Head in the Clouds

by Karen Witemeyer

  Mr. Bevin wouldn’t hurt her. The very idea was ludicrous. She had nothing to fear by going in there. The shearing crew had departed long ago. The only men around belonged to Gideon, and she trusted them. So why was it so hard to step across the threshold?

  Adelaide stamped her foot against the dusty ground. There were bigger issues at stake than her skittishness. She didn’t know what was wrong, but she cared too much about the people here to let a little thing like bad memories keep her from finding out.

  With her chin jutted out at a defiant angle, Adelaide surged into the stable and let the familiar scents of horse, hay, and leather envelop her—smells that had comforted her since her childhood. Breathing deeply, she gathered her courage and moved forward. About halfway down the alley, she spotted a sawhorse pushed against the outer partition of one of the stalls. A saddle she didn’t recognize sat atop it.

  She peeked around the corner. “Mr. Bevin?”

  The towel he’d been rubbing along the horse’s flank stilled. He straightened and turned to greet her, a smile of welcome spreading across his face.

  “Miss Proctor! How lovely to see you again. You’re looking well.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She bowed her head to acknowledge the compliment. “And what a delightful surprise to have you pay us a visit. Have you come to check up on me?”

  He chuckled softly. “No, my dear. I don’t doubt for a moment that you are exactly what Gideon needs.” He winked at her and turned back to his horse.

  Had he meant that the way it sounded, or was she reading more into the innocent comment than was warranted? A little flutter of pleasure wobbled through her at the thought of him approving a match between her and Gideon. Of course, he might simply have been referring to her fulfilling Gideon’s need for a governess. Adelaide decided not to press him for clarification. She’d rather preserve the possibility that her initial interpretation was valid than to be disappointed should he not confirm it for her.

  Flustered by her mental digression onto the unmarked path of romantic potentiality, it took her a moment to regain her bearings.

  “I apologize for not being better prepared for your arrival. Mr. Westcott neglected to mention your visit. I do hope you’ll be staying for a while.”

  An enigmatic look passed over his face, and he seemed to speak more to himself than to her. “I’ll stay as long as Gideon needs me.” He gave his horse a firm pat and moved out of the stall. His facial muscles eased as his charm returned in full force. Mr. Bevin tossed the rubdown rag aside and offered her his arm. “I apologize for catching you unaware,” he said as he led her back to the entrance. “Gideon didn’t know of my plans, either, but it couldn’t be helped. An urgent matter has come up that requires his attention. I could not delay.”

  Adelaide hated tiptoeing around in conversations, but it really wasn’t her place to ask for more information. Gideon deserved to hear the news first. Yet the unsettled feeling that gripped her earlier only intensified as they walked through the doorway.

  Once in the yard, Mr. Bevin swung his gaze north. Adelaide followed the direction of his eyes and spied a small cloud of dust moving toward them. Gideon would be here soon.

  “You must be thirsty after your long ride,” Adelaide interjected into the silence. “Mrs. Garrett set out a jug of apple cider for supper this evening. I’m sure I could convince her to sacrifice a glassful on your behalf.”

  He brought his attention back to her face. “Thank you. That would be refreshing.”

  She nodded and made her way to the kitchen. Mabel grumbled about not having enough cider to go around after serving it to men who lacked sufficient manners to wire ahead that they were coming, but she eventually handed over the jug. Adelaide purposely dawdled, keeping an eye on the yard through the window as she took a glass from the cabinet and dribbled liquid into it. She waited until Gideon rode up and dismounted before pushing the cork back into the cider jug. If she timed it just right, she might pick up a clue as to what the problem was before the men disappeared into Gideon’s study to discuss their business.

  Walking as quietly as she could manage, she crept up behind Gideon as he clasped his friend’s hand. Mr. Bevin never glanced her way, his gaze focused solely on her employer. The charming gallant man had been replaced by one on a mission. A distinctly unpleasant mission, judging by his expression. Adelaide felt the glass of cider in her hand begin to quiver.

