I offered you enough money to solve your problems regardless of whether you married me. I told you there would be a home that you wouldn't lack for shelter or food. I never lied to you, Lydia. You just didn't tell me the whole truth. Would you have believed me if I had?
If I'd ridden up to your family's cabin in fine clothes, told you I was wealthy, offered you a life of comfort, wouldn't you have thought I was insane, or worse, that I was lying to take advantage of you? Lydia wanted to argue but couldn't. He was right. If a stranger had appeared claiming to be a wealthy timber baron looking for a wife, she would have laughed him out of the cabin or reached for her father's rifle. So you deceived me instead, she said.
I gave you a choice based on what you could verify. A marriage contract, money to save your family, a promise of stability. Everything else. He gestured around the room toward the window in the valley beyond. Everything else is extra.
A benefit you didn't bargain for but get anyway. And what do you get out of this arrangement? Really? Ethan was quiet for a moment, his jaw working as if he were chewing on words he didn't want to say. Finally, he moved to the window, standing beside her, but looking out rather than at her.
My father built this operation from nothing. He said he was a good businessman, but a hard man. When he died 3 years ago, he left everything to me. His only surviving child. Along with the timber holdings, I inherited a mess of complications.
Partners who resent my authority. Investors who think I'm too young or too soft. Family members who want a piece of what they see as easy money. Oh, what does that have to do with needing a wife? Appearances matter in business.
A married man seems more stable, more committed, less likely to sell out or abandon the operation. And there are social obligations. Dinners with investors, meetings with territorial officials, events where showing up alone raises questions. He glanced at her. I could hire someone to play that role.
In fact, several people suggested it, but I wanted something real. A partner, not an actress. Someone from the mountains, Lydia said slowly. Someone who wouldn't be impressed by wealth or intimidated by your business associates. Someone who'd stood up to a debt collector without flinching, Ethan corrected.
Someone who chose survival over pride. Someone sharp enough to navigate complicated situations. You barely know me. How could you know I was any of those things? I watched you for 3 weeks before I made the offer.
The admission hung in the air between them. Lydia turned to stare at him. You what? I needed to be sure. So I came to your settlement, stayed in the background, observed.
I saw how you cared for your father, how you managed your mother's anxiety, how you handled the neighbors pity and Samuel Garrett's contempt, how you kept that cabin running on nothing but determination and scraps. He met her eyes. You were already managing an impossible situation with limited resources and no authority. That's exactly what I needed. Lydia didn't know whether to be flattered or furious.
You spied on me. I did my research. There's a difference. Not much of one from where I'm standing. Ethan's mouth quirked in what might have been the ghost of a smile.
Fair enough. I won't apologize for being careful, but I understand why it bothers you. Bothers me, Lydia repeated. That's a gentle word for it. She moved away from the window, putting space between them.
What else haven't you told me? What other surprises am I going to discover? Several, probably. This is a complex operation with complex problems. But here's what I can promise.
I won't lie to you directly. I may not volunteer every detail, but if you ask me a straight question, I'll give you a straight answer. Can you live with that? Lydia considered. It wasn't ideal, but it was more than many wives got.
At least he was acknowledging the imbalance instead of pretending it didn't exist. I want that in writing, she said. An agreement. If we're doing this as a business arrangement, let's make it official. Now, Ethan did smile, a real one that transformed his face.
You really are sharp. Yes. All right. We'll draw up an agreement. What terms do you want?
First, honesty when directly asked. Second, my own money, a regular allowance that's mine to keep or spend as I choose, no questions asked. Third, the freedom to write to my family and visit them when I can. Fourth, she paused, gathering courage. Fourth, the understanding that this marriage is a partnership, not ownership.
You don't own me, Ethan. Not my choices, not my future, not my body. I'm here by contract, not conquest. Agreed. He said it without hesitation.
Anything else? Not yet. I'm sure I'll think of more once I understand what I'm actually dealing with. I'm sure you will. He moved toward the door, then paused.
For what it's worth, Lydia, I'm glad you came. I think we'll work well together. We'd better, she said. I just gave up everything I knew on that theory. After he left, Lydia sank onto the bed, suddenly exhausted.
The mattress was soft, softer than anything she'd slept on in years. The room smelled of pine and beeswax polish. Through the window, she could hear voices from the compound. The sound of normal work resuming after the disruption of their arrival. She'd married a stranger to save her family.
That much hadn't changed, but the stranger had turned out to be someone entirely different from what she'd expected, wealthier, more powerful, more complicated. Whether that made her situation better or worse remained to be seen. A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. Martha entered carrying a tray. Thought you might want some tea and maybe some answers to questions you haven't thought to ask yet.
I'm not sure I can handle any more revelations today. Nothing dramatic, dear. Just practical information. Martha set the tray on the small table near the window and poured two cups. Milk, sugar, both, please.