Prologue

Blindreach, Nebraska, 1871

I wish that nasty little man would leave.

It wasn’t a Christian thought, but Jane Sherman couldn’t help herself as she sat in the parlor and tried to appear interested in her parents’ guest.

She ran her hand over the deep blue velvet bench she sat on. It matched the chairs and the sofa. Gold drapes at the tall windows contrasted with the blue furniture. Deep blue oriental rugs covered much of the floor. In most homes, the room would have been too much. But their home was a huge, two-story house that many would call a mansion.

She loved the parlor. But the obnoxious man joining them there today made her wish she was anywhere that he wasn’t.

“Your playing is simply divine,” Andrew Bentley said. He sat close to her father, separated by the large ashtray positioned between matching chairs. Both men held fat cigars. He gave Jane a smile that looked more manufactured than friendly.

“Thank you.” Jane worked hard not to grimace. At her mother’s insistence, she had played several pieces on the gorgeous grand piano, the focal point of the room, to entertain Andrew Bentley while he indulged in tea and pastries. She played well, but it certainly wasn’t divine.

“Would you care for some more tea?” her mother, Phoebe, said.

“No, thank you,” Bentley said. “I fear I must be going soon. If I don’t get back to the factory no work will be done. I swear, those workers are so lazy. You practically have to stand over them all day long.” He looked disgusted. “Harold, I’m sure you run into people like that, too.”

Her father said, “I’m sure there are a few people in every profession who don’t wish to work hard.”

Jane was pretty sure her father was a good man to work for. He never came home speaking badly of the people who worked for him. Harold Sherman was a distinguished forty-three-year-old with a touch of gray at the temples of his rich brown hair. His face was unlined. While he ran a major bank, his job consisted of showing up and just making sure the numbers went in the right direction.

Aside from a successful career, he’d come from old money. He’d never had to worry about anything. A lot of people knew him or wanted to know him because he had influence with all the right people.

When Bentley had first started stopping by on a nearly weekly basis, Jane had supposed he wanted to get to know someone her father could introduce him to. But eventually, she’d realized he also stopped by because of her. And that thought was not welcomed or wanted.

From the corner of her eye, she watched Bentley with a feeling very close to revulsion. At thirty-five, he apparently had a deep love for the kind of pastries her mother’s maid had loaded on the tea cart.

He was overweight and underhaired, with a large bald patch at the back of his head. Though he didn’t seem to be bothered about it in the least. He had a long, thin nose, fat lips, and a wide face.

But what really offended her about the man wasn’t so much his appearance but his cruel, spiteful nature. She was well aware of how he treated the people who worked for him. And she didn’t like it.

“You could play us another piece,” her mother said. “I’m sure our guest would love to hear more.” She smiled at Jane, but it didn’t touch her eyes as it normally would.

“Maybe later.” She was tired of having to entertain him. She hadn’t asked him over. And neither had her parents.

“I’m a bit tired,” Jane added. Maybe Bentley would take the hint and leave. She glanced at him, but he appeared oblivious that it was time to leave.

Why does he keep coming here? Surely he doesn’t think I would ever see him as a suitor? No, he has to know better than that. He’s just wanting Father to help him out.

She could practically feel her mother’s disapproval. Her mother was always gracious. Even with someone like Bentley.

Phoebe, at forty, was still stunningly beautiful. Her skin, the envy of her friends, remained free of lines or blemishes. Jane had always admired her mother’s elegance and appearance.

Phoebe carried herself like a queen. Her posture was perfect. Her yellow-blonde hair never seemed to have a strand out of place. Her eyes were a piercing blue that seemed to see all the way to Jane’s soul. And her high cheekbones gave her a regal appearance.

Jane had inherited her mother’s European looks. Though her hair always escaped any style she tried to tame it in, at least she had the yellow-blonde color like her mother. They shared the same eye color and facial structure as well.

Jane glanced out the window, a needed distraction from Bentley’s self-aggrandizing conversation. Outside, the tree branches swayed in a strong wind. The leaves had dropped a bit early, and the bare branches were stark against the light blue sky. Winter was just around the corner.

Bentley droned on about his business. He was also a man of old money, from a powerful family, and she had a bad feeling her parents saw him as a good catch, although they didn’t like the man. She flat-out despised him.

She shoved a long strand of hair back from her face and glanced over at Bentley who was going on about low productivity at his manufacturing company. Jane would have bet her last penny that the people working for him worked hard. He was the kind of man who wouldn’t give a slacker a second chance.

