Free His Most Suitable Bride by Renee Ryan Page B

fished inside the interior of his jacket. “Your sister asked that I give this to you.”
    Callie stared at him suspiciously. Then realized he was holding a letter in his hand from Fanny, folded in the special way they’d designed back in school. So happy to receive word from her sister, the annoyance she felt toward this man was nearly forgotten.
    “Thank you.” She plucked the letter from between his fingers and—feeling bold—asked the pressing question running through her mind. “Is Fanny truly well, Mr. Hawkins?”
    “She’s thriving.” His eyes filled with pride and something else, something almost tender, a look that set Callie’s teeth on edge.
    “I recently promoted your sister to front desk manager.”
    Callie’s heart dipped. No. No, no, no. Fanny would never come home now. She’d been reasonably happy working at the Hotel Dupree. But, Callie admitted to herself, Fanny hadn’t thrived.
    Sighing, she fingered the letter in her hand. She desperately wanted to read the words her sister had penned on the page. She didn’t dare exit the party, though, not yet.
    As if matters weren’t already tense enough, Reese materialized by her side. “Callie? Are you unwell?”
    She smiled thinly. “I’m fine.”
    Reese’s eyebrows lifted in silent challenge.
    Stuffing the letter from Fanny in her sleeve, she explained further. “Mr. Hawkins has promoted Fanny to front desk manager.”
    “Ah.” Reese turned his attention to the other man. “So she’s truly happy living and working in Chicago?”
    “Quite.”
    “That’s good to know.”
    Awkward silence fell over their tiny group.
    “I see Mrs. Singletary motioning to me,” Hawkins declared. “I should go see what she wants.”
    “I’ll join you,” Reese said, deserting Callie without a backward glance.
    The two men fell into step with one another, their heads bent in conversation. Both were of an equal height and build, their hair nearly the same color. Callie hadn’t noticed the similarities before and wasn’t sure what to make of them now.
    Were they discussing business as they made their way across the room? Callie would never know.
    Soon the guests began to leave, Jonathon Hawkins first, the rest not long after him. Marshall Ferguson made a special effort to approach Callie and assure her he’d enjoyed sitting beside her at dinner.
    “I had a lovely time, as well,” she said, meaning every word.
    “Perhaps we will do it again sometime soon.”
    “I’d like that.”
    She watched him depart with his family, wondering why she felt no sense of loss as he exited the room. Because, she realized, there’d been nothing special between them, at least not from her end. No spark, not one ounce of interest.
    Had she learned her lesson with Simon? Was she finally safe from making another, impetuous mistake where a man was concerned?
    As if to test her theory, Reese came up beside her once again. Her heart skipped two full beats. Her throat tightened.
    Her knees wobbled.
    So much for that theory.
    Before she could think how to break the silence between them, Reese’s father joined them. “My dear, dear, girl, I have come to bid you good evening.”
    “Good night, Mr. Bennett.” She lifted onto her toes and kissed his weathered cheek.
    Smiling broadly, he nodded at Reese. “Son.”
    “Father.”
    With a strange, satisfied gleam in his eyes, the elder Mr. Bennett approached Mrs. Singletary. They spoke no longer than a minute and then he, too, quit the room.
    The widow frowned after him, even as she worked her way over to where Callie and Reese still stood.
    “It is my turn to say thank you, Mrs. Singletary.” Reese took her hands. “The food was wonderful, the company—” he paused “—interesting and—”
    “Before we say good-night, there is a matter of some importance we must discuss.”
    “Can it not wait until our Monday morning meeting?”
    “It cannot.”
    He released her hands and took a step back. “Carry on, then. Say what