Courting Miss Cartwright: A Sweet Western Historical Romance Novella (Rated PG) (Six Brides for Six Gideons Book 2) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Note From The Author

  Books by Kristin Holt

  About the Author

  A Sweet Western Historical Romance Novella (Rated PG)

  Six Brides for Six Gideons Series, Book #2

  and

  A Holidays in Mountain Home Novella

  By

  The books in this series are loosely connected and may be read in any order.

  *Note: Books 1 and 2 are entirely unrelated as the lost brothers have not yet reconnected.

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  Mountain Home, Colorado

  July, 1879

  Courtship, by the book, is supposed to be easy…

  As the daughter of an unwed mother, Felicity Percival is accustomed to rejection. Her mother was her only family...until she is summoned to the reading of her father's will. To learn he was a married preacher with a second daughter horrifies her. Having a half-sister she doesn't want appalls her. The stipulations attached to her inheritance infuriate her. The last thing she expects is the emergence of truths that destroy her life-long beliefs. The last thing she wants is to feel the blush of first love for a man she can't have.

  The road to Happily Ever After should not be rocky, especially for level-headed, rule-following Rocky Gideon. His courtship of the minister’s legitimate daughter is successful and on track, surviving everything life throws at them…except the appearance of the preacher’s other daughter. Felicity asks too many questions, reminds him of his distant past, fights off a pack of petticoated she-wolves, forces him to evaluate his carefully constructed plan, and somehow steals his heart.

  Rocky desperately needs a stable, solid marriage that will go the distance…so why does he yearn for the wrong sister?

  COURTING MISS CARTWRIGHT: Copyright © 2016 Kristin Holt, LC

  www.KristinHolt.com

  Kindle ISBN- 10: 1-63438-025-8

  Kindle ISBN-13: 978-1-63438-025-6

  Paperback ISBN-10: 1-63438-026-6

  Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-63438-026-3

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews. To contact the author, visit www.KristinHolt.com.

  eBook and Paperback Cover designs Copyright © 2016 by Charlene Raddon, Author and Graphics Artist, Silver Sage Book Covers.com.

  eBook and Paperback interior design by Kristin Holt.

  Copy editing by RVP The Man Editing.

  Dedication

  With fond appreciation to Rocky Palmer: friend, supporter, avid reader, and copy editor. Your love of western historical romance is exceeded only by your capacity to find and eradicate errors large and small. You’re my (literary) hero. Thank you for loaning me your name. It was a pleasure naming a hero after you.

  Chapter One

  “Courtship’s sole purpose is to bring about your marriage to a well-suited woman. Courtship, executed properly, will develop a lasting bond certain to surmount life’s difficulties.”

  ~ The Gentleman’s Guide to Courtship and Marriage

  Mountain Home, Colorado

  Monday, July 7, 1879

  Rocky Gideon’s rotten mood darkened tenfold.

  The reading of Cedric Cartwright’s last will and testament was supposed to be simple. Quick. Just immediate family.

  And no surprises.

  Never had he suspected the family attorney, W.W. Stuart, would enter his office with a most unwelcome bit of history trailing behind.

  That bit of unwelcome history had a name: Felicity Percival.

  Rocky had never met the young woman, but her identity was unmistakable, given she looked more like Cartwright than Cartwright himself.

  The news would undoubtedly invoke a grand pyrotechnic display.

  He doubted Temperance knew about Felicity…hence the impending fireworks.

  Temperance reclined on the settee and fanned herself. Her eyes closed, her crossed ankles in shiny button-up shoes rested on the upholstery.

  Mr. Stuart hung his hat on the coat tree and dropped his leather satchel beside it. Without a word, he took his seat behind his heavy oak desk. “Let’s begin.” He withdrew a folder from a drawer and opened it.

  Stuart’s youth showed in a head of thick blond hair and a hint of fullness about his cheeks. The boy looked too young to practice law. But his credentials had checked out and The Reverend Cartwright had trusted him.

  Temperance shifted, glancing at Stuart, then took notice of Felicity Percival, halted awkwardly in the middle of the room. “Mr. Stuart? Who is this?”

  Rocky braced his arms on the back of Temperance’s settee and watched his sweetheart. If she knew about Felicity Percival, she’d put two and two together.

  “Miss Cartwright.” W.W. Stuart nodded at Temperance with deference. “Mr. Rocky Gideon, may I introduce Miss Felicity Percival, of St. Louis.”

  Still no recognition. Not good.

  “Miss Percival, Miss Cartwright is the sole surviving child of The Reverend and Mrs. Cedric Cartwright, both of whom are recently deceased.”

  Ah, so carefully worded.

  Miss Percival gave a jerking nod, then set down a satchel as dusty and careworn as her person. As if stupefied by the news of another offspring, she clasped one hand over her mouth, the other tightly about her waist. Perhaps she’d burst into laughter, tears, or hysterics. She lowered herself with excruciating slowness into a hard-seated chair.

