The Rocky Mountain Heiress Collection (96 page)

Charlotte’s father leaned forward. “But?”

“But …” His thoughts jumbled and the words disappeared faster than Jacob’s Comet. Alex let the silence fall between them as he plotted his escape.

“Has she picked your pocket yet?” Beck asked.

Alex hadn’t expected that. “Actually, yes. But she returned the watch,” he hastened to add. “She said she was merely trying to get my attention.”

“And it worked?”

He nodded. “It did.”

Mr. Beck’s laughter filled the expansive office. “That’s my girl. She can be frustrating.” He gave Alex a sideways look. “Listens about as well as a doorpost unless she’s of a mind to.”

Again Alex adjusted his collar. “Indeed. A walking disaster.” He glanced quickly at her father, who merely nodded in agreement.

“Break some of your things, did she?”

Alex thought of that afternoon in the observatory. “I’ve a telescope that’s a bit worse for wear because of her. And there was a project I spent
all night recreating thanks to her decision to …” He shook his head. “Never mind. What she takes in patience she makes up for in entertainment value.”

“Keep going,” Mr. Beck said. “I rarely come across another man who understands my daughter as well as I do. And tolerates her.”

“I can’t say I tolerate her,” Alex protested. “It appears fate continues to put us together, though I’ve no sane reason as to why.”

“Perhaps it’s not fate at all.” Beck paused. “Perhaps it’s the Lord who directed your paths to meet.”

“If that’s true,” Alex said, “then the Lord has a greater sense of humor than I do.”

“I’m curious,” Mr. Beck said. “Those newspaper stories. The
Times
and those others. Were they exaggerated?”

“Exaggerated?”

“Was she truly the star of Bill Cody’s show? I just wonder if she’s as wayward as the press makes her out to be. I’ve heard Gennie’s opinion. I’d like to hear yours.”

“I don’t think wayward is quite the term. She’s …” Alex shrugged. “I’m sorry, sir, but your daughter defies description.”

“But she did ride across the arena behind one of the braves and shoot a hole in Bill’s hat?”

“That is something she did confirm. And I heard the story too many times from eyewitnesses who described how spectacular she looked while …” The impropriety of the image in Alex’s head hit him full force when he looked at Charlotte’s father. “In any case, rest assured your daughter can handle her own with a horse and a weapon.”

“And the fact that my brother gave you a black eye for getting too familiar with her.” Beck crossed his arms over his chest, revealing the pistol at his waist. “Tell me more about this.”

Again, Alex needed a moment to process the change of topic. “Yes, well, I was standing in my garden, looking for Jacob’s Comet.”

“Jacob’s Comet?”

“As I said, I am an astronomer by trade,” Alex explained, “and I recently wrote a paper on the comet, which until now has defied calculations on its orbital …” He shook his head. “Anyway, I was standing in my back garden, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive comet, when I heard an odd sound, not unlike the protest of a small child.”

“I see,” Beck said. “And this was my daughter?”

“It was, actually, though I did not know this until I caught her.”

“Caught her?” Beck shook his head. “I don’t follow.”

“Best I can tell, she must have climbed out the window and managed to fall over the balcony.”

“During a formal event?” Mr. Beck’s eyes narrowed. “Were we speaking of anyone but my Charlotte, I would dispute your claim. In this case, however, please proceed.”

“That’s it. I was looking up at Orion, which was partially obscured by clouds, when I heard the aforementioned cry. And then your daughter landed in my arms.”

“I see.”

Alex waited while Charlotte’s father sat quietly, either disputing the tale or merely imagining it as it played out.

“So,” Mr. Beck finally said, “if you were innocently studying the heavens and Charlotte was merely doing what Charlotte generally does and disobeying all the rules of good and proper behavior, what was it that made my brother angry enough to hit you? Especially right there in your father’s ballroom?”

“That I cannot say.”

Beck lifted a brow. “Cannot or will not?”

“Cannot,” Alex stated with assurance. “I only sought to bring your daughter’s missing fan back to her before it was found and an explanation required of her. I did not intend to besmirch anyone’s reputation. In fact, I thought I was protecting hers.”

Again silence fell between them, punctuated only by the rain tapping against the window. Alex felt the water in his boots as he shifted positions.

“So,” Daniel Beck finally said, “how long have you been in love with my daughter?”

“Love?” Alex gulped. “Sir, I hardly think my passing acquaintance with your daughter constitutes love.”

Mr. Beck chuckled. “No?”

“No.”

Though the kissing might.

And the way his heart raced when he looked into those green eyes of hers.

But he couldn’t possibly love her. He’d have to forget all of her irritating qualities, which he certainly could not.

“You’re certain of this, Viscount Hambly?”

“I am,” Alex said, though the opposite was more likely true.

Charlotte’s father slowly nodded. “I suppose not. Though it does appear you have some strong feelings for her, and the two of you have a shared history.”

“I will admit strong feelings. Anyone who has spent much time in Charlotte’s presence would. But not as strong as you’re suggesting, sir.”

“Charlotte, is it?” Beck’s expression turned serious. “I’ve sources, Alex. Good ones. It is an established fact that Charlotte did indeed land
in your arms in the garden and stole your watch. Am I to understand there was nothing else?”

Alex considered his words carefully. “There was a dented telescope and a ruined set of notes that almost cost my career. Those I’ve already mentioned. Oh, and the fire. And the race. She cheated, by the way.” He paused. “And the fact that she’s ruined our business deal, and then I almost went to jail today when I was merely trying to have a simple conversation with the woman.”

And kiss her
.

With each incident imparted, Mr. Beck nodded. He didn’t seem a bit surprised by any of the audacious things his daughter had done.

