The Rocky Mountain Heiress Collection (94 page)

Trees, people, and ramshackle buildings all seemed insignificant when viewed from this height. Only the church steeple, the needle upon which the compass of Leadville balanced, seemed the same.

“You’re quite taken with this city,” the viscount said.

Charlotte straightened, assuming a more proper demeanor, as the buggy bounced over deep ruts in what had become more trail than road. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

He gave her an appraising look. “It suits you.”

“Does it?” Charlotte shrugged. “Perhaps. It didn’t always, though. When I was ten, I got into some serious trouble here.”

“You?” The viscount’s dark brows rose as he affected a poor version of a surprised expression. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Sarcasm is unbecoming,” she quoted. “Miss Pence.”

“Miss Pence?” He gripped the reins to slow the horses as they approached the summit. “I don’t follow.”

“My etiquette teacher. She does not approve of sarcasm. But then, she’d be horrified to know her prize student was once a pie thief. Oh, and I was threatened at gunpoint by the most awful …” Charlotte forced the memory away and put on a smile. “Anyway, it turns out Gennie is pretty handy with a gun.”

“That’s the story? I doubt that’s all of it.” Viscount Hambly halted the buggy, then swiveled to face her. “Enlighten me, Miss Beck.”

“There’s nothing to tell beyond the fact that I angered the wrong man.”

“Is that so?”

“And then there was the time I convinced my friend Gussie to …” She looked at him and blushed. “Never mind.”

Despite the curiosity and confusion evident on Alex Hambly’s face, Charlotte kept her mouth closed, and eventually he returned his attention to the horses.

While the Englishman was otherwise occupied, Charlotte took the opportunity to study him. He had a fine profile, she decided, one that begged to be recalled over and again. His hair was dark, not black as night but rather that shade that turned from the color of deepest evening to the golden hue of dawn’s first light when the sunlight danced across it.

Papa would say his features were pleasant. Gennie would call him easy on the eye. Charlotte thought him far too handsome for his own good.

Not that she would ever tell him so.

He caught Charlotte staring. “With your permission, I’d like to show you something.”

“Yes, of course,” she managed before looking away.

He urged the horses forward, and they headed back down the trail off the summit. Then, without warning, he swung the buggy to the left, and Charlotte tumbled toward the edge of the seat.

The viscount hauled her back against him, leaving her breathless. “Careful, there,” he said practically against her ear.

“Careful?” Had Charlotte not been shaking like a leaf in the wind, she would have told the man exactly what she thought of his ridiculous warning. “Slow down,” she said instead. “And release me at once.”

Hambly appeared surprised at her statement, as if he were unaware of holding her against him. “Yes, right,” he said as he removed his arm from her waist.

The buggy still flew across the ruts and poorly cut out roads, but the viscount took more care making the hairpin turns that characterized the remainder of their trip. He gestured to the rise and the steep trail that seemingly went straight up to disappear between a rocky outcropping. “I’ve only traveled this way on horseback. Might be rough, but I’m the adventurous sort. Shall we give it a go?”

She only gave the idea a second of thought. “Of course. Just let me tighten the ribbons on my hat. Wouldn’t want to lose it.”

He chuckled as her fingers, sore and cramped from holding onto the buggy seat, fumbled with the ties. Finally he handed her the reins. “Here, let me do it. Just don’t let go.”

“Truly, Viscount Hambly, I—”

“Please,” he interrupted as his fingers toyed with the ribbons, “call me Alex.”

She watched the silk slide across his hands and noticed a scar that spanned the space between his thumb and forefinger. “This is most improper.”

He tightened the knot, and his knuckles grazed her chin. “Improper?” He lifted one dark brow. “Interesting how you define propriety.”

Charlotte closed her eyes to avoid staring directly into his. “How so?”

Something brushed her face. She opened her eyes to see the Englishman tucking a strand of her hair back under her hat.

“Wouldn’t want to be improper,” he said as he patted the ribbon back into place atop her curls. “I think that will do nicely. Do hold on.”

He turned and took the reins. With a slap of leather and a shout of encouragement to the horses, the buggy jerked into motion. They moved fast at first and then, by degrees, slowed as they climbed, until Charlotte knew for sure they’d begin rolling backward at any moment.

And then, just as she’d given up hope, the trail leveled out and all of Leadville lay before her. The sun shone around clouds that portended rain, covering the town in a patchwork of light and shade. Squinting, she spied the Clarendon Hotel and, nearby, the Tabor Opera House and Mr. Tabor’s Grand Hotel. And, of course, the church spire that anchored the view.

“Breathtaking,” she whispered. Charlotte turned to her companion and found him staring not at the view, but at her.

He slowly looked beyond her. “Do you know where you are, Charlotte?”

She looked around. “This appears to be the highest summit in Leadville. Am I correct?”

“You are,” he said. “But it’s more than that.”

The wind picked up, lifting the ribbons the viscount’s hands had tied. Charlotte reached for the brim of her hat to steady it against the breeze. The Englishman continued to look out at the valley.

“What else is it, Viscount … Alex?”

At the mention of his name, he glanced up sharply. “Alex, is it?”

“Don’t make a fuss about it or I shall go back to calling you Viscount Hambly.” She returned her attention to the clouds hovering above them.

“This is Summit Hill. Hambly land.” He gestured to the city below. “Purchased by my father before most of that was here.”

Charlotte’s heart sank. The land where the observatory was to sit. Was it possible he knew she’d told Papa of his intentions?

“I see,” she managed. “You know, it appears rain is on the way. Perhaps we should get back to town before we’re drenched and the road becomes impassible.”

“What did you say to your father?”

A simple question, and yet one she did not intend to answer. “I am uncomfortable remaining here.” She gave him a direct look. “A gentleman would not keep me here against my will.”

