The Debutante's Holiday: Western Historical Romance (The Debutantes of Durango Book 6)

by Peggy McKenzie

  “Now that you all know who Miss Livingston’s true identity, please don’t hesitate to come down and ask the lovely young heiress to dance. But please remember, your every move will be under my professional scrutiny.”

  He turned to the band leader, “Please start the music. By the line forming at the bandstand stairs, I’d say Miss Livingston’s dance card is filling up fast.”

  Abbie watched the conductor turn to his band and lift his wand. The violins strummed and the harp player joined in.

  Matthew turned to her, his cold glare cut her through and through, but the knowledge that he had known who she was this entire time—that he had been paid by her father to—thoughts of their horseback ride to the willows made her want to vomit.

  “Miss Livingston, how are you enjoying your holiday now?” His words cut even deeper.

  “Go to hell, Mr. Bellamy, if that really is your name,” she hissed.

  “I’m already there, Miss Livingston. I’m already there.”

  Tears stung and she knew she would rather die than let him, or anyone else, see her cry. She turned and stepped down the bandstand stairs nearly falling into the arms of several waiting young men all now eager to dance with Daniel Livingston’s daughter.

  After he left Miss Livingston on the dance floor, he headed straight to the hotel’s bar. “Fix me an Old Fashioned, barkeep. And make it a double.”

  The man behind the bar took his request and returned in minutes with a healthy sized whiskey. He set the drink in front of Matthew.

  “Keep ‘em coming, my good man.” And the man had done just that. But every time Matthew thought of how Miss Abigail Livingston had fooled him and used him without mercy for her holiday pleasures, he ordered another double. The whiskey and the woman left a bitter taste in his mouth until he finally decided he needed to be alone.

  “Put a bottle on my hotel bill,” he instructed the bartender who handed him the bottle and a glass. “Hope your evening is better than mine, my good man.”

  Now, upstairs in his room, and more than a little drunk, he lay on his bed listening to the band playing downstairs. It was half past two in the morning, and he could still hear everyone enjoying themselves.

  Laughter and thuds in the hallway indicated that the last of the partygoers were searching for their rooms. Somewhere between four and five in the morning, he finally succumbed to the whiskey’s influence.

  Sounds from the early risers woke him at first light. He was tired and suffering from a giant hangover—no, probably not a hangover. He was pretty sure he was still drunk. The inside of his eyelids scratched like sandpaper every time he blinked. And he blinked a lot, trying to clear his blurry vision.

  He squinted to get a clear look at the clock on the nightstand beside the bed. Six o’clock. His body demanded he go back to sleep, but his conscience reminded him that his client was due in on the noon train today, and Matthew wanted—no, he needed—to be as ready as possible when he made his explanations to Mr. Livingston.

  He probably should go ahead and pack his bag. That way he could be prepared to leave town on the next train. He was pretty sure Mr. Livingston would insist on it, that is if he didn’t have him arrested for dishonoring his daughter and damaging her reputation.

  That thought made his stomach want to empty its contents. Perhaps getting up and walking around, splashing some cold water on his face, would help him to get moving.

  The moving part didn’t help at all. In fact, he was sure it made his situation worse, but the splash of cold water did help some. He decided hangover or not, he needed to get his stuff together and make plans to leave Durango, and all its troubles, behind.

  He dug his knapsack out from under the bed and opened it. The first item into the bag was the suit coat he’d worn last night to the ball. Thoughts of last night pulled his eyes to the top of the side table next to the bed. There was the ring he had bought for Rose. At the time of the purchase, he thought it was the perfect ring for the perfect woman, but now he knew that woman had never existed.

  What should he do with the ring now? He couldn’t return it and there was no one he could think of that would enjoy it. No sister, mother, or—thoughts of his grandmother resurfaced. She would be so ashamed of him right about now. He mentally tried to explain to her he didn’t know Rose was Daniel’s daughter, but he could hear her words just as plain as if she were sitting next to him. “Just because you can do something, Matthew, doesn’t mean you should.” She had said that to him a million times at least. Why had he failed to remember that one very important lesson? He knew the reason. He had been blinded by the woman’s beauty and her softly spoken words. He had believed in the fairy-tale life she offered. But it wasn’t real. His time with Rose was nothing but a privileged young woman’s way of having fun on her holiday.