He looked at her and smiled. To her, it looked fake.

Why doesn’t he just say what he wants and be done with it?

She tried to drown out the man’s blather about his work and focused once again on the swaying branches outside the window.

“Jane, dear, Mr. Bentley is speaking to you.” Her mother sounded stern.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I saw a bird outside the window that I didn’t recognize, and it drew my attention.” It wasn’t true, but she had to say something.

Bentley gave her another toothy smile. “That’s quite all right. I also enjoy observing our little avian friends.”

Oh, for pity’s sake. The man didn’t know how to be genuine.

“As I was saying,” Bentley continued, “I’ve been thinking that perhaps it’s time for me to find a good, quality woman.”

What in the world was he going on about? A little ripple of unease ran over her skin. She rubbed her arms as if chilled.

“Not every lady has your good sensibilities,” he said and smiled at Jane again.

She wished he would stop smiling at her. It seemed so contrived.

“Not only are you a sensible young woman, you have a wonderful character. Why any man would be foolish not to recognize good breeding when they see it.”

Why was he trying to flatter her? It was so obvious. And unnecessary if he was trying to make her think highly of him for his praise.

“Miss Sherman, Jane, I really can’t speak highly enough of you. And I would be honored if you would be my wife,” he said.

Ice rolled over her skin, lifting the fine hairs on her arms. “What?”

“Mr. Bentley is proposing, dear.” Her mother looked a bit miffed at her lack of comprehension.

Except she did comprehend the question. She was just shocked. Her stomach knotted into a hard ball. “No! I’m sorry, but I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

His cheeks turned red. “Excuse me?” he said, clearly offended.

“I’m sorry, but no. I don’t want to marry you.” Heat filled her face, and revulsion coursed through her. “I just…no, I’m sorry.”

Bentley glared at her father and then her mother, as if seeking support. He pushed his hair back from his forehead and stabbed the cigar out in the ashtray.

Her mother had clapped her hand over her mouth and stared wide-eyed at Jane. Then she whispered, “Jane, what are you doing?”

“Are you sure you want to turn down Mr. Bentley’s proposal?” Her father said, waving the cigar around as he spoke, a warning tone to his voice.

Jane nodded. “I’m sorry. Mr. Bentley, I don’t feel we would be a good match.”

Bentley jumped to his feet. “Well, I never. I thought you had more sense.” He grabbed his coat and pulled it on. “You may very well regret your decision.”

Her father stared at her, frowning, as if mentally trying to compel her to change her mind.

“Good day,” Bentley said icily, and without another word, marched out of the room.

Her mother hurried after him, and Jane heard her apologizing as she accompanied him to the front of the house. A moment later the door opened and closed.

“Why in the world did you turn him down?” her father said, turning to Jane in exasperation. “That was a perfectly good marriage proposal! You need to be thinking about your future. Your mother and I won’t be here forever, you know. You need a man to care for you and help you manage the wealth we leave you.”

Her father shook his head as if in disbelief that she’d turned down a man none of them liked. Jane felt a mixture of shock and anger as his words sank in. How could he think she could marry such a man simply for the sake of a stable future? Her stomach knotted at the very thought of Bentley as a potential husband.

Her mother joined them a moment later, looking completely shaken from her usual genteel demeanor. “Jane, what were you thinking? At your age, you can’t be so picky. You’re practically a spinster already.” Phoebe wrung her hands in distress as she perched on the end of the sofa nearest Jane. “You’ve waited so long, you might not get a better opportunity. Why didn’t you accept his proposal?”

Jane stared at her mother, the knot in her stomach growing larger and harder. Did her mother really think Bentley was a good prospect—or that Jane was practically an old maid?

“He’s a dreadful man. And I’m not marrying him,” Jane snapped, looking from her mother to her father and back again. She wasn’t going to be swayed on it either. “I don’t think there’s a nice bone in his body.”

“I’m sure he would treat you very well. And he’s extremely wealthy and comes from a powerful family. You’d never want for anything,” her mother pleaded.

“We’re already wealthy, and I want for nothing. And I’m not going to change my mind.”

“You’re making a mistake,” her father said, stubbing out his cigar in the ash tray. “Bentley has made all the proper overtures, and when it comes to business—”

Jane interrupted, something she almost never did, carefully controlling her voice to a normal pitch and pace. “I’m not making a mistake. I’m good at detecting bad people. And that man isn’t good. You know, as well as I do, that he treats his workers like garbage. What makes you think he would treat a wife any better?”

