Jane loosened her scarf as she looked around. It was a pleasant surprise to find the hotel’s foyer so warmly inviting. The lemon yellow walls were a bright contrast to the walnut wainscoting. Sunlight dappled the damask cover on the narrow bench that ran parallel to the stair banister. There were two open archways, one that led to the dining room, and another that led to the saloon. From what Jane could see, the dining room appeared to be deserted, but the saloon had at least a few patrons. She glimpsed a young woman flitting between two tables holding an empty tray against her hip and a mug of beer in her hand.
Curious about the saloon, Jane would have liked to see more of it, but a door down the short hall swung open and the woman emerging captured all of Jane’s attention.
Ida Mae Sterling was still drying her hands on her apron as she approached. The aroma of baking bread followed in her wake, a heady and seductive scent that had been known to stupefy a weary traveler.
Jane’s nostrils flared as she breathed in the fragrance of rising dough and heat. The knot in her stomach vanished. In its absence, there was hunger.
Mrs. Sterling’s smile was wide and welcoming as she greeted Morgan and stepped behind the desk. Her expression became more reserved when she regarded Jane over the top of her gold-rimmed spectacles and began to explain she had no rooms to let.
Morgan interrupted before Mrs. Sterling cited the options. “It’s all right. Miss Middlebourne will have the room I reserved.”
“She will? And what about you?”
“I can sleep anywhere.”
She nodded. “I never knew a cowboy who couldn’t.” She pushed the registry toward Jane. “Guess you’re a proper rancher these days, but I don’t suppose that’s softened you.”
“I don’t suppose it has,” said Morgan.
Mrs. Sterling watched Jane fill out the registry. “New York City? Traveling by yourself? That’s a far piece to go it alone.”
Jane replaced the pen. “I do not think I was ever alone,” she said. “And no one met as strangers. People were uncommonly friendly.”
“You’ll find the same in Bitter Springs, though some folks say it takes getting used to. How long will you be staying? Mr. Longstreet only has his room for the one night.”
“I’m not certain. Will it be a problem if I require the room for several nights?”
“Not for me.”
Jane observed Mrs. Sterling raise a questioning eyebrow in Morgan’s direction. There was only one way Jane could interpret that look. Mrs. Sterling was inquiring if a prolonged stay at the Pennyroyal was a problem for Morgan Longstreet. Jane was uncomfortably reminded of Cousin Franny and the reach of her controlling hand. She meant to leave that behind in New York. It was not her intention to replace a mistress for a master.
Ida Mae gestured to Walt. “Take Miss Middlebourne’s things to room four. You go on, Miss Middlebourne. We don’t carry meals to the rooms, but if you’d like something before we open the dining room for dinner, we can surely set you up in the kitchen. It’s no bother.”
Jane realized her appetite was a mercurial thing. “Thank you, but I would simply like to rest.” She unraveled her scarf, thanked Morgan for his kindness, and preceded Walt up the stairs.
Morgan watched Jane go. Her steps were unhurried. Her gloved hand rested lightly on the rail, gliding along the length as she rose. Her poise never wavered. She might have been going to her coronation. She might have been going to her death. She did not look back, did not see his eyes drink her in.
“How long have you known me, Morgan Longstreet?”
Turning slightly, Morgan leaned against the desk and rested an elbow on Mrs. Sterling’s registry. “Long enough to know there’s something on your mind and you’re about to relieve yourself of it.”
Ida Mae made a sound at the back of her throat that might have been disapproval or amusement. “That’s right, which is why you should also know that bit of playacting didn’t fool me one bit. Now some people say Walt’s a little slow-witted, but I can tell you I was watching him, and he wasn’t fooled either.” She pulled her registry free, causing Morgan’s elbow to glance sharply off the desk. She was unapologetic when he made a face and nursed the pain. “Go on. I dare you to tell me it’s different than I think.”
“Mrs. Sterling, I have no idea what you think.” But he did, and the moment he heard Finn’s voice coming from the landing behind him, his suspicions were confirmed.
“Mr. Longstreet!” Finn called. “I just saw Miss Middlebourne in the hall. Fancy that.”
“Fancy that,” Morgan said, mostly under his breath.
“See?” Mrs. Sterling waved a finger at him. “You wanted to play at making me think you just met her at the station.”
“I did just meet her at the station.”
Mrs. Sterling continued to chide him, stopping short of clucking her tongue. “Pretending like you don’t know her.”
“I don’t know her.”
“Makin’ it seem as if it were serendipitous.”
