Chapter One

Home of Socialite Hermonie Dutton

Boston, Massachusetts

Twelve Years Later

June 1895

Adela peered cautiously through the narrow opening of the parlor door before stepping inside. It wasn't often she was summoned to her employer's side when family was around. Especially when said family was Miles Dutton, head of Dutton Savings and Loan, and Virginia Dutton, his social-climbing wife.

"You asked for me, Ma'am?" Adela inquired.

"Yes, my dear," Hermonie Dutton confirmed. "Come in and take a seat."

Adela's senses were on immediate alert. Was she being fired ?

The elder Missus Dutton offered her a smile, and then waived her hand toward the closest chair. Before she could speak, Miles Dutton sat forward in his chair and drew some papers across the desk.

"My mother," he began, "has decided to return to our family's home in England. Our daughter, Adelaide, is already there and being introduced to society by my aunt and uncle. However, we believe Adelaide would benefit from her grandmother's presence. There are a number of arrangements still to be made, but—"

A weary sigh echoed across the width of the desk. "What my son is trying to say in his usual long-winded manner is that I… we… would like to offer you the opportunity to remain in my employ as my companion and accompany me to London."

"You want me to go with you to England… to live?" Adela clarified.

Missus Dutton nodded. "If you'd like to, of course. But, please, don't feel obligated. I know you have family here. Well… not here… but out west at least."

"My sister," Adela confirmed. "She's married and living in Denver."

From her place on the nearby settee, Virginia Dutton coughed discreetly before saying, "Adelaide has always liked you, Miss McIntyre. You are like the older sister she never had. I'm sure she would love to see you, should you decide to make the trip."

Adela shifted her gaze from one Dutton to the other before turning her attention back on the woman who'd literally taken her in twelve years earlier, taught her refinement, provided for her education, and molded her into an astute lady's companion. How could she refuse the woman's request?

"Take a few days to think it over," Miles said. "We know it's a big decision. Mother is very fond of you, Miss McIntyre. I know she would appreciate having you with her."

"Don't pressure her," Hermonie scolded. "She's quite capable of making the right decision without worrying about me."

"I will give it my most serious consideration," Adele assured them. "My own family left England when I was barely two, so I have no memories of the place. I do admit my curiosity is piqued."

Miles passed her a copy of the papers he'd been shuffling around. "Look this document over. It outlines what would be expected of you during the sailing, after you arrive, and so forth. I'll be away this week at a meeting of our board of directors. We can discuss your decision when I return."

Adela took the papers. "Thank you."

With Missus Dutton and four of her friends from church set up in the parlor for afternoon tea, Adela took a few moments for herself. Sinking down onto her plush feather bed, she unfolded the papers Miles Dutton had given her earlier that day.

After scanning the very detailed list, she read the first couple of items aloud, letting the words truly sink in.

"Item 1. Miss Adela McIntyre will be charged with escorting Missus Hermonie Dutton on the steamship, RMS Collins, sailing from Boston to Liverpool. Miss McIntyre's duties will include but are not limited to overseeing Missus Dutton's day-to-day activities and overseeing her dietary requirements."

Adela stifled the urge to laugh. Missus Dutton ate like a bird. Anything more than tea, crumpets, and a few slices of roast beef and the woman declared herself full to the brim.

"Item 2. Upon arrival in Liverpool, Miss McIntrye will coordinate land passage from the docks to Willowtree, the Dutton family estate just outside of London proper. Miss McIntyre will see to the transportation of all baggage and…."

Apparently, she was to be maid, confidant, footman, and chaperone. Foregoing the rest of the long list, and laying the papers aside, Adela sank back onto the pillow and closed her eyes. It took no more than a moment or two before the memories of the past years came back to fill her thoughts.

The loss of her parents during a fire at the Dutton's country home. The offer of Missus Dutton to take Adela and her sister Isabella in so they could finish their education in the same private school the younger Adelaide Dutton attended. Then came the marriage of her sister, Isabella, to one of the bank clerks who worked for Dutton Savings and Loan, and their subsequent move to Colorado when Milton was promoted.

Adela realized how fortunate she was to have been afforded such a great position working for Hermonie Dutton. At Missus Dutton's side, she'd hobnobbed with Boston's most influential citizens. She'd guided a somewhat rebellious Adelaide through her first cotillion season, encouraging reason when all the young girl wanted was to oppose her mother over every single aspect of her coming out.