  “Miguel told me there was trouble,” Gideon said without preamble. “What’s happened?”

  “Reginald Petchey is in Texas, Gid. He’s probably no more than a day or two behind me.”

  The glass slipped from Adelaide’s grasp and shattered upon the unforgiving ground.

  Chapter 22

  Gideon spun around at the sound of glass breaking behind him. Adelaide stood there, eyes wide, jaw slack. She’d obviously heard James’s comment. She rallied quickly, though.

  “How clumsy of me. I’m so sorry, Mr. Bevin. I’ll fetch you another glass.”

  “That’s not necessary,” James assured her.

  Adelaide waved her hand in the air, undeterred. “Nonsense. You’ve ridden a long distance. You must be parched. Let me clean this up, and I’ll be back in a trice.”

  She bent down and began picking up the fragments of glass. The jagged edge of a larger piece pricked her palm, and a drop of blood oozed out. The red blared against her fair skin.

  Gideon crouched down beside her and dumped the offending shards from her hand. He dug in his vest pocket for a handkerchief, which thankfully he’d not yet had reason to use, and pressed the clean white square against her wound.

  “I’ll take care of it, Adelaide. Go back to the house and tend your cut.”

  “It’s just a scratch. I’m fine.” Her voice resonated barely above a whisper, yet it was laced with iron. She shoved the handkerchief back at him and reached for the bits of glass.

  Stubborn woman. He scowled at her, then unfolded the handkerchief, draped the cotton over his cupped hand, and silently demanded a compromise. If she insisted on clearing away the glass, he would at least make sure she didn’t cut herself again. She glared at him but complied.

  When all the pieces had been gathered, he set the handkerchief on the ground and tied the corners together. As he finished the knot, she laid her hand atop his and grasped his fingers.

  “I want to hear what Mr. Bevin has to say, Gideon.” Desperation and determination reflected equally in her eyes.

  He swallowed hard. She wasn’t going to like his answer. He didn’t even like his answer.

  “I know you do, but your place is with Bella now.”

  She shuttered her gaze and averted her face, favoring the ground more than him at the moment. He could feel her disappointment in him, and it stung. But she wasn’t his only concern right now.

  “James and I will be closeted in the study for a long while sorting out this predicament, and if you aren’t there to distract Bella and help her understand what is going on, she’ll become frightened. She can’t tell us what she’s feeling or ask questions, and I’m afraid she will bottle everything up inside her again, like she did when her mother died. I need you to guard her spirit for me. Can you do that?”

  Gideon dipped his head, searching out her eyes. When he finally found them, tears were glistening in their depths. Adelaide bit her lip. He could only guess what it cost her to nod agreement.

  At her acquiescence, he started to stand, but all at once, her grip on his hand tightened. “Don’t leave me in the dark, Gideon. Please. I have to know what’s going on or the worry will drive me mad.” Her whispered plea cut at his heart.

  He glanced at James. The man had turned his back and taken up an avid interest in the barn swallows nesting in the eaves of the stable. Thankful for the pseudo-privacy of the moment, Gideon returned his attention to Adelaide. He cradled her face with his free hand and rubbed away a teardrop that hung suspended from her dark lashes. “You’re my partner in caring for Bella. I won’t shut you
out. I promise.” He locked his gaze with hers and repeated his vow, willing her to believe in him. “I promise, Adelaide. I’ll show James the journal and get his opinion, but I’ll discuss everything with you, too. Trust me?”

  “Yes.”

  He stared at the lips that formed that sweet word and nearly bent forward for a taste. Unfortunately, sanity prevailed. Taking hold of her, he rose to his feet and brought her along with him.

  “Everything will be all right. You’ll see.” Gideon squeezed her arm and watched her go, the makeshift pouch of glass shards dangling from her hand. He prayed his prediction would prove true.

