Their Harlot Bride (Bridgewater Brides #7) - Golden Angel Page 0,3

Bridgewater had been fine, some of them even real pretty, but they’d had better ads.

It had taken so long for anyone to even answer William’s ad, I’d begun to think no one would. I’d even been a little disappointed, although I would never tell him. I didn’t think the ad had been a good idea from the beginning, but I hadn’t had a better one.

The wagon rumbled along the road, passing the fields of cattle and crops as we sat in silence. I could tell he had something on his mind, but I had no inclination to ask him what. He’d speak up when he was ready.

“Don’t you want a wife?” William finally asked, about a mile outside of town. He sounded a little worried. Considering the way I’d been acting, I guess I couldn’t blame him.

I did want a wife, but one I’d picked out—we’d picked out together. Marrying the only woman to answer the mail-order ad seemed like a recipe for disaster, but meeting a woman around here we’d want to marry, who wasn’t already claimed, would require as much luck as getting a good woman from an ad.

“I’m sure I’ll feel better when I meet her,” I said, which was about as cheery as I could make myself. I knew I would be much improved, even if she was a nightmare, because at least then I’d know. Not knowing anything was like an itch in the center of my back I couldn’t reach.

The telegram she’d sent had been short and to the point, which I would have appreciated any other time. She was coming from New York and claimed to be a hard worker, healthy, and was considered comely. Whether any of that would be true remained to be seen. Still, my heart began to beat a little faster as the wagon came closer and closer to town.

Our woman, a voice whispered in the back of my mind. Our wife.

A thread of excitement trickled through me, even as I tried to push it back. There was no point in getting excited until we saw her… and she saw us. Hell, she might not even want us once she realized it was an ‘us.’

William thought his ad had made it clear we were looking for a wife, but outside of this territory, who would believe such a thing?

Sassy

* * *

I spread the ad and the last telegram over my lap, re-reading the small scrap of paper over and over again.

Will meet you at the train station in Travis Point. Will have flowers for you. – William

Knowing how to look for him made me feel a bit easier, but only a bit. I glanced out the window to the golden fields rolling by. So open and empty, they went on for miles, making me feel even smaller than I already did. How could someone hide when there was nothing to hide behind? It was nothing like London or New York City, nothing like anything I’d ever known. I had to hope the difference and the many miles would be enough to keep me safe.

Heavy boots tramped down the train aisle, and I flinched, ducking my head as the man passed by my bench seat. He wouldn’t have been able to see anything, anyway. I had tucked myself between the window and a large woman who was both taller and broader, and I was still wearing my bonnet to hide my face.

My fingers shook as I looked down at the ad again.

Protected.

That had been the word I’d responded to. I wanted to feel safe again, even if I had to cross an ocean and go all the way to the Montana Territory to do it.

New York City hadn’t been safe. Lord Carmichael’s money got me there, and I’d found a job sewing in a factory until I decided my next move. I hadn’t dared ply my former trade. Part of me hoped Lord Carmichael might forget about me, but when I remembered his screams, the blood on his face, and the smell of his burned flesh, I knew I couldn’t trust that hope. For a man like him, I doubted an ocean could keep me from his vengeance. From the first, I’d known the city would be the very first place he’d look for me, so my only hope was to disappear.

Overhearing the other women in the factory, talking about men looking for brides out west, giggling as they read the ads in the paper, spurred me to look, too.