ToLoveaLady (32 page)

“Young lady?” Charles gave his brother a questioning look.

“A fetching little blond. A little too fussy for my tastes, but she seemed quite taken with Gordon when I found him and asked him to take me to you.”

Hattie Simms
? Charles released the brake and popped the reins to start the horses forward. Was everyone suddenly involved in a romance except him?

“So what is this celebration I seem to have ended up in the middle of?” Reg gestured toward the barbecue pits and picnicking families.
 

“The Texans’ Independence Day,” Charles said.

“Fairweather appears to be a prosperous enough town,” Reg observed. “A trifle rustic, but I suppose that’s to be expected.”

“It’s very different from England, but I’ve grown to like it.”

“Lady Thorndale, what is your opinion of Fairweather?” Reg leaned forward, one hand on the back of the buggy seat, almost, but not quite touching Cecily’s shoulder.

“I quite like it here. As Charles says, it’s very different, but I think that’s the most appealing thing about it. No one cares if you’re a titled lady or gentleman or the daughter of a Soho charwoman, as long as you contribute something to the community.”

“Then you must be held in high esteem indeed, for the beauty and grace you add to anywhere you find yourself.”

“Oh, you are as much of a rogue as you ever were, aren’t you?”

Charles’ fingers tightened on the reins. “You see, brother, there’s no need to practice your skills on Cecily,” he said, forcing a lightness into his tone that he didn’t feel. “She knows you too well to be impressed.”

“Why, I do believe he’s jealous.” Reg winked at Cecily. “I’d better behave myself or he’ll be calling me out at dawn with pistols at ten paces.”

He sat back and spent the rest of the journey with his hat tilted over his face, dozing, or at least pretending to. Without Reg’s attentions to animate her, Cecily fell silent also. Charles watched her out of the corner of his eye, wondering if she was reliving that moment of passion by the buggy. Had he managed to soften her feelings toward him, or merely to confuse the issue further?

By the time he drove the buggy through the gate to the ranch, the sun was dipping toward the horizon, painting the cloudless sky with streaks of crimson and amber. Reg straightened his hat and sat up. “So this is Nobility Ranch.”

“How did you know it’s called that?” Charles asked as he climbed down and went to help Cecily alight. But Reg leapt to the ground and offered his hand to Cecily before Charles could reach her.
 

“Some loafers at the depot referred to it by that name when I asked directions to the Double Crown.” He escorted Cecily from the wagon and released her with a smile. “I was going to rent a horse from the livery when someone told me I could find you at the celebration in the town square.”

“It’s good to see you again, Reg.” Cecily nodded to him. “I think I’ll leave you and Charles now. I know you have a lot to talk about.”

She did not even look at Charles before she went into the house. He turned and began to unfasten the horses. Without a word, Reg began to unbuckle the animal on his side of the wagon. “The men are all in town at the celebration,” Charles explained as they led the horses to the corral. “Things are different here. We rely less on servants and more on ourselves.”

“I grew used to that in the Navy, and the help in India was unreliable to say the least.” He shut the gate after Charles and fastened it. “Fending for myself suits me.”

They pulled the buggy to the shed, then walked into the house, to the back parlor that doubled as Charles’s office. “The cook, Mrs. Bridges, left a cold supper in the kitchen if you’re hungry,” Charles said. “And there’s water in the boiler for a bath if you care to draw your own.”

“Perhaps later.” He sank into a sagging armchair. “What I’d like now is a drink.”

Charles opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle. “Kentucky whiskey. Different character from Scotch, but I’ve grown to like it.”

“Sounds just the thing.”

He filled two glasses half full of the golden liquid and handed one to Reg. They clinked them together in a silent toast, then sat back to sip in silence.

Reg took a long drink. “Ahhh. Just what the doctor ordered.”

Charles studied his brother over the edge of his glass. Yes, Reg was definitely thinner. And older looking too. The hard muscles of his arms and the few silver strands at his temples spoke of difficult times. “You were in India how long?” he asked after a moment. “Two years?”

“One year and ten months.” He took another drink and closed his eyes, head resting against the wall behind him.

“Did you like it?”

“I hated it.” His voice was flat, as if he were remarking on bad weather, or a steeple-chaser that had run poorly.

“Then why did you stay?”

He opened his eyes and fixed Charles with a weary look. “After I left the Navy, I was determined to prove to the earl that I could make something of myself.”

Charles had forgotten how Reg always called their father the earl, as if to distance himself even further for their sire. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you.”

He drained his drink. “Not half as sorry as the earl was. He was positively livid. Said I was the only one of his sons who had failed at everything.”

Without being asked, Charles stood and refilled his brother’s glass. He could imagine his father saying those very words. Growing up, things had always fallen hardest on Reg. He had felt the sting of the earl’s words, and the bite of his lash, more than either of his brothers. Apparently, little had changed.

Reg sat up straighter, his gaze wandering around the office. “I hear you’ve done well for yourself. The earl says the ranch is prospering.”

He nodded. “If he thinks that, why does he want me back in England?”

“He’s growing older, feeling his mortality.” He set his half-full glass aside and sat forward, elbows on knees, clasped hands hanging loosely. “He’s ready to have you take over running the estates, ready to dandle grandchildren on his knee.”

“I can’t quite picture Father tolerating small children around, much less dandling them.”

“He might surprise you.” He frowned. “He’s gotten frailer since you left. When I first saw him, I was shocked at how he looked — like an old man.”

Charles turned away, and walked to the window that looked out over the endless expanse of prairie behind the house. “He’ll go on like that for years. The Worthington men are notoriously long-lived.” But even as he said the words, worry pinched his gut. Even if he didn’t always see eye to eye with his father, it was frightening to imagine a world without him in it.