  “Sorry.” James threw the apology out into the silence left in Adelaide’s wake. “I didn’t see her there. I should have waited until we were assured privacy before I said anything.”

  Gideon turned to his friend and clapped him on the back. “It doesn’t matter. I’d end up telling her about it anyway.”

  James raised an eyebrow. “A servant? I know she’s your daughter’s tutor, but surely you don’t intend to confide such personal information with one of your staff.”

  “Miss Proctor is more than a servant around here, and I’ll thank you to speak of her with respect.” Indignation heated Gideon’s temper until he noticed the twinkle in his friend’s eye. “You old goat. You’re baiting me, aren’t you?”

  James grinned.

  Gideon grinned back, not caring how much his friend read into that smile. Ever since the night of the party, he’d been slowly losing his grip on his resolution to ignore his attraction to Adelaide. Her passionate concern for Bella only expedited the process. He was beginning to think elegance and refinement were overrated. Who wanted staid and proper when they could have warm and spirited? Adelaide’s imaginative nature and uninhibited cheerfulness filled his house with laughter and sunshine. And he’d been affected by it as surely as his daughter. A man would be a fool to forfeit such a treasure.

  “I’m thinking about asking her to be my wife once this mess with Petchey is over and we get the chance to spend more time together.” Gideon waited for shock to register on James’s face, seeing as how even in America class distinctions were rarely breached in such a manner, but the man simply crossed his arms over his chest and gave him a glance that looked downright smug.

  “You don’t seem surprised.”

  “I’m not.” He winked. “You can thank me later.”

  “Thank you? What for?”

  “For bringing you two together, of course.”

  Gideon gave James a shove. “You’re worse than an old woman. Don’t you have anything better to do than to sit around matchmaking?”

  James shoved him back. “You complaining?”

  Gideon shook his head and a slow smile stretched across his face. “No.”

  “Good. Ungrateful cur.”

  The two men shared a chuckle. Then Gideon’s smile faded.

  “Come into the study, James. I have something you need to see. Then I want to hear everything you know about Petchey and his plans.”

  James nodded, and the two headed into the house.

  An hour later, James set Lucinda’s journal on the desk and leaned back in his chair, his mouth pulled down in a grim expression.

  “What do you make of it?” Gideon asked.

  James stared at the ceiling and blew out a long breath. “I don’t want to credit it, but I’ve met the man, and I have to admit her accusations fit my impressions of him. He’s a scaly fellow who knows how to sprinkle enough charm over his lies to make them palatable.” He jabbed his index finger against the cover of the journal. “If he wanted to commit murder, this is precisely the underhanded way he would go about it.”

  “So what do you think his goal is in coming here?” Gideon rubbed his forehead, the ache inside his skull building. “Lucinda’s will has been ratified. The man can’t just snatch Bella and run off with her. No court would acknowledge his claim, and the bankers are fully apprised of the guardianship stipulation. They won’t release funds just because Petchey is a relative.”

  “I hate to say it, Gid, but …” His voice faded away as if he couldn’t bring himself to form the necessary words.

  “What?” An ominous weight pressed against Gideon’s chest.

  James finally met his eye. “As the closest relative, it stands to reason Petchey would inherit the money should Isabella die.”

  “No!” Gideon surged to his feet. “She’s a child, an innocent. Surely you don’t think …”

  But after reading Lucinda’s journal, he knew the idea was not so farfetched. The viscount had already killed his own brother and sister-in-law. What was to stop him from murdering his niece, as well?

  James came near and gripped his shoulder in silent support. In that moment, Gideon’s fear hardened into steely determination. A predator was threatening his family. He had to prepare.

  “Tell me everything you can about him, James.”