  He decided he would just leave the ring where it lay and maybe one of the hotel staff housekeepers could use it.

  Matthew gathered the rest of his things and stuffed them in his bag. He didn’t bother to fold them neatly for the trip home because he just didn’t care anymore.

  Packed and ready to go, he lay back on his bed with his book of flowers and flipped to the page Rose...or rather, Abigail had noticed in his book when she took it from him on the train. He had written in the margin what to do if a person was having trouble with their roses. He read the notes again, but there was nothing here that could give him the kind of help he needed.

  Sometime after he opened his flower book, he must have dozed off to sleep because the next thing he knew, he heard the train’s whistle in the distance and his heart pounded in his chest. He shot a quick look at the clock and realized he’d fallen asleep. Mr. Livingston was on that train and he still didn’t have a plan.

  He reminded himself he still had time to run, but his integrity as a man, and an investigator, wouldn’t let him. He would face Daniel Livingston’s wrath like the man his grandmother had raised him to be.

  He left his bag in the room and headed to the train depot to meet Mr. Livingston’s train. The train bringing his client to Durango was the same train Matthew was taking back home. And that train didn’t leave until two o’clock this afternoon. That left him plenty of time to explain to Mr. Livingston, grab his bag, and pay his bill at the hotel, that is if Mr. Livingston allowed him to leave town. After the man learned that he was the one who had compromised his daughter's innocence, he would probably have Matthew shot. He figured if he was lucky, he would be in a pine box before sunset. If not, he would have to board that train back to Philadelphia to face his business partner— and he was pretty sure he’d rather be in that pine box.

  He waited inside the depot and watched the train chug into the station, steam belching from the engine temporarily covering the boardwalk where impatient people waited in the snow to greet their friends and family. Matthew swallowed hard, forcing the lump of regret down into his churning gut.

  The train stopped and within a few minutes, the conductor set the steps out and people disembarked. It took about five minutes before Mr. Livingston appeared at the door. Matthew watched him look around the boardwalk for a minute or two. Matthew inhaled a deep breath for courage. He could cower like a scared pup or he could step up and take responsibility for his actions.

  He stepped out of the train depot and walked across the depot platform. “Mr. Livingston. It’s good to see you again.”

  He met Abigail’s father on the platform and extended his hand. Mr. Livingston extended his in return. “Mr. Bellamy, what happened? I hired you because you were recommended to me as the best in your line of work. How is it that you managed to lose my daughter and my sister on a train of all places?”

  “I understand your worry, Mr. Livingston. Why don’t we go to my hotel and get some food and I’ll explain.”

  “I’d like to see my daughter first, if you don’t mind. I’ve been worried sick ever since I got home and read your telegram.”

  “I understand, sir, but if you’ll just hear me out, I thin
k I can relieve any doubts you may have about your daughter. She and your sister have been in Durango all along. It was just a series of misunderstandings and misinformation that had me...chasing ghosts. Please, I think you should hear my report before you speak with your daughter.” Matthew was going to make it hard for the man to refuse. He wanted to tell Mr. Livingston his side of the story before he got to Rose—Abigail.

  He saw the man hesitate and Matthew again urged him toward the hotel. “It’ll only take a few minutes, sir, and then you will be fully aware of what has transpired since your daughter left Philadelphia.”

  Mr. Livingston finally nodded. “Very well, Mr. Bellamy. I’d like to hear that report before I approach my daughter. I’ve known her to tell a little white lie from time to time just to get me off her trail. But I’m her father and it is my responsibility to— ”

  Matthew finished his sentence for him. “—make sure she doesn’t get herself into a situation that could cause her harm or irreparable damage to her reputation. Not to mention her physical safety because of unscrupulous characters who wouldn’t think twice about causing your daughter distress to get at your money.”

