Chapter 5
Chapter Five
They stepped out of the back parlor together. Caleb’s eyes flicked across the main office again, spying Miss Goodhart at a long table. Her head was bent over several sheets of paper in concentration. The rabbit sat in his cage beside her, calm, his ears twitching now and then.
Caleb watched them a moment, noticed how pretty Miss Goodhart was, and looked away. He didn’t come here to notice the likes of her. Besides, the three Merriweather sisters were determined he shouldn’t.
“Miss Goodhart,” Augusta called across the room. “This is Mr. Hartwell. He’ll be assisting us today.”
Miss Goodhart looked up, surprise flashing across her face.
Her gaze met Caleb’s for a moment, and he gave her a polite nod.
“Good morning, Miss Goodhart.” He turned his attention back to Augusta.
He didn’t want to get into a conversation with the young woman, not yet.
And when he did, would he get in trouble for it?
He glanced her way one more time, noticed her pink cheeks, then gave a nod to Augusta. Clearly, Miss Goodhart was either embarrassed or irritated.
Caleb looked around again, if only to make a show of not looking at Miss Goodhart, and noticed Josie’s eyes narrowing on him. She watched him like a hawk. Margaret, on the other hand, was looking around one desk, then another. “Has anyone seen my spectacles?” she asked.
Josie rolled her eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, sister. You were just wearing them.”
“I was not, or was I?” Margaret said, perplexed. “Perhaps if I wore them more often, I wouldn’t lose them so much.” She blinked a few times. “Though I suppose I can get along without them for a time.”
“I should say so,” Josie said. “You lost them for three months the last time. I’ll help you look.” She joined Margaret at the desk and began pulling out drawers, then peered at her sister’s head. “They aren’t hiding in your hair, are they?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Margaret said, eyes wide. She reached up and patted her hair. “But you’re right. I was just wearing them. Where could they be?”
Before Caleb could smile at their antics, Augusta handed him a stack of papers.
“These are intake forms,” she said, her voice crisp. “I want you to read them and familiarize yourself.” She cleared her throat. “Mr. Hartwell, let me make it perfectly clear. You will not speak to any prospective bride until we tell you it’s appropriate. Is that understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a nod. He took the papers and moved to the nearest chair, sitting as he skimmed them. He made it through two forms before the office door opened and a gust of cold swept in, followed by a woman who looked as though she’d never been inconvenienced by weather in her life.
Her hands were tucked into a fur muff, and her hat was trimmed with something expensive-looking. She wore an expression of lofty discontent, as though the world had failed to provide her with proper admiration that morning.
Caleb’s eyebrows shot up. She wasn’t the type he wanted to converse with, but he supposed he should give her a chance. That is, if the sisters allowed him to speak with her.
“Good morning,” Augusta said, her hands folded before her. “Welcome to the Sisters’ Mail-Order Bride Company. How may we help you?”
The woman lifted her chin and looked down her nose at Augusta. “My name is Miss Felicity Hogspeth,” she said.
Caleb’s jaw twitched as he tried not to smile. Hogspeth? He’d never heard such a name. He glanced at Miss Goodhart to see her reaction, but her head was still bent over the papers in front of her.
Josie looked the woman up and down. “What can we do for you?”
Miss Hogspeth didn’t so much as bat an eye in Josie’s direction and instead approached Augusta. “I’m seeking a husband, naturally.”
Margaret gave her a polite smile. “Of course, we can certainly…”
“A wealthy husband,” Miss Hogspeth cut in. She waved one gloved hand, as if wealth were the only language worth speaking.
Caleb blinked a few times. If that was the case, what was she doing here?
Augusta’s smile didn’t waver. “We have clients of various means…”
“I said a wealthy husband,” Miss Hogspeth clarified, as if she thought Augusta slow-witted. “I have no interest in scraping by.”
Ivy stopped sorting through the papers in front of her and looked up. The expression on her face was a mix of shock and disbelief.
Miss Hogspeth zeroed in on Augusta, her voice crisp. “I prefer a man with an estate and a grand house. Of course he must have staff, horses for riding, and perhaps a gardener or two.” She took out a handkerchief and dabbed delicately at her nose. “I will not be going west to live in some shack.”
Caleb’s jaw dropped. Could the woman be any more direct or unashamed?
Augusta’s smile looked fixed in place by sheer willpower. “Miss Hogspeth, let me reiterate that we have gentlemen from a variety of regions. Currently, we have a grocer in Nevada City, California…”
“A grocer?” Miss Hogspeth wrinkled her nose. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Josie rolled her eyes. “What’s wrong with a respectable man who sells food?”
