“I don’t know if that’s true,” Sophia said as gently as possible. “Perhaps she fell ill.”
His jaw worked as he rested his hands on his hips. “She would have written, or asked her mother to write, if she was unable.” He glanced at her and Sophia nodded.
“It’s what I would have done,” she said. “Then again, I also would have felt the need to write if I’d had a change of heart.” The thought of promising someone marriage and then changing one’s mind without a word felt utterly cruel.
Mr. Canton nodded. And then, as if remembering he was supposed to be angry with her, he frowned. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you let me believe you were her?”
Sophia’s face went hot in the darkness. Well, if she were being truthful, she might as well continue. “At first, I feared you’d grow angry and leave me here. And then I . . .” She drew in a deep breath. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
He blinked at her, disbelief coloring his features. “You didn’t want to hurt me,” he repeated.
She nodded. It sounded ridiculous, saying it aloud.
And then he did the thing she least expected—he laughed.
Sophia’s eyes widened and she wrapped her arms around herself. Had he gone mad? Whatever in the world was so funny?
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse. “My fiancée didn’t show up, you pretended to be her, and then you told me you were she—because you didn’t wantmeto be hurt.” He cocked his head. “Exactly how far were you planning to go with this farce? To the altar? To the birth of our first child? To death?”
Sophia wanted to shrink back at his words, but she forced herself to straighten her shoulders. Yes, she’d been wrong, but she confessed and she apologized. What more did he want from her? “I would have told you once we reached safety, probably.”
“Probably?” He arched his eyebrows, but the pain still showed in his eyes and the tight way he held his jaw. And she knew then it wasn’t from her pretending to be Daisy. It was from Daisy’s rejection.
“I hated the thought of hurting you,” she said, more quietly this time.
He closed his eyes, and all she wanted to do was to reach out and comfort him somehow. To lay a hand on his arm, to take one of his hands between both of hers—anything to try and make him feel better.
He dropped his hands from his hips and sat down abruptly. Sophia sank onto the ground beside him, her feet tucked beneath her. She wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what. She wished Mama were here to whisper soothing words that Sophia could repeat. Perhaps if she just sat here, close enough so he knew he wasn’t alone, that would be enough.
Mr. Canton rubbed his forehead with his hand, and when he looked up at her, the anger was gone, and all she could see was a man hollowed out by the loss of a great promise. “Why wouldn’t she write?”
Sophia took a moment to think before she spoke, but no reason that wasn’t cowardly came to mind. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “She must have been afraid.”Or cruel, but she didn’t give those words life.
Mr. Canton shook his head. “I’ve made so many plans.”
“Well . . .” Sophia moved her legs to the side as she looked for the hope to be found in the situation. “Surely she isn’t the only woman looking for a better life who might take a chance on a young, handsome gentleman who works in a land office.”
“Handsome?” He raised those eyebrows again, but this time they were accompanied by a little smile.
Heat rushed to Sophia’s cheeks. She hadn’t even realized she’d said the word. She wanted to look down and hide her face, but she forced herself not to. He needed to feel better about himself, and if that came with a little embarrassment on her part, she could handle that. “I may have pretended to be Miss Timperman to get here, Mr. Canton, but I assure you I don’t craft lies as a daily exercise.” She frowned a moment. “Well, despite the fiancé I invented for those outlaws. But that was to save my own life, so I don’t think that counts.”
“You invented a fiancé?” He shook his head. “I oughtn’t be surprised, although I suppose that explains their confusion at my name.”
Sophia bit back a sigh. In his eyes, she was still a liar, someone who’d cheated her way onto a wagon train and then deceived him to escape a band of outlaws. “I didn’t know Miss Timperman’s intentions upon going West. And so when those outlaws seemed to be trying to find out if anyone would miss me if I never returned, well . . . I told them the story of a man waiting for me in Pueblo.” She paused. “I didn’t know that man was you.”
He watched her, and she couldn’t tell if he was curious, irritated, or what precisely. She couldn’t bear it if he expressed disappointment in her again. She suddenly wanted him to know her as she’d been in Kansas City—a good, loyal daughter, a friend to anyone who needed someone, a caregiver with patience that rivaled that of those trained to care for the sick.
“I will help you find a wife.” The words tumbled out before she could make sense of them. “Once we return. I’ll help you.”
