9 Ways to Fall in Love

by Caroline Clemmons

  But the bedroom! It had the largest bed she’d ever seen—a huge four-poster canopy bed with pink pillows artfully strewn all over the place. Instead of a gas lamp, the sconces held candles.

  “I’ll send in the maid to hang up all these clothes.”

  “Thank you.”

  After the bellboy left, she sat at the secretary and recorded Burke’s take the night before as well as his expenses. His bar tab had amounted to less than hers, but where she’d brought back two hundred thirty dollars, he’d made over three thousand. In one night! That was more money than the mine had netted all last month. He could lose it all in the next game, though, or more likely, give it away.

  Then she recorded the thousand he’d taken with him today. Odds were high they’d never see it again. Money meant nothing to him. She had to be careful to stash enough for expenses to track down his brother, get back, and have enough for two tickets back to Washington.

  She hoped her sister was feeling all right. Helen was fine when they left, and in fact, hadn’t had any morning sickness or issues that normally came with her condition, so she should be fine with a week-long train ride.

  The maid knocked and Lexie let her in, the same maid as before, carrying the dress and petticoat she’d pressed. “I wanted to see what all you bought, you bein’ a newlywed and all.”

  A little cheeky, but friendly. “He left the parcels in the bedroom.”

  The maid set to her work, humming merrily.

  Lexie’s future would be Burkeless. A hollow future, but at least she had a teaching position, which was more than she’d hoped for even a week ago. Still, she and Burke had the honeymoon suite and he seemed to be amenable to her clumsy ministrations, so with a little luck, she could have the night that she could remember when she was old and feeble.

  For once, she’d take Burke’s attitude and live in the moment, without thinking of her future plans. Tonight would bring pleasure and joy. Tomorrow, she could worry about the rest of her life.

  “Would you help me dress? I bought a new gown and it requires my corset to be laced tighter than I can do myself.

  “Certainly, ma’am. It’ll only take me a minute to put these few things away.” A moment later, she said, “Oh, what a lovely silk negligee!”

  Lexie wasn’t so sure she wanted the maid looking at her sleeping attire—she’d never bought anything like it before. Normally, she slept in a flannel nightgown, but she’d bought the sea-green silk negligee on a whim. Burke seemed to inspire whims. And she knew he liked green, but she feared he’d think her silly for wearing it. He’d probably seen many beautiful women in much fancier finery than she’d ever dare wear.

  An hour later, after much tugging and huffing, the maid finished dressing Lexie. “Now let’s do something with that gorgeous hair of yours.”

  Gorgeous? Her mother and sister had beautiful, wavy blond locks. Her hair was dark brown and straight a string.

  The maid styled her hair in a French twist with tendrils framing her face.

  “You’re a talented stylist,” Lexie said, looking into the mirror. “I’ve been to the best salons in Washington, DC and no one has ever done better.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” She grinned and winked. “Not that it will stay that way for long. Once that man of yours gets a gander at you, I’m expecting those hairpins will be the first thing to be removed.” She showed Lexie the best way to wear her bonnet in case they went out of the room, then left.

  Lexie had nothing to do but wait for Burke to come back. No books, no company, and no breathing, since the corset left little room for such nonsense.

  * * *

  Rather than taking the stub to Denver, Gil’s car headed west from Pueblo. Charity calculated that with at least one night in Manitou Springs and another in Denver, plus backtracking to Pueblo to get on the line to Reno, Burke and Helen’s sister could be five days behind them. She needed all the time she could get to make sure Helen and Patrick got their happily-ever-after, and she got her money.

  Somehow, the game didn’t seem so fun anymore.

  The train had stopped in Grand Junction and Gil’s car had to wait for another locomotive, so they’d be there overnight and maybe late into the next day. She wanted to go shopping—not that she needed anything, but cabin fever drove her to examine every item in the general store nearest the station.

  A millinery shop would’ve been nice, but it was quite a distance from the train depot. Gil rented a buggy because he had a business meeting, and said the ladies could use it when he returned, which would be welcome.

  Helen’s incessant babble drove Charity crazy.

  “I just love Mr. Smith’s private car! When Lexie and I came to Colorado, we had a sleeping berth, but it was very uncomfortable, and it was no fun when clumsy people caught their feet on our skirts and such.”

  Charity agreed but didn’t say anything for fear it would fuel another round of chatter. Was she that chatty at eighteen?

  “And he has a piano! You’d think he actually lived in this car. Well, I suppose you could. When we drove through the poorer sections of the city, we saw tiny houses that had eight or ten people living in them.” She shuddered. “I felt so sorry for them.”

  “What was your house like?” she asked Helen, against her better judgment.

  “Not grand, but very nice. Lexie and I have our own bedrooms and Papa has his office. Mama claims the music room but I play whenever I can—mostly when she’s gone.” Helen paused. “That’s all past tense, you know. I caused a scandal by playing a few tunes in a house of ill-fame, and they shipped me off to Colorado, and sent Lexie with me to keep me prisoner.”

  Charity had to laugh. Why was it that the stodgiest parents had such free-spirited children? It sure stacked the deck when it came to family dealings.

  Not that she was any expert. Burke’s mother raised her, mostly. She had no idea what happened to her parents, and had never lived in a house that she remembered. That wasn’t such an odd thing—many of the riverboat gamblers made the Mississippi their homes. The kids had a great time, and she couldn’t imagine living in the same place for longer than a week.

