“Perk up, dearest.” Nell’s mother deposited a glass of champagne into her hand. “I don’t know what has caused those unsightly circles beneath your eyes, but you had best compensate for them immediately, for heaven’s sake. You are far too pretty to mope about.”


    You always know just what to say, Mother.


    Standing beneath the foyer archway in the family receiving line, Nell looked wearily down at her glass. The raspberry garnish bobbed inside a bath of rising bubbles, the flowery fragrance making her stomach churn. That extra mug of beer had seemed like a fine idea last night. Oh well—the trip to Sandman had been worth a day of suffering. Safe inside those brick walls among friendly company, dim gaslight, and her favorite band, all troubles melted away.


    Nell put on her best face and greeted the entering guests. Colonel Downs in his crisp evening suit adorned with medals, and his son Robert, a dashing Lieutenant. A French ornithologist, in town to exhibit his private collection of stuffed birds at the museum. Papa''s political colleagues from City Hall with their wives and children of various ages. The flow of people seemed to go on forever.


    Eventually, Mr. Talbot arrived. He’d been old friend of Arthur’s and had set his sights on Nell before her husband lay cold in the ground. The imperious man used every occasion as an excuse to shower her foyer with gifts, from Washington’s birthday to the strictly Nebraskan holiday of Arbor Day.


    “Good evening, Eleanora.” He took up her gloved hand when he reached her position in the receiving line. “You look radiant as always. I daresay you’re the only redheaded woman I know who can manage wearing pink so well. The roses on your gown match the complexion of your cheeks perfectly.”


    “A high compliment indeed, Mr. Talbot,” she said with a routine courtesy. “You flatter me far too much. I do hope you enjoy the party.”


    Edwin—Nell’s brother-in-law—was quick to greet Mr. Talbot next, granting her a reprieve from having to chat with him any longer. Besides, Mr. Talbot was bound to find her at least once tonight and harass her for a dance and a flirtatious conversation.


    An hour and dozens of guests later, her cheeks burned from smiling, her feet ached from standing, and the untouched glass of champagne in her hand had completely warmed. Everyone had arrived… everyone but John Baldwin. With any luck, he’d changed his mind and taken the first train out of Des Moines this morning. Perhaps he realized how selfish he’d been in coming here. That he didn’t stand a chance with Caroline.


    Well, she wasn’t about to sit around and wait to find out what he’d decided. When Papa finally deemed it appropriate to leave the foyer, Nell followed closely behind her sisters and into the party room. The glistening decorations that Mother and Margaret had arranged outshone the soirée of well-dressed partygoers. What Mother lacked in terms of maternal instinct she made up for with extravagance.


    Silver vases, displaying exquisite bouquets, had been placed on every sparkling surface. Ribbon-filled garlands laced with crystal draped the walls and candelabras, a string sextet played Brahms and Strauss in the corner, and servants milled about with polished beverage trays. The aroma of finger-foods, perfume, citrus, and flowers wafted through the air. Yes, Penelope Hubbard never disappointed when it came to planning parties.


    Nell still hadn’t found a private moment to ask Caroline about the letters. Now certainly wasn’t the time either, as the entire state fawned over her. Nell halted her steps, watching as Caroline and Margaret approached a cluster of young men—Harold Brown, Warren Fletcher, and Roderick Hatch. Mr. Fletcher stood out the most, with his chiseled jawline, pomaded blond locks, and regal build. But they were all handsome, all wealthy, all seemingly polite.


    Nell had met them at events before, but now, in the presence of her youngest sister, she could watch their courting behavior unfold.


    “I’d say that champagne has passed its prime, wouldn’t you?”


    She gasped. Peering over her shoulder, she saw John hovering behind her with a cool smile. Drink in hand and impeccably dressed, he looked at her glass. “Mr. Baldwin.” She could barely mask the disappointment in her voice. “You nearly made me scream. How long have you been here?”


    “How long have I been standing behind you, or how long have I been at this party?” His chocolate-brown eyes darted around the room with amusement. “I assume it’s the latter.”


    The aloof style in which he spoke grated on her. “Yes, the latter.”


    Retreating a step, he removed his pocket watch and flipped open the case, lips pursing as he read the time. Only now did she notice how his bottom lip was slightly thicker than the top. Had his lips always been so full? “Half an hour, I’d say. Maybe a bit less.”


    “Odd. I didn’t see you arrive.”


