Charmed By Knight (The Fielding Brothers Saga) (25 page)

Before leaving the house, she had sneaked into her father’s study and found the deed to the goldmine. Since her father had forged her name, she went ahead and took it. After all, it was no use to them since it had her name on it. But now she could do whatever she wanted with it. She intended on selling it.

Not only was she starting a new life, she’d have a new identity.
The widow, Mrs. Knight.

A bubble of laughter sprang to her throat and she let it out, not caring who heard and thought her insane. Hopefully Edmund would never learn she used his name, but since he’d taken her virginity, it was only fair to use it. And, if fortune was on her side, the mention of his name and the Duke of Ashton might help her survive in America.

“Miss Megan.” Bertha pointed to the spot of land becoming clearer. “Is that America?”

“Yes, I believe it is. We shall reach San Francisco any time now.”

Bertha’s heavy sigh drew Megan’s attention. Her maid leaned forward on the ship’s railing and grinned. “I must admit, Miss Megan, I’m frightened. Starting over again scares me, yet I feel butterflies in my stomach from excitement.”

Megan laughed. “I, too, have butterflies. Although my decision to leave England was done in haste, I’m very much looking forward to our new home. We will do fine, I assure you.”

“Do you think the money my uncle gave us will last until we can find employment?”

“I’m certain it will. I hope he knows how grateful I am for his generosity.”

Bertha nudged Megan’s arm with her elbow. “He’s only happy he could help. He knows what a horrid situation you were dragged into, and he agrees with us. The best way to handle your father, Mr. Knight and the scandal was to leave.”

“Good. I was beginning to think I took the coward’s way out.”

“No, Miss Megan. You would have been extremely miserable married to Mr. Knight. Why, that rogue would have never changed. While filling your belly with babies, he’d have mistresses on the side. You would have given your heart to him only to have him break it over and over.”

Megan’s heart wrenched from the thought. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so. Men like him are all over England, and they aren’t worth the ground they drag their bellies over.”

She laughed and hugged her maid. “Oh, Bertha. You’re so good to me. You’re closer to me than my own mother. I’m glad you came.”

“I’d not have missed this adventure for the world.”

“Indeed – adventure it is.”

She paused in thought. Definitely a quest, especially since this would be the first time she worked for pay. How could she possibly earn money to live? Of course selling the deed was the first order of business.

“Bertha? Have you thought about what occupation we could venture into to earn our keep?”

She nodded, the brown curls under her bonnet bouncing to the rhythm. “I think I would make a pretty good ladies’ maid.” Her brown eyes twinkled.

Megan laughed. “You make a wonderful ladies’ maid.”

“But in all honesty, I’d thought about starting our own laundry. I have been reading the newspapers, and I think this town of San Francisco could use another one.”

“Brilliant solution, Bertha. And I wonder if this town could also use more schoolteachers? I was a very apt student a few years ago. I know three languages, as well, that would quite helpful to some families.”

“Oh, yes, Miss Megan. I think that will be a good job for you.”

Megan patted her maid’s arm. “But Bertha, you shouldn’t call me Miss Megan. It will cause suspicion.”

Bertha’s brows knit together. “Then what should I call you?”

A tug pulled on Megan’s lips, and she couldn’t stop the smile sneaking across her mouth. “You can refer to me as Mrs. Knight.”

Bertha’s eyes widened and a gasp escaped her throat. “No, you cannot take his name.”

She nodded. “But I have to. If, by some strange chance, I find a man who can love me, it won’t be wise to let him think I’m innocent. Yet if I say I am widowed, then I will not be looked down upon because of my state.”

“You are correct, Miss...I mean Mrs. Knight.”

“I thank you for helping me with this masquerade. Now that we have that settled, I think the rest will come quite naturally. As soon as we dock, we will find an inexpensive place of lodging, and then look for employment.”

“Very good idea.” Bertha’s forehead creased again. “It’s rather frightening taking on a new life.”

“It is, but I want to leave that part of my life behind me.” And she wanted to hurry and forget about the man who’d been a huge part of
that
life.

* * * *

A sand hill. That was the only way to describe this dry land. Megan and her maid walked along the street, keeping their backs straight. Megan’s heart hammered in beat with her quick step. This town was busier – and larger – than she had originally thought. Tall buildings lined the street, probably offices or hotels. Smaller structures nestled between bigger ones, accompanied with tinkering of pianos and the smell of stale rum. She cringed. The blasted saloons greatly outnumbered the hotels. Her father would love it here.

She passed several small restaurants, and she stopped counting the banks when she reached ten. The closer she came to the outskirts of town, the laundry tents and washhouses were advertised by big signs hanging across them. So far, Megan had yet to see a school. She prayed there wasn’t one and that the mayor of this God-forsaken town would appoint her as San Francisco’s first teacher.

When a familiar sign came into view, she stopped and gazed up at the three-story building. Fielding Tower Hotel. It had to be Nick Fielding’s.

“Bertha, we must stay the night here.”

Bertha tilted her head back and squinted up at the building. “But why?”

“Because this is the Duke of Ashton’s hotel. He’d told Mr. Knight we were welcome to stay.”

“Do you think they are expecting you?”

Megan shrugged. “I won’t know until I ask.” She laughed then pulled on her maid’s arm. “Come now, Bertha. Don’t purse your lips so.”

“I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“This looks to be a wonderful hotel. It will be all right, I just know it.”

Bertha’s scowl remained on her face as she walked beside Megan into the hotel. Nicholas Fielding had brought a bit of England to this dreary town with this establishment. The lobby reflected her homeland in every lush red velvet settee and silk curtain.

She nudged her elbow against her maid’s arm. “Did I not tell you there was nothing to worry about?”