Margaret glanced at everyone, then jumped in. “And we have a rancher in the Montana Territory.”
“A rancher?” Miss Hogspeth gasped, as if the word tasted like dirt. “Absolutely not.”
Augusta clasped her hands tighter. “There’s also a blacksmith in Silverton, Oregon, but… oh wait, no, we’ve found someone for him.”
“It’s just as well,” Miss Hogspeth spat, looking appalled. “A man who spends his days sweating and hammering metal. Can any of you imagine me married to such a beast?”
Caleb coughed and quickly covered his mouth, trying to keep from laughing. This woman was horrible.
Josie’s eyes narrowed. “I imagine it would be quite dreadful. The man might ruin your appetite.”
Miss Goodhart’s eyes widened at Josie’s words, yet Caleb could tell she was biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, just as he was.
Miss Hogspeth’s gaze swept over the room, as if seeking someone more suitable to address. When her eyes landed on him, Caleb’s spine tightened. He didn’t move or react. Instead, he let his face settle into the calm, unreadable expression he’d learned to wear whenever someone was sizing him up.
Miss Hogspeth’s eyes lingered on him longer than propriety allowed. A shiver went up his spine.
“Is that one of your clients?” she asked, her interest unmistakable.
Augusta’s smile tightened. “That is Mr. Hartwell. He’s part of our staff.”
Miss Hogspeth blinked as she looked him over again. “He doesn’t look like staff.”
Josie shot Caleb a warning glare. He returned his attention to the papers in his hands, pointedly ignoring Miss Hogspeth.
The haughty woman sniffed and turned back to Augusta. “Surely you must have someone suitable.” She brushed at something on her shoulder.
Caleb looked up to see Augusta’s smile still in place, while Margaret’s expression was polite but strained. Josie, on the other hand, looked like she was weighing whether murder would ruin their reputation.
He smiled at that, then glanced at Miss Goodhart. She stared at Miss Hogspeth with open disbelief. And who wouldn’t, considering the things coming out of the woman’s mouth?
Caleb let out a tiny sigh as a familiar cold settled in his chest. Wasn’t this exactly what he feared? A woman who looked at a man and saw only what she could take?
He lowered his gaze to the intake forms and forced his breathing to steady.
If women like Miss Felicity Hogspeth existed, and obviously they did, then he would have to be extra careful.
Good grief, they even came into the Sisters’ Mail-Order Bride Company!
And the last thing he wanted was to hand his life over to greed that wore too much perfume and a pretty dress.
Ivy figured the worst of the day was behind her.
She’d survived Mr. Grimsby that morning and made it through her interview with the Merriweather sisters. And she’d been hired on trial, with King Alfred in a cage at her feet no less. That alone felt like a small miracle.
Unfortunately, she sensed the universe was about to humble her.
A low, eager WOOF sounded through the office, drawing everyone’s attention, including Miss Hogspeth’s.
“Oh no,” Ivy whispered. “George!”
King Alfred shifted in his cage. His foot thumped once, hard. The universal rabbit language for I do not like where this is going. Ivy pulled the cage closer.
Across the room, George burst through the door leading to the back rooms like an avalanche. He raced into the office, barking at Miss Hogspeth. Ivy had no idea what the sisters used to barricade George in the kitchen, but obviously he’d gotten through it.
“George!” Josie cried.
George ignored her and made a beeline for Miss Hogspeth, then skidded to a stop, his eyes locking onto King Alfred’s cage.
Ivy stood so fast her chair toppled over. She pointed a finger at him. “George, don’t you dare!”
The dog barked once and lunged. Ivy snatched up the cage and backed against the wall. She heard a small click and groaned. She knew that sound. It was the latch to the cage. The jolt from hitting the wall was all it took to unlock it.
Sure enough, King Alfred launched himself out of the cage with the desperate grace of a creature with no intention of becoming someone’s lunch.
He hit the floor running, then zigzagged beneath one desk, then another, with startling speed.
Ivy had promised herself to fix the latch.
She just hadn’t gotten around to it. Now she had no choice.
George barked and skidded after poor Alfred, his claws scrambling on the wood floor.
Then Cleopatra joined in.
The cat leapt from her perch on the bookshelf, landed squarely between dog and rabbit, and arched like fury unleashed. She hissed at George, then swiped at his nose, making him yelp.
“Cleopatra!” Margaret cried.
The cat hissed again and, to everyone’s astonishment, especially Ivy’s, darted in front of King Alfred and swiped at George’s nose again. George yelped a second time and scooted back.