    “That is probably because I entered through the service entrance at the back of the house.” He returned the watch to his pocket, appearing oddly pleased with himself. “Too many people were milling about the front. I hope you don’t mind that I came in the non-traditional way. It felt more secretive.” He winked. “Fun, too.”


    She stared at him, dumbfounded.


    “Now, as for your champagne, Mrs. Rutledge—”


    “Who told you my formal name?”


    “Your friends, of course. Martha and Sarah Beth. We chatted about you shortly after I arrived” —he lifted his own flute to his mouth— “holding you in the highest esteem, of course.”


    “I see.” Irritation sliced through her. She really must learn to associate with a less gossipy group. “Well you needn’t call me that. Nell will do just fine.”


    “I always thought you went by Nellie?”


    “I did. But lately I’ve preferred Nell.”


    “As you wish.” Tilting his head back, he finished off his drink. “Would you care for me to bring you a fresh glass? Though, you seem to have hardly touched that one. Are you not feeling well?”


    “I am quite well, thank you.” She placed her flute on a passing tray. “I''ve simply decided not to indulge in any alcohol this evening. I must be in a present state of mind at all times for my sister.”


    “Ah. You play the martyr very well.”


    “Thank you.” Standing beside him felt awkward.


    “Eleanora! Oh, Eleanora!” Caroline moved away from her male guests, waving her gloved hand above everyone’s heads in a summoning gesture. “Come here a moment, won’t you? Help us settle a debate over word pronunciation!”


    Nell was glad of the interruption. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Baldwin.”


    “John,” he said with a crooked grin.


    “Of course.” She dipped her head and, with a tight-lipped smile, left to join her sisters.


    Oh, how strange he was! Entering through the kitchen? Gossiping with her friends? Not that she knew him well enough to differentiate odd from normal behavior. And did he have to look so debonair in his coat and tails? With that voluminous, neatly parted hair?


    Just as Nell reached her sisters, Mother squeezed between them like birds on a short branch. “Caroline Hubbard, you cannot summon people from across the room,” she chided through an overly emphasized smile and several flicks of her fan. Everyone knew Mother had the ears of a hound and the eyes of a falcon. “It is very, very rude. If you wish to speak to your sister, you must go to her quietly and discretely. I have raised you better than this, and I do not want to see that type of behavior again.”


    “I’m sorry, Mother.” Caroline answered, unaffected by Mother’s criticism. She looked so beautiful in her pearls and frilly ivory gown, while Margaret fussed with the positioning of her sleeves. “What was I thinking? Too caught up in the excitement, I suppose. By the way, everyone is simply fawning over your decorations. Mrs. Clark said this is the most beautiful party she’s attended in years.” Caroline took a generous sip of champagne, and then turned to face Nell. “You on the other hand don’t appear to be having much fun at all, dear Nellie. It pains me to see you so sleepy. Maybe you should go upstairs and rest.”


    “I agree.” Margaret placed a gentle hand on Nell’s arm. “A small nap works wonders.”


    “I doubt your sister knows the meaning of relaxation anymore,” Mother commented under her breath. “Perhaps if she let her nanny tend to the children more often instead of…”


    Mother’s words faded into background noise, as Nell noted Caroline’s glossy eyes and the subtle rouge atop her cheeks and nose. “Caro, how many beverages have you consumed thus far?” she asked.


    “More than enough for any young lady, that’s for certain.” Mother plucked Caroline’s glass from her hand with a condescending glance. “From now on it is only water for you, my dear.” As she floated away, Caroline wrinkled her nose in defeat.


    “Nellie is that—” Margaret squeezed Nell’s forearm, her brown eyes agape. “Is that John Baldwin standing over there?”


    Nell turned. John was mingling amidst a cluster of guests, shooting his mouth off as if he were the best friend to all of them. The men nodded, and the women swooned with their fans. One gentleman even clinked his glass to John’s while everyone else laughed. A first-class charmer, seemingly more than his brother. But charm, as Nell had learned, masked many flaws.


    “John Baldwin?” Caroline stood on her toes and spotted him. “Oh, he came! How sweet of him! I simply must say hello. Perhaps he will fetch me another glass. Watch out for Mother, will you?”


    She bounded off toward the group.


    “Caro...” Nell reached for her but retracted. She wanted to be as invisible as possible tonight; to spy, not hinder, and because she felt simply exhausted.


    Thankfully, the portly Mrs. Fredricks stepped into Caroline’s path, stealing her away with a conversation. Her sister’s plans had been curbed for now.