“And a lady,” he said slowly, “would not meddle in affairs where she had no business.”

“Look here,” Charlotte said as her ire rose, “I am neither meddling nor compromising my position as a lady.”

“I see.” The viscount snatched up the reins. “The fact remains that your father has decided not to allow a purchase of the land directly south of this.” He nodded toward a rocky patch some distance away. “See that?”

Charlotte followed his line of vision and found nothing but the
crumbled remains of a miner’s shack. Not much more than a pile of kindling, really.

“There’s nothing a man or a miner could want,” he said. “It’s been dug to death and there’s not a glint of ore under it. No value to anyone anymore, and what little came out of it is possibly from the Hambly side of the property line, though that’s a story I’ve yet to confirm. Your father was eager to get rid of it. Then, suddenly, he was not.”

She shook her head. “I have no idea—”

“Spare me.” He slapped the reins and turned the buggy. “You told your father of our plans. Beck’s a businessman, and he knows when to sell. That’s the only explanation.”

Her mouth resolutely shut, Charlotte endured the bone-rattling ride over the rise in silence. Finally she could stand it no more. “Look here,” she said, holding tightly to the buggy seat to keep from being catapulted out. “Stop at once so I can speak.”

The viscount slid her a sideways look, then, with a shake of his head, complied.

When the horses were still, Charlotte released her grip and swiveled to face him. “All right. I admit I told my father about the observatory.”

Sunlight slanted over his features, which did not change with her admission of guilt. A muscle worked in his jaw, but otherwise the viscount remained silent.

“But tell the truth, Alex.” Charlotte touched his sleeve. “You would have done the same thing.”

You would have done the same thing
.

The Beck girl was right. The admission chewed at his conscience. Under the same circumstances with the same information, he would have taken the same steps to secure his family’s stake in what could be a lucrative business deal.

As the trail leveled out, so did Alex’s temper. After maneuvering around a deep rut, he slowed the horses and stopped the buggy.

“Miss Beck,” he said when he had her full attention.

“So it’s Miss Beck now,” she said with sarcasm.

“Charlotte,” he amended wearily. “You and I have been at cross purposes since we met.”

“I suppose.” Charlotte studied her hands. “Though I never asked you to catch me in the garden. I could have landed quite nicely without your help. And had you not, likely the rest of the things that have transpired would never have happened. Thus it all begins with you.” She lifted her gaze to settle on him. “But I forgive you, Alex.”

“You forgive me?” Was she mad or merely baiting him? In either case, Alex bit back the rest of his response. “That’s quite magnanimous of you.”

“I try,” she said. “Now, perhaps we should hurry back.” She gestured at the gathering clouds. “It appears we’re about to be inundated.”

“Wouldn’t want that.” Alex raised the reins, preparing to send the horses hurrying forward, then thought better of it. “Charlotte,” he said, “now that you’ve forgiven me, perhaps we might discuss a little business proposition.”

“Business?” She shook her head, and the feather on her hat bobbed in time. “I’m a lady who should not meddle in business affairs, remember?”

“Save it for someone who will believe you. It seems you’ve a better head for business than I do, though I’d never admit to anyone I’ve said that aloud.” The horses startled at a rumble of thunder, and it took him a moment to quiet them. When he returned his attention to Charlotte, he found her watching him openly. “You’re smart, Charlotte Beck. Much smarter than I’ve given you credit for. And you’re more mature than you appear, an image I warrant you both enjoy and cultivate.”

Green eyes widened slightly before her mask of indifference returned. A brisk wind caught her silly hat and she yanked it back into place.

“And you,” she said, “strike bargains you do not keep.”

“I do not.”

One hand still on the hat, she pointed at him. Her eyes narrowed. “You do. Remind me of the agreement we made in London.”

He shrugged. “I arranged to have your ridiculous behavior become all the rage, and you promised to leave me alone.”

“That’s not exactly as I would have stated it,” she said, “but the fact remains that you and I were to go our separate ways. You, sir, have not allowed this to happen.”

“Me?” Again the horses startled, and this time Alex gave them their way and allowed the buggy to jerk into motion.

“Yes, you,” she said. “You continually insinuate yourself into my life, Alex Hambly, and then you somehow decide it’s all my fault.”

“I insinuate myself? How do you explain our current situation?”

The buggy tilted dangerously as the horses took a hairpin turn too fast. Alex pulled back on the reins and made sure his passenger still sat beside him. She did, but her hat hung askance and the blue feather bent with the rising breeze.

“We have no situation beyond that which you caused by purloining my father’s buggy,” she said. She sat straight as a schoolteacher, her fingers toying with the ribbons he had just tied. “Nor should we attempt to continue this conversation.”

She had a point, at least in the claim he’d stolen the buggy. Though technically a buggy could not be stolen if the daughter of the owner willingly joined in the journey. Charlotte Beck had made no move to leave once he slid into the driver’s seat. For all her bluster, perhaps she was more interested in him than she let on.

After all, she had let him kiss her.

Twice.

Alex gave her a sideways glance. “Leave the ribbons alone or you’ll lose your hat.”

“Mind your driving,” she snapped in response.

The buggy negotiated another turn, this time with much greater success. However, while the road was becoming smoother, the weather was not. A quick calculation gave them less than even odds of returning the buggy to the livery before the clouds burst.

“Hold on, Charlotte,” he said, slapping the reins and urging the horses to pick up their pace. “I’m getting us off the mountain before the rain has us sliding.”

“But how will you—oh! There went my hat.”

The curls that had once been tamed by the silly hat were now free to form a damp halo cascading past Charlotte Beck’s shoulders. Despite it all, she looked even lovelier, which only served to irritate Alex further.