The Telegraph Proposal
Books by Gina Welborn and Becca Whitham
The Montana Brides Inspirational Romance Series
Come Fly With Me (eBook novella)
The Promise Bride
To Catch a Bride (eBook novella)
The Kitchen Marriage
Anywhere With You (eBook novella)
The Telegraph Proposal
The TELEGRAPH PROPOSAL
Gina Welborn and Becca Whitham
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Authors’ Note
Teaser chapter
About the Author
About the Author
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2019 by Gina Welborn and Becca Whitham
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
BOUQUET Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-4201-4401-7
ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4402-4 (eBook)
ISBN-10: 1-4201-4402-2 (eBook)
For our fathers.
You loved us well,
you loved our mothers well,
and you taught us what to look for in men
so we married well.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
After six stories and five years of our lives revolving around this series, it’s time to say goodbye. We are so grateful for all the people who’ve contributed their professionalism, prayers, and loving support as we brought this cast of characters to life. As always, we are grateful to our agents, Tamela Hancock Murray and Bob Hostetler of the Steve Laube Agency, but we also want to include Karen Ball, who was Becca’s agent when this series originally sold. A huge thanks to the entire Kensington Publishing family, most especially our editor, Selena James, who has been a delight to work with, and to Dr. Ellen Baumler of the Montana Historical Society in Helena, who sent us dozens of articles and pointed us in the right direction to help with historical accuracy.
But on this story, there’s one person whose contributions went above and beyond: Kimberley Woodhouse. She is just flat-out amazing. Along with her professional assistance and personal friendship, she prayed over this story as though it was her own.
Thank you to our readers, who have shared their hearts with us, allowing us to hear how these stories touched or challenged them. Our prayer is always that we bring you joy and a little something to think about as you read.
Our families—our husbands, in particular—have put up with a lot so we could write. Life doesn’t stop just because you are on deadline. How many conversations have been interrupted with, “Hold that thought. I just got a great idea and need to write it down before I forget it”? How many times did they have to make us dinner and bring it to our writing caves so we could keep typing? Only God knows, and He will reward them for their sacrifices. But here ... on this page ... we want to say that Matthew, Jerah, Jadan, Rhyinn, Niley, Steven, and Lyndell are the best cast of characters we’ve ever created, and that Jeremy Welborn and Nathan Whitham are men worthy of being the heroes of every story.
Finally, thank you to our triune God, who is the author and finisher of our faith. We pray we have brought honor to Your name by using the talent You gave us in a worthy manner. Amen.
“A man is lucky if he is the first love of a woman. A woman is lucky if she is the last love of a man.”
—CHARLES DICKENS
“Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love.”
—JANE AUSTEN
“Do not remember the sins of my youth and my rebellious ways; according to Your love remember me, for You, LORD, are good.”
—PSALM 25:7
Prologue
Thursday, January 5, 1888
Denver, Colorado
Marriage did not make women experts on men. Nor did owning or being the namesake of the Archer Matrimonial Company. Mother was wrong about how to handle their most difficult client. To prove it, Antonia invited a new friend to tea to glean insight on the man who continually rejected candidates for a correspondence courtship even though they perfectly matched his detailed description of suitable qualities.
“That’s the fifth time you’ve mentioned this Hale Adams person.” Antonia set her teacup on its matching bone-china saucer. “Is he important to you?”
Across the linen-draped table, Yancey Palmer traced her finger along the delicate pattern of yellow roses nestled in twining vines and deep green leaves rimming her china cup. Her blond hair was piled into a loose bun. She reached up and pulled out a tendril, wrapping it around her index finger. “It’s a long, rather convoluted story.”
But Antonia needed to hear it. His rejections of the nine candidates previously sent to him made her despair of ever finding the perfect Mrs. Adams.
And she desperately needed to find the woman.
Antonia wanted to open a second matrimonial company location—maybe in Helena, Montana, as they seemed to be gaining clients there—but Mother felt Antonia was too young and lacking in wisdom.
Hardly. Twenty-four was plenty old enough, and she opened all the mail, read the biographies and required characteristics, and did the initial pairing of candidates. Mother rarely disagreed with the matches. Until Mr. Adams. Then their differing philosophies were severely tested. Mother said the agency’s job was to give clients what they wanted. Antonia believed their job was to give clients what they needed.
The two weren’t always the same thing.
Proving Mother wrong about Hale Adams was Antonia’s route to greater autonomy now and—with a pinch of luck—running her own office in the future.