  Mr. Livingston frowned. “That’s exactly right. I guess I may have said that more than once, but it is a true statement. Profoundly true, at least from a father’s point of view.”

  Matthew’s stomach churned. “I agree with you one hundred percent. Now, shall we go to the hotel for some lunch while we talk about my report?”

  “Yes, of course. I’d like to know what I’m dealing with before I confront that bevy of women waiting for me. I managed to convince my wife to stay behind, otherwise, I’m not sure I could maintain control of four women who were determined to stand against me.” Mr. Livingston grinned, and Matthew wished he could relax. The man was formidable and Matthew knew he could crush him and his business with one swipe of his pen.

  “Yes, I can understand how women can persuade a man to do things he might not otherwise do.”

  He turned down the block toward the hotel and Mr. Livingston walked beside him. From an onlooker’s point of view, they were two men of equal standing talking about business. Matthew knew his situation couldn’t be farther from the truth.

  They entered the lush lobby and he guided Mr. Livingston toward the restaurant. He could see that the hotel staff was busy serving all the unexpected guests from last night’s snowstorm. The waitress recognized him. “Good morning, sir, table for two?”

  He nodded and she led them to a table at the back of the room.

  “What’ll ya have, gentlemen?” the waitress asked.

  “Coffee for me.” Matthew said. “Hot and black. I need it after last night.”

  The waitress turned to his guest. “Coffee, the same.” Mr. Livingston said.

  “Are y'all wantin' some lunch?"

  “How about some more of that roast beef and potatoes for me?” Matthew didn’t even bother to look at the menu board on the wall. He wasn’t sure his stomach could hold down anything, but he had to try to keep up appearances.

  “I’ll have the same.” Mr. Livingston smiled and nodded to the waitress.

  “Be right back with your coffees.”

  When the waitress was out of hearing and he was certain the patrons sitting at nearby tables were occupied in their own conversations, he took his notebook out of his pocket and flipped it open.

  “Alright, Mr. Bellamy. Tell me what happened. How could you lose my daughter and my sister...on a train? They got on and if they got off, I’m assuming you would notice, am I wrong?”

  “No, sir. You are not wrong. It’s a little more—complicated.” It wasn’t the way Matthew had planned to start out, but the truth of the matter was that it was complicated. Very complicated.

  “I’m listening, Mr. Bellamy.”

  He had to give Mr. Livingston some credit. He wasn’t going off half-cocked demanding answers which helped Matthew relax a little.

  “Well, it started out— ”

  “Here’s your coffee, gentlemen. Cream and sugar’s on the table if you change your mind.” The waitress was gone leaving them to savor their coffee. Matthew took a sip and then he went back to his notebook.

  “On September 2nd, I boarded the train bound for Durango. I spotted your daughter and her companion, Mrs. Wentworth, immediately. Like you said, your daughter is strikingly beautiful and hard to miss. But where I made the mistake was not getting more information from you about your daughter before I left town. I think we both made a lot of assumptions that didn’t pan out.”

  “Like what?” The man sitting across the table frowned at Matthew over the top of his coffee cup.

  “Well, I should have asked more questions about your daughter’s physical appearance, so I take full responsibility for not doing my job properly, Mr. Livingston.

  “If I had known about her stunning eye color and her tall stature, I would have known immediately that the woman I suspected initially as your daughter, was in fact her, no matter what name she used.”

  Mr. Livingston frowned. “What do you mean no matter what name she used?”

  “When I boarded the train, I chose the seat across from your daughter and your sister. Confident I was trailing the right people, I struck up a conversation with them both and introduced myself as Mr. Bell. It was close enough to the truth without giving myself away since you said under no circumstances did you want your daughter to know what I was up to.”

  He knew he was going to have to divulge that he had screwed that part of his assignment up as well, but for right now, he wanted to get through the worst part first.