Her heart thudded in her chest. Her parents were much too interested in his proposal for her liking. Were they truly so anxious to marry her off? “I’d rather be a spinster and live a life alone than be married to Andrew Bentley.”

“Bentley is an honorable man,” her father said gruffly. “I’m sure he wouldn’t dream of not treating you well.”

“I don’t think you should rule this out,” her mother said as she fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve. “Maybe he isn’t perfect. None but the good Lord is perfect. But you could do much worse than Andrew Bentley.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure I can do much better than that horrid man.” Jane just wanted the conversation to be over. She couldn’t believe her parents were so staunchly taking the side of a man she couldn’t stand instead of siding with her.

“Don’t smart mouth your mother, Jane,” her father said with a frown.

“I’m sorry,” Jane forced out. “But I can’t give consideration to this. Now if you will excuse me, I’m going to my room.” She swept out of the parlor before her parents had time to mount a defense and keep the conversation going.

Jane hurried to the large, curving, staircase and ascended to the second floor, her feet skimming over the stairs in her hurry to get to the sanctuary of her bedroom. There she would be left alone by everyone. And not a moment too soon. A feeling like tears burned at the back of her throat, and Jane rarely cried.

At the top of the steps, she quickly walked down the long hall to her room at the end. Small tables sat along the wall. During the summer, fresh flowers always sat on the tables. Other times of the year, each simply held a lamp and perhaps one decorative object. The walls were covered in a deep green wallpaper with small golden accents in the fleur-de-lis pattern.

She reached her room and closed herself inside its quiet solitude. The room was dominated by a large canopy bed with yards of filmy, white fabric draping over it. A vanity with a huge mirror sat along one wall beside a large wardrobe. Floor-to-ceiling windows filled the outside wall, and a monstrous fireplace took most of the space on the opposite interior wall.

It was a tad chilly in the room, but there were plenty of logs and kindling in the firebox. She patiently got some of the kindling to light, the familiar process a welcome distraction from her milling thoughts. Then, once the logs were catching sufficiently, she went to the vanity and sat.

A shiver ran over her. How had things gotten out of hand so quickly? And why in the world had her parents reacted the way they had? They couldn’t possibly think Bentley would be a good husband for her—could they? What she had told them was absolutely true. She would rather be alone the rest of her life than be chained through marriage to him.

Although tears no longer threatened to spill, her head was beginning to ache from the evening’s strain. She took her hair down from the upsweep she’d had it in and let the long strands fall over her shoulders. She brushed her hair in leisurely strokes with a silver hairbrush she had purchased in Paris over the summer. Maybe she should have stayed there instead of coming home. But it wouldn’t have been feasible for her to stay there alone. She had traveled all over Europe with her mother several times, but she had never been there alone.

Her mother’s hints that Jane would be alone forever if she refused Bentley’s proposal flitted through her mind, but Jane shook them away.

She’d said no, and she meant it. Her parents would accept it in a day or so, and that would be the end of it. It still baffled her that they would think he was a good catch for even a moment.

He did indeed have a great standing in society as part of an old money family. He could have just about any woman he wanted. And most would be more than happy to take him for the very reasons her parents had named. So why had he taken a sudden interest in Jane, seemingly from out of the blue?

She would bet his interest had more to do with her wealth and family standing than her as a person. By marrying her, he would gain more power and an even higher standing in society. And that sounded like something Andrew Bentley would do.

Well, he could play that game with someone else. She wasn’t interested in being a pawn in someone’s play for more power.

***

One week after the unexpected proposal, Jane’s father came home early from work. He slammed the door so hard, something he never did, that Jane instantly knew something was very wrong.

“Jane,” her father yelled.

“In here, Father,” she called from the library, setting her book aside.

“Come here, please.”

Her stomach fluttered in alarm as she started to her feet and moved toward the sound of his voice. Something was definitely wrong.

Jane found both of her parents in the parlor. Her father stood rigidly before the fireplace, looking like he was about to explode.

“What’s wrong?” her mother asked, hovering nearby.

“Andrew Bentley has been spreading rumors about Jane.”

“What?” Jane said.

Her father continued, his voice tight. “He’s been spreading around, apparently to anyone who will listen, that the two of you have been engaged in—an illicit affair.” He nearly choked on the final words before sinking heavily into his chair and leaning his elbows on his knees.

