ToLoveaLady (16 page)

Hattie’s flush deepened. She glanced at Charles and her father. “Go on, dear. Tell Lady Thorndale about your school,” her father prompted.

“Well, it wasn’t my idea alone. I mean, there are other women involved.” She looked down at her folded hands. “We thought it would be good if our young people didn’t have to go far away to receive a quality education. And we thought a first-class institution of learning would attract new settlers and businesses to town.”

“She obviously has her father’s head for business.” Harold Simms beamed.

“What age children will you admit to this facility?” Cecily asked.

“High school and above. We eventually hope to add university studies as well.”

Cecily looked thoughtful. “I would think there might be interest in classes for adults who wish to further their education, perhaps in the evening.”

Hattie raised her head, eyes alight with interest. “I had thought the same myself. But I hadn’t mentioned it to anyone else.” She smiled shyly. “I was afraid they would think the idea silly.”

“It isn’t silly at all,” Cecily said. “Think how many young men and women may have had to leave school in order to work, or who came west before they completed their education. I wouldn’t be surprised if they turned out to be your best pupils in the end.”

“I think you may be right.” Hattie touched Cecily’s arm. “Would you like to join our committee? I’m sure we’d welcome the insight you could offer us.”

“I’d be honored.” Cecily looked as pleased as if she’d just been crowned May Queen as she and Hattie retreated to a corner to discuss their plans further. Charles frowned. He wasn’t sure he approved of Cecily becoming involved in town affairs this way. From there it was too short a distance to settling in permanently.
 

The challenge was to find a way to make her want to leave, without actually having her end up angry with him. “Looks like the two of them have hit it off,” Simms said, following his gaze to the women. He clapped Charles on the back. “An impressive woman, Lady Thorndale.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer. “You won’t mind if I ask what your relationship to her might be?”

He did mind, but saw no way to politely avoid answering the question. “Our families have neighboring estates,” he said. “We grew up living next door to one another.”

Simms nodded. “Family sent her here to catch a husband did they?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “In a manner of speaking.”

Simms glanced back toward the women. “Shouldn’t take her long, I’d think. She’s quite good-looking. Don’t she and Hattie make a pretty pair?”

“Hattie is a fine young woman,” Charles said automatically. It was the truth. She was pretty, in a pale, fragile way. An idea began to form in his head. He wasn’t the sort to condone deviousness, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Could he convince Cecily that his interest in Hattie was more than congenial friendship? Maybe it was worth a try.

“Harold, I’d like you and Hattie to have dinner with Lady Thorndale and me at the ranch next week — say, Friday evening.”

The banker looked pleased. “We’d love to, Charles.”

He nodded. “Come by about seven. We’ll have a good time.” And if his luck held, by the end of the evening, Cecily would be eaten up with jealousy, ready to flee towards home, leaving him in peace.

* * *

“I like Miss Simms very much,” Cecily told Charles as they left the bank. “And I think her new school sounds wonderful.”

“I never knew you were so interested in education, Cecily.” He took her arm as they crossed the street.

“I wasn’t, before. But since I’ve begun teaching Fifi and Estelle, I see how important it is. I suppose I took my own education for granted.”

They reached the opposite boardwalk and he released her once more. “I imagine most people do. Well, we’ve seen all there is to see of Fairweather. Are you ready to return to the ranch?”

She slipped her arm into his once more and stood indecently close, secretly enjoying the quickly masked look of discomfort that flickered across his face. Despite his efforts to resist her at every turn, she sensed that Charles liked being close to her. “I want to see this new school that’s being built,” she said.
 

He agreed to drive her out to the building site, so they returned to the buggy. “What do you think of Fairweather?” he asked as they set off once more.

“It’s very different from England.”

He nodded. “Quite a step down from what you’re used to.”

“I don’t mind that.” She laughed. “I didn’t come to Texas expecting it to be just like what I’d left behind. In fact, I’d have been sorely disappointed if it was.”