It didn't surprise Adela in the least that Mister and Missus Dutton had shipped Adelaide off to England to partake in the season. Not nearly as extravagant as it was during Regency times, it was still one of the best ways for a young woman to make a proper match. And, at twenty-one, Adelaide was considered to be close to the shelf.

What will the men of London think of you, Adela? By their standards, at twenty-six, you've already fallen off the shelf .

Thankfully, she didn't believe in shelves. Or in pigeonholing anyone to a set standard. She was still spry, had proper morals and etiquette, graduated top of her class, and was confident in her ability to complete any task assigned to her. While she didn't primp the way some young women did, she was neat and clean, and often told she was pretty.

Yet, you're still unmarried ? Her conscience prodded. Why's that ?

Releasing a long sigh, Adela let the taunt sink in. If there'd been any drawbacks to her life… her position with Missus Dutton… it was the inability to meet a suitable man. The men who came to the Dutton home were rich businessmen, most of them already married. The few who had sons were already pairing them off with equally well-to-do debutants, not some lady's companion.

Not that she hadn't been offered the opportunity to become a mistress on occasion.

What's going to change if you go to England ? If anything, your prospects will get narrower than they are here .

It was then that she realized it was time to begin a new life. She'd graciously thank the Dutton family for their offer, but then decline. Surely, in all of London, Missus Dutton would be able to find someone to take her place.

That Sunday, after church, Adela was once again summoned to Missus Dutton's parlor.

"Come in my dear," Hermonie said softly. "Don't worry… it's just me." Nodding toward the opposite end of the settee, her employer took Adela's hand in hers and squeezed. "I've managed to put miles off until tomorrow. I thought you and I should have a little talk first."

"I've been thinking long and hard about your offer," Adela admitted.

"I assumed as much," Hermonie said with a smile. "And, knowing you as I do, you're struggling with the best way to refuse."

"I… I haven't made up my—"

"Of course you have, Adela. You don't want to go to England. Your life is here, in America."

"My only family is here. I admit, I would like to see Isabella again someday." Adela paused, meeting Hermonie's weathered gaze. "May I ask you something, in confidence?"

"Certainly," Hermoine confirmed.

"Do you want to go back to England?"

"Yes, Adela, I do. I'm pushing seventy with a vengeance. Other than my two sons and their wives, I've got no other family here. My younger son has no intention of producing a grandchild, and Adelaide, bless her heart, is the only child that's ever going to come out of that marriage. Since I still have two sisters in London, and a brother in Cornwall, and now my granddaughter trying to trap herself an aristocrat, I figure I might as well enjoy what's left of my years in their company."

"You don't like Boston?" Adela wondered.

"I did when I was younger, when my Henry was still with us, when my boys were growing up. Lately, though, I've grown tired of the rigamarole this Boston elite demands. We may be stuffy in England, but we're nowhere near as pretentious as those with uncouth upbringing."

Adela smothered an unladylike giggle behind her hand. "I can certainly recall a few faux pas over the years."

Hermonie's deep laugh confirmed her agreement. "Remember that would-be textile merchant? For someone who came into wealth so quickly, he surely never learned any manners."

As prim and proper as Missus Dutton was, one of her most endearingly human qualities included her ability to gossip with the best of them.

"What about this beautiful home?"

"I have no doubt in my mind that Miles will be rearranging the furniture and moving himself in within minutes of my steamer leaving port. He's always wanted to be at the top of Beacon Hill, rather than in the newer section. Warren will take Miles' home, and then sell that southside place of his."

"And the rest of the staff?" Adela questioned, unable to hide her concern.

"I've made arrangements for them all. Over the rest of today, and tomorrow morning, I'll be meeting with everyone. Those who wish to retire will be given a generous severance package, those who wish to stay on will blend in with the staff Miles brings with him."

"That's wonderful, and very generous of you."

"Don't think for a moment I've not thought about you, and all your years of service. You'll be handsomely rewarded, as well as provided with a very succinct recommendation."

"That's truly not necessary," Adele told her. "You provided me a home, took care of mine and my sister's education, and paid me a nice salary. I've saved enough money to tide me over until I decide what to do with my life."

"Don't be silly, Adela. You've been more than a salary and an education to me. You were the one person who kept me sane among the push and pull of these stodgy men and spoiled women. I've no desire to be part of their world any longer."