    "She never listens to reason, and I doubt she will start now,” said Margaret. She opened her lace-trimmed fan and peered over it across the room. “But why is John Baldwin here, Nellie? Who on earth invited him?”


    “Mother, I suppose,” Nell fibbed.


    “Did you know he was on the list?”


    Nell shook her head. Margaret preyed on gossip. If she knew Caroline had shared letters with John, she wouldn’t shut up about it all week. With a cordial smile, Nell acknowledged a couple passing party guests. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Mother invited the entire Baldwin family and everyone else we know in New York.”


    “I suppose you’re right.” Margaret''s gaze darted to Caroline, her thin, perfectly manicured brows knitting together. “The nerve of that man, daring to show his face after ruining your engagement to Teddy. If only Mother knew how he and Caroline had been cavorting this past summer.”


    “You know about that?” Nell asked in astonishment.


    “Of course. And how he proposed to her.”


    “Proposed?”


    “She turned him down, of course.” Margaret’s expression grew curious. “I was sure she would have said something to you. Though they aren’t engaged, I still worry about their friendship. Do you know what that man’s reputation is like these days?”


    Nell felt the color drain from her face. She swallowed past the knot in her throat, her nerves threatening to jump out of her skin like fireworks. John had failed to mention the small detail of a proposal during their visit yesterday. Why hadn’t Caroline said anything to her?


    “I do not,” Nell whispered. “Please educate me.”


    Margaret sipped her champagne and leaned in sideways, the way she always did when she had a juicy piece of gossip to share. “You remember my best school friend, Gertrude Bushwick?”


    Nell nodded, suddenly wishing she had a drink in hand.


    “Well, she and I share a monthly correspondence. She tells me all about her life and the happenings in Westchester.” Leaning closer, she lowered her voice even more. “Anyway, Gertie says that John has become somewhat of a cad in his twenties. Why, just last spring he was seen with at least five different women in public— All of them far below his station and looking less than reputable. He flits about town, attending parties and clubs until four o’clock in the morning and doing anything he pleases. I won’t even mention the several scandalous trips he used to take to Chicago. They say the man is frivolous… he has no ambition nor discipline. He is an advocate of pleasure, and the only reason he would pursue a proper wife would be if he had to. Apparently, his father has threatened to cut him off.”Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    As usual, Margaret’s words were a mile-a-minute. Heat ran up Nell’s sternum and settled in her throat. A relentless devil indeed! So, he needed a wife to keep the funds flowing. And Caroline was the innocent target!


    But why had Caroline kept everything from her? Dear God, could she still hold some sort of interest in the man? Or, did she truly invite him out of friendship, or pity after rejecting him?


    It didn’t matter. John’s intentions were clear, and Nell could no longer hold her tongue. The more she watched him—watched him basking confidently in her parent’s house, infecting everyone he met with his charm—the more spite she felt.


    He had to go.


    * * *


    Warren Fletcher sipped from his wineglass, puffing his chest like a peacock among a gobble of turkeys. “So, you have known Miss Hubbard since she was born? I give you credit, Baldwin. I doubt I could find romantic interest in someone I remembered as once having ribbons in her hair, playing with rocking horses and dolls.”


    John raised an eyebrow at his tawny-haired adversary, who stood a few inches taller than him. He’d chosen to establish himself immediately by setting down some roots—and it had worked. For all Fletcher knew, John and Caroline’s families shared every summer, Easter Sunday, and Christmas dinner together in New York.


    “Really?” John countered, swirling his glass of merlot. “In that case, you must only be interested in much older women, sir. For even a lady your exact age would have worn knee-length skirts in your presence at one time or another.”


    Roderick Hatch, the shortest and stockiest in the group, cringed in jest. “Perhaps Mister Fletcher simply wishes to imagine all his conquests born as adults.”


    “No,” added James Ackert, a dark, curly-haired fellow, and the eldest in their circle by eight years or so. “I’d wager the women he grew up with simply never took interest in him.”


    Hatch chuckled, raising his glass. “Hear, hear. A toast to Mister Fletcher, the biggest competition in the room.”


    Everyone but Fletcher laughed and joined the toast.


    “Good evening, gentlemen.”


    John turned to find Caroline standing at his shoulder, her silky cheeks dimpled by a vibrant smile. The three other men straightened and their eyes lit. She looked so angelic in her white taffeta gown and long satin gloves. Her sunny hair had been looped into attractive piles atop her crown, with tiny corkscrew curls draping across her forehead in layers. A delicate string of pearls rested at the base of her neck.


