Chapter 2
Savannah, Georgia
Mandie Beaumont’s stomach lurched as the final hymn swelled through the church, the organ notes pounding in her skull. She gripped the edge of the pew, her knuckles white as she fought the rising nausea.
The moment the reverend finished the benediction and people around her began to gather their belongings, she stood and slid out of their row.
“Amanda?” Her mother’s voice called behind her. “Where are you going?”
She couldn’t stop to answer. Moving made the bile surge up to her throat. She had to reach the powder room before…
Pushing through the door to the ladies’ chamber, she barely managed to latch it behind her before everything inside surged out.
She gripped the cool porcelain of the basin as her body trembled with each heave. How much longer would this sickness last?
Two weeks now, and the nausea seemed to be worsening. Maybe she should call for Dr. Wilmont like her housekeeper kept suggesting.
At last, she poured clean water over her hands and wiped her mouth. When she dared straighten, a glance in the mirror showed a worse picture than usual. Her face, pale as parchment. Her eyes, rimmed red, and the shadows underneath, as dark as her hair.
She had to get back before her mother came looking for her. Papa would be off brown-nosing with his constituents, encouraging their votes in the mayoral election this fall. Mama would be doing the same with the ladies, but she would expect Mandie at her side.
She inhaled a deep breath, then cleaned up as best she could.
At last, she took in one more breath for courage and stepped back into the church’s main hallway.
Her mother stood near the portrait of the Virgin Mary, engaged in conversation with Mrs. Ashton and her daughter, Louisa, who had married last spring.
As Mandie approached, snippets of their discussion reached her ears.
“...been feeling so poorly, I can barely keep anything down,” Louisa was saying, one hand resting on the full skirts covering her middle. “Dr. Wilmont says it’s all quite normal in my condition, but I do hope it passes soon.”
Mrs. Ashton patted her daughter’s arm. “It will, dear. Why, when I was carrying you, I was indisposed for months. But it’s all worth it in the end.”
Mandie froze. A chilling realization crept through her, dulling Mama’s response.
Could she be...with child? The very thought made her ill all over again.
She’d missed her courses last month, but she’d assumed it was due to the constant stress and fear that Clayton would come for her again.
Perhaps it was more. Perhaps the horrible thing he’d done had left her with more than just nightmares and shame.
Mandie barely felt her mother’s hand around her arm, leading her away from the Ashtons with a polite farewell. Her mind reeled with the implications. What would happen if she was found to be with child too long after her husband’s death for it to be his?
How could she find out for certain? She couldn’t call Dr. Wilmont. He knew every family of their acquaintance. He would tell her parents. And they would…
She couldn’t think about what they would do. The scandal. It would ruin her father’s chances at the mayoral election, destroying everything he’d worked his entire life to achieve. His dreams.
And her mother...Mandie’s heart clenched at the possibility.
She’d already been pushing Mandie toward Clayton Beaumont, her deceased husband’s brother.
No matter that Mandie made it clear she abhorred the man.
Would her mother now push harder, knowing Mandie carried his child?
Even if she learned the awful way her condition had been forced on her?
Mandie’s breath stalled in her lungs. Fear choked her. But she pushed the panic down as her mother guided her through the crowd, smiling and greeting acquaintances. Her mother seemed to have a destination in mind, and Mandie had little strength to protest.
“Clayton, how lovely to see you.” Her mother’s cheerful greeting made Mandie’s chest seize.
Clayton’s tall form loomed before them.
No. His dark eyes raked over her in a way that made her skin crawl. The memory of his hands on her, his weight pressing her down, flashed through her mind, and terror clawed at her throat.
She couldn’t stand there and pretend everything was fine, not with the truth of what he’d done growing inside her. She had to leave.
She pulled from her mother’s grasp and spun away.
Nearly running, she wove between people, her mother’s voice calling from behind.
She didn’t stop. Not until she reached her carriage, which Mr. Mortimer had thankfully already brought around. He looked down from the driver’s bench, and she gave him as much of a smile as she could muster. “Home, please.”