Jane’s ears rang, and her head felt light, as if she was about to pass out. The room started spinning, and her legs wobbled. She heard her mother gasp, and vaguely saw her turn with a look of pure horror on her face.

If people believed the rumors, Bentley had ruined her. No one would ever think of her or treat her the same way again. She would not only be alone forever, she would be a complete outcast in society—fodder for gossip and little else. All because he’d lied about her. Like a petty little tyrant who was angry that he couldn’t have something he wanted.

She tried to steady herself with a hand on the doorframe. “I can’t believe this.”

“It’s true,” her father snapped.

Her mother finally caught her breath. “Harold, what are we going to do? That filthy little man.” Then she clapped her hand over her mouth, as if to take back the uncharacteristic outburst.

Jane’s father ran a hand through his hair. “This has put Jane in a bad spot. Us too, for that matter.”

“What am I to do?” Jane said, her voice sounding faint even to her own ears.

“There’s only one thing you can do,” her father said. “You’ll have to marry him.”

Jane’s vision blurred, and then she felt herself falling.

***

She slowly came to on the sofa in the parlor.

“Jane? Jane? Can you hear me?” her mother’s voice filtered into her consciousness.

She wished she could slide back into oblivion. But that wasn’t to be. Her eyelids fluttered open.

“What happened?” she said, full consciousness bringing confusion—and a heavy feeling of dread.

“You fainted, dear,” her mother said. She looked upset, and her eyes were red-rimmed.

“How long was I out?”

“Much longer than you should have been. I was on the verge of sending for the doctor,” her mother said. She lifted a cup of tea from the tray on the table next to them and held it out, but Jane shook her head, her stomach roiling.

Her father paced in front of the tall windows. “I can’t believe that horrid man.”

“Why?” her mother said, looking up at him. “Why would he do this?”

“Why do you think?” he said with a deep scowl. “He knew if he ruined Jane’s reputation, she’d have no choice but to marry him.”

Her father stopped pacing and focused on Jane as she shakily pulled herself upright on the sofa. His face softened microscopically. “You have no choice, Jane. You must marry Andrew Bentley.”

“Harold!” Her mother looked shocked.

Jane shook her head. No way. If anything, this proved that she had been right about him from the beginning. She would not be forced into marriage with that nasty little beast, no matter what happened.

“Jane, be sensible,” her father said. “You’ll be disgraced forever, and you’ll remain unmarried, with no family, no children. You couldn’t possibly want that outcome.”

“Of course, I don’t,” Jane said. “But I also don’t want to marry that dreadful man.”

Her father sighed heavily, tensing his jaw. “I know it’s not ideal. But if you don’t marry him, you may be pursued by men of low reputation and social standing who want to take advantage of you.”

Jane threw her hands in the air, her shock giving way to anger. “Maybe that would be better than marrying Bentley.”

“Jane!” her mother said. Her mouth dropped open in a surprisingly unladylike expression of horror.

“Look,” her father said, struggling to maintain a calm facade. “If you marry Bentley, you’ll at least regain your reputation and have a stable home and a family. Otherwise…” He held his hands out in supplication.

“I won’t marry him. I’d rather be an old maid the rest of my life. I just won’t do it.”

Her father’s face flushed red. “Jane, this isn’t negotiable. You must marry Bentley.”

“No. I won’t.”

“Then we will disown you,” her father said. “We have no other choice. That’s my final word on the matter.”

Her mother’s teacup crashed to the floor, but it sounded distant.

Jane’s heart felt like the shattered china, and she sat as if frozen in place. There was nothing left to say then.

***

The following evening, Jane was dreading dinner.

Her father had invited Andrew Bentley. And he expected her to agree to marry the foul beast.

She had lain awake most of the night considering what her father had said. Logically, she knew it was the truth. But that didn’t make it any better. Bentley was a horrible person. No good man would ever do what he had done to trap a woman into marrying him.

Bentley showed up at seven sharp, and Jane’s mother ushered him into the parlor, where Jane and her father waited in loaded silence.

“So, Jane,” he said with a smugness that made her want to slap his face. “I trust you’ve had an eventful day.”

She had to stop herself from glaring at him. “You could say that, I suppose.”

“I had a busy day at the factory. I swear, those people have to be watched constantly,” he said.

“I’m surprised any of them stay, considering how…difficult it must be with someone hanging over them constantly,” she smiled sweetly.

