Chapter One

Boston, Massachusetts

March 1880

Olivia Talbot's feet went out from under her, and she couldn't stop the yelp coming out of her mouth as she fell. She landed on her backside in a snowbank, pain shooting through her hip. She lay there, taking in great gulps of air until the stars above her shifted into alignment and she got her bearings back.

Her prayers that no one saw her fall were for naught when the crunch of carriage wheels and the clippity-clop of horses' hooves reverberated near her ear. Then a carriage door creaked open accompanied by a rustle of fabric, and a shadowy form called out.

"Oh, my dear! Are you hurt?"

Olivia groaned and opened her eyes, finding herself looking at the upside-down faces of Mildred Crenshaw and her driver leaning over her. She managed a feeble smile, her cheeks burning as much from embarrassment as from the cold when she recognized the proprietress of the Westward Home and Hearts Matrimonial Agency …the very person she had come to see. And it happened in front of her home, no less.

"Only my pride, Mrs. Crenshaw." She struggled to sit up and took the driver's hand. He slowly tugged her upright, and Olivia grimaced. The back of her clothing was soaked from her neck to her ankle. Her attempts at decorum were as ruined as the ensemble she'd designed and sewn specifically for her interview.

"You have me at a disadvantage, Miss—"

"It's Olivia Talbot," she said, trying to peel the sodden dress away from her. "I had a four o'clock appointment with you. In my haste to get here on time, I foolishly decided to walk instead of taking the omnibus. I should have considered the inclement weather…I hate the snow and cold."

"There are days when I must agree with you. Winter has been particularly long this year in Boston. That's part of the reason I leave several times a year for milder climes," Mildred concurred, patting Olivia's forearm—the one part of her clothing that wasn't wet.

Her hip throbbed, as did her palms beneath her black woolen gloves. "My late aunt left me a letter instructing me to come see you. I made an appointment with a Miss Jane Wadsworth—"

As if the woman in question knew they were talking about her, Jane Wadsworth appeared on the portico, the open front door spilling a warm, golden light on the paved brick steps and walkway against the approaching dusk. "Milly! Good Heavenly days, Milly! I just happened to look out the window and saw the carriage skid to a stop, and this woman lying in the snowbank…well, you could imagine my alarm."

Mrs. Crenshaw waved away Jane's concern, then hooked her arm through Olivia's arm and climbed the wide steps. "Nothing to be alarmed about, Jane. I'm as right as rain but I'm not so sure about Miss Talbot."

Jane Wadsworth's brow wrinkled as she peered into the gloomy dusk. "It's nice to see you again, Miss Talbot," she acknowledged, then followed them into the foyer before moving to Milly's side, watching for any indication her employer might not be as steady on her feet as she claimed.

"Please tell the butler we'll have tea in my office, Jane." She bustled past her friend and secretary, herding Olivia into a well-appointed room. Two plum-colored velvet chairs were arranged invitingly near a low tea table. In the fireplace, the logs burned briskly with an occasional burst shooting sparks like fireflies into a summer sky. A lovely, ornate lady's desk held photographs of couples, children, and families along with inkwells, and a variety of decorative pens embellished with intricate engravings and gemstones. "And stop hovering over me. I'm perfectly fine."

"Just doing my job," she called out as she went to do Milly's bidding.

Though she would dearly love to warm herself by the fire, Olivia hung back, heeding her aunt's voice quoting a passage from Luke about humility and honor and waiting to be invited to a gathering.

"Come, sit with me, Olivia," Mrs. Crenshaw invited, patting the upholstered arm of the chair beside her.

Olivia moved across the room, carefully holding her sodden skirts aloft, and took a seat on the edge of the chair. Just as she was unbuttoning her paletot, Miss Wadsworth returned with a silver tray holding a flowered teapot and two cups and saucers. There was also a variety of pastries on a matching plate.

"It's bergamot tea," Miss Wadsworth explained, "Milly's favorite." She handed Milly a cup and then served Olivia before leaving the room.

Remembering her aunt's instructions on how a lady should conduct herself, she removed her woolen gloves before accepting the refreshments. As she expected, her palms sported red marks from her fall.

"I have to beg your forgiveness for my tardiness. The agency's business kept me away for the past several months interviewing prospective grooms for women who want to go West, marry, and raise a family." Milly took a healthy sip of tea, a bit of the pastry on her plate, and chewed thoughtfully, her direct gaze never leaving Olivia's face. "Tell me something of yourself, Olivia. Have you lived in Boston all your life?

The cup rattled a bit when Olivia set it on the saucer. No one had ever asked her directly to speak about herself. She drew in a breath. "My mother died in a carriage accident when I was seven. That left just me and my father. I slept in saloons and sporting halls under the tables while he gambled."