Then she jerked the door open and plunged inside. She yanked it shut and collapsed onto the seat, finally letting herself rest.
As the carriage lurched into motion, she leaned her head against the cushioned seat, eyes closed, trying to still the racing of her heart. The jostling of the wheels over cobblestones made her stomach churn again, but she fought it back.
She had to think. To plan.
She couldn’t stay in Savannah, that much was certain.
Not with the soon-to-be-evident truth of her condition and the scandal that would follow.
And certainly not with Clayton prowling around, forcing his suit at every opportunity.
She’d told the servants not to allow him entrance to the house.
But Clayton used every public opportunity he could find. He’d even won her parents to his cause.
She had to get away from him. But where could she go?
The letter from Mr. Balfour flashed through her mind. His offer for her to come west, to his ranch in the Montana Territory, to meet him and see if they might suit.
She still couldn’t believe she’d responded to his advertisement in the Daily News and Herald, but the listing had been so unusual.
A rancher of noble birth, seeking a wife gently raised.
And the bit about preference given if she was from England or possessed familial connections living there.
The man must be from that country himself.
He would likely receive few responses from women who fit his description and were desperate enough to travel to the wild territories for a husband.
She fit the description though. Her grandparents still lived in England on their estate in Kent. Mama had met Papa when he’d visited on his grand tour, and they’d been married before traveling to his home in Savannah.
Was it Providence that led her to Mr. Balfour’s advertisement? The thought had prodded her to send him a letter.
At the time, she’d been desperate to find an escape from Clayton’s relentless pursuit and her mother’s pressure to remarry the moment she was out of mourning.
Mr. Balfour’s words had offered a glimmer of hope—a chance at a new life far from the stifling expectations of Savannah society.
Even after mailing the letter, she’d not truly believed anything would come of it.
But his response had been prompt and gentlemanly, expressing his sincere desire to make her acquaintance and explore the possibility of a match. He’d made it clear she would be under no obligation, that she could return home if she found his ranch in the west unsuitable.
That option sounded far more promising than staying in Savannah. Here, so close to Clayton’s clutches. Yet could she trust this stranger to be any better? At least there, she would have choices.
God, is this the right step?
She waited, listening, searching for an internal tug.
Nothing came, but something in her spirit felt a little quieter. Not quite at peace but…settled with the decision.
As soon as she reached her townhouse, Mandie hurried inside, ignoring the concerned looks from the servants. She made her way up the sweeping staircase to her room and latched the door behind her.
With shaking hands, she pulled out the letter from Mr. Balfour and read it again, though she’d nearly memorized every word.
His descriptions of the vast mountains and untamed wilderness called to a part of her soul she hadn’t known existed.
A place where she could start anew, free from the shame and scandal that would surely follow if she stayed.
A new thought slipped in. When he found out about the baby, would he turn her away?
She inhaled another deep breath and straightened her shoulders.
If he did, she could simply buy a home there and settle on her own.
She had more than enough money from her late husband’s businesses to live on, and she would be free from Clayton’s pressures.
She moved to her writing desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. But as she dipped the pen in the inkwell, she hesitated. If she sent a letter, it would likely reach him at the same time she did.
A telegram would be faster. She would send it today and make preparations to depart on a morning train. Her maid, Abigail, would help her pack in secret. She could trust her to keep this confidence. Abigail had become a good friend these past few years.
Mandie took a deep breath and began to write, choosing her words carefully to fit the telegram’s brevity.
MR. WILLIAM BALFOUR STOP ACCEPT YOUR OFFER STOP DEPARTING SAVANNAH NEXT TRAIN STOP WILL WIRE UPON ARRIVAL IN ST LOUIS STOP RESPECTFULLY AMANDA BEAUMONT FULL STOP
As she read over the words, her heart pounded even harder. This was madness, leaving everything she’d ever known for a strange man in an even stranger land. But also…exhilarating.
What would he be like? Rugged? Hard-edged? His letter made him sound kind.
Her Nicholas had been kind, though distant. If she could find another such man, she’d be thankful.
Whatever this Montana rancher was like, she would learn the truth soon enough.