Roen pushed back his chair, stood, and said good day to Mrs. Springer when he passed her in the foyer on his way out. He considered telling her where he was going and why just to see the shock on her face, but he kept his destination and his purpose a secret.

  That was only fair to Lily Salt. In spite of what Ridley Madison thought, it did matter to him how her companionship was perceived by others. It mattered a great deal.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lily was comfortably ensconced in her rocker when someone knocked at the front door. There was a pile of mending on one side and fabric for a new gown on the other. The navy blue skirt in her lap required hemming, but she hadn’t begun so she set it aside, intending to go to the door herself. Clay was already on his feet and hurrying to the door when she was only halfway out of the rocker. Shaking her head, she resumed her position.

  “Is he expecting Frankie Fuller?” she asked Hannah.

  Hannah was curled on the sofa and didn’t look up from the book she was reading. “Don’t know, Ma.”

  “The way he raced to the door, I thought . . .” She shrugged, bent her head to the task of searching for the right color thread for the hem, and didn’t look up as she calmly admonished Ham to stop teasing Lizzie.

  “But you didn’t even see me,” he protested.

  “I don’t need to see you. You’re making your sister squeal and that’s enough for me. And, Lizzie, don’t you stick your tongue out at him.” She smiled to herself as her youngest children fell silent. Her pleasure did not last long. The quiet allowed her to hear Clay and their visitor at the door.

  “It’s Mr. Shepard,” said Hannah, closing her book around her finger as she looked toward the doorway.

  “Yes. I’m aware now.” Lily threaded a needle and then called to her son. “Let him in, Clay. It’s too cold out to keep someone standing on the doorstep.” When there was no movement at the door, she looked to Hannah, who was craning her neck for a better view.

  “Clay slipped outside. I don’t think he heard you.”

  Lily sighed. “They are both going to get frostbite.” By Lily’s count, it was a full minute before the door opened again. She heard more than one pair of boots stomping at the threshold to shake off clumps of snow. Clay had his arms folded across his chest and his hands under his armpits for warmth when he came to the parlor entrance. A shiver rippled through him followed by chattering teeth. “Don’t just stand there, Clay. Go to the stove and warm yourself.”

  “It’s Mr. Shepard,” he said. The announcement was unnecessary as it happened because Roen was already behind him.

  “You, too, Mr. Shepard,” said Lily, nodding toward the stove. “Hannah will take your outerwear as soon as you’re warm.”

  Roen removed his gloves and unwound his gray woolen scarf and gave them to Hannah as he passed her on the way to the stove. He opened his coat to let the warmth seep in and then extended his arms so that his hands hovered inches above the top of the stove. In a few minutes he was sufficiently warm to shrug out of his coat and remove his hat. He passed both to Hannah.

  “May I?” he asked, pointing to the overstuffed armchair.

  “Of course.” Lily glanced at Clay, who was still at the stove and did not appear to have any intention of moving without direction to do so. “Clay, go to the kitchen and put on the kettle. Make a pot of tea, please, and bring the service in here. Take Ham with you. You can play a game of cards with him while you’re waiting for the water to boil.”

  Lily thought Clay might protest, but he surprised her by taking Ham by the hand and leading him off. Hannah reentered the parlor just then, having dealt with Mr. Shepard’s garments. Lily directed her to take her book, her sister, and her sister’s doll upstairs. Hannah did as she was told but in a dramatic fashion, dragging her feet and sighing with much feeling.

  Lily watched them go, her amusement in check, and then set her blue-green gaze on Roen Shepard. Her raised eyebrows served as a question. She waited for an explanation.

  “Am I so obvious, then?” Roen asked.

  “If you only wanted to speak to Clay, you’d have already done it and you would be on your way. Instead, you’re still here, and I take that to mean you want to speak to me. Alone is better, I think. A precaution, really. I can’t predict what you’re going to say.”

  “Then I am obvious.”

  “But not predictable.”

  “A fine distinction, but I appreciate it.”

  Lily nodded, waited, and when he said nothing, she prompted him. “So?”

  Roen blew out a breath. “So,” he said heavily. “I have a proposal for you, and I’d like you to hear me out and give it serious consideration.”

  “Another proposal? Is this about Clay again? Have you changed your mind about wanting to take him out with you?”

  “This is not about Clay. I just went through that again with him. That’s why we were standing out in the cold. He didn’t want you to hear.” Roen held up a hand, palm out. “Please don’t say anything to him about it. He doesn’t ask as often as he used to, and my answer is always the same. In his place, I’d want to press just as hard.”

  “All right. I won’t caution him again about pestering you.”

  “Good.”

  “So, if your proposal is not about Clay, then what is it about?”

  “You.”

  Lily blinked. “Me?”

  “Yes. I am proposing an arrangement in which you agree to marry me but never have to.”

  She stared at him. “What?”

  “I admit it sounded better when I was only thinking it.”

  “You’re mad.”

  “Probably.”

  “Not probably. Certainly.”

