ToLoveaLady (10 page)

The Earl never changed. Of course this entire mess was Charles’s fault. Never mind Cecily’s role in the whole affair. Neither man seemed to care one whit about the danger she’d put herself in coming here, the emotional turmoil that must have driven her to such uncharacteristic rebellion, or the possibility that she was making a huge mistake trusting so thoroughly in a man she scarcely knew.

Not that Charles would have harmed one hair on her pretty head, but who was to say another man would be so scrupulous? All those two old men cared about was seeing their plans carried out and their children married to each other, consequences be damned.

He crumpled his father’s message into a ball and tossed it into the fireplace grate, then turned and strode out of the room. “Gordon!”

He started up the stairs, still calling for his valet. “Gordon!”

“All that hollering ain’t going to fetch him.” Mrs. Bridges emerged from the kitchen, drying her hands on her apron. “He ain’t here.”

“Where is he?” Charles was not in the mood for Mrs. Bridges’s peevishness.

“Gone off with Lady Cecily and that snippy maid of hers and that cheeky young man.” She made a face. “They’re with the
Madam.
” She emphasized the title and rolled her eyes.

Charles pulled out his watch and flipped open the lid. “It’s after two. Surely they’ve returned by now.”

“Don’t believe a word I say. See if I care!” Mrs. Bridges threw up her hands and turned away.

“No, no.” He rushed after her. “I’m sorry Mrs. Bridges. I didn’t mean I don’t believe you, but. . . maybe they slipped in without your noticing?”

“I’ve got ears like a cat’s. Nothing and nobody gets by me.”
 

Charles could believe this was true. Mrs. Bridges knew everything that went on for a five-mile radius around the ranch. “Did they send word by anyone that they were staying late with Miss Waters?”

She shook her head. “Not a peep. Considering how between them they ain’t got no more horse sense than one ordinary cowboy, I wouldn’t be surprised if they weren’t wandering the prairie like a bunch of stray sheep, or ambushed by a gang of outlaws or renegade Redskins.”

A pain began to pound behind Charles’ temples. A lesser gentleman would have ordered Mrs. Bridges to shut up at once. But for all her crotchety ways, she was a decent cook, and good help was difficult to find in this sparsely-populated place. “Thank you, Mrs. Bridges. That will be all.”

“How many for dinner then, sir?”

He rubbed his temples. “How many? Same as last night, of course.”

She shrugged. “I just thought if some of them weren’t coming back, I wouldn’t bother to set a place.”

“That will be all, Mrs. Bridges.”

When she had vanished into the kitchen once more, he returned to the study. Of course Cecily and the others were coming back!
 
How preposterous to think they would not. All that talk about outlaws and Indians was sheer nonsense. Obviously Mrs. Bridges had been reading too many of the yellow-backed novels of which she was so fond.

He sank down into his desk chair. He couldn’t discount everything she’d said, however. None of the group she’d mentioned was native to the area. Even Gordon was not as familiar with the terrain as Charles, and there were times when he had to double back to get his bearings. With three women and a green young man along, they might very well have gotten lost. The vastness of the landscape looked so much the same, and though it seemed as if one could see forever in any direction, numerous ravines and wallows obscured even the horizon from view.

He pulled out his watch and checked it again. Twenty after two. Only three hours until dark. If they were lost, Cecily would grow frightened. Though Indians and outlaws weren’t a daily threat, there were bad men who roamed under cover of darkness. Cattle thieves, mostly, who wouldn’t hesitate to shoot anyone who stood in their way. Shoot them, or worse. A beauty like Cecily might prove too much of a temptation for the wrong sort of man.

Heart pounding in concert with his head, he lunged from his chair toward the door. He’d retrace their route now, and if he couldn’t locate them, he’d summon a search party. He prayed he would find them, though, before it was too late.

* * *

After Abbie and Madame LeFleur completed their dealings, Cecily persuaded Abbie to show them more of her ranch. Whereas Charles had been reticent about his work, Abbie seemed to enjoy the chance to talk. She discussed the cattle breeds she was experimenting with, pointed out the different brands for cattle and horses, and answered Cecily’s questions about the day-to-day operation of the ranch. With encouragement from Cecily and Nick, she even demonstrated the art of roping a cow.

