Authors: Cynthia Sterling
“It’s not as if there are lots of jobs available for women,” Estelle said. She pulled her shawl more closely around her, a bored expression on her face. “To my way of thinking, I’ve got the best one available for a woman without an education.”
Fifi giggled. “Why would I want to stand on my feet all day, clerking in a store, or teaching letters to a bunch of brats?” She eyed Cecily over the top of her fan. “Of course, not all of us have a handsome Lord waiting to sweep us off our feet.”
Madame gave Fifi a sharp look, then turned to Cecily. “Tell me,
mon cher
, is your fiancé, Lord Silsbee, expecting you soon? I only ask because he was not here to meet your train.”
Cecily ducked her head and concentrated on making neat pleats in the handkerchief. “I . . . I’d intended to surprise him.”
“You came all this long way to surprise him?” Cecily heard the doubt in Madame LeFleur’s voice.
“Yes, well, he wrote me a letter, you see. And in the letter he sounded. . .
unsure
. . . of whether he still wanted to marry me.”
“Ahh, and you decided to come and settle his mind once and for all.” Madame leaned toward her. “You are right not to let a man retreat from his obligations too readily. But I am surprised your family would agree to let you come so far unaccompanied, especially when the outcome of your journey is still uncertain.”
Cecily shifted on the hard cot. “Yes, well, my parents did not actually
see
Charles’ letter. I thought it best not to worry them. I had money of my own for the fare. And I did not come entirely alone. I brought my ladies’ maid and a footman with me. Once we were aboard ship, I sent my parents a letter, telling them not to worry.”
She lifted her head and found all three women staring at her, amazed expressions on their faces. She sat up very straight. “I am, after all, four and twenty,” she said. “It’s not as if I were a girl barely out of nursery.”
Madame LeFleur burst out laughing. “So you are, so you are,” she said, patting her arm. “And I would venture to say you will succeed on your mission here. Your Lord Silsbee will be overcome by your beauty and your determination.”
Cecily blushed at the compliment. In spite of Madame LeFleur’s scandalous occupation, Cecily liked her. She was even beginning to think of her as a friend. Madame appreciated Cecily for herself, not because of who her father was, or because of the parties her mother gave.
She only hoped Madame was right about Charles. Would he welcome her with open arms, or send her home in disgrace?
Chapter Two
“We’re so pleased you’ve decided to help us, Lord Worthington. You’re so popular, I’m sure your support will persuade others to join us.” Hattie Simms gazed up at Charles with a serious expression that contrasted sharply with the dainty ruffles and bows festooned about her dress and hat. The dress was pink, of some unseasonably light and floaty material. This, coupled with her diminutive stature, gave Miss Simms the appearance of a Fairy Godmother in a children’s story.
Charles suppressed a smile and nodded solemnly. “I am only too happy to assist the Educational Society in your endeavors.” He sipped from a cup of tea and surveyed the men and women seated around him in the Lloyd House’s grand ballroom. The room was filled with tables draped in white linen and arranged around a raised dais. He frowned at the dais. “How many speakers are you expecting this evening?”
“Most of the people with banners will say a few words.” Hattie indicated the white silk banner she wore, the words “Fairweather Educational Society” worked in red embroidery down its length. The oversized strip of silk wouldn’t hang properly on her slight figure, so that right now she displayed “eather Educational Soc”.
Charles scanned the room and groaned. Every third person seemed to be draped in one of the banners, including the woman on Miss Simms’s right, who with her husband, a newspaper editor named Adkins, made up the second couple at the table.
Charles sighed and sat back. This promised to be a very long evening, indeed. He sent Miss Simms a pained look. “At least you might have supplied me with something stronger to drink than tea.”
She gave him one of those superior smiles women have perfected that was at the same time aggravating and endearing. “A period of temperance will do you good.”
Resigned, Charles picked up his cup once more. White-coated waiters began serving the soup course. Miss Simms turned to Charles again. “We’ve had a wonderful turnout for a first effort, wouldn’t you say?”