Mrs. Crenshaw covered Olivia's clenched hands with a warm soft hand. "It must have been a hard life."

Olivia shrugged. "One night when I was twelve, Pa was losing badly. As a joke one of the men suggested I play his hand. You don't spend the better part of your days and nights in a saloon without learning how to gamble. My father took him up on his suggestion and—wouldn't you know it, I won."

"I'm not a proponent of having children in a gambling hall but…good for you!" Mrs. Crenshaw crowed with enthusiasm.

"I didn't win very much…I think it was five dollars. Pa thought I would give it to him but I didn't. Instead, I ran straight to the train station, bought a ticket, and took the first train back East to Aunt Dee's house here in Boston." Not understanding why she felt compelled to share this part of her life with Mrs. Crenshaw, she continued to tell her tale. "I had my own room and food to eat. Auntie Dee sent me to school, taught me how to act as a lady, and made sure we sat in the family pew at church on Sundays. She was a seamstress and taught me to sew. Because of that, I was lucky enough to secure employment at the Butterick Pattern Company."

"How interesting." Mrs. Crenshaw leaned forward. "Is it true? Do they really use tissue paper when cutting out patterns for a dress?"

Olivia nodded. "Yes, and I also design the patterns and sew the dresses. Or at least I did until one of our most influential customers complained that one of the dresses I designed and sewed didn't fit her. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of mentioning that if she refrained from buying chocolates from the confectioners at Jordan Marsh, she'd fit into the dress."

"And your supervisor took issue with your opinion and you were let go from your position?"

"Yes."

Mrs. Crenshaw leaned back in her chair and assessed Olivia. "What are you looking for in a husband, Olivia?"

Taken aback by the woman's blunt question, she laid the cup and saucer on the tea table. The last thing she needed was to damage the fine china. "Until Auntie Dee passed and I lost my position, I never really gave it much thought. Most men of my acquaintance prefer a woman shorter in stature, content to stay close to home and hearth, and one who doesn't speak her mind."

"I'm only interested in what you want, Miss Talbot, not what you perceive others desire."

Her hostess's gentle scolding brought not only a sudden burning behind her eyelids but an unexpected kernel of hope to her heart. "Someone kind. Someone who sees me as a person and not as a possession. Someone who wants a family. Someone who will be faithful."

"You didn't mention love, dear. Do you not want that?"

With all my heart , she cried silently. "How does all of this work?" She swallowed around the knot of tears in her throat and hurriedly changed the subject. "Matching grooms with women who want to marry men out West, I mean?"

She had heard of girls falling in love with handsome cowboys, others finding contentment with successful businessmen or with prospectors who had struck it rich in the gold and silver mines. To her way of thinking it sounded too good to be true and probably was, but she couldn't help but admit that a home, a husband, and a family in the West would be better than Boston right now.

"Some years ago, my husband was a member of Congress and quite influential in passing the Homestead Act, legislation to settle the West," she began, her voice softening. "After he passed, I took up his mission. I believe every hard-working settler, miner, or farmer needs a helpmate. Sometimes, men—or women—write to me or seek me out during my trips West, telling me what they want in a wife or husband. There are men and women from all over the country seeking a spouse for different reasons. Some for companionship, some needing care for their children, and others simply seeking love. In turn, I select three candidates who match their requirements. After exchanging letters for a few months, the man or woman makes a choice and then offers a proposal. If you're agreeable, I could do the same for you, Olivia. You could be a wife by Christmas."

Olivia turned over this information in her mind. She shook her head, unable to believe that her aunt would think it acceptable to even consider becoming a mail-order bride, but soon found herself enthralled by Mrs. Crenshaw's enthusiasm for her mission. Though she'd been told she was passable in the looks department, had a good mind, and a talent for sewing, and keeping a house, most men found her height and her outspokenness not to their liking. Having only confided her worries to Auntie Dee, she wondered if that was the reason her aunt left a letter of introduction to Mrs. Crenshaw. "I've heard it said that only the timid and the content remain in the East, Mrs. Crenshaw."

"I don't believe you are either of those, dear." She patted Olivia's knee as she rose and crossed the room to tug on a tapestry pull bell. "Will you trust me to find you a match?"

A bride by Christmas! Although Olivia didn't believe any man would want her as his wife, she nodded, latching onto hope like a lifeline, a promise of the future that the Lord has made.

She closed her eyes and prayed that the Lord would guide Mrs. Crenshaw's hand. "I'm putting my trust in the Lord and you, Mrs. Crenshaw."