Rose nodded, a solemn promise in her trusting eyes.
Elizabeth kissed her forehead and left the bedroom through a door that led directly into the dark hallway. She stood for a moment, wondering where the kitchen might be. Martha had said it was at the back of the hotel.
She walked down the hall to where a swatch of light lit up the stairway at the end. The sound of laughter and music made her feet itch to dance. It had been years since she’d gone to a ball. James had not approved of dancing, and after he left, her name had become sullied by Mrs. Brown’s accusations, so no one had extended another invitation.
It would feel good to twist and twirl around a dance floor again, especially if she was in the arms of a competent dancer. For a fleeting moment, she thought of Mr. Allen’s strong form and graceful movements and wondered if he was any good at dancing, but the question soon faded when she remembered how much he irritated her.
Hopefully she could sneak in and out of the kitchen without being noticed.
She wasn’t in the mood to see him again tonight.
* * *
Jude stormed through the dining room and entered the kitchen. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm cinnamon bread wafted up to meet him. But even that didn’t improve his mood.
“What am I going to do with them?” he asked Martha as soon as the swinging door closed.
“I don’t imagine there’s anything you can do with them.” Martha lifted a steaming pan of bread from the oven. “They’re here to stay.”
Jude pulled out a stool and took a seat—but he couldn’t stay still, so he stood and shoved it back under the worktable. “They can’t stay here.”
The door opened and Violet entered. Her bright-red hair would make her stand out in a room—but it was the worldly set of her shoulders and the hardened look in her eyes that made people take a second glance. “Is the coffee ready?” she asked.
Martha nodded to the pot on the stove. “Just now. Bring me the empty one from the ballroom when you come back and I’ll get more going.”
Violet moved to the stove without another word. Though Jude had rescued her six weeks ago and had been nothing but kind, she still didn’t meet his gaze. She skirted around him like he might reach out and grab her—but he didn’t take it to heart. It was the same with almost all the women he’d liberated these past two years. They knew almost nothing about compassion and decency. For many, their only experience of men was abuse and neglect. He was the first man who’d respected them and treated them with care. It would take her some time to trust him.
Violet left the kitchen with the coffee and the door swung closed again.
“The way I see it,” Martha said, setting the loaf of cinnamon bread on the cooling rack near the window, “Clarence’s daughters own half this hotel and there’s nothing you can do to change that fact. God knows what He’s doing. He doesn’t make mistakes. Though we don’t understand some of His choices, He’s still sovereign and much smarter than the rest of us.”
Jude rubbed the back of his neck. He usually appreciated Martha’s wisdom and perspective, but at the moment, he’d rather she keep them to herself. “There has to be a way to get rid of them.”
“Ack!” Martha clicked her tongue. “Go on with you. Those women are in need of a home and this is all they have. They’re not that much different than the women you rescue.”
“There’s a world of difference between them—besides, this hotel can’t support all the women living here!” They could barely support Martha and Violet. “I need to find a way to get them to leave. I’m going to see Roald Hall tomorrow and find out if that letter has any legal value.”
“And what if it does?”
He didn’t want to contemplate the validity of the letter. How could he hide his rescue work if they ended up staying? Surely, once they met Violet, they’d start asking questions. What would happen when he brought in the next lady? And the next?
Frustration made him pace faster. “I don’t know why such pretty women aren’t married.”
Martha turned away from the window, her hands on her hips. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe they don’t want to be married?”
“Well they should—and soon. At least then they might give up on the idea of running a hotel.”
Martha took another pan of bread that had been cooling at the window and brought it to the worktable. She turned it onto a cutting board. “You probably won’t have to wait long. There’s nary a bride in this town that had to wait more than a fortnight to be engaged.”
Jude paused, the first glimmer of hope rising. “You’re right.”
“I usually am.”
“If I do a little matchmaking, I could probably have them engaged by the end of this week.”
Martha harrumphed. “If they had attended the ball, they would have had at least a dozen proposals tonight.”
It was true. So true, in fact, the men in town had placed an advertisement in several papers back East seeking brides. They had claimed there were a hundred eligible bachelors for every single woman. To his knowledge, no one had answered the ad—yet—but it only proved how desperate and lonely the men were in Little Falls.
He simply needed to introduce Elizabeth and Grace to the best husband candidates and they could be out of his way in no time.
“Martha, you’re a genius.”
The door opened slowly and Elizabeth Bell poked her head through the opening. She paused when she saw Jude.
For the first time since her arrival, he was happy to see her. Maybe he could still get her into that ballroom tonight and start the introductions. He moved forward and opened the door wider. “Come in.”
She took a tentative step over the threshold as she looked around the kitchen.
Martha wiped her hands on her apron. “What do you need, lovey? Are you hungry? There’s leftover roast beef and fresh cinnamon bread, right out of the oven.”
“Could I have a glass of water for Rose, please?”
“Water, you say?” Martha stood on tiptoe to reach one of the glasses. Her short stature was a constant irritant to her, so Jude reached over her head and grabbed a glass for her. “Thank you.” She straightened her shirtwaist. “How about some warm milk for the little one?”
“Milk would be even better.” Elizabeth’s voice hinted her relief. “She’s had none since we left Rockford a week ago.”
“Then milk it is. I’ll grab some in the cellar and be back in a jiffy.”
Martha exited the kitchen leaving Jude and Elizabeth alone.
She looked at him for a moment and he studied her, perplexed all over again by how Clarence could have such a beautiful daughter. But, more important, how could he convince her to go into the ballroom with him?
She looked away and played with the frayed cuff at her wrist.
“The ballroom is full tonight,” he said. “We have the best orchestra in the territory right here in Little Falls. They’ll play until midnight, at least, maybe longer if the dancers insist.”
“I imagine it’s good for business.”
“It is.” He smiled, trying to draw upon all the charm he’d mastered as a business owner. “Do you enjoy dancing, Miss Elizabeth?”
She lifted her blue-eyed gaze and blinked. “I do enjoy dancing, Mr. Allen.”
Her answer