She sat silently as the maid went through the motions of removing her walking dress and putting on the dinner gown, then curling her hair for the second time that day and piling it atop her head. Finally, the maid added the sapphire pendant around her neck, then stood back so Rosalind could stare at her reflection.
A poised, elegant woman looked back at her. Was this what Yuri had seen when he’d looked at her so intently that afternoon? When he’d begged her to find a way to leave Sitka? A mannerly woman who was a perfect example of femininity? Or had he seen beneath the shell to a woman who liked to read books and visit with friends? Who would gladly volunteertime to help any of the charities she supported, if only she lived nearby. Who was quite good at managing Finnances and investments and even enjoyed reading the business section of the newspaper.
She’d bet Yuri Amos had never in his life told a woman what clothes to wear—and that he never would, not even after he married.
She suddenly wanted to be having dinner at his house, not her father’s. And she suddenly didn’t want to marry a tyrant or someone her father picked for her. She wanted to marry someone kind. Someone who smiled. Someone who asked her what she would like and listened when she answered.
Someone like Yuri Amos.
It was a ridiculous notion. She could never actually marry Yuri himself, and not just because their families were enemies but because every girl in Sitka wanted to marry him. He was the most eligible bachelor in town, and half a dozen women, if not more, were already in love with him, Freya, Jane, and Millicent included.
And why wouldn’t every single woman in Sitka want to marry him? He was charming and kind and helpful, never too busy to stop and lend a hand or give an encouraging word. He was probably the most wonderful man in all of Alaska, or maybe in all of America.
She hoped that one day God might bring someone similar to him into her life. Someone who would love her for who she was and not marry her because of who her father was or the business connections she would bring into a marriage.
She lifted a hand to the necklace at her throat, fingers brushing the sapphire as she stared at her reflection. She couldn’t stay in Sitka or marry Leeland.
Which was all the more reason she needed to find proof of her father’s illegal activities. She couldn’t let Leeland’s desire tobe either constantly by her side or with her father deter her from the task that needed doing.
She went downstairs and forced herself to sit beside Leeland at dinner, smiling politely and listening while he and Father and Uncle Simon talked about requiring traders to become Indian agents.
After dinner, she slipped into the kitchen and asked the chef to send a maid to wake her first thing in the morning, then retired to her room for the evening.
Part of her hated herself for creeping down to her father’s study after the maid woke her in the morning. It felt sneaky and dishonest, but not more sneaky than bribing Alaska’s most powerful lawman and trying to swindle the Amos family out of sixty thousand dollars.
Her heart pounded the entire time she was in the study, each creak of the house and gust of the wind somehow making her believe her father was in the hallway headed to his study hours earlier than usual.
It was all a bit ridiculous. She knew he’d stayed up late with Leeland. She didn’t have the faintest idea what the two of them had been discussing, but they would both sleep until nine or later.
But after spending three hours searching his study, she came away empty-handed.
19
Sitka; the Next Day
By the time Yuri strode into the meeting room at the old governor’s mansion the next evening, his eyes felt as though they’d been coated in sand.
It probably had something to do with how late he’d stayed up the night before, first reading his Bible and then poring over every last paper in the office to see if it might give him some clue as to how he could get Rosalind away from her father. Or better yet, give him some clue regarding a crime her father committed that could get him locked in a jail cell so he couldn’t hurt Rosalind.
He’d come up with nothing.
He knew Preston Caldwell had done underhanded things over the years. His brother, the governor, was no different. But proving it in a court of law was something else entirely.
Everyone that family hired to do their dirty work was paid too well to ever confess the Caldwells’ involvement, even men who were currently sitting in prison.
Mikhail and Bryony had both joined him after dinner last night, all of them wanting to find some way that might prevent Caldwell from going after Rosalind if they helped her get away. After he’d returned home from the temporary library, he’d told them everything about his conversation with Rosalind in the empty building, her bruises, the source of the donation money, and the real reason Rosalind wouldn’t leave Sitka. All of it.
The only part he’d left out was how badly he’d wanted to pull Rosalind against his chest and hold her, just so she could know what it felt like to be safe, even if the embrace lasted only a few minutes.
“Sorry I’m late.” Yuri opened his satchel and pulled out the agenda and his notes from last week.
“It’s all right. We were just talking about shelves.” Angus McCreedy rubbed the back of his neck. “Rosalind says she’s been to the temporary building, and we need more in there, so?—”
“Actually, the first thing I want to discuss is the name.” Yuri set his papers down and plopped into the chair at the head of the table. “We’re going to temporarily name the library after its largest local contributors, Preston and Simon Caldwell. Meaning the library will be called the Caldwell Memorial Library.”
“We’re what?” Arthur Bixby’s pencil clattered to the table.
“I thought you said we should bring our list of names and vote.” Mrs. Pembroke sniffed. “That’s the fair way to do it. I have mine right here.” She patted the folded sheet of stationery in front of her.
