Page 8 of His Perfect Bride
With another growl, he jammed his fingers into his hair. Then he stalked into the hallway and approached the door. “Who is it? And what do you want?”
His manners were as appalling as his appearance. If his dear mother could hear him or see him, she would not be at all pleased with the man he’d become. How had he turned into this angry, bitter person?
“Jackson?” The voice on the other side of the door radiated surprise. “Is that you?”
He had the distinct impression that he wouldn’t be able to get rid of this visitor unless he opened the door and scared her away. So without any further hesitation, he threw open the door and planted himself with both feet wide, his arms crossed, and his fiercest scowl.
The woman on the front stoop didn’t take a step back, didn’t even flinch. Instead, her eyes rounded—familiar, kind eyes set in a familiar thin face that belonged to his sister.
“Augusta?” In the many years he’d been gone from England, he’d only seen her once five or six years ago, and yet hardly anything about her had changed. She was still thin and bony, her narrow face hadn’t aged, and her dark brown hair was styled in a tight bun without a single hair out of place.
She was taking him in too, her eyes widening as she scanned him from his untidy hair down to his scruffy shoes. With the morning sunshine bathing him in full light, no doubt she was seeing every stain and blemish and just how bedraggled he’d become.
Before he could say anything, primarily apologize for his rude welcome, she stepped forward and wrapped him into a hug. Although she was tall for a woman, he was still several inches taller than her, both of them having inherited their height from their father.
“It’s so good to see you, Jackson,” she murmured as she squeezed him tightly.
He hugged her in return, his thoughts churning with this new twist of fate. His sister was here at his house in Victoria. While he wasn’t in a pleasant frame of mind to have company, he was glad to see her. They’d never been particularly close since he’d been away at school for so much of his childhood and she’d spent so many years traveling. However, he had always cherished her, and he’d also always admired her for her strength of character.
She gave him a final squeeze before pulling back and assessing him again, holding on to both of his arms as if she were afraid that if she let him go, he’d run away and hide. Unfortunately, if that’s what she was thinking, she wasn’t half wrong.
Her brow puckered with more lines than had been there the last time he’d seen her. “How are you?”
He’d never been more terrible. But he couldn’t very well say that, so he shrugged. “I apologize for looking a fright. I’ve been working nonstop.”
She was tactful enough not to comment on his appearance. Instead, she offered him a warm smile. “The work here in the colony must be very demanding.”
He could never explain to her all that had happened with the new bridge in the Fraser River Valley or his role in its collapse. At least not at the moment. “And you, my dear sister? How are you?”
“I’m delighted to finally be here.”
“And mother? How does she fare?” After getting recent letters that Mother suffered from influenza, he’d been unnerved.
“Doing much better. I believe she shall make a full recovery, or at least I was confident of that especially because she seemed so happy to finally have Father all to herself.”
Jackson wasn’t sure he could respond without saying something bitter about their father, so he kept silent.
Augusta was well aware of the conflict he’d always had with their father, and thankfully instead of talking more about the man, she changed the subject. “It was quite a rough voyage here, wasn’t it, Miss Rhodes?” She turned toward a woman standing several paces away on the flagstone pathway. A hired hackney was parked on the street beyond, and the driver was already unloading the luggage from the back platform.
“It was very rough.” The woman was decidedly younger than Augusta by at least ten years if not more. She had a quiet, deferring air about her that told him she was a servant, likely a lady’s maid, which would account for why she wore a fashionable gown and not the black uniform and white apron of a regular maid.
Even though he had sworn off women after breaking his engagement to Meredith, he wasn’t blind and could see easily enough that Miss Rhodes was attractive with high cheekbones, a delicate nose, and dainty chin. Her hair was an unusual reddish blond that highlighted the creaminess of her skin and made her light blue eyes vibrant, like the color of the sea in the summer. She also had a womanly figure that her gown displayed to perfection, leaving no room for speculating just how stunning she was.
In this remote colony where men outnumbered women, she would have numerous marriage proposals within the next month. In fact, the young men would be fighting amongst themselves to win her, and she would have her pick of a husband. Then Augusta would be without a lady’s maid. His sister probably hadn’t thought about that when she’d made her plans.
Ah, well. It would be for the best. He wasn’t in the right frame of mind to entertain Augusta, much less have a young maid like Miss Rhodes residing in his home for the duration of his sister’s visit.
Augusta stood back and surveyed the front of his home. He’d drawn up the plans himself and had helped oversee the construction when he hadn’t been on the Fraser River overseeing the building of the bridge.
“You have a lovely home, Jackson.” Augusta’s keen gaze filled with appreciation.
The steeply gabled roof and the three stories with castle-like turrets on the sides each contained round windows that overlooked the distant mountain peaks. He’d designed arched windows on the second floor and large bay windows on the first. The entire structure was painted in blue with detailed trim work around the windows, doors, and eaves that gave the home an elegant appeal, as did the wrought iron along the portico.
He’d had requests from other prominent families in Victoria who were interested in having him design their houses. However, as much as he had relished the project, architecture was only a hobby. He was an engineer at heart, his mind constantly at work concocting complex feats that no one else could accomplish, apparently not even him—like the suspension bridge that was supposed to span the Fraser River and make the traveling easier to and from the gold fields and all the new settlements that were springing up.
He held in an exasperated breath, one aimed at himself for his failures and mistakes. For now, he had to be gracious to his sister. She likely wouldn’t visit long. She never did when she was traveling, since she claimed she grew restless when she was in one place for too long.
“Please, do come in.” He stepped aside and waved a hand at the front hallway, but then he stopped short at the sight of the mess. Not only wasn’t he in the right condition for hosting visitors, neither was his home. He spun and blocked the doorway. “On second thought, I wonder if you’d be more comfortable at one of the nice, new hotels. My home isn’t suitable for company.”