  “I see. And what about Abigail? You said she used another name? Whose?”

  “Yes, when I was successful in getting her and your sister to offer me an introduction, your daughter introduced herself as…” He made a show of consulting his notebook hoping he at least looked like a professional. “Rose Collins. Do you recognize that name?” Matthew gave Mr. Livingston a chance to think.

  “Yes, I do. Rose is Abigail’s middle name and Collins is my wife’s maiden name.”

  Matthew’s interest peaked. “Your wife’s name is Lily, correct?”

  “Yes. Lily. She was a Collins before she married me.” Mr. Livingston verified the facts.

  “I see. So that would mean that her twin sister, Lila Beckett, would also have been a Collins.”

  “Yes. That’s correct. Lila and Lily Collins. But, why would Abigail go by Rose...or Collins? That doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

  “And what about your sister? You said her name was Mrs. Wentworth. Do you mind if I ask you if the name Randall has any meaning to you?” Matthew had a hunch that was beginning to take shape, but he needed more answers before he could conclude what happened with any clarity.

  “Randall? No. Wait, my sister’s husband’s name was Randall. He passed away about two years ago. Heart attack the doctor said. Why did you ask about Randall? What does he have to do with any of this?”

  “Mr. Livingston, your sister introduced herself to me as Mrs. Randall.”

  “But why would she...why would my daughter— ” Mr. Livingston stopped short. “Because she didn’t want anyone to know who she is. She didn’t want anyone to know that she was Daniel Livingston’s daughter. Now, it’s all crystal clear. That’s what this whole trip to Durango was about. That’s why her mother worked so hard to convince me to let her go. Abigail wanted to go somewhere that she could just be Abbie. Or in this case, Rose. It all makes sense now.”

  Matthew watched the man shake his head. “I don’t know whether to be appalled or impressed by their ingenuity. My wife, her sister, my daughter, and my sister have all conspired to make this trip to Durango happen. And they outsmarted me. I had no clue what they were up to, Mr. Bellamy. Not a clue.”

  “Don’t feel bad, Mr. Livingston. I’m a paid professional and they fooled the hell out of me too. I don’t blame you for wanting a refund— ”

  “Nonsense, Mr. Bellamy. You did your job. You
boarded that train and your instincts said you had the right women. It was their subterfuge that stumped you. And I certainly underestimated their guile. I never dreamed they would do something like this. It’s entirely my fault. I should have given you all the possibilities and complete descriptions of them. That is the only way this plan of theirs could have been thwarted. Rest assured Mr. Bellamy, I am in no way blaming you for this mess. I lay it all at my own door.”

  Matthew watched Mr. Livingston reach inside his coat pocket for his wallet. He pulled it out and lay it on the table. Matthew could see the cash inside. Right there, just inches away, was his much needed five thousand dollars just waiting for him to take it. But, he couldn’t.

  He placed his hand over Mr. Livingston’s when he started to take out the cash. “Wait. Mr. Livingston, there’s more, and I think you’re going to have a change of heart about who’s to blame in all of this when you hear the rest of it.”

  The man across the table frowned and left his wallet where it lay. “Go ahead, Mr. Bellamy. By the look on your face and the tone in your voice, I’m afraid you may be right.”

  Matthew took a deep breath, closed his notebook, and set it next to the man’s wallet.

  “Mr. Livingston, you paid me to watch over your daughter. You paid me to keep her within sight and to make sure she was safe from unscrupulous characters. In that mission, sir. I failed. Miserably.”

  “Then I suggest you get to explaining, Mr. Bellamy. Who are these unscrupulous characters and what did they do to my daughter?” He could see Mr. Livingston’s calm demeanor change immediately. No sense dragging this out.

  “I apologize to you, Mr. Livingston. It was all a huge mistake, but...there is only one unscrupulous character in my report to you, and I’m sorry to say—that it’s me.”

  “You? What the hell did you do, Bellamy?” His client’s voice rose, and Matthew noticed more than one table’s occupants turn in their direction.