“Is that all?” he finally asked.

“Isn’t it enough?” Alex answered, exasperated.

“Pies,” Mr. Beck said. “Has she stolen any yet?”

“Pies? I don’t follow, sir.”

“No problem with hanging the staff’s unmentionables from the trees or spittoon tipping?” He waved away the odd comment. “Never mind. I suppose there are some things my daughter has outgrown in her slow search for maturity.”

Alex shifted positions. “Don’t be so certain.”

Mr. Beck lifted a brow. “My daughter thinks I find her an embarrassment to the family. She may have mentioned I’m not allowing her to participate in the ridiculous New York season this year.”

Alex chuckled. “Indeed, she did. As I recall, she was burning her corset in her grandfather’s fireplace at the time.”

“Hence the fire?” Beck shook his head.

“It was sparked by flying embers from your daughter’s excessive use of a fire poker. She was quite adamant that the undergarment burn.”

Mr. Beck began to laugh in earnest. “And it did?”

“Along with the ribbons on the back of her dress. She was already in a mood, so you can imagine how well received my efforts at putting out the fire were.”

The businessman’s laughter ceased. “And how did you manage this?”

“A pillow,” Alex said. “In her state, I dared not douse her with water. She might have turned the poker on me.”

Again Mr. Beck dissolved into a fit of laughter. “So you beat out the flames with a pillow?”

“Perhaps not
beat
,” Alex corrected, “but yes, I did use some measure of force to halt the fire before it did any further damage.”

“And this was not”—he struggled to speak while laughing—“not well received?”

Alex grinned. “It was not.”

“And yet you persevered.”

“I did, sir.”

Daniel Beck shifted positions to regard Alex with a suddenly serious expression. “I like you, Alex.” He seemed to be considering his words. “You’re a good man.”

The unexpected praise left Alex with nothing to say beyond a hasty, “Thank you.”

“I am aware of your accomplishments in the field of astronomy. How did you attain your position at the observatory?” He paused. “Did you depend on your father’s connections?”

Alex paused to consider how best to state his thoughts to the Earl of Framingham’s heir. “With all due respect, sir, I depended on no one other than myself.”

“I see.” Outside, thunder rolled low and long, and the windowpanes shuddered. “Would it surprise you to know I disagree?” Beck
waved away Alex’s protest. “Oh, it’s fine that you get along without anyone’s help. I applaud that. You’ve only just slightly miscalculated.”

“Have I?”

“Indeed. The Lord. He knows our plans, but He makes His own, and His ways are not ours.”

Not the argument Alex expected. “Yes, well, that is true.”

“You a believer in the Almighty, son?”

“I am, sir, though I’m not much for vocalizing the fact.”

Beck seemed to be appraising Alex. Before he could speak again, however, the door flew open and a soggy Charlotte Beck stormed in. From the top of her rain-soaked head to the tip of her mud-caked shoes, she looked as if she’d been walking in the weather for days rather than an hour.

“You!” she said, spying Alex.

“You look awfully sour,” he said as she slogged toward him, wet skirts trailing in her wake. “Apparently the freshening up didn’t work.”

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed, and she pointed at him. “I told you to wait. Did you? Oh, no, of course not. I just wanted to freshen up. Is that too much to ask? Truly, Alex, I fail to see why—”

“Enough, Charlotte.” Alex grasped her wrist just tight enough to still her hand. “Stop talking. This instant.”

She froze, her lips half-forming her next words and her green eyes wide. By degrees, Charlotte closed her mouth, and her eyes narrowed.

Then came the laughter and applause.

From Daniel Beck.

“Well done, Viscount Hambly.” Mr. Beck walked around the desk, leaned against its edge, and crossed his arms over his chest. He turned to Charlotte. “Sit down, Buttercup. We need to have a conversation.”

Alex quickly released her then took a step backward lest she retaliate. “If you’ll excuse me then.”

“No, stay a moment,” Mr. Beck said. “This pertains to both of you.” He turned to Charlotte, who stood rooted in place. “Do sit down. You’re dripping everywhere.”

“I will not. Not until this man explains why he left me out in the wilderness in a rainstorm.” She began to lift her hand and point again but obviously thought better of it. “What sort of man does that to a lady?”

“What sort of lady wanders off into the wilderness in a rainstorm?” Alex demanded. “That is the most childish behavior I’ve ever witnessed. And because of you, I was handcuffed and hauled back into town by the sheriff with the purpose of being locked up in the Leadville jail for stealing your father’s buggy.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said with slightly less starch in her speech.

“Of course you don’t, Charlotte. You arrived mad as a wet hen and assumed things were a certain way.
Your
way.” Alex paused to be sure she was looking directly at him. “And you were wrong. Yes, Charlotte. Wrong. You. Imagine that.”

“Well, I never.”

“Yes, you have, Charlotte. Twice.” The words were out before he could stop himself, but Alex refused to look at Daniel Beck, either for apology or clarification. Charlotte knew what he meant, and that was sufficient for making his point.

Slowly, she straightened her shoulders and adjusted the mud-stained cuffs of her dress. Then Charlotte Beck turned her back on him and walked toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Mr. Beck called.

“Back to the Clarendon for dry clothes,” she said as she reached for the knob. “You can’t possibly expect me to stay in these ruined—”

“Stop right there, Charlotte,” her father said. “We’re not done, and I know you do not want the embarrassment of Viscount Hambly fetching you back. Be it from across the room or across Harrison Street.”

Charlotte looked over at Alex, who fought the urge to grin. “You wouldn’t dare,” she said.

“Only with your father’s permission,” Alex responded.

“Which he has,” Mr. Beck added.