Holding herself straight and assured, Megan walked to the front desk and rang the bell. Within seconds a man appeared, wearing an expensive tailored brown suit. The older man, perhaps in his early fifties, greeted her with a warm smile.

“Good afternoon.” He bowed slightly. “How may I assist you today?”

“My name is Mrs. Knight. I believe you are expecting me.”

His dark brows creased as he flipped through his books. She quickly continued. “Nicholas Fielding, the Duke of Ashton, is my late husband’s friend, and he reserved a room not too long ago.”

The man’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “Did you say your...late husband?”

Megan gave him her best frown, hoping to look like the sorrowful widow. “Indeed you heard correctly. I’m afraid my husband died before making the trip.” She pulled out a handkerchief from her reticule. “The pain was just too much for me to bear, so my maid and I traveled here hoping a new land would help us forget our grief.” For further effect, she dabbed the material to the corner of her eyes.

“Oh, my apologies, Mrs. Knight.” The desk clerk reached across the counter and tapped her hand. “You will be taken care of here and given whatever it is you need. The duke sent us a telegram not too long ago, and so I was aware of your coming.”

He turned and motioned his hand to the bellboy waiting at the end of the long desk then turned to take a key off a hook on the wall. “Mrs. Knight, you will be staying in room 305. It’s one of the best rooms, I assure you.” He handed her the key.

“Thank you, Mr.…”

“Mr. Wilson, at your service.” He bowed again.

She took the key from him and smiled. “Thank you for making my stay here pleasant. I will certainly tell the duke what a good man you are.”

His smile broadened. “Why, thank you, Mrs. Knight.”

Megan and Bertha followed the bellboy up the stairs to their room. He pushed opened the door to their suite then pulled in their trunks. Megan tipped him a few coins and thanked him before he left. Once the door closed, Bertha let out a loud sigh, followed by a low chuckle.

“Miss Megan, you’re certainly an actress. How you could hold a straight face through that outrageous lie, I don’t know. But I almost couldn’t contain myself.”

Megan laughed. “I could tell and I almost laughed over your expression.” She swatted her maid’s shoulder. “But it worked, did it not? We are here in a luxurious hotel, and we don’t have to spend a coin.”

“This will only last for so long, you know. What if Mr. Wilson telegraphs the duke?”

“Why would he do that?”

Bertha arched an eyebrow. “To give condolences over losing his friend.”

Megan gasped, her hand covering her mouth.
“Oh, dear.
I didn’t think of that.” She took a deep breath for courage. “But I shall not worry now. We have plenty of time to think of a story.” She smiled. “We will enjoy this town, as much as we can, anyway. I also plan to sell Mr. Knight’s blasted deed to his goldmine. That should teach him a lesson for trying to deceive me.”

Just thinking about that man sent her blood boiling, bringing back the fresh pain of betrayal.
Men!
They were all the same. If they weren’t deceiving, they were trying to ruin her life.

Bertha insisted Megan lay down and relax, but sleep was the furthest thing from Megan’s mind. There was too much to plan, too much to decide. Her future lay ahead, and if she didn’t secure employment, she and Bertha would be in trouble.

She stripped down to her shift and lay on the bed. Cracked open, the window allowed in just enough air to circulate the already heated room. She’d heard this town had a lot of fog, but today the sun shone, inviting her to venture outside.

In the next room, the snores of her maid nearly shook the walls. Megan sighed. Turning on the mattress, she punched her pillow, trying to make it more comfortable.

She snuggled into the bed and closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep, but when Edmund’s face appeared, her mind quickly headed in the wrong direction. Her skin warmed, recalling being in his strong, protective embrace. Her lips tingled, feeling the whisper of his heated kiss. His crooked smile weakened her knees and created desirous stirrings in her stomach.

If only he hadn’t wanted to control everything.

After nineteen years of living with a controlling father, Edmund’s offer that amounted to nothing more than slavery, did not sit well with her. In fact, the foul taste in her mouth still remained, and she wanted nothing more than to spit it out. Unfortunately, the memory of him would take a very long time to leave.

But, could she live without his kisses? His touch? Or the way he had always charmed her into submission?

She had to live without them. There was no other choice. She would have to be content in being a schoolteacher for the rest of her life. And if she met a man, he’d have to be more handsome than Edmund, his body more muscular, and he definitely had to be more passionate. But most importantly, he had to accept her for who she was and not control her. He had to be a kind man, a strong-of-honor type, someone who treasured her and would take care of her spirit as well as her physical needs of home and security.

Did such a man exist?

Megan growled and slammed her fists into the mattress. Sleep was impossible. She flung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. Wiping away the moisture gathered on her neck, she stood and walked to the water basin to rinse off.

The water cooled her parched skin. Beginning life in a new town made her restless, yet eager. If she had to live without a man, she’d better do something about removing Edmund from her mind. Silly daydreams had no place in her new life.

Instead of waking her maid, she dressed, grabbed her parasol and left the room. She hurried her steps, practically skipping down three flights of stairs into the lobby. Business had increased, she noticed as she slid through the many couples entering the hotel. Once outside, she flipped open her parasol and proceeded to familiarize herself with the town.

The roads were lined with wooden planks, and a few side streets were made of cobblestones. They would most certainly come in handy for the winter months when the streets became muddy. In the middle of town, the sidewalks were made of bricks, but as she headed farther toward the outskirts of town, they turned to stone. Street lamps lined the streets, held with whale oil, she supposed.

San Francisco was nothing like London. True, there were people less fortunate than herself, but soon she’d become one of the working class, and so she must not think she was any higher. When she passed the workingwomen in the laundry tents, Megan nodded in greeting. So far, she’d yet to see many women.