The Texan's Engagement Agreement. Noelle Marchand

have the reception there. Or, that Isabelle and Rhett bought a new house to live in after they return from visiting his family. Meanwhile, her family will be moving to a house just down the street from theirs—”

      “Thank you, town crier, but I’d like to see the bride walk down the aisle if you don’t mind.”

      She was right to urge him onward, for they ended up being the last guests to take their seats. The bride was radiant. The groom looked more confident than Chris had ever seen him, which was saying something since Rhett had always been awkward around women. There was no stammering or hesitating from the bride or groom as they said their vows.

      A few minutes, later Chris kissed the bride’s cheek and offered his congratulations to the groom. Rather than releasing his hand after the handshake, Rhett caught his arm and hauled him into the empty kitchen. Chris managed to pull away from Rhett’s grasp and frowned at him. “Hey, what’s all this about?”

      “Sorry for the manhandling. I need to get back to my guests and my bride so this has to be quick. Since Isabelle didn’t accept your proposal, am I right to assume that you’re still looking for a wife?”

      Chris grimaced. “Yes, but I’d rather keep that news quiet if I can.”

      “You do realize you’ve tried to court nearly every woman in town, right?”

      “Yes, but I assumed they’d all be good enough to keep it to themselves, or at the very least to each other. As it is, my parents don’t know I’m looking for a wife and that’s the way I want to keep it.”

      “They won’t hear it from me. The reason I pulled you over here was to give you something that should help.” Rhett glanced surreptitiously at the kitchen door before pulling a folded piece of paper out of his suit-coat pocket and holding it between them. “Wherever this thing goes, love seems to follow.”

      “Is that...”

      Rhett nodded. “The Bachelor List.”

      “Really?” Chris almost didn’t recognize the hushed, eager, nearly awed tone of his own voice. “Do you have any idea how much I pestered Ellie for a look at that?”

      Their friend Ellie Williams was the most successful matchmaker in town. Her list of all the eligible men in Peppin—lined up with who she saw as their matches—had sparked a bit of a frenzy among the bachelors last fall. It had also helped her find her own match with her childhood-friend-turned-husband Lawson. However, she seemed to resent the attention it had brought her, and refused to answer any questions about who any man’s match might be.

      Chris wasn’t sure how Rhett had ended up with it. At the moment, he didn’t care. This list would point him in the direction of the woman who was meant for him. The love stuff he could figure out later.

      He reached for the first real hope of success he’d had in months, only to see it disappear behind Rhett’s back. Rhett gave him a tempering look. “Not so fast. This is a very powerful list—or, rather, God’s been using it in very powerful ways. Quinn Tucker was able to convince Helen to marry him simply by showing her this...and because she loved the nieces and nephews in his custody who needed a mother. This list helped me recognize that I was in love with Isabelle and set me on the quest to win her heart. I know God will use it for good in your life, too, or else I wouldn’t have felt prompted to give it to you. However, like anything with power, it comes with rules.”

      “What kind of rules?”

      “You have to keep it safe and keep it secret. Don’t change anything on it. If Ellie finds out you have it, she’ll ask for it. Don’t give it back to her. Instead, pass it along to another bachelor—as the Lord directs you, of course. Do you agree to all that?”

      “I agree. Now may I have it?”

      Rhett handed over the list, patted Chris on the shoulder and then left, presumably to return to his bride. Alone in the kitchen, Chris wasted no time in unfolding the list. He scanned the column of names for his own. Finding it, his gaze also landed on the name of the woman with whom he’d been matched. His jaw clenched.

      Adelaide Harper.

      This made no sense. Why would Ellie match him with a woman who no longer even lived in Peppin? Actually, it wasn’t that hard to guess. Ellie had been part of their childhood crowd. She must have seen them together and thought exactly what Chris had—that they were meant for each. That, somehow, someway, Adelaide would return to him and they would be together.

      They’d all been wrong. He and Adelaide weren’t together. And there was absolutely no chance that she would ever return to Peppin.

      * * *

      “There is absolutely no chance I’m getting off this train in Peppin.” Leaning back in the chair of the small desk provided in their private Pullman car, Adelaide Harper crossed her arms and lifted her chin.

      Her stepfather, Everett Holden, allowed only a hint of a humor to show in his eyes. “This is the last station that will allow us to transfer onto a train to Houston, so you’ll forgive me if I get off here. Be so good as to send your mother and me a telegram when you get to Louisiana so that we know you’ve gotten that far safely. I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip.”

      Adelaide watched as he grabbed his suitcase, reporter’s notebook and Kodak camera, then exited the private train car. With a satisfied nod, she turned her attention back to the manuscript spread out on the sloped writing surface of her portable desk box. If he thought he’d scare her into joining him with the prospect of an extended trip on a train, he had another thing coming. She’d like nothing better than to continue on alone. She did her best writing while traveling, which was why she always begged to go along with him on his rare but necessary business trips. They always used separate private cars which meant she could close the door and block out everything while the clack of the train wheels lulled her into the imaginary worlds she created on paper.

      She also treasured the short breaks these trips gave her from her mother’s constant attempts at matchmaking. Adelaide was almost certain that with a little more hard work she could become an independent woman who wouldn’t have to settle for romance or marriage. Rose might realize that, if she ever acknowledged that Adelaide was a published and increasingly successful author.

      They’d become a part of Houston’s high society through her mother’s marriage to Everett. His family name was one of the most respected in the city. Her mother expected Adelaide to be a proper society lady, and society ladies didn’t stay spinsters or write dime novels. They got married, had children and dedicated their time to charity or musical accomplishments.

      Adelaide had never fit into that world. She’d never truly fit anywhere, despite or perhaps because of the fact that she’d lived in so many places growing up. That’s why she enjoyed writing. It gave her the chance to create a place that belonged to her even if she couldn’t truly live there.

      A knock sounded on the half-open door. Expecting to see her stepfather, she was surprised to find it was the porter, instead. “Miss, the gentleman said you needed help with a suitcase.”

      With a resigned sigh, she tucked her pencil and papers into a compartment of the portable desk before folding it into its box form. She did her best to ignore the mix of panic and dread filling her stomach as she nodded toward the suitcase. “Yes, please. It’s on the bed.”

      She put on her hat, bending the brim to a daring angle that dipped low over her face. She had no illusions that it would keep her identity a secret for long in this town. Folks here were too observant and too friendly not to notice one of their own had returned. She wouldn’t mind seeing some of the friends she had kept in touch with over the years. She just didn’t relish the idea of word getting back to Chris that she was in town. Not that he’d care or want to see her. After all, she was the one who’d ended their engagement. She’d done it for a good reason, too—one far more important than she’d cited in her final letter.

      Five years had passed since then. She was quite certain her heart was in no danger from him. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop it from