The Lady of Bolton Hill by Elizabeth Camden Read Free Book Online Page A

exist on the same planet as the cell where she had lived with Rosina and Nellie.
    Florence took Clara’s arm and led her forward into the group. “Come along, my dear. Simply everyone in Baltimore has turned out to welcome you home. Let me introduce Senator Bronson to you.”
    Clara murmured a few pleasantries to the senator, but her gaze was sweeping the room. Was it possible that Daniel Tremain might be among the “everyone” who had come this evening? Even though her father had said Daniel rarely indulged in such events, perhaps he would have come in order to see her again? She wasn’t even sure she would recognize Daniel today—the boy who was the center of her childhood crush was always dressed simply in trousers and a plain shirt, whereas all the gentlemen in this room were wearing black cutaway jackets with starched white collars riding high on their necks. No longer a gangly teenager, Daniel would be a full-grown man. There had to be more than one hundred people in the room, but none of them resembled Daniel. Her shoulders drooped just a fraction. His absence was to be expected, of course, but still . . .
    Florence kept Clara moving around the perimeter of the foyer, introducing her to dozens of people whose names she had little hope of remembering. “Clara, may I present Mr. Joshua McAllister,” Florence said as they approached a young man who dared to buck fashion by wearing a scarlet silk vest amid the sea of black frock coats. “Mr. McAllister runs two of the cotton mills down in the southern part of the city. He is quite the up-and-coming young man.”
    Mr. McAllister bowed over Clara’s hand. “Enchanted, Miss Endicott. I’ve read about your work in London and was most impressed with your accomplishments. Those poor children . . . terrible, terrible. What a relief it must be to have all that nonsense behind you and be back in the bosom of your family.”
    Clara was not quite sure how to respond. “I’m most pleased to have a chance to visit with my father once again, yes.”
    “Quite impressive work for a woman,” Mr. McAllister continued. “Of course, one would expect nothing less from one of Lloyd Endicott’s children. I expect now you will want to settle down and get married, yes?”
    Actually, marriage was the last thing Clara wanted. While in London she had suffered a disastrous broken engagement. Another romance would not be welcome, but she could hardly say as much into the eager face of Joshua McAllister. Throwing herself into her work as a journalist had been what salvaged her battered pride when Nicholas Spencer had broken off their engagement in London. Clara had agreed to marry Nicholas for all the wrong reasons—she knew that now—but at the time he abandoned her it had been a crushing blow. “I still have hopes of resurrecting my journalistic career,” Clara said. “I’m hoping to write for my father’s publication, The Christian Crusade. ”
    Mr. McAllister appeared to be pleasantly surprised. “Quite right. Quite admirable. In fact, I myself would welcome the opportunity to get to know your father a little better. What a gift to the country that man is.” As Mr. McAllister continued to sing praises about Reverend Endicott, Clara was not quite sure if he was trying to court her or her father. Not that it really mattered. She was here only to meet as many people as possible in order to begin forming the necessary connections for her work.
    They continued speaking for a few more minutes until their hostess came to retrieve Clara. “Well, that seemed to go quite well,” she gushed. At Clara’s quizzical expression, Florence continued, “Mr. McAllister stands to inherit quite a fortune in a few years. And he is a divine wit, and from the best of families.” Florence leaned closer and lowered her voice. “And he is quite the most eligible bachelor in the city. You don’t mind if I play at a tiny bit of matchmaking, do you?”
    Clara’s eyes widened. Obviously,