“You shouldn’t encourage him, m’lady,” Alice said to Cecily as Nick took the coiled rope from Abbie and tried a few wobbly twirls over his head. “He’ll be practicing all the time now instead of seeing to his duties.”

“Nick doesn’t really have that many duties now that we’re in Texas,” Cecily said. “Charles doesn’t seem to be in need of a footman.”

“Then we should find him some duties and quick, before he sets about killing himself riding wild horses and such.” Alice’s voice was stern, but her expression betrayed real concern.

“I’ll talk to Charles and see what we can do,” Cecily said.

“Not meaning to pry, m’lady, but has his lordship said anything more about when you’ll be wedding?” Alice pretended to straighten the seams of her gloves, but Cecily recognized the anxiety in her voice.

“No, he has not. We haven’t really had the opportunity to discuss it. I’m sure he’s waiting until I’m more settled.”

“Of course, m’lady. I was only asking because if the ceremony’s to be here instead of England, I’ll need to be seeing to your gown. I don’t expect the local shops will be having the sort of material we’ll be needing.”

Cecily hadn’t thought much about that aspect of things when she’d set sail for America. Though she would have preferred a wedding in England, with family and friends around her, she would readily accept a smaller ceremony here, if it meant she and Charles would be together. A Texas wedding was better than no wedding at all. Part of her feared that might be how she’d end up, unless she succeeded in changing Charles’ mind. “I promise I’ll let you know as soon as we’ve set a definite date,” she said.

“A date for what, m’lady?”

She turned and saw Gordon standing behind them. This knack of his for sneaking up on them was beginning to unnerve her. “Hello, Gordon. I didn’t see you come up.”

He bowed. “Pardon me, m’lady. I did not mean to intrude.”

“That’s all right. Alice and I were just discussing a date for the wedding.”

“Wedding?” He looked at her blankly.

“Her ladyship’s nuptials to Lord Silsbee.” Alice gave him a withering look. “I was wondering if they’re to have the ceremony in Texas now that she’s come all this way. I don’t suppose his lordship’s mentioned anything to you?”

Gordon shook his head. “No. But then he is not in the habit of confiding in me.”

Cecily didn’t believe that for a moment. Sometimes personal servants were the only people the titled could confide in. Besides, Gordon and Charles had been together a long time. The valet probably knew Charles better than Charles knew himself. In any case, she didn’t wish to discuss her wedding plans, or lack of them, any further. “Do you think it’s almost time for luncheon?” She looked around for a likely location. “I thought we might have a picnic.”

They consulted Abbie, who led them to a shady grove beside a small stream. “I camp here sometimes, when I’m out seeing to the cattle.” She pointed to a circle of stones and evidence of a campfire. “This is about the center of my ranch, so it’s a good place to bed down.”

Cecily couldn’t imagine sleeping out of doors, on the ground. But she’d be willing to give it a try some time. After a lifetime of dull routine, she didn’t intend to pass up any of the new experiences Texas offered.
   

They ate the cold chicken, pickles, deviled eggs and sugar cakes Mrs. Bridges had grudgingly packed for them, and washed the meal down with icy creek water. Cecily sat on a blanket with her back against a tree, her legs stretched out in front of her, reveling in the soothing murmur of the running stream. She inhaled the perfume of damp earth and sun-warmed grass, and the faint vanilla aroma of the cakes. She couldn’t remember being so content in a moment of time, not fretting over the past, or worrying about the future, just. . . being. A wonderful lassitude settled over her, and she fought back a yawn.

“If you’d like to take a nap, Bainbridge and I will keep watch,” Gordon said.

“I’d like to join you, but I have to get back to work.” Abbie rose and brushed crumbs from her lap. “It was a pleasure meeting you, your ladyship, miss, Madame.” She nodded to each in turn.

“Thank you so much for taking the time to entertain us.” Cecily started to rise, but Abbie waved her down.