  Roen pushed fingers through his thick hair and left furrows in their wake. “Will you hear me out?”

  “I’m not sure I should. I fear you’ll make the ridiculous sound reasonable.”

  “No, I’m fairly sure it will still sound ridiculous.”

  His easy agreement caught her off guard. She didn’t want him to amuse her. She didn’t want him to make her smile. Lily clenched her teeth and felt a muscle jump in her cheek. That was better. “Very well,” she said after a moment. “Go on.”

  “I’m not sure I should,” he said, parroting her. “I’m asking you to hear me out, not do battle.”

  Lily chose not to respond to that. “Clay will be back with the tea soon. It would be for the best if you were to begin now.”

  Nodding, Roen took a moment to collect his thoughts and then plunged into the explanation that began and ended with Victorine Headley. He was forthright about his involvement with Victorine, sparing himself nothing in the telling. He shared all the ways he was mistaken in his assumptions about her and how she felt that she’d been used and then cast off by him.

  “Victorine thought my interest in her was predicated on my interest in her father’s empire. I can honestly say that wasn’t true, although I understand why she doesn’t believe me. She has no experience being the one put aside, except perhaps by her father, and while she appeared to graciously accept our end as inevitable, her rage asserted itself a few weeks later when she heard that I’d gone riding with Mary Ellen Glidden. Victorine did not consider Miss Glidden her social equal, which further enraged her. It was then that she acted on what she perceived as her humiliation. She arranged for me to go to her home under the mistaken belief that the invitation was from her father. I was waiting for him in his study, the same place I met Victorine, when she entered. I was not happy to see her, but I was considerate of her feelings and offered to wait for Victor elsewhere. That’s when she—”

  “Shot you,” Lily said.

  “Yes.”

  “Hmm. I understand why you didn’t provide any details when you were here for dinner. Thank you for not sharing them with Clay when you were out at the Double H.”

  “I have some notion of what discretion entails.”

  It was true, she thought, at least where her children were concerned. Discretion was no part of his repertoire when he escorted her to the drugstore for fizzy drinks. She’d told him there would be comments, and there were. “There’s more, I presume. I don’t believe you’ve arrived at the end of your story.”

  “There’s more,” he said.

  Lily merely raised her eyebrows.

  “I received a telegram while I was at the hotel. It was from Victorine. Would you like to see it?”

  “No. I believe you. Tell me.”

  “Her message read, ‘Found you. Arriving Wednesday.’”

  “Pithy.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  “I decided I can’t risk not believing her.”

  “Do you expect her to arrive with her derringer?”

  “I never said it was a derringer.”

  “She shot you in her father’s study, I presume at close range, and if she’d used something more powerful, say, a forty-five or a thirty-eight, you and I would not be having this conversation. Not that a palm pistol can’t kill you, but your chances of recovery are improved if it’s a peashooter.”

  “It didn’t feel like a peashooter.”

  She smiled indulgently. “No, probably not. Where did she shoot you?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “The groin, then.”

  Roen’s head reared back. “The inner thigh.”

  “But she aimed for your groin.”

  “You are rather more frank than I could have imagined.”

  “Have I shocked you?”

  “I think you have. You are not at all predictable, Mrs. Salt.”

  Lily accepted that as a good thing. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye. “Ah. Our tea has arrived.” She waved Clay in. Ham followed on his brother’s heels. “Will you pour, Clay?” She set her sewing aside in the event she had to help him. It was an unnecessary precaution. He didn’t spill a drop, and after adding sugar to Mr. Shepard’s cup and a dollop of sweet cream to hers, he passed them their respective cups. “Thank you. Mr. Shepard and I still require privacy. I would like you and Ham to go upstairs. You can play cards or ask Hannah to read to you, but whatever you do, please do it quietly.”

  Clay’s eyes darted to Roen then back to his mother. “Has he given you a headache, Ma? He has problems that will give you a headache.”

  “Does he? Well, they haven’t yet,” she said, knowing very well that she and Clay were talking about a very different set of problems. I’m fine. I am. Go on.”

  Clay took Ham by the shoulders and turned him around so he faced the stairs. “You heard Ma. Let’s go.” He gave his brother a nudge and then they were off, running out of the parlor and then racing up the steps.

  Lily held her breath until she heard them pounding down the upstairs hall. “I always think Clay will throw Ham out of the way to reach the top first.”

  “Huh. I was thinking it would be Ham who did the tossing. The boy’s built like a freight train engine.”

  Lily conceded the truth of that. She did not mention that of all her children, Ham was most physically like his father. The similarities ended there. Ham had a sweet disposition. He made mischief, but he was never cruel. “My children won’t amuse themselves indefinitely, Mr. Shepard. Perhaps you should continue.”

  Roen took a sip of tea and then set the cup down. He leaned toward Lily, rested his forearms on his knees, and folded his hands together. “I don’t know that I would have considered this proposal if Dr. Madison hadn’t suggested it. That’s not to say that she’s aware that I mean to act on it or even that she would approve. The opposite is more likely true.”

