She hurried over and pulled it open. "Mr. Coulter."
His gaze found hers, searching her face. Was he looking for signs of distress? "Is everything all right?"
"Yes." Did she sound too breathless? "I haven't seen my father yet."
She couldn't bring herself to say she'd been waiting for him. That made her sound helpless.
But understanding softened his expression. "Want me to knock on his door? See if he's in?"
"Please." Her voice pitched too high with the word.
He turned to the door across the hall and rapped against the wood, louder than he’d done on her door. His voice carried more strength too. "It's Sampson Coulter."
She stood in her own doorway and held her breath, straining for any sound of movement from within. Nothing came, but the door swung open a moment later, revealing her father's stern face. His gaze ignored Mr. Coulter, locking directly on her. He didn’t look surprised. Had he heard her already?
She fought the urge to shrink back under the weight of his scrutiny, forcing herself to muster a smile. "Hello, Father." Her voice trembled a little. "I've come to find you."
Mr. Coulter took a small step back, clearing the space between her and her father. She waited for Father to step forward, to close the distance himself. But he remained planted in his doorway, his eyes never leaving her face. Was that anger? He was so hard to read. Why didn’t he say anything?
Drawing in a breath, she took a tentative step forward.
Her father’s jaw tightened, and she halted. The lines around his mouth deepened. "Why are you here, Grace?" The flatness in his tone made it impossible to gauge his mood. Was he angry? Annoyed?
She swallowed hard, scrambling for her rehearsed speech. "I…I can't stay at the house in the valley anymore. Not alone." The words tumbled out. "I'm going mad by myself. I need…I want to find a place in a town. I’ll work, earn my keep. You won’t have to worry with me anymore. I only need…"
Her throat closed up, choking off the rest. Even now, she couldn't bring herself to ask for money. To beg for his help.
"You need money," he finished flatly. Then his gaze cut to Mr. Coulter, sharpening. "And what exactly are you doing with my daughter? Why is she in your room?"
Mr. Coulter met her father's question with a calm steadiness she would love to possess. "I met Miss Hampton outside the mine yesterday. She needed to reach you, so I offered to bring her to you here. There aren’t any other rooms available, so I gave her mine. I’ll be sleeping at the livery. Nothing improper has happened. You have my word."
The suspicion in her father's eyes didn't waver. If anything, it intensified as he turned back to her. "So, you spent the night with my daughter, and now she's living with you."
A gasp slipped out before she could stop it, and heat surged up her neck. "No! It's not like that at all. Mr. Coulter helped me. He never…" She trailed off, the rest of her defense lodging in her throat as her father's cold stare silenced her.
How could he even think such a thing of her?
"Enough." Her father's voice snapped like a whip. He leveled a finger at Mr. Coulter. "You've compromised my daughter's virtue. There's only one way to remedy that. You'll marry her. Today."
The words struck like a physical blow, driving the air from her lungs. Marry a man she barely knew? The very idea was ludicrous. Impossible. And yet, her father looked determined.
Mr. Coulter didn't seem nearly as shocked as she felt. He just…studied him. He tipped his head, as though trying to see deeper. "And why would you want that, sir?"
He seemed to be asking more than the words implied, but she couldn’t decipher what. Her stomach knotted tighter with each frantic beat of her pulse.
Her father spoke, each word sharp as a knife. "Because I want it. That should be reason enough."
A few beats later, Mr. Coulter dipped his chin. Then he turned to face her fully.
When his eyes met hers, they softened, warming with an emotion she dared not try to name. "Miss Hampton, I would be honored if you would agree to be my wife. I promise you’ll never need for anything, and you can make your home anywhere you wish."
His tone was sincere, almost pleading. Did he want her to say yes? To go along with this insanity? Shouldn’t he want to do whatever it took to get out of her father’s demand?
But something in his steady blue gaze held her.
A steadiness. A calmness. Part of her yearned to lean into his strength, to take shelter in the security he offered. And yet, she resisted, bitterly chafing against her father making this decision for her.
He'd controlled every aspect of her life for so long. She couldn't let him take this choice from her too. Not when she'd finally gathered the courage to break free of him.
