Heroes of Heartbreak Creek 02 Read Online Free Page A

feigned innocence when his wife glared at him. “Just behave,” he muttered. “And mind that the heathen doesna stab or choke anyone. March.”
    With a sigh, Rafe fell in behind Thomas as the four of them left the cabin.
    First a fancy suit of clothes, now a fancy dinner and stilted conversation with the high and mighty. It promised to be a long, awkward evening. His collar already felt too tight and his hands were sweating.
    Maybe she’ll be plain and a giggler
. With coal black hair instead of sun-streaked brown, and a cross-eyed squint rather than eyes the color of dark clover honey. Maybe he wouldn’t think of Miranda once all night.
    He was wrong.
    On all counts.

Two
    H ead high, her gait uneven as she battled the rolling motion of the ship, Josephine Cathcart descended with her father down the broad staircase to the
Oceanic
dining room. Her gloved palm left a damp smear on the brass handrail, her knees felt wobbly, and aversion burned like acid in her stomach.
    It was not to be borne. Being put on display once again. The impoverished Englishwoman, only slightly used but attractive enough to preside over any wealthy man’s table, and available to the highest bidder.
    It was the vilest of clichés.
    Father’s grip on her arm tightened, his blunt fingers digging into the flesh above her elbow. “Smile.” A hint of his thick Cumberland coal miner’s accent shadowed the admonition as he dipped his head and added, “Chin up, love. It’s only business. Nothing more.”
    Josephine clung to the railing and struggled to even her breathing.
    The whole trip to America had been a waste. In addition to learning that the auger was unsuitable for mining in Cumberland, it seemed Father’s reputation for pushing questionable ventures had preceded him. Not that they were treated poorly—the American reputation for hospitality was well founded. But there were no new capital investments, and no offers of marriage. Nothing had changed, other than the loss of the substantial funds spent on this unsuccessful trip. Now, with only a few days left to parade his daughter past wealthy travelers and make new business connections in the gentlemen’s smoking lounge, Father was making the most of the opportunity.
    There was little chance of success as far as she was concerned. Rich Americans did not wed impoverished, untitled Englishwomen any more than sons of impoverished barons married coal miners’ naive daughters, no matter how much they professed to love them. She had learned that the hard way. But Father still couldn’t seem to understand that here on the surface, far above the black coal that had made him rich, an entirely new set of rules for survival applied.
    “Two men are joining us tonight,” he said. “I want you to pay special attention to them.”
    Josephine’s stomach twisted. Was her father now her procurer?
    “I’ve arranged for them to be seated near you,” he went on, his whisky-laced breath hot in her ear. “A Mr. Calhoun, who is unmarried and considered quite a catch. Something to do with lumber. And another man you met when you were seventeen, although you may not remember him. A Scot named Angus Wallace. He was with the Hussars then and came to look at our horses.”
    She had been so in love with William at the time, she had scarcely been aware of anyone else. But she did vaguely recall a tall man with dark hair and a strong Scots brogue. “What do you hope to achieve, Father?” she murmured. “I read he’s married now. What could he possibly want from us?”
    “Same as before. Horses.”
    Josephine stumbled. If she hadn’t had the handrail on one side, and her father on the other, she might have tumbled headlong down the stairs. “You’re selling our horses?”
    “Keep your voice down,” he growled through a strained smile.
    Her mind reeled.
The horses . . .
“Surely not Pembroke’s Pride, too?”
    “Since you’ve failed to snare a rich husband, what choice do I have?”
    He had always