The Rocky Mountain Heiress Collection (99 page)

Her father allowed the letter to drop from his fingers. “My guess is this is some sort of elaborate plot you’ve hatched. Knowing Augusta Miller, she’s only going along with whatever you’ve decided to do. Same temperament as the Arthur fellow, that one.” He appeared ready to continue his argument then let out a long breath. His expression hardened. “A married woman no longer needs her father’s money beyond whatever is settled on her before marriage. A single woman, however, belongs at home with her father until she can prove herself trustworthy enough to be allowed to attend university. That’s the end of the discussion.”

“And should I strike out on my own?” She paused for what she hoped would be dramatic effect. “Would you send me off with nothing?”

“You won’t.”

“I might.” Papa’s eyes narrowed, and Charlotte hurried to amend her statement. “That is, I
could
. Would you leave me penniless?”

“Don’t try me, Charlotte.”

So he would disown her. Or at least divest himself of her care. This knowledge caused Charlotte to see even her pretend flight into George Arthur’s arms in a different light.

The idea was unconscionable, as was remaining here amongst the cattle and the odd cast of characters who came and went due to her father’s soft heart. But leaving Gussie to a fate she did not deserve was worse by far.

“Do you wish me to waste away to nothing here in this horrible wilderness?” Charlotte rose, unable to contain herself any longer. “What sort of father would allow this when he could easily send me to a suitable university to study mathematics?”

Papa’s expression softened. “The sort who would rather have his much-adored daughter safely home rather than in the keeping of someone unworthy of her.” He barely paused to take a breath. “I will give my permission for you to marry the first man I feel can truly be a husband to you and not a fool who allows you to carry his pride in your pocket-book. At this juncture, the only man in the running is—”

“Don’t say it, please.”

As much as she longed to argue the point, Charlotte knew she couldn’t. What George lacked in gumption he made up in adoration. It was a decent trade.

Until one considered the issue of finances. Or rather the lack of them.

But at least he didn’t frustrate her to distraction like a certain British astronomer.

“And in the meantime?” she asked.

“In the meantime I will continue to petition the Lord that the right man makes himself known.”

“I thought you’d already found that man,” she quipped.

Now she’d done it. Papa’s spine straightened, and he appeared near apoplexy. “I have.”

He allowed the silence to stretch between them, broken only by the tick of the mantel clock and little Danny’s squeal from somewhere upstairs.

Charlotte knew when Papa would tolerate nothing further from her. She’d get to Denver somehow, and then to Wellesley after that, but prodding an already furious father would serve her no purpose.

“Well, then, I shall go and find my paints.” Charlotte offered Papa a smile worthy of Miss Pence’s best instruction, balanced the imaginary egg on her head, and moved across the carpet.

“Excellent idea,” he snapped. “If only I’d thought of that. Try to keep out of trouble while you’re at it.”

“Don’t be silly,” Charlotte responded with as much sarcasm as she could manage. “You know I’ve never given you a moment’s worry.”

The comment carried her almost to the door before Papa’s chair squeaked, indicating he now stood. “Buttercup,” he called. “Come back here.”

She complied, albeit slowly.

“I am furious with you,” he said. “Absolutely beyond understanding why you must be so difficult.” He paused to take a deep breath. “And yet, it’s true. You do have quite a head for business. What if I gave you a chance to make your first deal as a junior member of the firm?”

“You’re inviting me into the firm?” Hope rose inside her, as did suspicion.

“Pending your agreement to my terms, yes.”

She reached for the door frame and held on tight. Had she misheard or was her father actually giving in? “And what might that be?”

He returned to his chair and regarded her for a moment. “You know my feelings about Viscount Hambly.”

“Oh, Papa, no. Must you continue to bring up that man? I know you hold him in the highest esteem, but truly—”

“First lesson in business, Charlotte. A smart businessman—or woman—listens more than speaks.” The chair creaked as Papa leaned back and looked at her, shaking his head. “Never judge the worthiness of the deal until it has been presented in its entirety.”

“All right,” she managed with the proper amount of contrition. “Please continue and I’ll not interrupt.”

Whatever the deal, she’d likely agree to it if it meant she got what she wanted. Her only prayer was that the irritating viscount was not part of the arrangement.

“Sit down.”

She did. Quickly and quietly.

“You wish to attend Wellesley,” Papa said after a moment. “And I will allow it.”

Charlotte kept her smile in check, but inside, she jumped with glee. “Thank you, Papa.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” He reached for his pen and studied it a moment before setting it aside. “The remainder of the bargain is this: To secure a position as a junior partner upon your graduation from Wellesley, you will have nothing further to do with your Mr. Arthur. And I mean nothing. No flirtations, manipulations, or communications of any sort. Do you understand?” When she nodded, he continued. “Now for your friend Gussie. She will be spared the arranged marriage the two of you are so keen to prevent.”

“Oh, thank you,” Charlotte said as she jumped to her feet. “I couldn’t have agreed to Wellesley in good conscience without helping Gussie too. But how did you know? About Gussie, I mean?”

Papa’s brows rose but he said nothing. Likely whatever he knew of Gussie and the mystery royal came from his friend Mr. Sanders at the Pinkerton Agency. Papa did have his connections, after all.

“I’m sorry,” Charlotte returned to her seat. “Do continue.”

Her father took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Please understand that though you are hearing this for the first time, I have been thinking very seriously about this arrangement since I returned from Leadville. Also, you must know I wish only the best for you.” He paused. “You do know how very much I love you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whispered. As much as she and Papa butted heads over just about everything lately, the fact that he adored her was never in dispute.

