Page 12 of His Unforgettable Bride (Bride Ships: New Voyages #4)

Twelve

Select the kind of business that suits

your natural inclinations and temperament .

H ad he ever constructed anything with a hammer and nails? Gray strongly suspected the answer was no—not a birdhouse, not a cradle, and certainly not a tearoom.

Similarly to how Juliet had struggled in her dining room lesson the previous evening, Gray only identified a handful of the equipment poking from a splintered toolbox near his feet. He bent and retrieved a hammer with a wooden handle and a tarnished head. “To be clear, does your nephew make a living as a carpenter or only dabble in the profession?”

“According to his letter, he picked up the trade out of necessity during his time mining for gold in Barkerville.” Tabitha crossed the dusty carriage house, brushing her hands together as if dirty.

Learning a craft out of necessity was far different from earning a living as a carpenter. A novice could easily forget the tricks and tools of the trade, could he not?

The rolled-up blue etiquette manual poked out of Livy’s overcoat pocket as she paced the length of the room waving her hands. “Here’s where we would like one wall to divide the front room from a kitchen at the back.”

Late-morning raindrops snaked down the windowpanes and tapped on the roof. The building was vast for an in-town property, approximately twenty-five feet wide and perhaps fifty feet deep. Apparently, the sisters’ father had collected buggies and carriages and constructed the enormous building to store his vehicles.

Cleared out and primarily empty except for the building materials that the local lumber mill had delivered, the space would likely be relatively simple to finish…if a person knew how to accomplish such a task.

He had hoped the sight of the tools and lumber would bring back all his knowledge about using them. But it had not. “Before gold mining, how did your nephew make a living?”

“I suppose you could call him a businessman.” Livy retied her bonnet’s blue silk ribbon underneath her chin into a bow. “He attended university in Paris, then briefly came to Everly before moving north to find his fortune. Alas, he discovered misfortune instead.”

Gray tightened the grip on the tool’s handle. Would he rest easier if he knew the crime he may have committed, or never rest again? The law often ignored a gentleman’s unruly behavior, but not this time it appeared. Was he a thoroughly dishonorable man?

Merciful heavens, he hoped not. “You are referring to his incarceration, I assume.”

Livy sighed. “It is a dreary topic, is it not?”

Tabitha nodded. “But Gray deserves to know all the missing bits and pieces we might provide. Our father was a nobleman, inherited a sizeable estate, and generously shared his wealth with his family. Upon Father’s passing, our dear brother inherited everything.”

“But Tabitha bought this house from him,” Livy interjected, as open as always. “She has wealth since her husband’s death.”

He had wondered about the sisters’ ability to own a large home, fund the carriage house conversion, and operate a business. The ladies’ ambition impressed him, and he was ready to ignite his determination as well.

Tabitha pursed her lips, her expression severe. “However, I fear Alex has squandered his portion and made several mistakes, especially over the last year. I wish we could tell you the specific nature of his crime, but he hasn’t told us. Perhaps he’s ashamed.”

Ashamed of what? Murder or some other dreadful mayhem? The thought was enough to drive him mad. “One way to determine if I am a Sherwood is to travel to Barkerville and speak with a jailor and others. Either they recognize me or not.”

“I suppose,” Tabitha said. “But Barkerville is a long distance from here, and this time of year, the mountain roads may already be too difficult to traverse.”

“Of course.” He had already decided that he could not leave now anyway, that he needed to stay and help the sisters with their project.

Livy’s eyes turned soft with compassion. “We realize it must be overwhelming and frustrating to lose your memories, Gray.”

“Honestly, it is.” He ran his hand through his hair, his head notably lighter without the bandages. His trip to the dock in the forenoon had proved a waste of time. He had hoped to discover which ships had recently arrived, perhaps view the passengers’ logs and learn the steamers’ origins.

A good plan, except the record keeper failed to report to work today. Therefore, Gray would have to venture to the harbor again soon and, hopefully, leave with a better result.

A noise at the door drew everyone’s attention.

Juliet bustled inside, her cheeks pink, and her clothing flattened to her body. A howl of wind accompanied her. “I’m back.”

“We see that, Juliet, and you’re dripping wet.” Tabitha’s voice carried a note of irritation. “Did you bring back our mail?”

“Yes, and I placed it on the kitchen table.” She removed her headscarf to reveal her hair pulled back from her damp, shiny face. Moisture from the rain had clumped her eyelashes together. Wet or dry, she was equally appealing.

Tabitha brushed flecks of sawdust from her overcoat sleeve. “We were just showing Gray around the carriage house. Any day now, we’ll put him to work.”

Except he could barely recall which end of a hammer pounded the nails. “Do you know anyone in town capable of instructing me, at least until more of my memory returns?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Juliet smiled. “Cy Kelly needs a place to stay for the winter. Perhaps he could teach you in exchange for room and board.”

“Cy Kelly?” Both of Livy’s brows rose. “Where and when did you meet this stranger?”