  “You’re telling me it was her idea but she would not approve.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And this has to do with the arrangement you mentioned at the outset. The one where I agree to marry you but never have to.”

  “Correct. You called me mad.”

  “And my opinion has not changed. I imagine you believe that marriage will remove you from Miss Headley’s crosshairs. What evidence do you have to support that?”

  “Only that she’s never had an affair with a married man. Never showed any interest in one. She doesn’t pursue what someone’s already claimed. She covets what she thinks will tweak her father’s nose but not what will force his hand to disown her.”

  “He would do that?”

  “I don’t know. She thinks he would. That works to Victor’s benefit. It keeps Victorine from acting too rashly.”

  “And shooting was not a rash act? Why isn’t she in jail?”

  “I didn’t press charges, and Victor never learned of it. I left the house without assistance and the cabdriver waiting for me took me to the hospital. I have always assumed Victorine had a plausible explanation for staff brave enough to inquire. The shot wasn’t loud, no one saw me leave, so there is a possibility that there were no questions.”

  “Your family?”

  “Took it in stride.”

  “Why do you think she’s coming here?”

  “Not because she wants to kill me.”

  “I agree. So why?”

  “She wants a marriage proposal. She indicated that was what she was expecting to hear when I broke it off.”

  “So if you’re married, you can’t very well propose to her.”

  “That’s right.”

  Lily pressed three fingers to her temple and briefly closed her eyes. “I believe I have the beginnings of a headache, Mr. Shepard.”

  “I’m sorry. Can I get you something?”

  “No. You can tell me how this would work exactly. You have a plan, I suppose.”

  “I do. You and I will take the train to Liberty Junction, where we’ll have lunch at the Boxwood Hotel. We will introduce ourselves as Mr. and Mrs. Shepard to anyone who asks, and after we take a leisurely walk through town, we’ll catch the late afternoon train and return to Frost Falls. People in Liberty Junction will believe we are married and people here will learn we eloped.”

  “That’s your plan?”

  “It probably needs refining.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “And you have to agree. It hinges on that.”

  “I’m glad you realize it.” Lily kept her gaze steady on Roen. He did not look away. She suspected it was easier for him than it was for her. Her heart was racing. “How do I benefit if I agree?”

  “I am encouraged you haven’t said no.”

  “That may be, but it is not an answer to my question. You never considered that I might ask for something in return.”

  “You’re right, I didn’t. I suppose I was relying on your compassion.”

  “Not a good idea, Mr. Shepard.” She tilted her head to one side. “Well?”

  “Tutoring,” he said.

  Lily’s brow puckered. “How’s that again?”

  “I’ll tutor you. Clay showed me the work you did on that problem I gave him. You thought it through with no instruction.”

  “No instruction from you. Clay explained some things to me first, and I had a book.”

  “You’re being modest. You proved you’re capable of understanding complex calculations.”

  “I solved a single problem. It wasn’t very difficult.”

  “So say you. I recall sitting in this room speaking to you about what I would be teaching Clay. You were interested. Not just for Clay, I thought, but also for yourself. You took offense when I asked if he got his head for figures from his father.”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “That head for figures came from you, and later you told me that you had little opportunity to advance your learning.”

  “Good Lord. You’re as bad as Lizzie, recalling everything I say and repeating it back to me, mostly in ways I don’t like to hear it.”

  “I won’t be put off, Mrs. Salt. I’m offering you that opportunity you didn’t have. When I look around this room, I can’t help but notice the books. You enjoy learning, I think. They are not all for your children’s benefit.”

  She put up her hand. “Stop talking, please.”

  Roen’s jaw snapped shut with such force that he surprised a short laugh out of her.

  “I think you must be used to getting your way, Mr. Shepard, else you wouldn’t be so persistent toward that end.”

  “Does that mean—”

  She shook her head, cutting him off. “That was merely an observation and not meant to be construed as acceptance of your proposal.”

  “I see.”

  “I don’t think you do. You’ve only thought this through as it relates to your situation, which is understandable but selfish and shortsighted. I admit that your offer to tutor is tempting; I only wish it had been inspired by your comprehension that I deserved to be compensated in some fashion. That compassion you were depending upon does not come cheaply.”

  Roen was quiet for a few long moments. “I believe I prefer to be shot by anyone rather than taken to the woodshed by you. I take it you have more terms.”

  “I do.”

  “All right. I’m listening.”

  “I am thinking of my children. You left them entirely out of your equation. I can’t be part of your scheme when it involves lying to the children. I wouldn’t accompany you to Liberty Junction without them in tow, and unless we engaged in some elaborate farce, Hannah and Clay would certainly know there were no marriage vows exchanged.”

  Roen pressed three fingers to his temple, mirroring Lily’s earlier distress. “I believe I have the beginnings of a headache.”

  “As well you should. How much time did you spend developing your plan?”

  “About as long as it takes to walk from the Butterworth to here.”

  “Ah.”

  “I had two beers before I set out.”