“I ought to be thanking you for the visit. I don’t get a lot of company out here, especially the female kind.” She took a step back. “If you ever need anything, or have any more questions about ranching, feel free to drop by.” She nodded all around, then mounted up and rode away, Banjo trotting alongside her.

When Abbie was out of sight, Madame LeFleur stretched out on the ground and laid a lace-trimmed handkerchief over her face. “I believe I will avail myself of the opportunity for a
petite
rest.”

Alice gave a huge yawn and looked at Cecily. “Let’s all lie down and rest a while,” Cecily said, reclining back on the ground.

“Shall I fetch a cushion from the buggy?” Alice asked.

“No, I’m fine just as I am.” She pulled her hat down to shade her face and closed her eyes, but sleep escaped her. After a moment, she became aware of the breeze rustling in the grass, a songbird’s trill, the warmth of the sun upon her arms. A whole world of new sights, sounds and experiences beckoned. It seemed a crime to sleep through even a moment of it.

She sat up and looked around. Alice was curled on her side, sound asleep, while Madame’s handkerchief rose and fell with the gentle rhythm of her soft snores. Careful not to wake them, Cecily rose and tip-toed from their camp. She’d seen some lovely winter grasses not far from here. She’d gather some to arrange in the front hall of the ranch house.

Alice might complain that everything in Texas was brown, but closer inspection revealed that even the winter grass was a dozen shades of rust, purple, copper and gold. The common stalks held an exotic appeal to one used to the formal beauty of English gardens. Cecily picked one perfect plume, only to spy another, even more beautiful specimen farther on. She removed her bonnet and began to fill the crown with the bunches of grass, delighting in each new acquisition.

A breeze tugged at her hair and the sun warmed her face. She smiled, thinking of her girlhood, when she’d raced with Charles and his brothers over hedgerows and through fields. They’d played seek and hide among the haystacks, and picnicked on the moor. She and Cam had been the same age, alike enough in coloring and temperament to be twins. With his sandy hair and blue eyes, Cam was considered the handsomest of the Earl’s sons. Even now, as a vicar, he attracted the attention of the ladies within his parish and beyond.

Black-haired Reg was the next oldest. Solemn and determined, Reg was always the first to take a dare, the first to risk, the first to come to the defense of the less fortunate or weak. Reg had been the one to convince Charles to let the girl next door play with them. “As long as she can keep up with us, I don’t see anything wrong with it,” he’d argued, and Charles, good-natured Charles, had agreed.

Charles was twelve years older than Cecily, always the leader, the charmer who could talk them out of any scrape. People listened when Charles spoke. Even as a gangly adolescent, he had a way with words, and a genuine liking for people that shone through to lend warmth to his charm. Cecily had always adored him, always sided with him in any dispute with his brothers, always wanted to be with him.

And then, about the same time she was being made to lengthen her skirts and coil up her hair, her hero-worship grew to something more. She began to look at Charles, not just as childhood companion and friend, but as a man. All other men paled in his shadow. When he’d kissed her that day after she’d been thrown from her horse, she’d begun to love him, and she’d continued to love him ever since.

They were no longer school children racing across the moor. Gone were the days when she chased after him in her short skirts and pigtails. She was a woman grown and he must see that; she was sure he did. He hadn’t kissed her the way a boy kisses a girl. The kiss they’d shared had been between a man and a woman who desired each other.

Love kindled her desire for Charles. Was she vain to hope some spark of love would warm him also?

She picked a bunch of grass and began to plait it into a love knot. Alice would call it a bit of foolishness, unbecoming to a lady in her position. Tucking the love knot in her pocket, she gathered her skirts and twirled around until she was dizzy. She’d had little enough foolishness in her life lately. As soon as she was out of short skirts, her mother had set about grooming her to be wife to a titled husband. Classes in deportment, elocution, watercolor, music and dance. Social calls, charity work, tea dances: Lady Cecily Thorndale perfected them all, not because she wanted her mother’s approval, but because she believed that was the kind of wife Charles, as a future earl, would need and want.