    “Mister Baldwin.” She smiled with genuine vibrancy, offering her hand. “It is so wonderful to finally see you here in Des Moines. I’m delighted you could make it.” Pride swelled within him as she curtseyed, but before he could respond with a greeting, she addressed the rest of the group. “Mister Hatch, Mister Fletcher, Mister Ackert, it is always a pleasure. Thank you all for coming.”


    “I daresay the pleasure is all ours, Miss Hubbard,” Hatch answered with enthusiasm.


    She giggled flirtatiously, like a seasoned actress. “I was wondering if I might ask a favor. I seem to have misplaced my drink. Would one of you gentlemen mind fetching me a new glass? I’d be ever so gratef—”


    “I’d be happy to,” Fletcher offered.


    “Please, allow me.” John stepped in front of him. “Mine is nearly empty anyway. I was just about to go off in search of a beverage tray.”


    Her smile broadened. “How very kind of you, Mr. Baldwin. Thank you.”


    “You’re most welcome.” John shot a smug glance at Fletcher. Smoke practically emitted from the handsome Midwesterner’s ears. Good.


    Turning blindly, John collided straight into Nell. The deep burgundy liquid in his glass almost spilled over her. With his free hand, he reached out and grasped her bare shoulder in reflex. Her azure eyes flashed with shock and, for a moment, it appeared she might slap him.


    “My apologies.” He dropped his hand before her disapproving stare.


    She checked her blush-colored gown. “No harm done, thankfully.” Her silky tone was cordial yet edged with steel. “Mr. Baldwin. Just the man I was looking for. Do you mind if I borrow you for a moment?”


    His eyes darted from Nell to Caroline, and then to the men surrounding her. He smothered a curse, meeting Fletcher’s icy, triumphant gaze straight on. It seemed Iowa won this battle. When he returned his attention to Nell, she brazenly latched onto his eyes, stubborn and unmoving. Frustration rippled through him.


    In a low, composed voice, he replied, “Of course,” and then offered his arm.


    Hesitantly, as if his jacket were made of poison, she clutched him. His muscles tensed beneath her hand. He could feel the hostility seething from her—the awkwardness growing with each step they took away from the party. Christ, had she somehow seen him behind the crates last night? Was she going to accuse him of spying?


    Maneuvering through clusters of guests, Nell guided him toward the open patio doors. The sun set only moments earlier; glowing pinks and deep purples painted the twilight sky, and fireflies twinkled about like stars dancing in the lawn. They stepped rigidly out into the cool air. John downed the remainder of his wine and placed the glass on a passing servant’s tray. If only he had something stronger on hand.


    Might as well get it over with. “What is it you wish to speak to me about?”


    “I shall tell you in a moment,” she answered in a tight voice. Glancing around, she led him to a circular iron bench wrapped around the trunk of a tree, isolated from the other guests. “I apologize if you found me rude for pulling you away, but something has been weighing on my conscience.” She gestured to the bench. “Please, take a seat.”


    Without a word, John sat. As she lowered beside him, his nose caught a bit of her scent. She smelled feminine and sweet, like lilies and rosewater.


    “I cannot tell you what a surprise it was seeing you after so many years. I’m glad your brother is well, and I don’t doubt that you have a promising future in whatever field you pursue. Unfortunately, that future cannot continue here. I’m afraid… I must ask you to leave.”


    He drew his lips inward. He knew she''d been lying yesterday when she''d played nice in the parlor, but he’d hoped things would grow more civilized with time.


    “I must protect Caroline, you understand,” she continued, folding her hands in her lap like a stuffy schoolteacher. “My sister is a very pretty girl, but she is so much more than a pawn or a prize. She is beyond important to me, and she must be treated with the utmost respect. I am sure you have admirable intentions for her now, but I have good reason to believe that this match might compromise her future happiness and—”


    John held up a raised palm. This woman had always been a thorn in his side, and yet he forced himself act the gentleman. Not this time. “Please. I know it’s been several years, but can we dispose of the proper talk?


    “I beg your pardon?”


    “You don’t like me.” He shrugged. “I know that. Why not call things as they are?”


