Braxton didn’t see Phoebe for several days. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he was busy taking care of business. He’d been in Chicago a little over two weeks now. Christmas was approaching, and he’d have to head home soon. He sent a telegraph saying he’d be returning a couple of days before Christmas, but he made no mention of a bride.
A bride.
The sisters hadn’t come up with anyone for him other than Miss Poppinstock, and she’d been successfully matched with Mr. Pringle. Augusta informed him as soon as he entered the office on Tuesday.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” the sisters gushed. “Another successful match!”
He’d smiled and taken George for a walk. Phoebe hadn’t arrived yet, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to get through the day.
Phoebe had a job now. Something she’d been desperate for. She didn’t have to move. She could support herself. Phoebe could build a comfortable life right where she was. Having such strong feelings for her almost made him feel guilty. But in truth, why would she want to give up everything she now had to marry someone like him? The life he offered was hard. The one she’d been handed suited her far better.
Still… she was stronger than she realized. Phoebe had grit. Fortitude. The kind that saw a job through to the end.
He sighed as he walked George through the park. The dog trotted along happily, stopping now and then to sniff at the snow. “What do ya say, boy? Ya gonna stay with the sisters? Or would ya rather come home with me?”
George barked but offered no real opinion.
Braxton laughed and turned back toward the office. He caught sight of Phoebe just as she went inside.
“Well, there she goes,” he murmured. “I bought something yesterday that maybe I shouldn’t have. But doggone it…” He looked down at George again. “I suppose it’s all for the best.”
He started off again and noticed a well-dressed gentleman entering the office. Now who could that be? From this distance, it was hard to tell. He hoped it wasn’t Mr. Pringle. Had he’d already changed his mind about Miss Poppinstock?
When Braxton finally reached the office and stepped inside, the man was seated in front of Augusta’s desk. Phoebe sat beside him, staring straight ahead while the man openly appraised her.
“Hmmm, I don’t know,” the man said. “I’d rather not have a wife who works. I want a hot meal when I get home. And what about children? I have five. Someone has to take care of them.” He looked Phoebe over again. “I can provide well. I’m a banker, after all. You’ll want for nothing.”
He turned to Augusta. “I require someone down-to-earth, with a decent head on her shoulders. The women who run in my social circles are dumber than fence posts.”
Braxton’s gaze narrowed. “Howdy.”
Augusta looked up. “Mr. Jones, thank you for walking George.”
“Anytime.” He eyed the man, then glanced at Phoebe. She sat straight-backed, her hands folded neatly in her lap, barely giving the man a glance.
“You do like children, don’t you?” the banker asked. “I admit mine can be a handful, but I have a governess who takes charge of them during the day.”
Phoebe smiled politely. “I see. And yes, I like children.” Her gaze flicked to Braxton, and she gave him a brief, almost apologetic smile.
So, a banker. A man of means. Phoebe would have a fine house, step-children to occupy her days, and… Braxton frowned. Did this man expect everything to run on a strict schedule?
“Your mother doesn’t happen to live with you, does she?” Braxton asked.
“Braxton!” Phoebe blurted.
“I was just askin’.” He crossed to the worktable and sat down. The sisters were caught up for once, and whatever chaos cropped up could be handled easily by the two of them. He and Phoebe had talked about creating a new filing system. One that would help Augusta, Margaret, and Josie. But they hadn’t wanted to step on Miss O’Malley’s toes if she’d already implemented something that worked. It was one of the things he hoped to discuss before leaving town next week.
“Mr. Clark,” Augusta said. “Miss Hale is a hard worker and very organized. I’m sure you can appreciate those qualities in a bride.”
“Of course,” Mr. Clark said. “She’ll need them to run the household.” He smiled at Phoebe. “Have you ever run a large house before, my dear?”
“No, sir, I’m afraid not.”
“Well, if she can run this place,” Margaret said. “She can certainly run a large household.”
Braxton pressed his lips together to keep from saying something he shouldn’t. Anyone who could bring order tothisplace could command a regiment, as far as he was concerned.
“Well,” Mr. Clark said. “You’re pleasant enough, my dear. I’m sure the children would come to adore you. They’re young enough to still want a new mother and haven’t become too opinionated on the subject.”