Charles smiled. “I’m sure no man in town would decline an invitation from such a lovely young woman as yourself,” he purred.
Miss Simms blushed as pink as her dress. “Oh, Lord Worthington, you are quite the charmer,” she breathed.
These Texans never got the title right, but then, they didn’t set much store by such formalities. He admired that. It had taken him only a few weeks to fall under the spell of the wide open freedom enjoyed here. The thought of returning to his father’s stifling way of life grew more distasteful with each passing day.
He fixed the young woman at his side with a sultry stare.
“I can’t help myself around you, Miss Simms.”
Her expression could only be called a simper. He tried not to cringe. What did a little harmless flirting matter, especially when it seemed to please the serious Miss Simms so much?
He managed to keep himself in check, however, until the waiters removed the soup bowls and delivered plates of stuffed quail. “Tell me, Miss Simms, what will you be speaking about this evening?” he asked.
“I have the privilege of outlining our plans for the Academy.”
“By plans, do you mean the building you’ve had designed and the classes you intend to offer?”
She nodded solemnly. “Yes. We hope to have a full curriculum, with instruction in mathematics, Latin, geography and history as well as the classics.” She leaned toward him and lowered her voice. “And I’ve just received some wonderful news. Something very exciting.” Her cheeks flushed pink again, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
Charles smiled. The solemn little bookworm looked almost pretty. “Madame, you must confess at once,” he teased. “What is this thrilling news?”
“We’ve decided to have special courses of instruction for females – not only the usual arts curriculum, but sciences and mathematics as well.” Miss Simms sat back, hands clasped together at her chest. She looked inordinately pleased with herself.
“Indeed?” Charles arched one eyebrow and nodded solemnly. “I feel I should dispatch myself at once to warn the unsuspecting male population of the area. I have heard there is nothing more dangerous than an educated female.”
Miss Simms’s pleased look vanished. “You mock me, Lord Worthington.”
“On the contrary, Miss Simms, I salute you.” He raised his tea cup in a toast.
The waiters brought around a vegetable dish – some sort of stew of potatoes and beans, from what he could determine. Why did they never serve anything more substantial at these gatherings, something like roast beef? “Tell me, Lord Worthington, what exactly is it that you do in England?” The question was posed by the newspaper editor, Adkins.
Charles gave Adkins a cool look. As if sensing a
faux pas
, the newspaper man was quick to add, “Forgive my abruptness, but I have a reporter’s insatiable curiosity.”
Charles’s pleasant expression concealed his inner annoyance. What
did
he do in England? He rearranged the vegetables on his plate with his fork and framed an innocuous answer. “Oh, I’m being groomed to follow in my father’s footsteps. Oversee the property, look after the retainers, that sort of thing.”
“It must be exciting to be a member of the nobility.” This from Adkins’s wife, another banner-wearer with mouse-brown curls.
Exciting? Charles couldn’t keep the pained expression from his face. Riding a wild bronco was exciting. Trying to turn a stampede of raging bulls was exciting. Winning a hand of five card stud was exciting. His life in England was dull. Dreadfully dull. “I assure you it would make for very boring newspaper copy.”
“Mr. Adkins is writing a series of articles on the need for higher education in this part of Texas,” Miss Simms said. “I’m sure he’ll arouse a great deal of interest in our cause.”
“Oh really? I myself have never been one to be
aroused
by mere rhetoric.”
Miss Simm’s face flamed crimson, and Charles bit back a laugh. He really shouldn’t bait the poor woman, but she made it so damnably easy. He searched for some remark to ease Miss Simms’s discomfort, some flattery to smooth ruffled feathers. Before he could speak, his attention was drawn to a commotion across the room. “What’s going on?” he asked, staring at the knot of people by the door.
“Someone trying to crash the dinner,” Adkins said, rising. He whipped a notebook from his jacket and started toward the disturbance.