He fell silent then, frowning at the horses. She bit back a smile. Charles, Charles! she silently scolded. Did he really think to make her run away from him because the town where he lived was a bit on the primitive side? Didn’t he realize by now that she was made of stronger stuff?

The new Fairweather Academy was set on a rise overlooking town. The impressive stone building towered three stories over the prairie, with massive double doors and row upon row of windows open to the prairie winds. Signs of the work being done on the inside of the building lay everywhere: plasterers’ buckets and trays, tins of paint, bits of cut molding and scrap wood. Even from a distance, the sound of hammering and sawing echoed in the air.

“It’s beautiful.” Once Charles helped her down from the buggy, she stood back to take in the complete view. She imagined the blind windows filled with polished glass, and the doors opening to a swarm of eager students.
 

As they moved closer to the building, a young man with bright red hair emerged from the construction. Seeing them, he hurried toward them. “Hello, Mr. Worthington!
 
Come to see what all the money you’ve donated has purchased?”

The man stopped in front of them and grinned at Cecily. “And this must be Lady Thorndale.” He gave a poor imitation of a courtier’s bow. “So pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“This is Gerald Adkins, the editor of the Fairweather
Sentinel
, the local newspaper,” Charles said. “Mr. Adkins, may I present Lady Cecily Thorndale.”

Adkins grabbed her hand. For one horrified moment, she feared he might kiss it; instead, he shook it so vigorously her teeth rattled together. “I hope you’ll favor me with an interview at your earliest convenience,” he said.

“An interview?” The request puzzled her. “Why would you want to interview me?”

“It isn’t every day that we’re visited by a woman of your stature.” He actually had the audacity to wink. “Or such beauty.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or sputter with indignation at his ill-mannered approach. A glance at Charles showed him to be filled with enough indignation for them both. He glared at the newspaperman with thinly veiled contempt. “I assure you Lady Thorndale is unlikely to run away from you just yet,” he said in a cold voice. “There is no need to cling to her hand like a barnacle on a ship.”

Adkins promptly released her and stepped back, while Cecily fought back laughter. Could it be Charles was jealous? The idea sent a thrill through her. If he was jealous, that meant he cared something for her, didn’t it? She might use that to her advantage. “Newspaper work must be very interesting, Mr. Adkins,” she said, giving the newspaper man her most dazzling smile.

He brightened once more. “Yes, it is. A journalist is always the first to know what goes on in town.” He puffed out his chest. “We’ve solved many a crime before the sheriff has had time to finish his investigation.”

“That’s hardly a brag, considering Sheriff Grady’s record,” Charles said.

Adkins shrugged. “That’s what they get for electing someone on the basis of his father’s reputation.”

“Do you mean to say the office of sheriff is an elected one, like mayor or alderman?” Charles asked.

The newspaper man nodded. “Very democratic system. Of course, it means someone with no experience at all — like Sheriff Grady — can be put into office. His father was sheriff here two years ago and I reckon the name was familiar to voters, even if the face wasn’t.” He shook his head. “I always wondered what possessed John to come back here after his daddy died. He hadn’t been around in years and far as I could tell, he never had any interest in the law before.”

“What did he do while he was away?” Cecily asked.

Adkins shrugged. “Whatever it was, he must have done pretty well at it. He showed up with a trunk full of fancy clothes and the deed to the Ace of Clubs ranch. Given a few more years, he might make a fine lawman, once he stops trying to impress people with his abilities and sets about showing some.”

“In the meantime, we must depend on you to solve crimes.” Cecily gave the words a flirtatious tone.

Adkins beamed. “Those of us in the news business often have a better network of sources than the law.” His eyes took on a conspiratorial gleam. “And people will talk to us, who won’t give the time of day to someone with a badge.”

“People like me?” Cecily fluttered her eyelashes at him.

