by Liz Tyner
Her mouth opened. She considered his words. ‘Oh. That tale is already about. How unfortunate.’
She smoothed her skirt. ‘I may have some private news for you later.’ Then her voice softened. And she mumbled under her breath.
‘An addition. An addition? Is there something…a babe?’ His voice squeaked.
‘No. No.’ She rushed forward. ‘I didn’t say I’m looking forward to an addition. I said edition.’
‘We did it.’ Beatrice rushed over, shoes clattering on the floor in a way only Beatrice could manage. ‘The duchess has the papers. The man of affairs just brought them over.’
‘What papers?’ Fox asked.
‘Ours,’ she almost growled.
He could certainly see how she’d been called Beatrice the Beast.
Edgeworth and Lily stepped behind Beatrice, a half-smile lighting Lily’s face, and looking every bit the serene duchess. ‘They will all find out sooner or later,’ Lily said. ‘I can’t keep any secrets from Edge.’
‘Andrew begs me to keep secrets from him.’ Beatrice’s lips went up at one side. ‘He said he rests better when I do.’ She looked around. ‘I’ve lost him again. I’m sure he’s hiding somewhere, drawing caricatures.’ She shivered. ‘He’s almost as good at it as I am.’
‘I was getting ready to tell Fox.’ Rebecca glanced his way, eyes nervous, hands clasped. ‘I just didn’t want to until we were certain.’
‘We are. Certain.’ Lily gave one of the nods of a queen knighting a soldier. ‘My father is so proud. He never thought he would be helping his daughter purchase a newspaper. I enjoy the accounting sheets as much as he does.’
‘You purchased a newspaper?’ Fox’s brow furrowed.
‘Yes. Printing press. Building. The entire newspaper. The publisher thinks he sold his business to Lily’s father,’ Rebecca said. ‘But we’re the true owners. Lily will work with the account books. I will edit and search out stories from ladies without standing because they are comfortable approaching me and realise I will tell their views fairly.’
‘I will be providing lots to write about among the ton.’ Beatrice raised her arm, bracelets sliding, and flared her gloved fingers to the ceiling. ‘I’m skilled at that. Besides, I love being about in society. I adore…’ the word rolled from her tongue with a husky purr ‘…the glitter of soirées.’
‘Beatrice will be our eyes and ears of the social world,’ Lily added. ‘It’s not as if we are changing who we are or who we want to be. We’re each doing what we wish to.’
‘And it can give me a way to help others every day—in the stories we share with the readers,’ Rebecca added.
‘Well, it’s time for me to dance,’ Beatrice said over her shoulder. ‘Time to celebrate the new page of our lives.’
Beatrice bustled to the other side of the dance floor. Lily’s steps floated along behind her.
Fox gazed at his wife, happy to see her wearing the new gown, pleased it fitted her so perfectly. ‘You know I do not like to read.’
‘Yes.’ Her laugh reached higher than her gaze did. ‘I think that might be good because we may have a story about you from time to time.’
He pulled her into a waltz, resting his face near her hair, scenting the floral that reminded him of love and contentment. ‘It won’t be the same as the other newspaper stories. I no longer feel I need to amuse everyone around me. Your smile is the only one I need.’
*
When the dance ended, he led her from the floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a couple, much in love by the look of their faces.
He stopped, realising he saw the reflection of Rebecca and himself in a mirror. He clasped her elbow.
‘You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen and the most beautiful heart.’ He stared into the glass. ‘Until I met you, I thought people only did things to gain something for themselves. I didn’t believe that someone really could care for strangers without getting something in return.’
She examined the mirror. ‘I can’t get over the fact that you’re not bad-looking, Fenton.’
‘I love you, but do not call me that.’
The woman in the mirror smiled, her eyebrows arched twice and he wasn’t certain her inner person didn’t give a polish to its horns.
*
If you enjoyed this story
you won’t want to miss these other great reads
by Liz Tyner
THE WALLFLOWER DUCHESS
THE RUNAWAY GOVERNESS
THE NOTORIOUS COUNTESS
FORBIDDEN TO THE DUKE
Keep reading for an excerpt from MARRIED TO CLAIM THE RANCHER’S HEIR by Lauri Robinson.
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Married to Claim the Rancher’s Heir
by Lauri Robinson
Chapter One
“Do you know what it’s like to be hungry, Mr. Callaway?”
Who did this woman think she was? Her snippy attitude couldn’t make up for the fact she was shorter than corn grows. And who has purple eyes? Gabe stared a bit harder, just to make sure they were indeed purple, before he answered, “Yes, I’ve been hungry.”
“But all you have to do is walk into your kitchen and find something to eat, don’t you?” She was waving her hands around like a bird learning to fly. “That wasn’t so for Ruby. When she was hungry, there was nothing to satisfy that hunger.”