  “I don’t understand.” Temperance folded her fan with a snap. Her boots landed on the carpet with a muffled thud. “I know all my cousins. Who are you, Miss Percival?”

  Rocky clenched his fists, squeezed his eyes shut, and cursed Cedric Cartwright soundly in Yiddish and English. Shame on Cedric for divulging his past to his sweet, tender-hearted daughter in this manner. Shame on him for doing this to both daughters.

  Felicity straightened her spine. She eyed Temperance, then Rocky, ultimately turning her attention squarely on the attorney. “Mr. Stuart, I believe the responsibility for a thorough introduction falls to you, sir.”

  Rocky had to respect the woman’s mettle.

  “I comprehend Miss Cartwright. Why don’t you begin,” Miss Percival continued, her gaze never leaving Stuart, “by explaining who Mr. Gideon is?”

  With a sigh, Stuart stood and circled the desk. “Mr. Gideon is courting Miss Cartwright. He is here, no doubt, to safeguard her int
erests, though I assure you her father did.”

  Rocky pressed a comforting hand on Temperance’s shoulder. Fireworks in five, four, three…

  “Miss Percival,” Stuart gestured with a flourish, “is named in the will as she is also a direct descendant of Ced—”

  “What?” Temperance shrieked. She shrugged Rocky’s touch away. Bright pink splotched her pale cheeks.

  “Miss Percival,” Stuart repeated, “is also your father’s daughter.”

  “No, no, no.” Temperance wilted.

  Rocky reached for her even as she collapsed in a faint.

  With his jaw locked, he gently laid Temperance back on the settee. He slipped around the couch and lifted her feet onto the upholstery. He opened her lace and silk fan and waved it before her face, trying to give her some air. “What were you thinking, man, to deliver word like that without preparing her? Make yourself useful and fetch smelling salts.”

  “I’ll proceed with the reading of the will.” Stuart turned in his chair to catch the slanted rays of sunlight streaming through the west-facing windows.

  Rocky braced his arms on the back of the settee, acutely aware of both women.

  Recovered from her swoon and silently weeping into her hankie, Temperance reclined on the settee before him. Felicity Percival, the illegitimate daughter, sat with her spine rigid in the hard chair to his left. This wasn’t an easy situation for either sister.

  Stuart stood and paced to the window, putting the daylight at his back. “The Reverend Cedric Adams Cartwright, late of Church Street, Mountain Home, Colorado, died on the 2nd of July, 1879, having duly made his last will and testament on Tuesday, the 18th of March, 1879, in words and figures following:—

  “I, Cedric A. Cartwright, widower, hereby revoke all wills and other testamentary dispositions heretofore made by me, and declare this to be my last will and testament. I give and bequeath unto Miss Temperance Annelise Cartwright the entirety of her mother’s inheritance, five hundred, seventy-six dollars and ninety-three cents, currently in the bank at Mountain Home, to be received by her one year from the date of the reading of this will, upon the suitable completion of my stipulations.”

  Rocky pushed upright. “What stipulations?”

  Stuart gestured for silence but didn’t bother to look up. “I give and bequeath unto Miss Felicity Percival the entirety of a bank account at the aforementioned banking establishment, in her name, containing the sum of five hundred, seventy-six dollars and ninety-three cents, to be released one year from the date of the reading of this will, upon the suitable completion of my stipulations.”

  A fortune, especially to a woman dressed so poorly, in shamatta. Rags.

  “In the intervening year, which shall commence on the date my last will and testament is read to Miss Felicity Percival and to Miss Temperance Cartwright, my two daughters—”

  Temperance’s groan put Rocky in mind of a mewling kitten. Thank God she’d remained lying down.

  The attorney flinched as if realizing the pain and suffering he’d caused.

  Rocky put a calming hand on his sweetheart’s shoulder.

  “—my stipulations to them, governing the receipt of their inheritances, shall be as follows:

  “Miss Felicity Percival shall be known both publicly and privately as Miss Felicity Cartwright.”

  Temperance whimpered.

  Rocky risked a glance at the illegitimate daughter, set to inherit nearly five hundred and seventy-seven dollars, the family name, and who knew what else. The girl seemed as upset—if not more—than Temperance.

  Why?

  “My daughters Felicity and Temperance—”

  Cartwright listed his illegitimate daughter before Temperance?

  “—shall be joint inhabitants of the Cartwright home, adjacent to the church lot. They shall live together with the purpose of coming to know one another as sisters.”

  Felicity shook her head in vehement denial.

  The attorney ignored her, as did Temperance. Rocky decided following suit was the safest course of action and ignored her too.

  “Upon Temperance’s soon-to-occur marriage to Mr. Rocky Gideon, the Cartwright house shall become the full and legal property of my daughter, Felicity Cartwright—”

  The minister had visited the fashionable and large two-story residence Rocky had begun building for his bride. He’d known Temperance would be well cared for, the wife of one of the wealthiest men in the county. She wouldn’t need the Cartwright home, but she’d want it. Rocky’s heart twisted.