She felt downright foolish, but the effect on both Adkins and Charles was remarkable. Adkins puffed up like a rooster and looked terribly pleased with himself, while Charles glowered and all but growled under his breath. “Lady Thorndale has nothing to say to you, Adkins.”

“On the contrary, Charles, I’d love to sit down with Mr. Adkins and talk to him about this lovely town.” She glanced over Adkins’ shoulder at the building in progress. “And about your new academy. I’ve been invited to join the founding committee for the new school, you know.”

“You don’t say?” Adkins whipped a small notebook out of his back pocket and took the stub of a pencil from behind his ear. “And when did this happen, Lady Thorndale?” He paused to smile up at her. “Or may I call you Cecily?”

“Certainly. . . Gerald.”

“That’s enough.” Charles took firm hold of her arm. “We don’t have time for all this today. We must get back to the ranch for luncheon.”

Cecily gave Adkins an apologetic look. “Perhaps you could call on me at the ranch some day soon and we can talk.”

“I’ll do that.” He shoved the notebook back into his pocket. “When would be a good time for me to come?”

“No rush.” She waved as Charles urged her back toward the buggy. “I intend to stay a while longer.”

Her last sight of the newspaper man was of him scribbling madly in his notebook as the buggy pulled away.

“I apologize, Cecily, for that man’s rude behavior.” Jaw set, Charles glared at the horses and spoke in a clipped tone.

“Not rude, exactly, merely a little rough around the edges.” She settled back in the wagon seat and smoothed her skirts. “These Texans seem to make up for in friendliness what they lack in manners.”

“He had no call to manhandle you that way, or to address you by your Christian name.”

“I’m all right, Charles, really.” She leaned over and touched his arm, coaxing him to look at her. “It’s very sweet of you to want to protect me. I. . . I’m touched.”

His heated glance warmed her through, but just as quickly, the warmth vanished and he looked away. “As my guest, you are under my care. I would be a poor host indeed if I did not look after you.”

And an even poorer excuse for a fiancé, she silently added, but did not dare mention this to him. Instead, she decided to change the subject. She looked out across the prairie. “I can’t get over how very different everything here is from England, from the way the land looks to the way people talk and act. It truly is another world.”

“Some people have a difficult time adjusting to the changes.”
 

“You’ve been away a long time, Charles. Do you ever get homesick?”

He shifted in the seat, but said nothing for a long moment. She wondered if the question had somehow offended him, then he said. “Sometimes, I wake up in the morning, thinking I’m back in England. Maybe it’s a rare rainy day, or something on the breeze has the scent of England about it. When the realization hits me that I’m still in Texas, it’s a terrible letdown.” He glanced at her. “But only for a moment. Most of the time, I would rather be here than anywhere else in the world.”

“I remember when you and your brothers were younger. Even then, you talked of traveling around the world. And you’ve all done so, haven’t you? Reg was in the Navy, and now he manages a tea plantation in India. Even Cam served as a missionary in Canada before settling into a vicarage in Sussex. And you’re here in Texas.”

“What about you, Cecily? Did you want to travel, too? I don’t recall us ever asking you that.”

She smiled down at her lap. “I was just a girl. I’m sure even then, with typical British male arrogance, you assumed I wouldn’t want such things.” She looked up and laughed at the stricken expression on his face. “I don’t blame you. I believed it, too. I knew I was fated to remain home, marry well, and carry on as a dutiful wife and mother. And I truly wanted that.”
As long as the man I married was you.
She knew better than to say those words aloud, but she tried, as best she could, to send the same message with her eyes.
 

“And what do you think now that you are here? I heard you say you intended to stay a while. Aren’t you homesick?”

“Sometimes.” She folded her hands in her lap and looked out across the prairie. Though scarcely February, patches of green relieved the drabness, and a scattering of blue, pink and yellow wild flowers foretold the bounty of an early spring. “There’s nothing for me to go home to.”