"And your sons are okay with all of these financial arrangements?"

"Despite their fancy business titles, whether they like it or not, I'm still president of the family's business holdings. All of them. They'll do as I say if they want me to go. I'll make sure to get it all in writing through my solicitor. I'm going to telephone both of my sons in the morning to set out my terms."

Adela snickered. "You certainly have taken to this new-fangled invention, haven't you?"

"Mister Bell certainly knows his stuff." Hermonie tapped a finger against her lip, and added, "I met him once. Really nice man. A bit scatter-brained, as I suppose most inventors are."

"If you're happy with these arrangements, Missus Dutton, then I'm happy for you."

Hermonie made a dismissive motion toward the parlor door. "Why don't you go ahead and take the afternoon off? Write your sister a letter, perhaps. Let her know what's going on."

"I think I'll do that, thank you," Adele agreed. "Is there anything I can get for you, or do for you, before I go?"

"No dear, nothing."

It was half past two the next afternoon when both Miles and his younger brother Warren appeared in the front entryway. Adela wasn't sure what to expect but both men seemed in good spirits. Which was unusual.

When they entered the parlor, they took a moment to buzz their mother's cheek with a kiss before taking their seats. Adela sat opposite the men, nervously drawing her silk hanky between her fingers.

"Mother tells us you've turned down our offer to accompany her to England," Miles began.

"Yes, sir. I have no family left there, so—"

"It's all right Miss Adela," Warren assured her. "We know your sister is here, so it makes sense you'd want to stay."

"As a matter of fact," Miles continued, "we have an offer for you that I think you might find interesting. What do you think about moving to Colorado to be near your sister?"

Adela lifted her head, meeting Miles Dutton's gaze head on. "Excuse me?"

"Miles," Hermonie cautioned, her own gaze narrowing in warning toward her son. "Don't dangle the prize until you've relayed the facts."

"Of course," Miles agreed. "We have a branch of our savings in loan in Comstock, about a thirty-mile ride from Denver. The manager there is a fine young man named Wentworth. Phillip Wentworth."

"You met him, Adela," Hermonie added helpfully, "at the holiday party we held here back in '92. He was training to be an assistant manager under Mister Skyler."

Adela briefly closed her eyes and pulled up a long-forgotten memory. "I remember. He was tall, dark hair, and wore glasses." With a gentle twitter, she added, "He was attempting to grow a mustache, if I'm not mistaken."

Hermonie cackled. "Yes. Poor fellow wasn't successful if I'm recalling correctly. It looked as if he'd stuck a caterpillar over his lip."

"I'm sure he's either filled out his mustache, or given up completely by now," Warren commented. "Which has little to do with what we're proposing."

"Which is?" Adela queried.

"As you may recall, just this past spring our board of directors and major investors drew up some rules for our management employees that they felt would show strength to our customers," Miles explained. "One of them being that all branch managers, or above, must be married."

Hermonie shifted in her seat, drawing everyone's attention. "It would seem Mister Wentworth is having trouble finding a suitable bride. Comstock is an up-and-coming town, inhabited mostly by farmers, ranchers, and the occasional new business. The young women of marrying age were all raised there, most have no formal education past the fourth or fifth grade."

"Totally unsuitable for a banker's wife," Warren pointed out.

Adela's gut tightened. She didn't like the way this conversation was going, not at all. "I'm not interested in marrying a stranger, even if it would get me near my sister."

"We're not asking you to decide now," Miles told her. "Just think about it. You'd no longer have to work for yourself. You'll have your own home. You already know how a proper home should be run. You're well educated, have excellent decorum, and you're an attractive young lady."

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "I trust those attributes will help me find a suitable position once Missus Dutton leaves next month."

"That's just it, Miss McIntyre," Warren reminded her. "If you agree to an arranged marriage with Mister Wentworth, you'd never have to worry about finding another position, suitable or otherwise, again."

"Adela, my dear," Hermonie spoke up, her tone soft. "We're not even sure if Mister Wentworth is interested in this arrangement. However, I'd like your permission to query him. I'll write the letter, not as the president of Dutton Holdings, but as your friend and confidant. If I get even the slightest inclination that he's not perfect for you, then the entire proposal is off the table."

"But—" she stammered.

"You trust me, don't you?" Hermonie asked.

"Of course, I do. I guess I just never thought of myself as a bride in an arranged marriage."