Delia’s throat closed for a moment. All she could do was nod. The gesture was so like one her own mother would have given her, and the pang of missing home and her family washed over her so unexpectedly that Delia couldn’t speak.
“I haven’t known Mr. Foster very long, but everything about him indicates he’s a good man. I haven’t heard a word to the contrary from anyone in town,” Mrs. Canton said. “And you know Mrs. Gilbert ensures that only the best gentlemen are allowed to place advertisements in her publication.”
“I didn’t know that,” Delia said, distracted for a moment by the wordpublication. “Is Mrs. Gilbert a newspaper lady?”
Mrs. Canton laughed. “Not exactly. She and Mrs. Young, who lives in Cañon City, started a publication for gentlemen seeking mail-order brides. They sell the publication for placement in newspapers in cities back East.” She paused in swiping dust from Delia’s sleeve. “I thought you might have known that, considering you answered Mr. Foster’s advertisement.”
A flush warmed Delia’s cheeks. “I admit to overlooking the finer points of where I saw Mr. Foster’s advertisement. I was too taken with his words to think much beyond them.” With that statement, she sounded like a foolish young girl in love. Except Delia was neither foolish, young, nor in love.
But she could admit to herself that she’d dove into her idea for a series of articles without much thought on how those advertisements were placed. Now that she knew, she thought it might make for additional interest to her readers if she were to seek out this Mrs. Gilbert and pose some questions to her.
“Does Mrs. Gilbert live in town?” she asked. “I’d love to thank her for her generosity in doing this work.”
Mrs. Canton patted her arm and gave her a motherly smile. “Of course. Her husband runs the land sales office. You have a good heart, Miss Elliott. I know you’ll be happy with Mr. Foster, and a wonderful mother to little Anna. Goodness knows that girl needs a mother.”
Delia forced herself to smile at Mrs. Canton. She hadn’t yet met Anna. Perhaps it was preparing to walk into the church and recite vows of commitment, but for the first time since hatching this idea, she had misgivings.
She followed Mrs. Canton on nervous legs. What was she getting herself into? She didn’t know this man at all. What if he was a brute underneath that friendly smile and those warm eyes?
He lit up the moment he saw her walk into the church, and the fear that he was really a monster faded into something that felt almost worse.I won’t be cruel to him, she’d said to Roy back in the offices of the newspaper where she’d felt so comfortable.
But wasn’t what she was doing inherently cruel? Mr. Foster looked at her now with a hopeful expression. Perhaps he imagined a lifetime together, filled with evenings by the fire and the joyful shouts of their children.
Delia paused, a few feet away from him, doubting everything she’d planned.
“Go on, dear. He’s waiting,” Mrs. Canton whispered in her ear. She gave Delia a little nudge on the back, likely mistaking her hesitation for nerves.
I can’t do this. I’m a terrible person.Delia pressed her hands into the sides of her skirt, trying desperately to summon the courage she normally felt about her work.
But that work had normally been penning advice to lovelorn society ladies or reporting on the latest fashions to find New York. Never had she done anything so . . . so . . .personal.
If she left now—if she ran from this church, grabbed her carpetbag from Mr. Foster’s house, and went straight to the depot—she could return home. Mother wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, she’d be thrilled for Delia’s help with her younger siblings. And Roy—
Delia’s face went warm with the thought of Roy crossing his arms and shaking his head, reveling in the fact that she’d come around to the fact that he was right. He had no idea she decided to do this despite his rejection of her proposal, but he had to know by now. When she hadn’t made contact with him for this week’s article, he’d likely sent someone to her mother’s home. And then Mother would have handed over four weeks’ worth of articles penned in advance—and the news that Delia had gone out west to be married.
Roy knew what she was doing, and if she gave in now, she’d look a fool. Like a little girl who didn’t follow through with her own plans because she was afraid. Andnotlike someone who deserved a career in newspapers.
Delia steeled her shoulders and stepped forward. Mr. Foster took her hands in his.
Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers wrapped around hers. When she forced herself to breathe again, all she could think about was how warm his skin was and how she somehow felt both secure and scared at the same time. Her heart thumped faster when his eyes met hers. He gave her a reassuring smile that made her insides feel as if they were melting.
Delia tore her eyes away from his to look at the minister. Air rushed into her throat and her thoughts lurched into motion. More than one man had taken her hand at balls and other society events, but Delia had never experienced a reaction like the one she’d just had.
The minister was speaking, and she tried to concentrate on his words. But when she did, it sparked the guilt she’d felt when she saw Mr. Foster waiting here for her.
I’ll find someone for him, she promised herself. She wouldn’t leave until she did.
A thunk sounded from one of the pews, and Delia’s gaze shot toward the wedding attendees. She’d been so preoccupied with Mr. Foster and her own thoughts upon walking into the church that she’d failed to notice who had come to see them be married.
She counted precisely three people. A young couple and a girl Delia could only assume to be Anna. The girl watched her, and Delia gave her a friendly smile. Anna frowned and leaned back in the pew, loudly kicking a foot against the seat in front of her.
Delia fought the urge to raise her eyebrows. After the third or fourth kick, the female half of the couple in attendance slid down her pew and leaned forward to whisper in Anna’s ear. Anna gave her a less than friendly glare, but at least she ceased making noise.
The minister’s request to have them recite their vows drew her attention away from Anna and back toward the man she was marrying. Somehow, Delia managed to make a litany of promises to Mr. Foster that she had no intention of keeping. The guilt rose in her throat and strangled the last of her words.
Mr. Foster smiled kindly at her, presumably reading her choked-up voice as true emotion toward him and their marriage. He squeezed her hands, and she returned his smile as best she could. He let go of one of her hands to brush back a lock of his hair that had fallen over his forehead. Not only washe thoughtful, but he was painfully handsome. That had been obvious the moment Delia laid eyes on him.
It shouldn’t be difficult at all to find a lady willing to take her place. Not with Mr. Foster’s golden-streaked hair, eyes a girl could drown in, that endearing although somewhat crooked smile, and his tall and muscular stature. Although as he took her empty hand again, an unexpected pulse of jealousy filled Delia’s mind as she imagined another woman standing here with her hands in Mr. Foster’s.
