She’d gone on to be friendly and lighthearted in conversation all day, and he’d begun to wonder if perhaps he’d imagined her reticence the evening before. He suspected she hadn’t fully grieved the loss of her first husband, even though she hadn’t said as much. Everyone he’d met in town had nothing but good things to say about the late Mr. Thornton, and Beau realized quickly he had big shoes to fill.
So long as Faith realized he wasn’t trying to take the man’s place. He’d learned that the hard way after his father had passed. No one could replace the elder Mr. Landry, least of all his less business-minded son. Beau had tried mightily for a year, and then finally confessed to his mother that he wasn’t cut out to run a newspaper. To his everlasting surprise, Maman had simply taken his hand and told him that was all well and good and why had he waited so long to come to this understanding?
Having made that mistake once, he wouldn’t do it again. He was no Aaron Thornton, he wouldn’t pretend to be, and he hoped Faith understood that.
“Why are you staring at me so?” she asked, not looking up from the jar she filled with ink. “It’s disconcerting.”
“Perhaps I was simply admiring my wife.”
She looked up at him sharply. “You can stop flirting with me. We’re already married.”
“Which was apparently not your intention in writing to me. I am curious, Mrs. Landry. Why did you respond to my letter, then, if not for purposes of marriage?” Beau sat in one of the chairs and eyed her, waiting for a response to the question that had plagued him the most since meeting her.
She set the ink bottle down but made no move to join him near the fireplace. “I was lonely, and I found your letter entertaining. That was all.Ifind it curious that you traveled all the way here for someone to whom you’d never once mentioned marriage. Why is that, Mr. Landry?” she countered.
Beau sucked in a cheek, trying not to laugh at her ability to immediately turn the table. She was no wilting flower, this woman he’d talked into marrying him. But what should he tell her? The real reason was harrowing and not something that was fit for feminine ears, much less anything he wanted to remember. Coming here, he’d hoped never to have to think about it again.
He opted for part of the story, one that excluded the worst parts. “My father founded the largest newspaper in the parish, which I believe I mentioned in one of my letters. I tried to run it after his death, but I fear I’m not much of a businessman, nor do I have much interest in newspapers. So I sold the business, with my mother’s blessing. After that, I had no real direction in my life. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, and finding myself quite taken with the letters I’d been receiving from a beautiful woman in west Nebraska, I decided that I might like to be married and to set up some sort of opportunity for myself in the town of Last Chance.”
Faith came around from behind the counter and stood behind the chair across from Beau. “I believe you’re telling me the truth, but I’m not a fool. I also believe there is far more to your truth than you’re letting on.”
He blinked at her. The woman was incredibly insightful. Too insightful. Not wanting to frighten her with the remainder of his story, he jumped up. “Let’s get back to work. I’m determined to have this code memorized by nightfall.”
He could feel her eyes on his back as he crossed behind the counter again. And he told himself he was doing the right thing by not saying more. She deserved a good man, one who would care for her and ensure that she kept this business she loved so much. The man he was now.
She certainly didn’t deserve a reformed gambler who had blood on his hands—the man he was in New Orleans.
