She blushed, but it was just as well he knew the truth. “I didn’t have enough money. I used all I did have just for meals.”
“But your meals were included on your tickets.”
Sharisse gasped. “What?”
“The arrangements were made. But it looks like that was money wasted.” He looked at her speculatively. “So you don’t have any money at all?”
Sharisse was furious with herself. Why hadn’t she looked more closely at those tickets? Why hadn’t the conductor said anything? Why hadn’t Lucas Holt said something about it in his letter?
Her anger carried into her flippant tone. “Is that going to be a problem? You weren’t expecting a dowry, were you?”
“No, ma’am.” He grinned. Good, so she was completely dependent on him. She didn’t have the wherewithal to leave any time she wanted to. “But then, I wasn’t expecting you at all.”
“I don’t understand.” Sharisse frowned.
Lucas dug the picture out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Your letter said you were the girl on the left.”
Her eyes widened. So Stephanie had lied about that so Sharisse would have no qualms about coming here. She was mortified. Here he was, expecting Stephanie and getting her instead.
“I…I see I should have been more specific. You see, I sometimes get my right and left mixed up. I am sorry, Mr. Holt. You must be terribly disappointed.”
“Ma’am, if I was terribly disappointed, as you put it, I would be putting you back on the stage. What’s your first name, anyway? I can’t keep ma’aming you.”
His smile was engaging, his voice so deep and resonant. She had expected to be nervous on this first meeting, but not this much.
“Sharisse,” she told him.
“Sounds French.”
“My mother was French.”
“Well, there’s no point in us being formal. Folks call me Luke.”
Just then someone did. “Who you got there, Luke?”
It was a squat little man standing in the doorway of a store, Newcomb Grocery. The building housed only that one store. Most buildings in New York contained dozens of offices and businesses.
Her attention returned to the man as Lucas introduced them. She was surprised when he added, “I knew Miss Hammond before I came here. She has finally agreed to be my wife.”
“Is that a fact?” Thomas Bilford smiled, delighted. “I guess congratulations are called for. Will your brother be coming to the wedding?”
“I hadn’t planned on any big affair, Thomas,” Lucas said. “I’ll just catch the preacher when he comes through town.”
“Folks will be disappointed.”
“Can’t help that,” Lucas replied, this time with an edge to his voice.
“Well, good day to you, Luke, ma’am,” the grocer said uneasily now, and quickly went back inside his store.
Sharisse remained thoughtfully quiet as they drove out of the small one-street town. When the last building was behind them, she finally asked, “Why did you tell Mr. Bilford we knew each other back East?”
Lucas shrugged. “No one would believe you were a mail-order bride. Of course, if you’d rather—”
“No! That’s quite all right,” she assured him.
Sharisse fell silent again and averted her eyes. A change had taken place in the man sitting next to her. Without that boyish grin he could be coldly unapproachable. He seemed to be brooding. Was it something she had said?
“Whyareyou here, Sharisse Hammond?” he asked abruptly.