She’d pointed to the little dark-haired girl sitting on the couch, staring at him with big eyes. The little girl’s eyes weren’t purple. They were blue. As pale blue as an afternoon sky. He had a hard time looking away from the little girl. The thought of her going hungry didn’t sit well inside him. Even if it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t known she existed until a short time ago.
“You could have prevented that if you weren’t so stubborn. She is your niece,” the woman said.
Stubborn? This woman hadn’t even begun to see his stubborn side. Furthermore, Ruby could have been his daughter. He’d tried to not let his mind go down that route since the two of them, Ruby and Miss Janette Parker, as she’d curtly introduced herself—emphasis on the miss—had walked into his house, but the idea kept inching its way forward every time he glanced at the little girl. She resembled Anna. He could also see Max in her features. His brother and once best friend. Until the woman he’d been considering marrying—Anna—and his brother—Max—ran away together.
“She’s your niece, too, Miss Parker,” he pointed out.
“Which is precisely why I’m here,” she snapped.
Gabe would have crossed his arms, but they were already crossed, so he shifted his stance slightly and waited.
He knew why she was here but would let her admit it. Let her ask for money. Then he’d deny her request. First, however, he’d see Ruby got something to eat. “Rosalie,” he shouted, knowing full well his housekeeper was listening outside the parlor doorway.
“I’m right here.” Rosalie’s skirts rustled as she rounded the doorway. “There’s no need to shout.”
There was no need for her to be standing outside the room either. “Take Ruby into the kitchen and get her something to eat.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that she’s hungry right now,” Miss Janette Parker said. “I was referring to—”
“You’d rather let her sit here and listen to how hungry she’s been in the past?” he asked pointedly.
Maybe her eyes weren’t purple but black. As black as coal. About as cold, too. She looked nothing like her sister. Anna had been taller and meatier, not big, but she wouldn’t have been blown over by a brisk wind like this woman. Anna’s hair had been lighter, too. Piled high on her head and partially covered with a flowered hat, this woman’s hair was as black as her glare. Turning about, he quietly asked, “Ruby, would you like something to eat and a glass of milk?”
The child cast a wary glance between her aunt and him.
When the woman didn’t say a word, he instructed, “Tell her it’s all right.”
After casting him a cold glare, she knelt down in front of Ruby and spoke too quietly for him to hear and then helped Ruby off the couch before she stood. Walking the child to the doorway, she thanked Rosalie before relinquishing Ruby to his housekeeper.
He didn’t say a word or alter the stance he’d taken near the fireplace shortly after Rosalie had answered the door and led Janette and Ruby into his parlor. He didn’t take his eyes off her either. Not when she spun around, smoothed the material of her green dress over her flat stomach or lifted her chin into the air as she marched back over to stand in front of the couch again. The pinch of her lips said she was miffed by his silence.
He truly didn’t care. This woman was so full of herself she should be as round as a bloated badger lying in the hot sun.
“As you are aware, Mr. Callaway, Max and Anna are no longer with us?”
“Max and Anna haven’t been with me in a very long time,” he replied.
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
He knew what she meant, but he’d meant what he’d said, too. He’d accepted the loss of his would-be bride and his brother five years ago. The news of their deaths last month hadn’t altered him one way or the other.
She poked a finger inside the frilly lace collar that encircled her neck as if it irritated her. It probably did. It sure as heck would him. She must like lace, though. Ruby’s dress was covered with the frilly white stuff, too. As she continued to scratch her neck, he hoped the lace wasn’t irritating Ruby as much as it seemed to be her.
“I am prepared to take on the full responsibility of raising Ruby,” she said.
“How old is she?”
“Ruby?”
“Yes, Ruby.” Who else would he be referring to? “Are there others?”
She sighed heavily. “No, Ruby was an only child. She will be four in a few months.”
“How many months?”
“Four. She’ll turn four on October 3.”
“They didn’t waste any time in starting a family, did they?” The thought shot out of his mouth before he could stop it. Come January, it will have been five years since Max and Anna left. He wasn’t purposefully counting. The month and year they’d left had permanently branded itself in his mind. For several reasons.
“I am not here to discuss when they started a family, nor how they met and fell in love, Mr. Callaway.”
He wasn’t here to discuss that either. Nor should he be concerned about how she was rubbing the side of her neck raw. Ignoring that, he asked, “Why are you here, Miss Parker?”
“Because—Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She rubbed both sides of her neck vigorously before picking up the larger of the two traveling bags on the floor. She set the bag on the couch, opened it and pulled out an envelope. “This is why.”
He took the envelope and opened it while she went back to scratching her neck. “You should do something about that lace.”
She gave him a sneer. “I don’t need your advice on anything, Mr. Callaway.”
He shrugged, not really caring one way or the other, but if it was him, he’d have already ripped off something that irritating. His thoughts shifted as he unfolded the papers. Last Will and Testament of Maxwell T. Callaway.
