The Nanny's Little Matchmakers. Danica Favorite

indicated her desire to eventually leave, so he had to think of her position as temporary. As for any deeper feelings, those were completely unacceptable.

      A man only remarried for love or to get a family for himself. He already had more family than he could handle. Love, well, that was a folly he’d not repeat.

      Hattie had bled him dry of any sort of romantic notions he might have had. Polly MacDonald was pretty enough, and he’d admit that she stirred feelings in him he’d thought dead, but Mitch knew better than to act on any of them. The only thing worse than falling in love was falling for a woman he knew wouldn’t stay. He should have seen the signs with Hattie, but now that he knew Polly’s plans for her own life, he knew how completely off-limits he had to keep his heart.

      He had to keep things strictly professional, which was why the question forming on his lips had to be asked. Not for his sake, of course, but for the five children who might become attached to Polly.

      “How long do you plan on working for me before seeking your teaching certificate?”

      Polly shrugged. “I have no timetable. I’ll stay as long as I’m needed and we’re both satisfied with my work. I don’t necessarily need to become a teacher, but it is one of the few respectable forms of employment for a young unmarried lady. Particularly one who has no intention of ever marrying.”

      Once again, Mitch found his interest piqued by her strong declaration against marriage. “Was your heart broken that badly, then?”

      Polly shook her head. “I know everyone thinks it’s because Tom broke my heart. But the truth is, I’ve seen what falling in love and marriage does to a person. Did Ma know what kind of man Pa would turn out to be when she married him? Of course not. She had stars in her eyes, and even now, if you catch her at just the right time, she’ll tell you of the roguish way he stole her heart. But what good did that do her? Backbreaking work, more mouths to feed than she could afford and having to put up with his antics?”

      A gust of wind scooted between them, and Polly pulled her shawl tighter against her body. “I know that not every man is bad, and I’m sure you want to defend your gender to me. But honestly, I’ve had enough of a taste for when things go wrong to not want to venture there myself. In my experience, things go wrong more than they go right.”

      Mitch couldn’t help the sigh that escaped. Part of him wanted to argue with her logic and tell her that exactly not all men were bad, and not all marriages were terrible. But his own experience...

      “I understand. As much as I tried to protect the children from knowing the truth about my marriage to Hattie...”

      Mitch sighed again. He’d never confessed the truth of his marriage to anyone, not his family, not the few friends who stood by him, not the police who questioned him over Hattie’s death.

      “I’m sorry that it wasn’t good,” Polly said softly. “But you did your best to make your children feel safe and secure. Which is what Ma did for us. I respect that. And you won’t hear a word against her from me.”

      Then Polly glanced back at the house. “I shouldn’t have told you those things about my pa. Ma would be terribly hurt if she knew I held him in such low regard. She’s never spoken ill of him, even on the nights he’s come home smelling of drink and cheap perfume.”

      Her loyalty felt like a warm cloak around his heart. His children were safe with this woman. She wouldn’t make them feel small or out of place, and she’d do her best to keep them from the talk that followed their family. And, as he watched her nibble on her lower lip, he knew that he was safe with her as well.

      “I won’t say anything,” Mitch said softly. “Thank you for trusting me. I imagine this has been weighing on you for some time.”

      “You don’t know the half of it,” Polly said quietly, once again glancing in the direction of the house. “My friends have all married wonderful men. They all think I’ll eventually find someone just as wonderful and live the same wonderful lives they lead. But how can I tell them that marriage isn’t always so wonderful when they are clearly so happy?”

      “You don’t,” Mitch said, taking her by the arm and leading her down the road. “I never wanted anyone to know what a fool I’d been, so I simply pretended everything was fine.”

      Then he stopped. “I’m sorry, I don’t know where we’re going. And I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. I suppose that both of us needed someone to talk to, and both of us understand what’s at stake for the other.”

      Polly smiled, then pointed at a nearby barn. “Why don’t I show you Uncle Frank’s mission, and the work he’s doing? As for talking, I understand completely. Your secrets are safe with me.”

      They turned a corner, and Mitch realized that not all of his secrets were going to remain safe. Gerald Barnes, deputy and chief investigator into Hattie’s death, was coming toward them.

      He should have known that Gerald would show up in Leadville sometime. But what he hadn’t expected was the two large men standing with him.

      Gerald and his men closed in. “Mitchell Taylor, you’re under arrest for the murder of Hattie Winston.”

      * * *

      Murder? Polly looked at Mitch. There had to be some mistake.

      But Mitch didn’t look at her. Instead, he stared at the deputy. “You know I didn’t do it.”

      “I got a witness who says otherwise.” The deputy put his hand on the gun at his waist. “I suggest you come peacefully.”

      The two men with the deputy came toward them, looking like they expected a fight. Once again, Polly stole a glance at Mitch, who wore the same icy calm expression he had in the Mercantile when his children were misbehaving.

      “Of course.” Mitch held out his hands, almost as though he’d been expecting this. Then he turned and looked at Polly.

      “I’m sorry we weren’t able to settle terms of your employment fully, but I can assure you that once we sort out this misunderstanding, I’ll pay whatever wages you think fair.”

      He nodded in the direction of the deputy and his men. “They’re witnesses to my agreement to pay you, so you needn’t worry that I’ll not give you your due.”

      “I wasn’t worried,” Polly told him. “I’m happy to care for your children, but—”

      “You should be worried, miss,” the deputy said, his brow furrowed. “The way poor Miss Hattie died, it was a gruesome scene, and I’m sure she must’ve suffered in the end. You shouldn’t trust the likes of Mitch Taylor. He has a pretty tale to tell, but it’s all lies.”

      Secrets. Everyone had them. Could Mitch have killed his wife? Polly’s gut told her no. But with as forthcoming as he’d seemed to be in their discussions, why hadn’t he mentioned that he was a suspect in his wife’s death?

      “I believe, in this country, a man is innocent until proven guilty,” Polly said quietly, looking at Mitch. What would he say in his defense?

      “There’s proof enough,” the deputy said. “A fine citizen like Mitch Taylor, you’d have never believed it. But I suppose there’s only so much a man can take, and one night, he just lost it.”

      Then he looked at Mitch. “I suppose you thought she had it coming. But no one, no one, deserves to die the way Hattie did.”

      Still, Mitch remained silent, and Polly’s stomach turned inside out. Why wasn’t he defending himself? Why did he seem so calm?

      “Can we go now?” Mitch stared back at the deputy. “I’d rather not cause a scene. My children have already been through enough.”

      Once again, Mitch brought his icy gaze to Polly. “If you wouldn’t mind bringing the children back to my brother’s, let him know what’s happening. He can notify my lawyer. I trust you’ll care for the children as we discussed?”