But she could never let Yancey Palmer know any of this because Hale Adams was a client of the agency. Antonia set her teacup on its matching bone-china saucer and stretched her hand across the table to touch Yancey’s forearm. “Please. Tell me all about Mr. Adams.”
Tears welled in Yancey’s dark blue eyes. She let go of the curl to cover her lips with her fingers.
Surprised, Antonia sat back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring
up a painful memory.”
“It’s not bad. At least, not entirely.” Yancey picked up her teacup. It seemed she always needed her hands occupied. “I fell in love with Hale Adams when I was ten years old.”
“Goodness. That’s awfully young.”
Yancey chuckled, though the sound was more bitter than humorous. “I can’t tell you how many people have said the same thing, but I knew—I knew—he was the man I’d marry as soon as he punched Bruno Carson in the nose for trying to steal my plate of food.”
Antonia leaned closer to the table in her eagerness. “Go on.”
“He was as tall as the Gunderson twins, although my ten-year-old mind didn’t quite comprehend that Hale was full-grown at eighteen while Isaak and Jakob were only eleven. All I knew was that this handsome stranger had come to my defense. Why wouldn’t I fall in love with him?” Yancey stared into her cup for a long moment before she took a sip of her tea.
“What does Mr. Adams look like?” Antonia had met him back in October, but if she didn’t ask about his appearance, Yancey might find it suspicious.
“He’s about six feet tall, with blond hair and brown eyes. He wears glasses that constantly require adjusting.” Yancey looked out the window, the teacup still in her hands. “He was my ideal for ten years, but . . .”
When she didn’t go on, Antonia prompted, “But what?”
Yancey set down her cup before returning her attention to Antonia. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”
More than Yancey Palmer could know.
Antonia sat back, drawing her hands into her lap. “Why don’t you continue with what happened after Mr. Adams rescued you.”
“Hale was only in town for a few weeks visiting his aunt and uncle before leaving to attend law school. I didn’t see him again for five years, but he was the man I compared every other boy to, and they all came up lacking. When he came back to Helena, I was fifteen and so sure of my love for him, I assumed he would return my affection instantaneously. But the first thing he did was begin courting my sister.”
Antonia pressed the fingertips of her left hand over her lips. “You mean Luanne?” The lady had become a dear friend, but she’d never said a word about her younger sister ruining a promising relationship. “So what did you do?”
Yancey lifted one shoulder. “I went to Luanne and told her that Hale was mine.”
“And she let him go?” Antonia asked more loudly than she intended. Several people sitting at tables nearby turned their heads to stare at her. She ignored them and lowered her voice. “Just like that?”
“Which means she didn’t love him.” Yancey’s pronouncement was filled with conviction. “A truth that bore itself out when Luanne met Roy a year and a half ago.”
Mr. Roy Bennett was a man who could take a girl’s breath away, that was for sure. Luanne had fallen irrevocably in love with him in a matter of weeks. Antonia held back a sigh. If only she could make everyone as happy as Mr. and Mrs. Bennett . . . and find that kind of love for herself one day.
A tall, lanky waiter approached their table. He refilled cups and brought a tower of tea-time delicacies before slipping away as silently as he’d come.
Antonia selected a crustless cucumber sandwich. “What happened when your sister called off the courtship with Mr. Adams?”
“Nothing.” Yancey shook her head, the curl dangling against her neck swaying in and out of the sunlight streaking through the restaurant window. “Absolutely nothing. At least, not on his part. I tried everything from coming up with excuses about why I needed to walk past his law office to dancing with other men at weddings to make him jealous. Nothing worked.”
“So then what did you do?” Antonia took a bite of her sandwich, the crunchy cucumber a perfect complement to the smooth creamed cheese.
“After four years of fruitless pursuit, I gave up and got engaged to Joseph Hendry.” Yancey selected a scone from the second tier and set it on her plate. “I was trying to prove that I was over Hale. I’m not sure if I was trying to convince him or me, but it didn’t work.”
Which was why the agency strictly forbade anyone from entering into an arranged correspondence courtship through them if they admitted to having been in love with someone within a year of signing up as either a prospective bride or groom.
“But that’s not the worst of it. I . . . I think . . .” Yancey bent her head, her words soft. “I’m responsible for Joseph’s death.”
A gasp escaped before Antonia could stop it. “I was told only that you’d come to Denver to recover from the loss of your fiancé.” She lowered her gaze to her cucumber sandwich. “I didn’t realize he . . . he . . .”
“Was murdered?”
The sandwich fell from her nerveless fingers. She snatched it back up and placed it on her luncheon plate. “As you aren’t in jail, I assume you weren’t the one who killed him, so why do you feel responsible for his death?”