  “—providing,” continued the attorney with strong emphasis on that codicil, “she remains in Mountain Home for a minimum of one year. If not, the money shall be forfeit and transferred to the church’s directors. The house shall be likewise given to the church, upon Temperance’s marriage.”

  Felicity again shook her head in silent refusal.

  If not an inheritance, what did she want?

  “To provide for the support of my daughters, the household account is available to my daughter Temperance, whom I trust to ensure the day to day needs of her sister are met.”

  Temperance sniffled and blew her nose into her lace-trimmed hankie.

  “The bank accounts in reserve for each daughter shall be released to them in one year’s time if, by the estimation of my executor, William Woodward Stuart, Attorney at Law, Miss Temperance and Miss Felicity have treated one another with fairness,” Stuart emphasized, “kindness,” he paused, “and equity.”

  Perplexed, mystified, Rocky sucked in a deep breath. “How, precisely, do you imagine to quantify kindness or equity, Mr. Stuart? A man might gauge ore cut from a mine or determine ounces of silver. But fairness? How do you suppose you’ll measure fairness?”

  “I assure you,” the lawyer said, his voice calm, “I’m quite capable of evaluating such matters.”

  What on earth had Cartwright been thinking to entrust Stuart with this loosey-goosey judgment call?

  This whole thing stank! Rocky locked his jaw, determined to hear the rest of the blasted will, then put a stop to the fiasco.

  He had enough money, enough persuasion in this town to hire his own lawyer, one who’d certainly have Temperance’s best interests at heart. He’d fight the will, see to it she received everything she had coming without trying to measure up to absurd postmortem demands.

  Maybe he’d just walk away, take Temperance with him. He had more than enough to provide for his wife, far more than her father.

  But one glance between the two women, eying one another warily, and he realized the money, the property, even the Cartwright name wasn’t the problem.

  Oh, no.

  Blast Cedric Cartwright’s selfish hide.

  Beyond the grave, without an ounce of explanation of how this whole mess came to be, expected—no, demanded—his daughters accept one another as sisters.

  As far as he could see? Not going to happen.

  Chapter Two

  “Consistently treat ladies of all ages and rank with great respect and deference.”

  ~ The Gentleman’s Guide to Courtship and Marriage

  Felicity’s heart slammed against her ribs, a hot, hard fist that stole her wind.

  Her father—a preacher!

  Who was The Reverend Cartwright that he dared demand she live in Mountain Home?

  She didn’t want her father’s money.

  She didn’t want his house.

  She did not want this previously unknown half-sister. Well-dressed in pastel yellow, embroidered summer cotton, bustled and curled and expensive, the woman’s pale skin had never seen a day’s work. Miss Temperance’s expression registered abhorrence and disdain when the attorney had introduced Cedric’s other daughter.

  Felicity wanted nothing from either of them.

  Questions churned but one fought for dominance—the horrid probability that blonde, blue-eyed Temperance was older than she, and Mother’s liaison with Cedric Cartwright had occurred during his marriage. “What is your age?”
/>   Miss Cartwright gasped with outrage. “How old are you?”

  Maybe the preacher’s daughter possessed a bit of spunk.

  “Ladies, ladies.” Stuart dropped the document on his desktop. “No need for hysterics.”

  He rounded the desk, his bearing commanding attention. “Miss Felicity is twenty-five years of age, Miss Temperance. She was born a few months after your parents’ marriage.”

  Thank God.

  “Miss Temperance,” he continued, addressing Felicity, “was born September 7, 1858. She will soon be twenty-one.”

  “When was he ordained?” Felicity addressed the lawyer. She doubted Temperance would forfeit information.

  “I don’t rightly know. Temperance?”

  Felicity’s blood had reached a boil. She didn’t wait for a reply. “I want to know. Was he—” the sanctimonious, self-serving— “a minister of the gospel when he seduced my mother?”

  “Miss Percival,” Stuart ordered, “mind your tongue.”

  “Answer my question.” Fisting her skirts in her hands, her jaw locked, she forced her gaze to remain steady on the attorney. “Please.”

  “I don’t believe your question justifies an answer.”

  All her life people treated her with contempt, merely for her lack of married parents. Given Cartwright had caused this blight upon her life, she deserved answers. She’d opened her mouth to say so, but Mr. Gideon spoke first.

  “I recall hearing he was ordained shortly after his marriage to Mrs. Cartwright.” He flicked a glance toward Felicity, then back to Miss Temperance. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

  Just as she was well acquainted with verbal rudeness, she’d experienced plenty of folks unwilling to meet her eye. It seemed Temperance, also, had acquired an allergy to persons born on the wrong side of the blanket. The young woman answered Mr. Gideon’s question in the affirmative and met his gaze. He, apparently, had the privilege of birth on the correct side of the proverbial blanket.