  The two men sat. James scratched a spot behind his ear and stared at the wall as he recalled the encounter. “Petchey called himself Edward Church, and had I run into him anywhere other than at the land office, I probably would have accepted that false identity without question.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Well, there were several subtle nuances in his story that raised my suspicions.” James leaned forward toward Gideon. “First, when I arrived, the clerk mentioned that the two men had been asking to see your deed records as well as survey maps of Menard County. He thought I might be able to assist them in whatever quest they were undertaking. When I introduced myself and inquired after their purpose, Petchey was ready with a logical explanation. He claimed his mother was a dear friend to yours, and when Lady Westcott learned of his plans to tour the American West, she requested that he deliver her letter to you personally and then return with a full and detailed account of your situation. Naturally, being a gentleman, he could not refuse such a request and was at the land office to ascertain the best way to travel to your ranch. Showed me the letter and everything.”

  “He must have intercepted a missive somehow.” Gideon tapped his thumb against his knee. “So he knows my location.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “And you’re sure this Edward Church is actually Petchey?” Please, God. Let it not be him.

  James nodded and Gideon’s heart sank.

  “There was something about him that struck me as odd,” his friend explained. “It wasn’t until after I started putting the pieces together that I realized I recognized him from the photographs of Isabella’s parents. He bears a striking resemblance to his brother. But even this could have been a coincidence. It was his solicitor who provided the truth.”

  “His solicitor?”

  “Yes. A fellow by the name of Farnsworth. Sound familiar?”

  Gideon rifled through the documents in his desk, the documents James had delivered on his last trip out to the ranch. “Farnsworth … Farnsworth … Aha. George Farnsworth.” He stabbed at the signature on the bottom of the fifth page. “He’s the barrister who filed Lord Petchey’s motion to have Lucinda’s will invalidated.”

  “Exactly.”

  That couldn’t be coincidence. Edward Church and Reginald Petchey had to be one and the same.

  “What can you tell me about him as a man?” The more he could learn, the better prepared he would be.

  “It appears he’s a bit taller and heavier than his brother, Stuart, but not gone to fat as one would expect from a wastrel who spends all his time at the gaming table. Apparently fox hunting has kept him fit.”

  “Which means riding horseback across three counties won’t be a problem for him.” Gideon frowned.

  “No,” James answered, “but I bought us as much time as I could without making him suspicious.”

  Gideon met his friend’s eye, intrigued by the sly smile creasing his face.

  “Being the thoughtful gentleman that I am,” James explained, “I arranged for a private railroad car on the trai
n that left the day after mine and even drew him a map overflowing with detailed landmarks.”

  “A map? That was a bit too helpful, don’t you think?”

  “Not when it recommends a rather circuitous route and is littered with markers generic enough to add a great deal of confusion along the way.” He winked. “Unless he procures better directions from someone on the trail, we should have as much as two full days before he arrives in the area.”

  “Good thinking.” Gideon rapped his knuckle against the wooden arm of his chair like a metronome clicking out a steady rhythm. “That still doesn’t leave us much time before he gets here.”

  “I’m not sure he’ll come here directly.”

  Gideon stilled. “Where else would he go?”

  James rested his elbow on the corner of the desk. “I can’t be sure since he was careful not to reveal his intentions, but he left me with the impression that he wanted to gather as much information about you as possible before making his move. He knows that your ranch lies between Menardville and Fort McKavett, and he made a point to ask me which town you conducted the majority of your business in. With his use of a false name, I’m guessing he’s not planning to confront you directly.”

  Gideon mulled over all he knew from their previous investigation and added it to what James had just revealed. He stood and began pacing as he cogitated aloud. “He’s been patient with his schemes in the past, but the fact that he traveled all the way from England tells me he’s getting desperate. His creditors must be applying pressure after the court ruled against him for guardianship. He has nothing left to put them off with. Time is a luxury he can no longer afford.”

  Gideon slowed his steps as another possibility took shape in his mind. “Perhaps he actually plans to avoid the town where I am known and make his stand in a place where he can garner support more easily.”

  “It would fit what we know of the fellow,” James said. “Likes to stack the odds in his favor.”