“All that remains, then, is for you to agree to the final terms of the bargain.” Papa’s gaze swept the length of her. “Upon graduation from Wellesley, you will return to Denver to take a position as full partner on the board of Beck Enterprises. And you will marry Alexander Hambly.”

Had she heard correctly? “Marry …”

“Yes, Charlotte,” he said in his sternest voice. “Marry. After a four-year engagement, during which you will complete your education.”

“But, Papa, I …” She couldn’t find the words. “He will never agree to it,” she finally managed.

“Leave that to me. I wish to know whether you agree.”

Four years was an eternity. Anything could happen.

“And you’re certain Gussie will not be forced to marry whatever duke or earl her father’s found for her?” she asked.

“I’m certain of it,” Papa said. “And for the record, the fellow is a viscount and a rather likeable one, at that.”

“So let me be clear,” Charlotte said in her most businesslike voice. “What happens if, theoretically, the engagement is called off? By Mr. Hambly, of course,” she hastened to add.

“It won’t be. Hambly’s a man of his word. But in any case, you cannot be held responsible for a broken engagement unless …” He shook his head. “Oh, no, I’ll not be offering any sort of opportunity for you to get out of this. The deal is a marriage to Hambly four years from now in exchange for a place on my board, and that’s final.”

“Even if Alex does not cooperate?”

“Buttercup,” her father said, “have you ever met a man who refused to cooperate with you?”

The truth, and they both knew it. And then she remembered something. Hadn’t the viscount told her in great length about the ways a marriage could be annulled? Surely she could strike a bargain of her own with the awful man.

Four years from now, of course.

Charlotte jumped to her feet and launched herself into her father’s arms. “Yes, Papa, I agree.”

He tucked her head under his chin and enveloped her in an embrace. “You’re certain?”

“I am. Very certain.”

Certain that four years was long enough to figure out a solution that did not involve a lifelong marriage to Alex Hambly, no matter what Papa said.

July 20, 1887
Leadville, Colorado

“Impossible. The investors cannot possibly be asking for more time.” Alex slammed his fist against the wall of the newly leased Leadville office of Hambly Mining Ltd., then turned to face Will Pembroke. “Negotiations are complete.”

Will shrugged. “I’ve no explanation for it. This morning things were fine. A half-hour ago this came.”

He handed Alex a telegram.
Funding on hold until further notice
.

“That’s it?” Alex demanded. “What does this mean?”

“It means that should you wish to go forward with your purchase of the Leadville properties, your funding options have now become limited.”

“Limited.”

Alex moved to the window to look down at Harrison Street, then lifted his gaze to the sky, where smoke from the smelting operations threatened to choke out the sun. For all the wealth that flowed from the Leadville mines, so did an equal or greater measure of ugliness. Even the
stars were obscured on all but the rarest of nights by the smoke. The odds were that tonight, even with no moon, the comet he’d hoped to see would not be visible.

And yet an observatory was to be built here?

He’d considering bringing up the matter with Will or perhaps even with those who would build the observatory. As an astronomer in the employ of the royal offices at Greenwich, Alex had an obligation to bring up such concerns. But as a Hambly bent on shoring up his family’s crumbling fortune, to offer up anything but silence on the matter was unthinkable.

So he’d kept his opinions to himself, even as his conscience became harder to quiet.

“There are other ways to do this,” Will said, interrupting Alex’s thoughts. “Or we can abandon the deal altogether.”

Again, Alex’s conscience complained. Still, what he owed to his family took precedence.

“The deal’s already been done and the documents signed.” He crumpled the telegram and threw it. “All that remains is to write the check.”

Will said nothing.

“Yes, I know. From a bank account that has little in it.” Again the temptation to slam his fist against the wall beckoned. “They’re stalling. What do you make of it?”

“Could be any number of reasons for the delay,” Pembroke said. “Men with money tend to be skittish.”

“Yes, well, I wouldn’t know.”

The truth in that statement stung. Unlike these Americans he found himself surrounded by, he felt wealth was to be used but not flaunted. He was a Hambly from a long line of well-connected and regal Hamblys,
and as such, money had rarely held any value beyond the fact that it kept the land in the family and prevented boredom or empty bellies.

Until he had to, Alex hadn’t given money or the lack of it any consideration.

“Look,” Will said, “You’re a man of means. At present, your means just happen to be on hold.”

“Until the investors come to their senses,” Alex said. “And depending on the reason for this delay …”

He couldn’t continue. The idea of walking away from a deal so close to being done was beyond consideration. As was failing.

“Or until your upcoming marriage to the lovely Miss Miller,” Will supplied.

A reminder Alex didn’t need. “I suppose.”

Will shifted positions to affect a casual pose. “Might I remind you that your wife’s father holds no small amount of influence in this state and beyond?”

“Miss Miller is not yet my wife,” Alex said. “And what assurance have I that the issue would be settled in a timely manner? My understanding is that Americans make a fuss and drag these things out for months. Why, I haven’t even met the woman I’m to share a name with, Will. Don’t you find that a bit odd?”

“Many things these Americans do strike me as odd.” Will grinned. “But what matters is that there is to be a marriage, Alex, likely by the end of next week, and with it a substantial deposit into your bank account.”

“Of course.”

“That should be in plenty of time to appease anyone looking to dip into the Hambly coffers.”

“And if it is not?”

“It must,” Will said. “And then you’re free to return to your work at Greenwich while your wife goes about the business of whatever it is wealthy American women do once they’ve been wed to a royal.” He joined Alex at the window. “Say, isn’t that Beck’s right-hand man there?”