    Her eyes grew large and her back became ramrod straight. He slouched a little, just to annoy her. They exchanged a long, bitter look. Then, his gaze slipped to her exposed collarbone. Pale like peach-tinted cream, it looked even softer and more delicate than he remembered. And those damned breasts, swelling tastefully out of her scooped neckline. Why couldn’t this woman have turned into a haggard old witch over the last decade?


    “Fine. You cannot marry my sister,” she said, cold and exact.


    Ah yes, a witch on the inside. So, she hadn’t seen him last night—this was still about old grudges and Teddy. He rolled his eyes. “You’re being childish.”


    “Am I?” Her brow furrowed in regal disdain. “I know your father has threatened to cut you off. Caroline is the simple choice, isn’t she? Not only is she close to you, but she is probably the purest woman you know. Well, her heart will not be used for your own financial gain. You will not take her innocence, only to toss her aside every time you become bored with her. I’ve learned all about your extensive reputation with women. I will not let my sister’s blossoming life be sullied by a lazy, spoiled, selfish, materialistic, immature, pig-headed—”


    “You’ve made your point.”


    “I am not finished.” The teardrop pearls dangling from her earlobes swayed as she glanced around for bystanders. “You are also pretentious, promiscuous, and completely insensitive.”


    “Insensitive?”


    “The nerve you must have to keep in touch with my sister of all people,” she hissed, lowering her head as well as her voice. “Your brother was the first man I’d ever loved. When our family left New York, he wrote me every day, assuring me nothing would change and that he would propose before the year was through. Do you know how shattered I was when they gradually stopped coming? When I received that final, gut-wrenching note from you on his behalf? Can you imagine for a second what that heartbreak felt like?”


    He hesitated, willing himself not to look at those heavenly breasts again. “For pity’s sake you are punishing me for something I did when I was a boy.”


    “Seventeen is hardly a boy.” Her expression remained cordial for public eyes, yet her words dripped with venom. “You thought I was wrong for your brother. I know you are completely wrong for my sister. What’s the difference?”


    He leaned against the cold metal back of the bench. “I wonder… how do you fit all those snakes under that tight auburn wig of yours?”


    A flash of fury crossed her face, destroying her composure. Every attractive curve of her body spoke defiance. Hell, he’d never been so drawn to her. How could someone be as alluring as they were off-putting? But he would not let her win. They stared at one another across a long, ringing silence.


    “You will leave tomorrow morning,” she demanded, spacing the words evenly, “and never speak to my sister again.”


    Folding his arms, he gazed at her smugly. “I don’t think so.”


    “Oh, yes, you will.” Her dainty nostrils flared. “You will, or I’ll have my father throw you out. Just wait until he and my mother find out that you’re here—that you spent the entire summer courting Caroline. That you’ve been writing to her these past ten years. You have scandal written all over you. They will be outraged.”


    So, the little minx wanted to make threats, did she? Two could play at that game. “Not nearly as outraged as they’ll be after learning that their eldest daughter sneaks off to working class dance clubs in the late hours of the evening.”


    She shot him a penetrating glance. “What are you talking about?”


    “I saw you last night. You strolled out of some basement door behind the buildings on Wooster Street with your maid. You were drunk, and you wanted to take off your shoes.”


    “Ah, there she is!” Mayor Hubbard exclaimed, approaching with a tiny, sniffling girl in his arms.


    Nell’s eyes sunk, deep with panic. “Please don’t…” she whispered with a shaky voice.


    Rising fluidly, she straightened her shoulders and cleared her throat. Her once rosy complexion had paled into that of a ghost’s; her expression resembled someone who’d received the death penalty. She looked so terrified, so vulnerable, so unlike her.


    A stab of guilt assailed John as he stood. He despised blackmail more than anything, but he had no choice. She’d been the one to threaten him first. She would not make a fool of him. He wouldn’t be destitute. He wasn’t going home without Caroline on his arm.


    Nell’s stout, balding father approached, oblivious to their discussion. “Gracie here took a bit of a tumble on the veranda steps. She said she wouldn’t stop crying until we found you.”


    “Mama!” The little girl sobbed, ribbons of tears rolling down her round, dimpled cheeks.


    In a flash, Nell appeared to shift from cornered mouse to concerned mother bear. “Oh, my little button. I’m so sorry you fell down. Where does it hurt?” The little girl pouted and pointed to her red knee. “Oh yes, I see that now,” Nell coed, examining the bump. “Just a little scrape. I shall give it a kiss and make it all better.” Ever so gingerly, she pressed her lips to the child’s knee. Then, she brushed her thumbs gently beneath the little one’s wet eyes, drying her face. “There we are, no more tears. How does that feel?”