“When I exited the post office, he and I struck up a conversation, and he told me he’s looking for work.”

Tabitha crossed her arms. “And this stranger possesses carpentry skills?”

“He was once an architect and builder and said he knows everything there is to know about such things.” Was there a better available candidate in town? Not likely, or the sisters would have hired him before now.

Tabitha’s eyes were lit with interest. “Tell us more about Mr. Kelly, Juliet.”

“He’s a widower and appears older, perhaps in his fifties. He lives in the mountains but came to town because of a hurting leg and now doesn’t think he can return until spring.”

The prospect of obtaining carpentry assistance certainly appealed to Gray, but who was this man? “Should we not know more about this fellow before considering inviting him in?”

Juliet leveled a censuring look at him. “I realize he’s a stranger, but so were we not long ago.”

She had a good point. The sisters took him in even though they knew absolutely nothing about him.

“Besides,” Juliet continued, “I’m a good judge of people and can tell he’s a kind man.”

Tabitha exchanged a look with Livy. “For him to live here is a big undertaking. We’ve already added you and Gray to our household.”

Juliet ran the length of her headscarf through her clenched hand. “Perhaps Mr. Kelly can stay in the carriage house for a spell. It’s dry and shields the wind nicely.”

Livy’s brow was now wrinkled. “Tabitha, what do you think?”

“Let’s you and I chat over there.” Tabitha nodded toward the room’s far end. Whispering, they strolled in the specified direction.

First, Juliet had rescued him, and now she was championing Mr. Kelly. “I’m impressed by your nature to assist those less fortunate. Do you recall when I mentioned how we need to help each other?”

“Of course.” She grinned. “I’m not the one who lost his memory.”

He laughed. “Touché. I never expected you to find me a carpentry instructor before you realized I needed a tutor.” He lowered his voice and returned his tool to the wooden box. “I cannot remember my so-called expertise with a hammer.”

Wet stray hairs from her pulled-back tresses clung to her face’s sharp angles and planes. “Do you think that means you’re not Alex Sherwood?”

“It certainly begs the question. However, perhaps I do not recall the specifics due to my amnesia. Far too often, I question what is real or my imagination.”

“Although it pales in comparison, I sometimes wonder about that, too. For example, will I truly attend a fancy tea party next month, or is it nothing but a dream?”

“Would you feel comfortable at a formal affair?”

She shrugged. “Since I’ve never been to one, it’s hard to guess the answer.”

“If I also attend the function, I shall assist you however possible…if I can actually build the tearoom in time.”

“With Mr. Kelly’s help, especially if his gout improves, I wager you’ll soon make the sisters’ dream come true.”

He was far less optimistic than her. Earlier in the day, he had expected to walk into the building and discover peace and purpose. The opposite had occurred.

He heaved a sigh.

Juliet’s nose wrinkled with concern. “Are you all right?”

“I am trying to be.” The last thing he wanted was to dwell on his troubles, for he had done little else for too long.

She held his stare, the compassion in her eyes warming his heart. Even drenched, she was so beautiful.

His gaze skimmed over her face and then dropped lower. Her wet cloak and garments clung to her body, revealing every curve of her shapely frame. He suspected he had met his share of beautiful women. Yet something also told him Juliet was different, special, and one of a kind, like a rare and precious gemstone. And never any man’s dalliance.

Regardless, a flicker of heat flamed to life low in his gut—a flame he would never allow himself to fan but one he probably would not be able to extinguish.

He shifted his attention back to her face, finding her eyes had rounded, and something was glimmering there too. Was it interest? Did she find him as attractive as he saw her?

Her headscarf slipped from her fingers and pooled near his feet. He stooped to retrieve it, and she did likewise. Her warm breath grazed his ear as their fingers brushed, sending sparks along his skin.

“Step back five paces, young people.” Tabitha’s firm order echoed in the room.

Juliet straightened quickly and hopped back.

He chuckled at the sisters’ reaction to his nearness to Juliet. Were the ladies extra cautious, sensing he had developed an attraction to her? If so, they were not mistaken.

Her heart was as beautiful as her face, yet his life was incredibly uncertain. He could not, and should not, pursue anything other than friendship with any woman, at least for a long, long time. If he had committed a crime, his first action would be to turn his life around.

“It’s not a laughing matter, Gray,” Juliet whispered, snatching up the scarf and retreating at least a dozen paces.

He had the urge to slowly run his forefinger from the middle of her fair forehead to the tip of her exquisite chin. “I hate disagreeing with a lady, but you are wrong.”

“Juliet.” Tabitha removed the barrel lid next to her and lowered it to the ground before straightening. “Please collect Mr. Kelly and take an umbrella this time. Perhaps we can forge a beneficial arrangement with the man.”

“However,” Livy added, “we must meet him, evaluate his character, and learn more about his skills before proceeding with any arrangements.”

Gray could only pray that the sisters would find the arrangement suitable because he strongly suspected he needed every ounce of help he could find.