“Actually,” he said, “I have people in line to work for me.”

Sadly, that was probably true. People needed an income. And some would work for an ogre if it meant steady money to support their family.

“Your father is lucky. You have a better class of workers in banking. Isn’t that right, Harold?”

“I suppose so,” her father said. He looked quite pained at the conversation, with a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes.

The time dragged until it was finally, mercifully, time for dinner.

Once everyone had taken their place at the loaded table, Bentley stared at the silverware. It dawned on Jane that he didn’t know which fork was the proper one to begin with. She couldn’t stop the little smile at his discomfort. The man was rich, and certainly thought he was the cat’s meow, but didn’t know proper dining?

“I’ve never bothered with more than one fork,” he said and laughed it off. He grabbed the wrong one and made a show of stabbing a piece of beef off the tray.

Jane fought to stop a grimace.

As the meal progressed, she discovered her intended talked with food in his mouth, belched, and smacked his lips.

“The victuals are delicious,” he said and smacked his lips in appreciation.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Jane’s mother said. She looked anything but happy.

He reached over Jane’s plate with his fork to spear another roll. “Oh, pardon me,” he said.

“No problem at all,” she said. “Feel free to reach anytime.” But her sarcasm was totally lost on the buffoon. She could just imagine a lifetime of dining with him.

He waved his fork around, “It’s always nice when people aren’t overly rigid when it comes to things like meals. Don’t you agree?” He looked pointedly at her.

“I suppose it is for those who are unaccustomed to a certain standard of manners,” she said. Why couldn’t the floor open up and just let her chair fall through it?

“In my opinion, acting fancy makes about as much sense as putting a skirt on a poodle.” Bentley chortled at his own wit, either ignoring or completely oblivious to her dig.

Lord, deliver me from this fool.

Could she stand being married to him? No. No way. She’d rather be married to a toothless ninety-year-old than this obnoxious man.

Finally, the meal ended, and they retired to the parlor.

An awkward silence fell over them, filled with a sort of expectant tension.

“Jane, dear,” her mother said, “play something nice for us.” She looked frazzled and out of sorts.

Jane sat at the grand piano and began her favorite Beethoven piece, “Moonlight Sonata”. It was a nice long piece, so it would keep Bentley from speaking to her for a while. Sooner or later he would ask her again to marry him. She was in no rush to hear the question and have to give the answer.

Bentley leaned over to her father, who had sat in his favorite chair by the standing ashtray. “You have any more of those cigars?”

“Yes, of course,” her father said and took one out of the humidor, cut off the end, and passed it to Bentley.

Bentley lit the cigar and puffed on it with gusto.

Eventually, she finished the piece and played a couple more before Bentley came over to the piano.

“My dear,” he said. “I know I caught you by surprise when I proposed. And now that you’ve had time to think about it, I’m sure you see the folly of your answer. Given that, Jane, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

She looked him dead in the eyes. “No. I will not marry you.”

Everyone was staring at her, and they all looked shocked.

“What?” Bentley screeched. “You did not turn me down! Are you really that stupid?”

“I’m not stupid at all. The idea of marrying you makes me sick to the pit of my stomach.”

Jane’s mother looked ready to faint.

“Jane!” her father snapped. “Apologize at once.”

Anger flared like a flame inside her, sending heat rolling over her in a wave. How could he demand that when Bentley had called her stupid—had spread vulgar lies about her? He was her father, and he should protect her, not let some interloper insult her.

“I will not,” she said and crossed her arms over her chest.

Bentley looked like he was on the verge of an anger-induced stroke. Veins pulsed in his forehead and neck, and he spluttered. “You’ll be sorry, you ingrate. No other man will ever want you. I made sure of that.”

Now seething with anger, Jane spat out, “I’d rather be an old maid a hundred times over than married to you.” Despite the anger roiling inside her, she shook from the exchange with her would-be suitor.

“I hope that’s exactly how you end up.” He grabbed his coat from where he’d draped it over a chair and jerked it on before proceeding to stomp out of the house.

Her father hurried after him, pausing only to cast an unreadable glance in Jane’s direction.

Moments later, the front door slammed shut.

Her mother sat frozen on the sofa, eyes wide, staring at Jane.

Her father returned to the parlor. He did not return to his seat. “Jane, you have irreparably ruined your future prospects as well as the good name of our family,” he said, his voice tolling like a funeral bell. “And as such, we have no choice but to disown you.”