Flipping to the second page, he scanned the contents. He shouldn’t be, but he had to admit that he was surprised, both at the decree and the inkling of remorse bubbling inside him. It had been easy to say he didn’t care, that he’d considered Max gone from his life for five years, but this made it real. Too real.
“Anna also had a will.”
Gabe didn’t respond as he continued to read. The message he’d received almost a month ago stating both Max and Anna had died hadn’t provided a lot of information. Just that they’d died shortly before it had been discovered that the water source the town had been using for drinking water had become tainted. That happens with shallow wells. It had been unfortunate that so many in the small town—ironically first named Sweetwater, but more recently Mobeetie, Texas—had perished. The letter had stated the name of the town, but he’d already known that’s where Max and Anna had ended up. The letter had also named a person he could contact to inquire about Max’s and Anna’s personal possessions. There hadn’t been anything he’d planned on inquiring about. Of course, he hadn’t known about Ruby then. The letter was still in his desk drawer, but there was no need to read it again. There hadn’t been any mention of Ruby.
“Why was Ruby hungry?” he asked.
“Because the entire town had been quarantined. No food supplies could be shipped in. She was staying with a neighbor woman who had taken in several other children whose parents had perished.” After a short bout of silence, she said, “Mrs. Potter is a kind person. She simply didn’t have the supplies to feed so many. I left home as soon as I’d received word but had to travel most of the way by stage.”
He nodded without looking up. After reading all the way to the bottom of the last page, noting it was duly signed and witnessed two years ago, he folded the pages and tucked them back in the envelope.
“Anna’s will say relatively the same thing, except it leaves everything to me,” she said.
He glanced her way. She was still going at her neck, both sides now, making it bright red. Her face was scrunched up and her lips pursed, which was an improvement over the glares and snootiness she’d portrayed earlier. Maybe. He didn’t care enough one way or the other to come to a conclusion on her looks. “It appears Max didn’t like you either.”
“Excuse me?”
He normally didn’t take an instant dislike to someone, but she’d made it easy. Max probably thought the same thing. They’d often shared thoughts. Other things, too, but sharing his bride-to-be should have been off-limits, even to his brother. Max should have known that. Most likely had, but that hadn’t stopped him. Tapping the envelope on the wide plank mantel of the stone fireplace, Gabe rerouted his thoughts. “Who died first?”
She might have frowned. She was so sour faced and busy scratching her neck it was hard to tell.
“It’s my understanding that Anna did. The day before Max. Why?”
“Because,” he said, holding up the envelope, “this says Anna inherits everything if she’s still alive upon Max’s death. I’m assuming Anna’s says the same.”
She nodded.
“So, then, legally, upon her death, Max would have inherited all of Anna’s holdings, and therefore, upon his death, according to this will, I would inherit everything. His and hers.”
The fingers at the sides of neck stalled as she stared at him, purple eyes wide and mouth open.
He almost broke a grin. “Didn’t think of that,
did you?”
*
Janette hadn’t been speechless in years. Years and years. She’d been close when she’d walked into the house and seen Gabe Callaway. He looked nothing like Max. The similarities of their hair, dark brown, not quite black, were where the resemblances ended. Gabe was taller and broader than Max had been, and his eyes were grayish green, like the sky turns right before a big storm. Unlike his brother’s round and cheerful face, Gabe’s was so expressionless his sharp features could have been chiseled out of stone.
“I’m assuming you hadn’t thought of that.”
She let the air seep out of her lungs while trying to come up with a response. All she’d thought of the past few weeks was Ruby. Rightfully so. Ultimately, she settled for “Considering they died within hours of each other—”
“If a man has the right lawyer, it won’t matter how far apart they died.”
Anger flared inside her, almost as hot as the burning on her neck. “Are you threatening me, Mr. Callaway?”
“No. Just stating a fact.”
The all-consuming itching on her neck wouldn’t cease and was making rational thinking of any kind impossible. She wouldn’t be capable of carrying on a conversation until discovering the cause and taking care of it. Folding both hands around her neck, trying to smother the burning, she asked, “Do you have a mirror? I have to see what’s irritating my neck.”
“There’s one in the washroom off the kitchen.”
She waited for him to gesture a direction. Even a general one. Rosalie, the housekeeper, had taken Ruby to the left, but in a house this size, she could wander to the left for some time and not find a washroom or kitchen. She hadn’t expected anything like this. The ranch itself was like its own town. Except it didn’t have stage service. She and Ruby had been dropped off on the crossroad miles south of the ranch. Luckily one of his hired hands had come along and given them a ride. That’s probably why her neck was itching. The wind must have blown some straw or hay inside her collar. Or it just could be the buildup of sand and dirt from riding in the stage so long. A bath would be heavenly, but right now a damp cloth would suffice.