ToLoveaLady (33 page)

Charles narrowed his eyes at his brother. “If you’re such an expert at this, why haven’t you married?”

“Let’s just say I know what not to do.” He stifled a yawn. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll see about a bath and bed. Good night.”

“Good night.”

As Reg passed him, he stopped and put a hand on Charles’ shoulder. “And good luck.”

“Good luck to you, too,” Charles said. “I think we’re both going to need it.”

* * *

Cecily sat at her dressing table, chin in hand, staring in the mirror. Was that young woman with the sun-burnt face and tangled hair really her? Had the thin veneer of a cultured young lady cracked at last to reveal the hoyden she had always been, older, but no wiser?

She sighed and began to remove the remaining pins from her hair. Seeing Reg again had brought back memories of those days when she’d tied up her skirts and gone racing after him and his brothers. Of all the boys, Reg had had the most patience with her in those days. He lacked Charles’s glibness, but he had his own brand of charm, and he was the best listener, the one most likely to insist the others stop and wait for her to catch up. Perhaps because he most often felt the brunt of his father’s wrath, he was quick to defend the underdog, and consequently had a varying collection of strays and younger children trailing after him, including Cecily.

Reg had been her friend, but Charles had been her idol. Handsome, brave Charles: the first to lead them into trouble and the only one who could talk them out of scrapes with his easygoing manner and effortless charm.

She dropped the pins in a china bowl and picked up her silver-backed brush. Was she only one who saw the fear beneath that charm — the fear of not being liked, of not being good enough? She took a shuddering breath and blinked back tears. She knew that fear because she’d felt it so often herself. From the youngest age she’d been told that the whole of her family’s future lay on her slender shoulders: everything she did would reflect on her family. She had to be beautiful and witty and accomplished in order to make a good match and protect the family name. She’d done everything they had asked of her, and still, it hadn’t been enough. Only here, away from the cotton-wool protection she’d always known had she discovered what it was like to be her own person, to test her own strengths and weaknesses with a selfishness that sometimes amazed her.

Even then, she had not stopped loving Charles. Perhaps she couldn’t stop loving him.

She closed her eyes and put her fingers to her lips, remembering his kiss. There had been no charm and gentleness in that caress, only raw hunger and a need that shook her to the core. Could it be he did care deeply for her, so deeply he was unable to put his thoughts into words?

The door let out a squeal as it opened and she turned to see Alice tiptoeing into the room. “Oh m’lady, I’m sorry to disturb you.” Alice hastened to apologize. “I didn’t know you were still awake. I was only going to lay out your things for in the morning.”

Cecily turned from the mirror. “It’s all right, Alice. Come in and tell me about your day. Did you enjoy the festivities?”

Alice smiled. “Ever so much, m’lady.”

“Tell me. What did you do?”

“Oh so many things. We ate beef cooked in a pit in the ground. The Texans call it barbecue and it was quite tasty. Then I learned to play a game called horse shoes. They play it with real horses’ shoes, m’lady!”

Cecily laughed. “Yes, I saw some people tossing them back and forth.”

“After that, we listened to the music and Nick taught me to dance the way they do here. It’s very lively dancing, and great fun.”

Cecily thought of the square dance steps she’d learned. She’d never gotten to try them with Charles.
 

Alice moved closer. “Later on, we went walking and. . . and he kissed me.” A rosy blush swept her cheeks.
 

Cecily smiled. This had been an evening for kissing, it seemed. “I take it you enjoyed it. And perhaps kissed him back?”

She nodded, eyes downcast. “He’s a stubborn, insufferable man, but. . . I think I love him anyway.”

Cecily stood and embraced the younger woman. “I’m happy for you, Alice. In spite of his faults, Nick is a good man.”

“Yes, m’lady. I think you’re right.” She moved away, once again assuming an air of brisk efficiency. “I’d better go now, and let you get your rest, m’lady.”

Cecily yawned. She hadn’t thought she was tired, but a great weariness had suddenly overtaken her. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Let me help you with your gown.” Alice helped her out of her dress and petticoats and into her nightdress, then folded back the bedcovers. “In you go, m’lady.”

Cecily climbed into bed and Alice tucked the blankets around her. “Thank you for listening to me prattle on, m’lady.”

“My pleasure, Alice.” She stifled another yawn. “Good night.”

Alice turned out the lamp and left the room, but Cecily did not close her eyes to sleep. She had too much to think about. Alice’s declaration of love for Nick kept running through her mind. Perhaps that was the key, to love a man in spite of his flaws, hoping that he would be as charitable and overlook your own shortcomings. Had she been too harsh on Charles? Did he deserve another chance? Before she could make up her mind, sleep overtook her. She slept soundly, and dreamed of England, green and cool and so far away.

Chapter Nineteen

The next morning, Charles arose early and rode out to a place on the prairie where wildflowers grew. He felt slightly foolish riding back to the house with an armload of blossoms, but if Cecily wanted wooing, then she would have it, flowers and frippery and all.

Once inside, he called Alice and asked her to arrange the flowers and deliver them to Cecily as soon as she awoke. “Oh, they’re lovely, m’lord.” Alice beamed as she cradled the blooms in her arms.
 

“Do you think Lady Cecily will be pleased with them?” He tried not to sound as anxious as he felt.

Alice’s smile never wavered. “Pleased? M’lord, she’ll be delighted, I assure you. What lady doesn’t like to receive flowers from a gentleman? And to think you picked these yourself!” She was still murmuring encouraging words as she bustled away to find a vase.

“No time for breakfast this morning, Mrs. Bridges,” Charles said as he passed through the dining room on his way to his study. “Would you bring a cup of coffee into my office, please?”

