagon rolled past the alley, and Thomas glanced up to take in the pair on the bench. Two Stones and his wife, Heidi.

These two traveled the area sometimes, trading for specialty items, though their home was farther west. Good people, these. They’d brought Enoch’s wife to the ranch last year when she’d been injured and in need. No telling how many others they’d helped in their travels.

Two Stones reined in his team beside their wagon, his expression as unreadable as ever, though his dark eyes held a friendly glint. Heidi raised a gloved hand in greeting, her smile as warm as her husband’s was hard to read.

“Good to see you both.” James stepped forward, brushing his hands on his trousers. “How’s the trading?”

“Fair enough.” Two Stones’s voice carried that quiet steadiness Thomas had always appreciated about the man. “Heading south to the Bitterroot before the passes close.”

“You two should stop by the ranch next time you’re anywhere close.” Thomas moved in beside his brother. “Mrs. Wang would think it’s Christmas if she had the chance to feed you for a night or two.”

Heidi chuckled and leaned against her husband’s arm. “We might just take you up on that.”

Two Stones gave one of his rare almost-smiles—little more than a softening around his eyes—and dipped his chin. “We’ll find you.”

The pair rolled on, their wagon disappearing around the corner toward the livery, and Thomas turned back to the supplies. He gripped the edge of another crate and hauled it toward him. The wood bit into his palms even through his work gloves.

“Thomas.” James’s voice came from too close behind him. “Leave that one. We need to talk.”

The hair on the back of his neck prickled. What now?

“Plenty of time for talking on the ride home.” He grabbed the box and swung it up. “Still got half a wagon to fill.”

“The supplies can wait.”

Something in James’s tone made Thomas drop the crate into the bed harder than necessary. He turned and pulled off his gloves. “What about?”

James shifted his weight, glanced back toward the mercantile door, then met Thomas’s eyes. “There’s a reason we wanted you to come with us to Butte.”

“Obviously.” Thomas crossed his arms. Now they’d finally get down to it.

James scrubbed a hand through his hair—the movement was a sure sign bad news was coming.

“Just say it.” Thomas leaned against the wagon, crossing one boot over the other in a show of casualness to hide the clenching in his gut.

“We’ve, um… We thought… That is, Enoch, Robert, and I discussed it, and we felt…”

“Spit it out, James.”

His brother’s shoulders straightened, taking on that older-brother-knows-best posture Thomas despised.

“You’ve been different since the knighting ceremony.

Restless. Taking more risks than usual.” James held up a hand before Thomas could protest. “Don’t deny it.

That business with that three-year-old stallion last month? You could have been killed.”

“But I wasn’t.” He kept his voice level, though it took everything inside him. “I broke the horse, and now he’s bringing a good price from that rancher in Helena.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point, James?” He spat the words. “You brought me all the way to Butte to lecture me about my horse training methods?”

Rose stepped from the mercantile, a wrapped parcel in her arms. Her face blanched when she saw them, and the look she and James exchanged stoked the fire burning in his chest.

This had nothing to do with horse training.

James turned back to him, and his voice dropped to a no-nonsense tone. “We’ve arranged something. Something we think will be good for you.”

Arranged something.

Thomas could count on one hand the number of times his brothers had arranged anything for him that turned out well. Usually their planning involved more responsibility at the ranch, more reasons to stay put, more ways to keep him from the life he actually wanted. A life in California.

“What kind of something?” He clenched his jaw to keep his anger in check.

“A bride.”

The world tilted sideways for a moment. He had to have heard wrong. “A what?”

“A mail-order bride. She’s arriving on the afternoon stage.”

The words burned in the cold air between them.

Thomas stared at his brother. He had to have misheard.

The sounds of Butte filtered through—a wagon rattling past on the street, someone shouting about fresh deer meat, a hammer striking metal at the smithy.

Normal sounds. Ordinary sounds.

But James had said something impossible.

Thomas finally forced out words. “A bride?”

“A mail-order bride. For you.”

A mail-order bride. What in the Bitterroot Mountains were they thinking?

His brothers had summoned a woman all the way out here, presumably from back East, and hadn’t bothered to ask him first?

Heat flooded through him, flaring hot and fast. The nerve of them. The absolute gall.

“No.” The word came out flat. Final.

James stepped closer, hands raised in that placating gesture that made Thomas want to hit something. “Just listen. We’re worried about you. Ever since you came back from Fort Benton with that new title, you’ve been—”

“Been what? Myself?” Thomas pushed off from the wagon. “Sorry if that’s inconvenient for you all.”

“Marriage settles a man.” James glanced at his wife. “Gives him something to live for. Something to—”

“So you bought me a wife?” The absurdity of it choked him. “You think shackling me to some stranger is going to make me want to stay? I don’t need settling.” Thomas clenched his hands into fists. “I need to be left alone to live my life.”

“You don’t know what you need.” Rose spoke for the first time. She set down her parcel in the wagon bed. “Thomas, I understand how you feel. Truly, I do. But sometimes the very thing we think will trap us is actually the thing that sets us free.”

He barked out a laugh. “That’s easy to say when you chose your husband. When you had a say in your own future.”

The hit landed—he saw it in the way Rose’s face tightened—and a sliver of remorse slid through him. Given her past, that was an especially low blow.

Yet his chest felt like it might crack open. His brothers had betrayed him. All of them. Enoch, Robert, and James. Even their wives, and probably Mrs. Wang too.

They’d sat around discussing his life, his future, as if he were a problem to be solved rather than a man with his own mind. Sure, he was the youngest in the family, but how incapable did they think him?

“When does this stage arrive?” He bit out the words.

James glanced at the sun’s position. “Three hours. Maybe four.”

Three hours until some unsuspecting woman showed up looking for her new husband. A husband who hadn’t asked for her, didn’t want her, and sure as Montana winters were cold wouldn’t marry her.

“You’ll send her back.” He grabbed his gloves from where he’d dropped them and started toward the main street.

“We can’t do that.” James moved to block his path. “She’s traveled all this way. Given up everything—”

“Not my problem.” Thomas shouldered past him. “I didn’t invite her. I didn’t write to her. I didn’t make her any promises. You did.”

The rage felt good—clean and hot and righteous. Better than the hollow feeling that had been eating at him for months. Ever since that ill-fated event in Fort Benton with the queen’s cousin that ended with him being knighted for failing to protect a man.

He stomped down the alley between buildings, splashing through half-frozen puddles. The main street of Butte stretched before him, crowded with freight wagons and miners and the usual chaos of a town flush with silver money.

Somewhere in this mess of humanity, there had to be a saloon. Not that he’d drink more than coffee. He’d never been able to stand that rot-gut whiskey. But he needed to lose himself somewhere.

James called after him, but Thomas didn’t turn back.

James, of all people, should have understood. James had been the one who listened when Thomas talked about California, about starting fresh somewhere nobody knew the Balfour name or cared about English titles that meant nothing out here. James had nodded and said he understood the restlessness.

Apparently understanding and respecting were two different things.