“He wants you home, Charles.”

He shook his head. “I don’t intend to go.”

He heard the sharp intake of his brother’s breath, and felt his shock reverberate across the room. “Why not? Wasn’t that the plan you’ve followed all your life?”

“I’ve changed my mind.” He watched a flock of birds settle in a mott of scrub oak, their dark shapes like Christmas ornaments in the fading light. “Since coming here, I’ve discovered I enjoy being my own boss.”

“So you intend to stay.” Reg paused, then added. “This does change things.”

Charles turned to face him again. “What do you mean?”

“The earl didn’t just send me here to fetch you. Texas is my second chance.”

Charles frowned. “You’re not making sense, brother.”

He sighed. “Apparently, he’s bought another ranch — a bonafide bargain — and he expects me to turn it into a money-making enterprise. I have a year to sink or swim.” Relief lightened his expression as his eyes met Charles’s. “He won’t like you going against him, but I have to say, I’ll welcome having someone here to show me the ropes. I don’t know the first thing about cattle and ranching.”

Charles hardly heard him. The news about this other ranch echoed in his head. “Father bought another ranch? Where?”

“Some place called the Ace of Spades or something like that.”

“The Ace of Clubs?”
   

“Yes, that’s it. It’s supposed to be very near here.”

Anger knotted his stomach. No wonder Grady had been so upset with him. The earl had bought the note behind Charles’s back. The sheriff thought Charles had swindled him.

“You haven’t been listening to a word I said, have you?”

“What?” Charles realized Reg was staring at him.

“What’s wrong? You look as if you’d gladly murder someone.”

“The Ace of Clubs belonged to the local sheriff, a man who has been a thorn in my side since I arrived here. Instead of allowing me to try to diplomatically acquire the property, our father went behind my back and bought the note, leaving me with more of a problem than ever.”

Reg nodded. “That sounds like the earl.”

“I don’t understand. Did he think this was going to entice me to come home?”

“I’m past trying to determine what the old man thinks.” He picked up a dagger-like letter opener from the desk and turned it over and over in his hand. “The only thing I know is that as long as he lives, he wants to be the one calling the shots. If you go along, as you and Cam always have before, you’re in his good graces. If you’re a rebel like me, nothing you do is good enough.”

“I suppose I’m taking a page from your book, then, and learning to be a rebel.”

Reg glanced at him. “What does Cecily think of it?”

      
Inwardly, he flinched. What would Cecily think of his going against a lifetime of
 

training this way? Would she applaud his determination, or be horrified at his
 

foolishness? He shrugged, feigning indifference. “What does it matter what she
 

thinks?”

      
He looked surprised. “Aren’t you engaged?”

He hesitated, reluctant to reveal the truth, though whether to shield Cecily or himself, he couldn’t say. Reg’s steady gaze drew the admission from him. “We were. In fact, she came all the way here to convince me to marry her, but now that I’ve decided it’s what I want, she’s turned contrary.”

“She didn’t look particularly contrary when I first saw you.” He grinned. “I must say, I scarcely recognized her at first. She’s definitely improved with age.”

“She’s nothing like she was as a girl. She was always so agreeable, the model daughter.”

“I could say the same thing about you.”

He shrugged off this remark. “Do you know what she wants to do? She’s decided she wants to be a teacher.”

“And you object, is that it?”

He began to pace, agitation clawing at him. “I could care less if she teaches or makes hats, or dances the can-can. I just want her to be mine.”

Reg frowned. “I don’t understand. The girl has been besotted with you for years. What changed her mind?”

He groaned. “It’s my own damned fault I suppose, for taking so long to make up my mind. When she first came here, I was sure Father had sent her to trap me into coming home. The only reason I’d ever agreed to marry her in the first place is because it was what both our families wanted and I knew it was easier to go along than to rock the boat.”

“And now you feel differently.”

He sank into a chair. “I think I’ve fallen in love with her.”

Reg leaned back against the desk and folded his arms across his chest. “This is serious. She knows you love her and still she rejects you?”

Chin in hand, he looked mournfully at his brother. “I’ve made an ass of myself, Reg. I open my mouth to tell her how I feel and something completely idiotic comes out. She thinks I only want to marry her out of a sense of honor and she’s decided she wants more.”

“I must say I admire a woman who knows what she wants.”

“Don’t be glib.” He took a deep breath, struggling not to sound as desperate as he suddenly felt. “You’ve always had a way with women. What do I do now?”

Reg thought a minute. “Maybe it’s time to start over.”

“Start over? What are you talking about? I don’t want another woman, I want Cecily.”

“And I think — judging by the way she was kissing you when I interrupted — that she still wants you. But women like to be wooed, and Cecily’s never had that.”

“We’ve been engaged four years.”

“When in all that time have you ever really courted her? I wasn’t home when your engagement was announced, but from what I hear, it had all the romance of a diplomatic treaty. After that, you saw each other at a few formal dances and dinners, but that’s hardly the stuff of female fantasies.”

“Surely Cecily’s too intelligent to indulge in that kind of nonsense.”

“Intelligence has nothing to do with it. It may seem nonsense to you, but it’s important for her to feel you think she’s worth winning.” He leaned toward Charles. “You do want to win her, don’t you?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Then you’ve got to woo her.”

He frowned. “But how? You saw how she behaved toward me. She’ll scarcely look at me.”

“I already told you how. Go back to the beginning. Pursue her as if you had just met. Bring her flowers, invite her to dinner, send love notes. Do whatever it takes to convince her you think she’s special.”