Golden Chances (Jordan-Alexander Family 1)

She didn’t look fine. As David watched, she swayed again and this time, her knees came close to buckling beneath her. Her chalk-white face was tight and drawn and dark circles surrounded her large, expressive eyes.

David instinctively moved toward her. He started to speak, but Faith shook her head.

“Tomorrow,” David called urgently. “Be here tomorrow at quarter till ten. I’ll see you get in to see him.”

Faith said nothing. She straightened her back and kept walking.

David’s stare followed her as she trudged down the corridor.

Chapter Three

Faith straightened her tired shoulders and smoothed her rumpled skirts as she reached the bottom of the staircase and headed straight for the front desk.

“I will require a room for the night,” she announced to the clerk.

“I’m afraid we’re full, miss. No vacancies.”

“At all?”

“None except the Vice Presidential Suite,” he said.

“How much for the Suite?” Faith looked around to make certain none of the hotel guests could overhear her vulgar question.

“Fifty dollars a day,” the clerk answered proudly. “Naturally, it’s second in luxury and price only to the Presidential Suite.”

“Naturally,” Faith agreed, masking her disappointment.

“Shall we send up your luggage?” The clerk’s round eyes accessed Faith’s shabby dress in manner that instantly reminded her of his morning predecessor.

“No, thank you,” Faith told him. “I don’t settle for second best. It’s the Presidential Suite or nothing.” She stared down her nose at the clerk, gathering her skirts in her hand. “Good evening, sir.”

With her head held high, Faith walked out of the Madison Hotel.

“Cab, miss?” the doorman asked as Faith walked out of the hotel. “No, thank you.”

“But it’s raining again, miss.”

“I won’t melt,” Faith assured him. “I’ve been wet before.”

“Will you be staying with us, miss?” The d

oorman was older than the haughty clerks inside the building and full of concern for the young woman.

Faith shook her head. “No vacancies.”

“The lawmakers are all in town. Congress is still in session. There’s not a room to be had in Washington.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Her shoulders slumped. “Thanks, anyway.” She managed a half smile for the doorman and started off down the street toward the station and the train home to Richmond.

* * *

Minutes later, Reese Jordan hurried down the front steps of the hotel and climbed into his waiting carriage. He stared idly out the rain-splattered window. As the driver urged the horses into a trot, Reese focused his attention on the wet scenery.

It had been a disaster of a day, from dawn until dusk. The response to that tiny ad had been much greater than either he or David had anticipated. It had been incredible.

Thousands of southern widows were looking for employment and at least two hundred had found their way to the Madison Hotel in Washington in response to Reese’s ad, much to the dismay of the overworked hotel staff. The hotel manager had expressed the disapproval of the staff and the other guests at the influx of unchaperoned, unmarried, women flocking to Reese’s suite.

“We are a reputable hotel, Mr. Jordan, not a bordello.”