The man stood stone-cold with no clue to his emotion. “He’s dead to me, but not to this world. Miss McKinnie, I fear you must steady yourself and prepare for some troublesome news. However, I’ve already made arrangements for you and will make sure you’re cared for, so there is no need for hysterics.”
Cora had never been prone to such displays and resented his implication, but she couldn’t fault him too much since he thought of her as a southern belle. The type to swoon at the tiniest of upsets. “I assure you, sir, that I will not make a scene.”
“Good. Then I’ll speak plainly. Mr. Connor has run off with a woman and will not be returning to the city. There is an abundance of men to choose from, so I’ll provide you with room and board at a hotel until we can arrange another suitor.”
Cora smiled. There had been a mistake. “I’m not betrothed to a Conner, but to an O’Connor.”
The man’s mood turned darker. He pushed the fingers of his gloves toward his hand and grumbled to himself. “I see. He chose to use his Irish name. I assure you he’s the same person. He is…was my business partner.”
Her chest tightened, and her mind spun, trying to grab hold of the truth. “Oh.”
He lifted his chin with an air of superiority that Cora didn’t like. “I assure your safety until you can make other arrangements. Ghost here will escort you to the hotel while I collect my bride.”
A man stepped forward with his head turned away and down, holding his hat in his hands. Despite his large frame, he looked gentle and kind. “Madam.”
The man’s thick southern drawl gave her a little comfort with the sound of home.
Cora blinked and followed the dark-haired man’s expectant gaze to the crowd thinning behind her. And at the moment, she no longer feared sharing the news of Mary’s untimely departure. Not to a man who appeared so unaffected by the world around him. “If you’re the partner of my former betrothed, then I fear I have some news for you.”
The man she assumed to be Mr. Neal towered over her, his brows dipping toward his nose. “What news?”
She sensed his agitation and wished to soften the blow, but her Irish temper got the best of her since he had dismissed her so easily. “I will share, but first, I promise to care for you, so there is no need for hysterics.”
A chuckle sounded from the man he’d called Ghost.
Mr. Neal’s lips curved at the corners as if she’d humored instead of insulted him. “I vow to maintain my gentlemanly disposition.”
She opened her carpet bag and retrieved the letter from Mary. “I have news from your betrothed. I met her at the start of our journey, but I fear she didn’t make it to San Francisco.”
“Sickness?” His eyes softened, and he opened the letter then stiffened to his full height, towering over Cora by a foot. “She broke our engagement.”
“Yes.” Cora lifted her chin, thoughts flooding through her head. “We’re both without an intended. We could help each other. Perhaps you’re in need of a cook?”
“No,” he said flatly and waved Ghost forward. “Escort the lady to the Hotel Nucleus.”
“Can’t.” Ghost looked to Mr. Neal revealing a scar down the side of his face. “Hotel’s full up.”
“Then try the—”
“Full, too. Convention here and boats arriving. Can’t build the hotels fast enough, they say.”
“Boardinghouse?”
“No, sir.”
Cora adjusted her bonnet, longing to find purpose beyond being tucked away in another room with nothing to do with her life. “I’m an excellent cook, and I can clean. Perhaps there’s employment.”
Ghost shook his head. “Not where you want to be working.”
“Certainly there’s somewhere she can go.” Ed’s voice oozed with agitation.
“Trouble with your mail-order bride? I might be able to help with that.” A stout man with a barrel-sized chest tapped a cane to the ground.
Mr. Neal’s face went from blank with no lines to scrunched and pensive. “No need, Mr. Grous. She is my responsibility.”
Cora stepped forward, ignoring the man who wanted to rid himself of her. “What are you proposing?”
“Marriage, of course.” He circled her like one of the sharks’ fins swirling in the bay. “Remove your bonnet, please.”
