Hannah's Beau. Renee Ryan

naiveté about her that didn’t mesh with his first impression of a woman seeking attention.

      His interest was stirred, but his plan for the future did not include a beautiful woman who drew attention to herself by merely existing.

      With that thought, Beau shut down any personal feelings and looked deep into her eyes again. He saw a vulnerability that she tried to cloak as tightly as she’d cinched the velvet coat around her tiny waist.

      The woman stirred his compassion. Yes, that was it. His compassion.

      Nothing more.

      “Perhaps you should start at the beginning?” he said in a gentle tone.

      “Yes. Of course. The beginning.” She nodded, sat up straighter and squared her shoulders. “I suppose I should first tell you how I know your brother.”

      He offered an encouraging smile.

      “Until three days ago, I was on tour with the same company as Tyler.”

      Beau’s heart sank at her words. She was an actress, just like Jane. Although in light of her connection to his parents he should have expected this. A cold, unreasonable anger began to stir inside him, outdistanced by a sense of dread. He held his odd fury in check. Barely. He had no doubt that audiences adored this woman—how could they not?—but he also knew the public had once adored Jane, as well.

      A fresh image of the broken woman he’d left in Mattie’s brothel shot through his mind. No longer able to fill theaters with her talent and youth, she’d turned to a life of prostitution.

      And now this woman, this actress sitting before him, with her youth and beauty and painful vulnerability, could easily end up in the same predicament as Jane.

      Alone. Dying. Destitute.

      The temper he rarely acknowledged swirled up so fast, so unexpectedly, his throat ached from having to swallow back the emotion.

      Lord, show mercy to this woman. Guide her path.

      “Go on,” he said in a remarkably calm voice.

      She ran her tongue across her teeth and nodded. The words spilled out of her in a rush, her voice halting and emotionless as she told the story of Tyler running off with her sister.

      With each detail Beau gripped his chair harder and harder, trying to ignore the shock and anger that rose within him as the sordid events unfolded before him. Amazingly, Beau remained silent throughout Hannah’s incredible tale.

      As she came to the end of her story, she tapped her fingers quickly against her thigh in a rapid staccato. “I pray I’m not too late. The last time anyone saw them was three days ago.”

      Needing a moment to process all the information, Beau punched out an angry breath and batted away a fern leaf dangling close to his head.

      Too many thoughts collided inside his brain, making it pound from trying to sort through the particulars. Tyler had often been thoughtless, but he had never gone so far before. This time, Beau’s rash, selfish brother had done the unthinkable. And now a young woman’s reputation was all but ruined.

      The pain their parents would feel when they discovered Tyler’s indiscretion would destroy them. Patience and Reginald O’Toole were good, honest, moral people. They had created a brood of four boys and one girl. Each member of his beautiful family, other than Beau, had made a life for themselves in the theater in some form or another. All had continued to honor God as their parents had taught them. Except, apparently, Tyler.

      “There’s more.” Hannah’s words broke through Beau’s thoughts and jerked his attention back to her.

      The pattern on her dress blurred before him, and Beau found he had to lower his gaze to her shaking hands to gain control over his own emotions. “Go on.”

      “Rachel isn’t free to run off like this. She’s engaged to be married. Her fiancé is my father’s protégé, of sorts. Although each will handle my sister’s recklessness differently, neither will take this news well. My father, especially, is not a man prone to forgiving selfish acts of any kind.”

      Beau gave his head a hard shake, but dread consumed him. He breathed in the scent of expensive perfume and fresh soil from the potted plants. One thought stood out over the rest.

      He had to ask the question. Had to know. “Is your father Thomas Southerland? Reverend Thomas Southerland?”

      Her mouth dropped open. “You have heard of him?”

      “I met him when I was in seminary.” And to say they hadn’t seen eye to eye was a gross understatement.

      Worse, the good reverend now held Beau’s future in his hands. His voice was strong among the other members of the Association. With a few well-chosen words, Reverend Southerland could decide Beau’s future in Greeley, Colorado. Although the man didn’t trust Beau’s modern views, he had been coming around.

      What would the reverend think when he found out what Beau’s brother had done, with the man’s own daughter no less?

      Beau couldn’t let it matter. Trust in Him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to Him.

      The Scripture gave him hope, and he lowered his head to pray. Lord, tell me what to do. Give me wisdom to—

      Hannah’s voice broke through his prayer. “If you’ve met my father, then you understand why I must find Rachel. If I can get to her before she…before they…Well, the point is—” Hannah closed her eyes and swallowed, looking as though she had to gather her courage for the rest. “Rachel must accept the consequences of her actions.”

      Beau sensed there was more to the story, a personal element Miss Southerland wasn’t going to reveal to him just yet.

      It would be wise to focus on the particulars. “Why do you think they’ve come west?”

      “They were last seen boarding a train headed this way.” Her words came out steady, suspiciously controlled. “With your mother and father in London and the rest of your siblings in New York, you are my only hope.”

      He opened his mouth to speak but clamped it shut as a couple strolled by, their heads bent toward one another in an intimate gesture that spoke of familiarity. Partners. Beau ignored the odd spasm in his throat at the sight and said, “How did you know where to find me?”

      She gave him a sheepish grin and pulled a letter from her coat pocket that had his handwriting on it. “I apologize, but I read your latest letter to your brother. I was desperate. I had hoped to find out…something.” She lifted her shoulders in a helpless gesture.

      Before he could comment, she added, “Rachel’s fiancé will be devastated at the news of her disappearance with Tyler. But, as you can imagine, it is my father who will find the whole scandalous affair unacceptable. He warned Rachel to stay away from me. I’m afraid he’ll blame me for this.”

      Beau had a terrible, gut-jerking sensation at her words. “Does your father not approve of you? Of your career?”

      She looked away from him, but not before he saw the same sad, vulnerable light in her eyes that he’d witnessed earlier. “No. He does not.”

      “Well, then. That’s one thing your father and I would agree on.”

      Her face drained of color, the pale skin standing out in bold contrast to the dark slash of her eyebrows. “What…What did you say?”

      Beau moved his shoulder, a gesture that communicated his own frustration. “Don’t you realize what can happen to you?”

      “To…me?” Her angry gaze slammed into him like a punch.

      All right, yes. He knew he was speaking too boldly, but he had to make his point now that he’d begun. “Jane Goodwin, one of the premiere actresses of her day, and once a dear friend of my mother’s, is dying of a terminal illness in a brothel.”

      Beau ignored the shock in her