    The girl sniffled, removing her wet thumb from her mouth. “Better.”


    “Mother’s kisses are magic, aren’t they?” Hubbard said, shifting the child’s weight on his hip. John held his breath as the older man observed him. “May Grandfather bring you back to Luther and Johanna, so your mother can continue her conversation with this nice young fellow here?”


    She reached for Nell, her eyes welling with more tears. “No. I want Mama.”


    “It’s all right. She can stay with me for a little while.” Nell held out her arms.


    “Very well.” He passed the toddler to her. “Just don’t let your mother see you coddling her, Eleanora. You know how she gets. She will never understand your modern methods of child-rearing, and she blames your countless exhaustion for it.” Turning to John, he extended a hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. Walter Hubbard.”


    Shit.


    John clasped the man’s plump hand and shook it. “John Baldwin. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Hubbard. And congratulations on your mayorship, sir.”


    “John Baldwin?” The older man jerked his head back. “As in young Johnny Baldwin from New York? By Jove, I hardly recognize you!” His jowls rippled as he laughed. “You’ve grown into quite the man, son. It is so good to see you. Is your father here too?”


    “It’s just me, I’m afraid.”


    John stole a glance at Nell, bracing himself for an interruption. Two deep lines of worry lay between her brows. He’d been so intent on blackmailing her, but with a small child present—an adorable, crying toddler with a scraped knee—could he summon the gall to do it?


    “I invited John,” Nell said, stepping forward.


    Good Lord. Relief spread through him, despite Hubbard’s outward look of shock.


    “You?” the man arched a bushy eyebrow. “After all that mess with Theodore long ago?”


    Damn, but the old man was blunt. So nonchalant about his daughter’s humiliation.


    John felt bad for her, but he quickly realized Nell could hold her own. “That was years ago, Papa,” she said with a false, cordial smile. “Besides, it wasn’t John’s fault. It would be uncouth of me to hold him accountable for his brother’s actions.” She glanced at John, just long enough for him to see the daggers before addressing her father again. “We’ve remained in correspondence from time to time. I wrote to him a few weeks ago asking him to come to Caroline’s party. I thought it would be nice to see one another in person again.”


    The mayor smiled. “A marvelous idea. You and your sisters were certainly fond of the Baldwin brothers growing up.” He clapped a swollen hand onto John’s shoulder. “I couldn’t be happier that you’re here, son. Welcome to our wonderful town of Des Moines. I hope you don’t mind a three-year-old joining the remainder of your conversation.” He patted his granddaughter’s blonde head. “I will see you later, dearest angel.”


    “Bye, Gamfather!” said the little girl, wrapping her arms around her mother’s neck.


    Once Mayor Hubbard had left, Nell sighed. “This is my daughter Grace.”


    John couldn’t help but grin at the child. Between Teddy and Lottie’s four children, he had plenty of experience in talking to little ones. He stepped forward on bent knees, lowering his face to her level. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss Grace. My, that’s a pretty blue dress you’re wearing. Can you name any other things that are blue?”


    Sucking a stubby finger, Grace shook her head. “I like purple.”


    “Oh, I see. Purple is a wonderful color too, isn’t it? The color of grapes, and plums, and royalty. It’s also the very last color in a rainbow, which means it’s the most important.”


    Grace giggled, burying her face in the crook of her mother’s creamy neck.


    “Thank you,” Nell’s voice was a broken whisper, “for not saying anything.”


    John straightened, grasping at whatever false authority remained inside. “Your father doesn’t know I convinced my brother to end your courtship?”


    She shook her head. “I never told my parents the truth.”


    That was a surprise. He cleared his throat, reaching around to grasp the back of his neck. “I… assume we have an understanding then? You say nothing, I say nothing.”


    She nodded, her expression tired with defeat. “Yes.”


    Why did he suddenly feel horrible? Was it the genuine fear in her eyes? Was it witnessing that ounce of humanity she showed towards her daughter? Whatever the reason, he needed to stop. Nell’s feelings couldn’t get under his skin—not if he wanted any chance of saving his inheritance. Caroline made him happy. Money made him happy. This was his game. He would remain strong, unaffected, and in charge.


    Coyly, Grace lifted her head. She smiled at him with big blue eyes, as Nell nuzzled her cheek. “Mama, John said purple is the most important rainbow color.”


    John’s heart melted.


    Damn.