“I should have fought harder for him to stay in Helena.” Yancey’s voice was filled with regret. “Joseph said he was going to Dawson County to chase down a story linking a high-ranking government official to counterfeiting. I had a bad feeling about it, but ... I wanted him out of town so I could think straight.”
“About?” Antonia brushed breadcrumbs from the white linen tablecloth.
Yancey drew the cup of strawberry-infused butter closer to her plate but didn’t make use of it. Instead, she stared into it for a long moment. “I was coming to realize that—although I’d irrevocably damaged my chances of ever being with Hale—I needed a husband of similar character.”
“I take it Mr. Hendry was not such a man.” Antonia picked up her sandwich again and took a small bite.
“Don’t get me wrong.” Yancey sliced into the pink butter, pulled out the knife, and sliced into it again. “Joseph was wonderful in his own way. We were simply too much alike. I told my parents my misgivings, but that I felt compelled to marry him because I’d accepted his proposal. My father said, ‘Two wrongs don’t make a right, darling.’ It was his way of saying he didn’t think I should marry Joseph.”
Antonia agreed. “What did your mother say?”
“She never contradicted him or pushed me to set a wedding date.” Yancey pulled the knife back out, laying it on the side of her plate without ever procuring any butter. “Of course, three days later—the day Joseph came back and I’d decided to end our engagement—he was murdered. He never would have gone away if—”
“Nonsense. It sounds like Mr. Hendry was a newspaper man.” Antonia waited for Yancey to nod before continuing. “And I’ll bet he was a good one.”
A hopeful look—one filled with a heartbreaking desire for absolution—flooded Yancey’s face. “That’s . . . that’s true. He was rather single-minded while pursuing a story.”
With some single-mindedness of her own, Antonia steered the conversation until Yancey admitted she might not be responsible for her fiancé’s death after all. Seeing the relief on her friend’s face—and that she’d finally started to eat—was quite satisfying, but Antonia felt a new exhilaration. An idea had popped into her head and it refused to budge, despite every mental argument against it.
The way to heal a broken heart was often with a new romance. And not only would Antonia be assisting her new friend, she might be making her most difficult client happy regardless of his stated wishes. Hale Adams said he wanted a serious-minded woman, someone to share his passion for reading and who enjoyed staying at home rather than needing to be entertained every night of the week. In other words, a mirror image of himself.
Based on his rejection of all nine previous candidates, Mr. Adams recognized his need for someone to balance him on an instinctual level.
However, before Antonia took the audacious step of putting her plan into motion—pretending to be Yancey Palmer in a letter to gauge whether Mr. Adams would be interested in her—a few questions needed answering. “Tell me why you’ve been in love with Hale Adams all these years. There has to be more tha
n him rescuing you from a bully ten years ago.”
A soft glow filled Yancey’s face. “He’s a man of his word. If Hale Adams says he’s going to do something, he does it and does it well. He’s the most upstanding, moral man you could ever hope to meet. He writes a list of things he needs to accomplish during the day and always gets them done. His office is a mess, but he knows the contents of every pile. He’s not as handsome or as impressively built as men like Isaak and Jakob Gunderson, but Hale commands respect simply by walking into a room. Everyone in Helena listens when Hale Adams speaks. You don’t need to see his diploma from Harvard School of Law to know the man is brilliant. He’s simply ... perfect.”
Antonia gripped her fingers together, excitement building. “Then what are his flaws?”
“If it were up to him, he’d stay inside his messy law office with its upstairs apartment all the time.” The reply came without hesitation or repudiation. It was a simple statement of fact. “He’s a faithful church member, but outside of Sundays, he has very few social engagements on his calendar.”
“While you enjoy an active social life?” Antonia guessed.
Yancey smiled her answer. “And, I dare say, am often the life of the party. I would have been good for him, but that’s water under the bridge now. No, more like cinders of the bridge I burned. It would be useless to try to reach him now, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. Not anymore.” The regret lacing each word made it clear that Yancey still cared about Mr. Adams.
Deeply.
Antonia rubbed her bottom lip. In the past, when she’d felt this tingle of excitement racing along her spine, it meant she’d found a perfect match for one of her clients. Hale Adams and Yancey Palmer would never agree to a correspondence courtship with each other, but Antonia wasn’t going to let a little thing like that stop her. She could set up a post office box independent of the agency, provide it to both Yancey and Mr. Adams as the mailing address of whatever pseudonyms Antonia chose for them, and recopy their incoming letters to omit any information that was too specific before mailing them to the recipient.