Flora's Wish (6 page)

“Flora Brimm, I'll do no such thing. You and I were in the middle of an important conversation that we need to take upstairs and continue in private.”

“And we shall. Just not right now.”

“Whatever did they teach you at that Yankee boarding school?”

“To behave in a manner befitting my station in life and to do nothing to disturb the peace of that station,” Flora said sweetly as she quoted from Dillingham Ladies Preparatory's oath. “And to see to the needs of my family before my own. Which is exactly what I plan to do.”

Flora straightened her back and took her leave. Later she would pay the price with a lecture or perhaps a ticket back to Natchez. By then, however, neither Father nor Grandmama would have any say in what she did.

That honor would go to her husband, at least in theory. And in reality, she would leave the name of Fatal Flora Brimm behind.

As to her grandmother seeing Will Tucker last week? That was preposterous. Had he been in Eureka Springs, there was no reason for Mr. Tucker to hide himself from the woman he planned to marry.

No, Grandmama must certainly be mistaken.

The Crescent Hotel's double doors once again opened, and a pair of liveried doormen stepped back to allow Flora entry into the main rotunda. Up ahead she spied Mr. Tucker sidestepping the fireplace of Eureka marble that anchored the center of the room. Such was the throng in the corridor leading to the staircase and elevators beyond that she easily caught up to the scoundrel.

He was tall and fair, with eyes of stormy gray and impossibly long lashes that a woman might envy. His hair stood in stark contrast to his dark hat and suit, and it had been cropped shorter than she remembered upon their last meeting. Still, he bore that dreamy Mr. Darcy quality that women who liked that sort of man might adore.

Had she planned on marrying for love, Will Tucker would not likely have made the topmost tier of her wish list, but with four former fiancés in their graves and a rumor that she might somehow be a party to their demises, Flora had long since given up on any sort of demands she might place on a husband.

For that matter, she'd almost given up on a husband due to the lack of possible candidates until her fortuitous meeting with Mr. Tucker on the steamboat between New Orleans and Natchez. She'd just left an interminable visit where she'd been forced to listen to Winny speak at length on what he would do with the profits gained from the sale of Brimmfield. Rather than hide away on a packet ship to a remote location, she'd climbed aboard the
Lady of the River
with a headache and a prayer.

Mr. Tucker and his talent for conversation had been the answer to both. That and his interesting ability to quote literature and to remember almost anything he read with perfect clarity and recall.

Then there was the fact that almost immediately after petitioning the Lord for the perfect husband, he appeared.

“A moment of your time, sir,” Flora said as she linked arms with her intended and led him away from the staircase toward the office and front exit.

If he was surprised by her forward behavior, Mr. Tucker did not let on. Rather, he dipped his head in greeting. “Well, hello there, Flora.”

She slid him a sideways look. “‘Hello there' is not what I'd hoped to hear from you, Mr. Tucker. But this is not the place to discuss it.”

“I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow,” he said, quoting Mr. Darcy from the novel
Pride and Prejudice
as he had upon their first meeting. The cad.

“It's a bit late for that sort of behavior, Mr. Tucker. You'll need to stop quoting others and begin by telling me the cause of your delay.” She nodded toward the front exit of the hotel. “Perhaps a walk is in order. Will you join me?”

He offered a smile. “After you, Miss Brimm.”

When they had made their way around the side of the building away from the prying eyes of other guests, Flora released her grip on his arm. A sweep of his person from the tip of his well-shod toes to the top of his head, covered in a most fashionable hat, told her Mr. Tucker's trip to Eureka Springs had not been uncomfortable. Nor had it been recent, for there wasn't a single spot of soot or a wrinkle in his clothing to indicate he'd just traveled by rail.

Several responses came in response to the grin that lifted the corner of his mouth. “You're late,” was the one she chose.

He dared to chuckle. “I'm right on time, darlin'.” He glanced around and then swung his attention back to Flora. “You'll understand if I don't elaborate. Official business and all.”

But she didn't understand. Nor did it matter what sort of business kept him from arriving two weeks ago as promised. Or, worse, kept him on the periphery of her life without any indication he'd been there, if that had indeed been the case.

She looked past him toward Magnetic Springs and the mountains beyond, a lovely scene to soothe her rumpled thoughts. But gazing at the vista would do nothing to remedy the fact that her carefully laid plans were quickly falling by the wayside. Flora crossed her arms over her chest and willed her temper to cool.

“Mr. Tucker,” she said firmly. “You are not ‘right on time.' You are, in a word, late. Two weeks late, and without so much as a note of decent explanation or apology.” He moved toward her, but Flora easily sidestepped him. “No you don't, sir. I'll have that explanation and the apology. You've caused me no end of trouble.”

“Have I?” His look of contrition almost worked. Almost, but not quite. The gleam in his eye gave him away. His expression told Flora that Mr. Tucker was actually enjoying her irritation. “And I thought I was the solution to all your troubles.”

That did it.

Flora Brimm was no wide-eyed girl intent on marriage to the first fellow who offered it. Rather, she was a grown woman who had mourned more than one man making the same offer as Tucker.

