“I will thank Mr. Thomason profusely, with every sort of baked good he might ever want,” Deirdre said. “Will you help me choose a date to arrive?”
She led Clara to Liam’s study, located just off the parlor. On his desk, he kept a calendar, neatly annotated with various meetings and other important dates.
Clara skimmed a finger over the paper. “We need time for travel, plus time for his letter to arrive and yours to arrive. The thirtieth of August should do nicely.”
Deirdre twisted her fingers into her skirts, her nerves finally getting the best of her as she and Clara left the study. “Well, at least that gives him very little time to turn me away and find someone else to marry instead. He’ll run out of time if he wishes his parents to see him settled down.”
“Deirdre Hannan.” Clara shut the door, and then turned and placed a hand on her hip as she gave Deirdre a stern look. “He will do no such thing. That man is in love with you and has been ever since he met you. I don’t know why he won’t act on it, but he choseyourletter.”
“With your prompting,” Deirdre said, knotting her skirt in her fist.
“Verylittle prompting. I may have saved yours until last, and I may have encouraged him to write to you, but I didn’t need to. You ought to have seen the look on his face after he read your letter. He knew you were the one for him. And he willnotturn you away.”
Deirdre forced herself to nod, but inside, she wasn’t so certain. This had seemed like such a good idea at first, but now that they were coming up on the end of it, every doubt she’d ever had came rushing back.
If Jeremiah were that taken with her from her letter, why hadn’t he been in person? She didn’t think it was the way she looked. After all, he’d certainly seemed interested when he first met her. But then . . . It seemed the more they got to know each other, and the better they got along, the more he’d backed away from anything romantic.
Her face flamed at the thought of him taking one look at her and dismissing her as his future wife. She didn’t think she could bear the embarrassment. She’d never be able to show her face at the livery again, much less speak to Jeremiah. Leaving town and finding some distant cousin to live with back in New York sounded far more preferable to living day in and day out in Crest Stone with the knowledge that Jeremiah didn’t want her. “But if he doesn’t want me—”
Clara placed a hand on each of Deirdre’s shoulders. “You can’t think that way. I’ve seen how he looks at you when you aren’t watching. I don’t know if it’s because he’s too afraid to say anything, or if he doesn’t want to injure your friendship, but he wantsyou. I’m sure of it.”
Deirdre forced herself to nod at Clara’s words. She hoped they were true. She would give anything for them to be true.
Clara dropped her hands, seemingly satisfied that Deirdre agreed. “Now, you must write to him and let him know when you’ll be arriving. And then decide what you’d like to wear—”
The door had opened as Clara was speaking, and Liam appeared in the entryway.
“Are you speaking of the picnic?” Liam asked as he removed his hat. It was of the latest fashion, recently arrived from back East. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Carlisle.”
Deirdre’s cheeks went hot again, knowing exactly what she was keeping from her brother, and she wished for a breeze to waft in from the doorway to cool her face.
But Clara quickly smiled as she turned to Liam. “Hello, Mr. Hannan. Why, yes, we were speaking of the picnic!”
Deirdre dug her nails into her palms as Clara smoothly spoke the little white lie. It was for the best, she reminded herself. She didn’t know if Liam would approve of Jeremiah at all, and he certainly wouldn’t allow her to continue with the plan she and Clara had set into motion.
Liam pulled at the corners of his jacket, which must have been stifling to wear on a day as hot as this one. He looked awfully pleased with himself—and as if he were dying to share some sort of news.
Deirdre pushed her worries from her mind. “What happened? You look as if you’re bursting to tell me something.”
He grinned and ran a hand through his auburn hair. “I’ve found possible investors for my new venture. And they’re coming for dinner tonight.”
Deirdre tried not to frown. It was hardly unexpected. Liam brought people home with barely a moment’s notice, hoping to sway them toward his current project and never understanding how much effort it took on Deirdre’s part to ensure that they not only had a good meal, but enough food for everyone present. But she wanted him to succeed, and if entertaining prospective partners or investors was what that took, she would do it. “That’s wonderful,” she said. “I’ll bake a pie for dessert.”
“What is your new venture?” Clara asked.
Liam’s face lit up as he began to tell Clara about his idea to build a hotel that was nicer than the boardinghouses in town but less expensive for folks than the Crest Stone Hotel that sat atop the hill behind the depot.
Deirdre only half-listened. Her mind wandered back to the livery and Jeremiah, and she let herself hope for the best. If he didn’t turn her away, they would be married. She’d be his wife, and that idea made her want to shriek in glee and run around the house like a small child with boundless energy.
By the time September arrived, she would either be on his arm—or hiding in her room here at Liam’s. And how she’d survive the time between now and then, she didn’t know.