Suddenly a young man dressed in a dark suit and a cloth cap broke from the crowd, dragging a young woman in a soot-colored dress and shawl along behind him. Something about the woman struck Charles as familiar, though he couldn’t say why.
The intruders paused beside the table nearest the door and the young man spoke to an elderly gentleman. Everyone at the table turned to stare at Charles’s group. The young man tipped his hat, and headed toward them.
“You can’t come in here without an invitation!”
Mrs. Joseph Dillon followed behind the pair, her ample figure bearing down on the intruders like a sea cutter.
“We must see Lord Silsbee.” The young man’s East London accent reminded Charles of home. That, and hearing his proper title made him stand, his back rigid.
The couple stopped in front of him. The young man doffed his cap and made an elaborate bow, while the woman sank into a curtsy. Charles stared at them, aware that the eyes of every man and woman in the place were focused on this little scene. He didn’t have to ask himself who was responsible for this embarrassment. Only one person would want him badly enough to send servants to fetch him.
“Lord Silsbee, sir,” the man said.
“Who are you?” Charles demanded.
“Nick Bainbridge, m’lord. If you’d be so kind to come with me, m’lord.”
“What do you mean, interrupting me this way?” Charles effected his most aristocratic tone of voice, mimicking his father perfectly. “Who sent you?” As if he didn’t already know the answer to that question. Did the earl mean to bodily drag him back to England?
Bainbridge frowned. He glanced at the crowd around him and took a step toward Charles. “Excuse me, m’lord, but perhaps it would be best if we talked in private, like. If you’ll just come with me –.”
Two men moved forward, as if to seize Bainbridge by the collar and toss him out. Charles waved them away. “I do not intend to go anywhere until you answer my question. What is your purpose here? Who sent you?”
Bainbridge looked distressed. “Lady Thorndale sent me, m’lord,” he said. “She’s in need of your assistance.”
“Lady Thorndale? Lady
Cecily
Thorndale?” Charles eyed the young man warily. Was this another of his father’s tricks? “Surely her ladyship did not send you all the way from England to personally fetch me.”
“Of course not, m’lord. Her ladyship is here.”
Charles faltered. “Cecily is here? In Texas?”
“In Fairweather, m’lord.”
“What is she doing
here
?” If Cecily was here, then that meant Lord Marbridge was here as well, with no telling how many retainers. Perhaps Marbridge and the earl had colluded to bring him home – and Cecily had been brought along in order to complete the marriage bargain right away, thus sealing his fate. He scanned the room, searching for the nearest exit. If he had to, he’d make a run for it. He wouldn’t be forced into his father’s mold so soon.
“She came because of the letter, m’lord.”
“The letter?” Charles frowned.
“The letter you wrote to her, m’lord,” Bainbridge prompted.
Charles’ frown deepened. That letter. The one in which he’d proposed putting off their wedding yet again. His plan had been to stall until Cecily received a better offer, as no doubt she soon would, as long as he kept himself halfway across the world, out of the picture. Apparently, Marbridge intended to make him complete the engagement if it meant sailing to Texas to do so. Charles would have to find a way to put him off. “Tell her ladyship I’m busy at the moment. I’ll call on her and her family tomorrow.”
Bainbridge coughed. The woman beside him looked as if she might faint at any moment. “Lady Thorndale is not here with her family,” the footman said. “And I’m afraid she cannot wait until tomorrow. She requires your assistance at once.”
Charles glared at the man. “Cecily is traveling alone?” Delicate, sheltered Cecily, traveling by herself across the wilds of Texas. It was unthinkable!
Bainbridge stiffened and raised his chin. “Her ladyship is in the company of myself and Miss Rogers, her lady’s maid.”
The maid bobbed another curtsey. Charles recognized her now, from his visits to the Thorndale estate. A sick feeling congealed in his stomach. “Has Lord Marbridge gone out of his mind, letting a woman like Cecily travel all this way in the company of two servants?” He struggled to control his voice. No wonder Cecily required his assistance. The journey had no doubt tried her delicate sensibilities and reduced her to tears.