He sipped the coffee while he composed a note at his desk. Two broken pen nibs and six sheets of paper later, he had something that suited. Part love letter, part invitation, the note pleaded with Cecily to have dinner with him that evening. Wine, candlelight, and just the two of them. He would take Reg’s advice and court her properly. Given time, he hoped to win her heart once more.

He rang for Gordon. “Deliver this to Lady Thorndale at breakfast,” he said.

“Should I wait for a reply, m’lord?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. I won’t be here anyway. I have an urgent business matter to see to.”

“What about Mister Worthington, m’lord?”

“Tell Reg I’ll see him when I return.”

An hour later, Charles halted in front of the sheriff’s office in Fairweather. He tied his horse next to Grady’s dun gelding and went inside, ignoring the sick feeling in his gut. Better to have it out with the man now than spend the rest of his days here watching his back.

Charles found the office empty, though the sound of a cell door clanging shut told him the sheriff was likely upstairs with a prisoner. Determined to wait, he passed the time reading the Wanted posters tacked to the walls.

His gaze eventually came to rest on the portrait behind the desk. The resemblance between Ben Grady and his son was evident, but the father had a hardness about the eyes that his son did not possess. The earl had that hardness about him, too, a refusal to compromise with life that made him at the same time strong and too brittle to accept change.

“Worthington!
 
What are you doing here?”

Charles turned and watched Grady descend the stairs. The lawman’s normally dapper suit was dusty, and he had a bandana knotted around one hand. “I came to talk to you about your ranch,” he said.

“Your ranch now.” Grady went to the desk and opened a bottom drawer. He pulled out a flask and set it on the edge of the desk, then began unwrapping the bandana. “Found out you didn’t get a bargain, didn’t you?”

“I had nothing to do with the purchase,” Charles said. “My father bought that note without my knowledge.”

“Guess he wanted to have another piece of property for you to play with.” He uncorked the flask and upended the contents over his hand, his mouth set in a hard line, face pale and pinched.

“What happened?” Charles stepped forward and stared at the jagged tear in the fleshy part of the sheriff’s hand.

“Danny Fells bit me.” Grady jerked his head up toward the ceiling, and the cells above, then began re-wrapping his hand.

“Why did he do that?”

“I cornered him and he fought back like the animal he is.”

Charles leaned back against the desk and waited for Grady to say more, but when the sheriff remained silent, he prompted him. “Why did you arrest him?”

Grady hesitated a moment longer and darted a glance at Charles. “Caught him over in Hulltown trying to sell a stolen beef.”

Charles resisted the urge to gloat. “Congratulations on bringing him in.”

Grady looked wary. “Why would you congratulate me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Grady leaned forward and tightened the knot in his bandage with his teeth. “There’s no love lost between us,” he said when he was finished. “Don’t try to deny it. You may not have personally bought the note to my ranch, but
somebody
had to tell your old man it was available.”

Charles bowed his head. “I’ll admit I sent a telegram to my father, but what if I did? As you yourself admit, the property is no bargain. I’d think you’d be better off without it.”

Grady scowled. “What would you know about it? Born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You never had to work a day in your life for anything.”

“Maybe not physical labor, but I paid a price for what I’ve got one way or another.” He folded his arms across his chest and studied the sheriff for a moment. He wasn’t a big man, and he didn’t have the leathery look of most of the hard-bitten cowboys and stockmen Charles knew. “Why did you have the ranch in the first place? Did it belong to your family?”

Grady looked away. “No. Not my family.”

“Did you purchase it as an investment, then?”

“You might say that.” To his astonishment, a wry smile split the sheriff’s face. “I won it playing poker.”

Charles couldn’t conceal his astonishment. He looked again at Grady’s long-fingered hands, at his meticulous dress and ornate moustache. “You’re a card shark!”

Grady stroked the moustache. “Yeah. Before I put on the badge.”

He resisted laughing. Though Grady had relaxed some, he might not yet see the humor in the situation. “Then why did you become a sheriff?”

Grady looked over his shoulder, at the man in the portrait. “My father was sheriff here before me.”
 

Fathers again!
 
“My father sent me here, did you know that?” Charles asked. “Along the way, I discovered I like being a rancher. Do you like being a sheriff?”

Grady hesitated, then shook his head. “It’s what
he
always wanted.”

A sudden surge of empathy for a man whom he’d come to think of adversary made Charles uncomfortable. “Now I know why you had a worthless ranch and why you became a sheriff,” he said. “Only one more question.”

“Why would I want to answer you?”

But Charles pressed on. “Why are you harassing Madame LeFleur and her girls? What harm are they doing anybody?”

Grady’s expression darkened. “You think it’s right for girls to be selling themselves to men that way?”

“No, but it’s their choice.”

The sheriff turned away. “You don’t know anything about it.”

“And you do?”

He thought Grady had said all he had to say, but just as Charles was about to turn and leave, the sheriff spoke again. “I knew a girl once, in a place like that. She wanted out, but with no money and no where to go. . . a customer beat her to death when she wouldn’t let him stay all night.” His shoulders slumped, a man bent by old grief.

Charles bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”
 

“For the ranch. . . and the girl. For everything.”

He faced Charles once more. “Is your father proud of you now that you’re a big success in Texas?”

Was he?
“I don’t know.”

“I guess we never do, do we?” He sat on the edge of his desk and fixed his gaze on the portrait again. “My old man was shot by a drunk in a saloon two years ago. I’ll never know what he thought of me.”

Charles moved closer. “Maybe in the end, it’s more important what we think of ourselves.”
 
He offered his hand. “Can we declare a truce?”

Grady looked at him a long moment, then completed the handshake. “Truce.”