Straightening her shoulders, she let out a long breath and fixed him with a stare. “You and I had an arrangement. Please understand that this arrangement is in grave danger of being declared at an end. And lest you misunderstand, it is you and not I who is in breach of its terms.”

Instantly his arrogance disappeared. Apparently, he'd counted the cost of his cheeky behavior and deemed the loss too great to chance. “Let's walk.”

Before she could protest, he linked arms with her and led her past the gazebo and around the side of the building before pausing once more near the empty croquet field. Here the scent of freshly cut grass drifted toward her on a light breeze.

“Surely you're not thinking of changing your mind, Flora? I'm here now.” He paused to inch toward her, and he placed his hand on her arm. This time she allowed the familiarity. “I know once your feathers get unruffled, you'll—”

“You are truly insufferable.” She yanked her arm away and began to retrace their steps. “To think you were the solution was pure madness,” she said over her shoulder.

He fell into step beside her. A moment later Mr. Tucker snagged her wrist to cease her progress.

“You could have sent a note. Something.” She sounded like a petulant fool. A woman scorned. Flora bit her lip and looked away. In truth, she felt a little like both.

“Hey, now,” he said with no small measure of irritation in his tone. He looked away briefly, and when he once again met her stare, his expression was neutral.

“Please, Flora. Can't we discuss this elsewhere?” He led her away from the path to the more private shadows of a bench some yards away from the main building. He sat down and gestured for her to join him. “I
am
the solution. And far as I'm concerned, our arrangement's still good. Why would I have bought this if I didn't intend to go through with our marriage?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold wedding band encrusted with rubies and diamonds. “Do you like it?”

In order to maintain control over the conversation, she elected not to allow any indication that she was impressed with his offering. She did, however, concede to joining him on the bench. “It's lovely. However, it proves nothing, especially when you're
two weeks
late to the wedding with not a word to me in the meantime.”

His face told her nothing of what he must be thinking. When he did not respond, she looked away. “I found you easily enough, Mr. Tucker. I'm sure I can find a replacement for you.”

“What with those Fatal Flora rumors and all? Four down at last count is what they say. But I suppose it's possible you wouldn't have a reputation this far from home.”

She gasped. How could he know this? Of course. He was a detective. She should have taken that into consideration. The only thing to do for it now was to feign indifference. And perhaps add a bit of bravado to her flagging attitude.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said as she stood, “but are you insinuating something?” With the question, her backbone straightened and her ire rose. “For I would much prefer you just say it now while you have the chance.”

Mr. Tucker's penitent look was instant if not completely believable. “Look, Flora. I was going to save this for later, but maybe this will repair your frayed nerves a bit.”

“My nerves are fine,” she snapped. “It is your calendar that needs repair.”

He produced a folded piece of paper from his coat pocket and offered it to her as if he hadn't heard her comment. “Our marriage license,” he said with a wink. “I even spoke with the parson before I checked in. He can marry us tomorrow morning.” He glanced over his shoulder and then back at her. “See, I
have
been busy.”

“But—”

“Honey, I'm not going anywhere, but apparently the reverend is. It's the soonest he would agree to marry us. Go ahead and look at the license if you don't believe me.”

Flora inspected the document and decided it looked every bit as legitimate as the marital property agreement upstairs in her suitcase. Convincing an attorney to draw up the contract under a vow of silence had taken work, but she would not be sharing any more of the Brimm fortune with this stranger than the agreed upon amount.

A brisk north breeze lifted the edge of the document and almost pulled it from her hand as Flora met Will Tucker's eyes. She had one more thing to clarify with him. “My grandmother swears she saw you at a party we attended last week.”

She watched carefully for any response. Instead, his face went blank. “Mr. Tucker? Did you hear me?”

Slowly a grin lifted the corners of his lips. “I did but I figured you had to be teasing.”

Flora schooled her own features. “So you weren't there?”

“Honestly, how can you think I would watch you covertly and not make myself known?” He shrugged. “Your grandmother is mistaken.”

“Yes, I suppose she must be,” Flora said slowly as she allowed his words to take hold. She quickly folded the license and returned it to him. “I shall need a meeting time for tomorrow morning.”

He cocked his hat back and seemed to think a moment. “Nine o'clock. I'm to deliver you to the parsonage.”

The way he stated things, Flora felt as if she were some sort of package to be deposited on the porch. Truly, for an educated man, Mr. Tucker hid his accolades well.

“Very well, then. I shall meet you in the hotel lobby at half past eight.”

He reached to draw her fingers to his lips. The odd thought occurred that this intimate act should not feel so off-putting, not when the man would be her husband by this time tomorrow.

The man who would father the favored heir.

“Flora, dear, if I didn't know better, I would think you were dismissing me. And only hours before our wedding.”

Something in his demeanor, in the flippant way he addressed what was a topic of great concern, jabbed at her. She glanced around to be certain they were alone and then paused to offer a look she hoped would measure up to Grandmama's do-not-mistake-my-meaning expression.

“You do not know me better, Mr. Tucker, nor am I much acquainted with you. Any attempts to suggest otherwise, and that marriage license is worthless.”