Read Online Darby: Bride of Oregon (American Mail-Order Bride 33) by Bella Bowen - Free Book Online Page A

her performance. Not only were her accent and
mannerisms spot on, but she’d managed to leave her handsome husband with his
mouth hanging open. It couldn’t have gone better had she planned it.
    She was worried about his leg. The wound was
nothing to laugh at. And her heart had nearly stopped when she’d seen how deep
the cut had gone. But luckily, she’d stood at her mother’s shoulder when she’d
cared for wounded miners in Scotland. She knew how to treat infection, and she
knew how to sew flesh without thinking of it as flesh. When she’d sewn up her
first patient, she’d been fifteen years old. And though she’d kept her gullet
from rising, she’d never dreamt she’d be using the experience in America.
    Unfortunately, it appeared as though American men
were just as keen on fighting as were Scots. And if her husband was going to
continue to wear two masks, she supposed it wouldn’t be the last of his limbs
she would mend.
    They finally stepped out into open air again just
twenty feet from the stairway that led up one side of Jezebel’s establishment.
Nero tipped his hat and stood guard at the bottom stair while she made her way
up the double flight. When she reached the top, she gave the required set of
knocks, then looked back at the lame little man and mouthed the words thank
you .
    He waited until the door was opened before he
tipped his hat again and disappeared like a cat.
    The burly fellow she’d met earlier had nothing but
a scowl for her. Loyal to Jezebel, no doubt, disallowed courtesy to the wife.
But that was best, she reasoned. After all, the wife of the commissioner needn’t
be friends with every brawler she met.
    The man led her down two flights of stairs to
Jezebel’s own rooms. Of course she might have walked through the front doors
and saved herself the exertion, but the charade might keep the Phantom’s enemy
from knowing exactly who came and went from his hideout. Besides, she’d
promised Hardy Jacobs she would do as she was told, though he’d never specified
just how very many people would be giving her orders.
    The door closed behind her. She opened the clasp
of the pretty purple cape and draped it over the back of a velvet chair that
had been upturned the first time she’d come through. When Beauregard greeted
her as the harlot herself, she’d realized the joke the woman had played,
dressing Darby in her own clothes before sending her to him. She wouldn’t make
that mistake again. The next time she came, she’d bring her own changes of
clothes.
    If there were a next time.
    The tension between her husband and his men had
been palpable when she’d guessed he was the Phantom. But why else would she
have been required to go through such an extravagant charade otherwise? Though
he’d been all manners with his men looking on, she wouldn’t be surprised if he
had some choice words for her as soon as they were alone again. Most men wouldn’t
welcome their wives sticking their noses in their business, let alone nosing
around in his clandestine affairs.
    But even if he were kind about it, she was sure he
would find some way of inviting her to never visit his underground sanctuary
again. Perhaps something along the lines of his advertisement— wives need
not apply.
    He’d clearly hired her to be his wife—his
showpiece for the pretty house on the hill. He already had his woman for the
seedier side of town. In fact, the other woman was probably a regular visitor
to the dimly lit apartment with the rich velvet cushions and ornately carved
furniture. Were those drapes on the walls meant to keep out the damp? Or did
they hide things a well-bred lass was never meant to see?
    She shivered. Had Jezebel decorated the place?
    She remembered the look on the woman’s face at the
church, and suddenly, she understood exactly how the woman had felt. They had
much in common.
    The devil herself hobbled into the room an instant
later, just as Darby had begun to undress. She noticed the cloak and gave