Mail Order Bride: Mabel - The Unexpected Bride: Brides Of Paradise, #2

By GRACE HEARTSONG

1876. Bachelor Hector Dawes owns the stagecoach business in Paradise, Iowa; but it's also next door to his overbearing mother's, Lizzy Dawes, dress and garment shop. 

Hector's bachelor routine is thrown into disarray when Lizzy puts out an ad for a mail-order bride on Hector's behalf, without his knowledge. 

Stubbornness and sparks run amok when young Mabel Lynn arrives in Paradise, thinking her future is secure...

Book 2 in the Brides Of Paradise mail order bride series BUT can also be read as a standalone novelette!
 

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Tags: Mail Order Bride Romance, Historical Religious Christian Frontier Western Romance, Historical Short Stories & Series

• Language: English
• Publisher: BlissRockHub OU
• Release date: Dec 22, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386494119

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Annalise – Part 1 & 2

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MABEL

THE UNEXPECTED BRIDE

BRIDES OF PARADISE BOOK 2

MAIL ORDER BRIDES

BY GRACE HEARTSONG

THE UNEXPECTED BRIDE

Hector Dawes sat nearly up to his ankles in fashion catalogs, colorful designs, silky fabrics, frothy bows, and pricking, insistent whalebone corsets. How his mother, Lizzy, dealt with this everyday—he did not know. But he respected her for it was something fierce. Lizzy had come to Paradise to set up shop at a time when virtually no females braved the west alone. She’d used an inheritance to fulfill her dream, and had soon after met his father, Wayne, the previous owner of the stagecoach business.

But an accident with a tipped stagecoach ended his father’s life when Hector was just ten, leaving the business in the hands of a trusted colleague until Hector had been old enough to take over the business himself. That had been five years ago, and now at a mere twenty-three, Hector Dawes was one of the wealthiest men in Paradise—hell, all of Iowa put together.

And with the continued success of his mother’s business, for people always required new clothes, the meager Dawes family had a fortune to flaunt.

Just a few more minutes, Hec! his mother called from behind a dressing screen. Her latest appointment had run late—a young woman trying to find a gown and corset large enough to fit own her swelling pregnancy.

They had a reservation for dinner at the Claremont, the most upscale hotel and restaurant in all of Paradise (never mind the only other option of a restaurant next to the modest, rough and tumble White Horse Saloon.) Although they lived apart, it was not uncommon for Hector to treat his mother to a nice dinner at least a few times per month. Or she treated him, citing the nonsensical insistence of a mother to son as her excuse.

Only, his mother had made these dinner plans...earlier than he’d expected for the month. They usually dined in a reserved room at the White Horse Saloon, and he found it odd that his mother would reserve a table at the Claremont when there were no holidays or birthdays on the horizon.

Perched atop the highest hill in Paradise, the Claremont was both imposing and elegant. It cut regal curves of red brick and gray stone, with intricately carved wood railings, porch, and lintels. The Claremont was usually reserved for Hector’s business meetings with clients from out of town—city clients from Chicago or Dubuque who expected that sort of thing. The locals didn’t usually pay the Claremont mind, being that it was too expensive, or that they simply worked there.

Mother, my appetite is growing quite impatient, Hector called.

Lizzy’s voice fizzed and popped in a flurry of expert salesmanship, and soon, the rounded, blonde woman was being sent on her way with the promise of a custom order.

At the door, Lizzy watched her go, flipped the open sign to closed, then turned and sighed.

Busy day? Hector said, detaching himself from the trove of garment paraphernalia littered about him.

Lizzy slumped for only a moment, then propelled herself away from the door and began plucking the catalogs and swatches from the floor.

Hector caught her arm and pointed to his pocket watch. If we’re late at the Claremont, we’re bound to get a reputation for rudeness. And then I wouldn’t be able to show my face there at all. And you wouldn’t want that, would you, mother? My business could suffer.

Lizzy slowly nodded, then plopped all that she had gathered onto the pink chaise. I suppose you’re right, as always. She disappeared behind the screen for a moment, then returned with a sleek leather briefcase and a powder blue, lace-trimmed parasol. Your father was always trying to keep me on a schedule too, you know, his mother said, happily taking his arm.

They strode out of the shop, the interior looking as if a twister had just torn through.

Lizzy caught his gaze and waved her hand, don’t worry, Hec. The shop girl comes in the morning. And believe me, she’s used to it, she said, locking the door behind her. She snapped her parasol open, then comfortably fit her arm once more within Hector’s. And she’s seen worse.

Busy time of year, I suppose. Lots of new brides and babies in the spring and summer, it seems, Hector mused as they briskly made their way to the highest hill in Paradise.

Lizzy’s arm suddenly tightened around his, her expression markedly taut.

I should think that would be good for business, Hector said.

Lizzy gave a nervous little laugh. Of course it is, Hec, it’s only—

You’re tired, he said, shaking his head. We’ve talked about this before. You know you don’t have to keep on working like that. We have plenty of money to hire a full staff. A woman of your age shouldn’t be—

A woman of my age? his mother abruptly pulled away and primly straightened the collar of her azure gown.

Hector sighed. He’d really gone and stepped in it this time. An empty stomach had a persistent way of making him say the wrong thing at the wrong time.

"I’ll have you know that forty-two is not old at all, Hector Dawes," she said, bursting forth.

Hector rubbed his temples, then broke into a slow jog to catch up to her. He laced his arm through hers once more, and tightened his grip when she sought to pull away. Come on now, mother. You know I didn’t mean it like that.

She did a double take, a slow and hesitant smile building on her face. She flicked a curl from her forehead, deep brown and streaked with gray. You sound just like your father when you croon like that. Best you know the right words to say when you get a— she unceremoniously slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

Hector stared at her, the Claremont growing closer. When I get a what? His brow furrowed.

And then his mother was all sweetness, patting his hand and nestling her head against his shoulder. Nothing dear, we’ll discuss it over supper. She smiled innocently up at him, but he wasn’t buying it. He knew all too well when Lizzy Dawes had something up her fashionable sleeve.

THE CLAREMONT STAFF was none too pleased with their arrival, a mere five minutes after the set reservation time. The Claremont were sticklers for class and decorum, and even the famous and wealthy Dawes were not exempt from their looks of judgement.

Well I say, it is quite chilly in here, is it not? his mother quipped, playfully drawing her shawl around her shoulders.

Shhh, Hector said, signaling a young, blonde waiter over.

Yessir, Mr. Dawes, oh and Mrs. Dawes, what a pleasure to have you both, the waiter said.

See, mother, here’s a pocket of warmth, Hector said, grinning at the young man beside their table.

I’ll have a scotch. Neat, Lizzy said, without preamble.

The waiter fumbled with his pencil and paper. Oh! Yes, of course.

Hector raised a brow at his mother, who had abruptly become very interested in a menu consisting of only three options.

He cleared his throat. I’ll take the same. Check on us in a few minutes, he said to the waiter.

Very good, sir, the waiter said, marking it down and striding off.

The string quartet guided their silence, his mother’s salt and pepper hair still bent over the menu. The waiter returned with the glasses, for which Lizzy’s hand shot out. She took a hearty gulp, leaving the waiter wide-eyed once more.

Ready to order? he asked, tips of his ears reddening.

I’ll take the lemon chicken and rosemary potatoes. Thank you, lad, she said, pushing the menu back into his hands with a sweet smile.

Steak, medium rare. Onions and string beans. Thanks, Hector said, handing his own back.

Very good, Mr. Dawes—Mrs. Dawes. The waiter flashed a nervous smile and set off again. He hadn’t even crossed the room by the time Lizzy drained