  Gil stepped into the car with a pathetic bouquet of droopy wildflowers and sat on the divan beside Charity. It seemed more intimate because he also slept there, now that he’d given up his bed to Charity and Helen.

  “How are my two favorite ladies this evening?” He handed her the bouquet. “Not hot house gems, but flowers, nonetheless.”

  His green eyes always sparkled with a good time. Charity knew his charm was dangerous, and she had the power to resist. She just didn’t want to. Whereas she’d kept her guard up on every man her whole life, with the exception of one big mistake, this man drew her in ways she found mysterious and intriguing.

  Even better, he didn’t seem to want anything from her. She’d offered to work with him as his capper but he said he didn’t have anything going. But he did. She could smell a fishnet from a mile off.

  “Thank you.” She stood and kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll put these in water.”

  He nodded toward the girl. “And you, Miss Helen?”

  “All right.”

  “Just all right?”

  Helen shrugged. “Your car is lovely and we’re so appreciative of its use, but I sorely miss my Patrick.” She pressed her hands to her breast and tilted her head back, her eyes closed dramatically. “And that’s how I am. Lonely inside.”

  Lonely inside. Charity mused about that for a moment as she poured water in a tumbler and arranged the flowers in it as best she could. She’d always felt lonely inside—until she met Gil. Oh, she’d had a good time, and she loved the chase, but sometimes she looked at frumpy women in the general stores and wondered why they seemed so happy. Lawsy, this must be what falling in love was like.

  “Ah, young love.” Gil smiled and gazed unfocused, as if he were dreaming of a time past. “Helen, my dear, why don’t you play us a good romp on the piano?”

  Charity coul
d’ve kissed Gil. Helen loved to play the piano, and Charity loved to keep Helen busy, especially when Gil was around.

  “Charity,” Gil said, beckoning her with a crook of his finger. “Come back here and sit by me. We can enjoy Helen’s music together.”

  That was the best idea he’d had all day.

  * * *

  Burke stopped by Koenig Jewelers, where the owner, who introduced himself as Herman, showed him several well-designed pieces any woman would appreciate, but none that was perfect for his Lexie-girl.

  “I haf just da ting,” the jeweler said. “Vait right here.”

  He went to the back room and brought out a small box. “I ordered dis for mein own sveet vife, but maybe your lady vould like it.”

  Simple, but elegant—an emerald pendant. “Perfect.” Burke paid the thousand and Herman put it into a nicer case with the name of his store embossed on the top.

  On the way back to Manitou House, he encountered a crowd. Just as he figured, Wardell was skinning people, only more greedily than Soapy. Dayton Wardell was a pain in the butt. What he lacked in brains, he made up in meanness.

  One thing about Soapy Smith—he knew when to press and he knew when to get out of town. Wardell could take a few lessons.

  Burke worked himself to a good vantage point where he could watch Wardell in action. Within five minutes, he’d seen the scoundrel short-change half a dozen people. Selling a chance for something—even if was nothing—was one thing, but out-and-out stealing was quite another.

  When a couple boys ran by, Burke waved at them. “I have a fiver for you if you bring the constable in five minutes, and a ten if you bring him in three.”

  They were off like a shot.

  Within ten minutes, the constable had arrived, seen the misdeed, and arrested Wardell. Burke paid the boys ten bucks each. They squealed and ran to the confectionery. As far as Burke was concerned, the arrest took care of two problems—removing a blight from Manitou Springs, and getting rid of a nuisance to his and Lexie’s pursuit.

  Thinking about Lexie made him pick up the pace back to the hotel. He hadn’t wanted to be gone so long and he hoped she didn’t have too much time to think about chickening out. With luck, boosted by careful planning and a romantic purchase, he hoped to make this the most special night of Lexie’s life. No doubt about it, he’d remember his time with her for all the years to come.

  When he walked into the Manitou House, the concierge gave him a bouquet of daisies.

  “Compliments of Mr. Dorsey,” he said. “He thought your bride might enjoy them. The champagne is on ice in your room, and he’s reserved another bottle if you desire.”

  Burke tipped him generously. “Send the second bottle up in two hours.”

  He hadn’t decided whether to take Lexie out for dinner or to keep her all to himself. He’d prefer the latter but he’d let her decide.

  Nervous and on edge as a boy throwing three-card monte for the first time, he headed up to the suite, bouquet in hand and elegant jewelry box in his coat pocket. He’d seduced many women, but never had one seduced him. Until Lexie.

  As he strode down the hall wearing his best poker face, he met the maid just emerging from the room.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. O’Shaughnessy.” She had a mischievous grin.

  “What’s that I see behind your ear?” He reached behind her ear and pulled out a dollar.

  “Why, thank you!”

  “And you have a surprise waiting for you down at Housekeeping.” He’d sent a basket of fresh meat and milk after hearing that she had four little ones and no husband. The woman had a cheery demeanor even though she’d been dealt a bad hand. All he’d ever need was a stake for the next game.

  But was that really all he needed? He pushed the uncomfortable question aside and knocked on the door to the honeymoon suite, where a woman sweeter than honey could ever be waited for him.

  When she opened the door, one glance at her took his breath away. No queen was ever more beautiful—any man would do her bidding.

  “Are you going to say something? Or just stand there and stare, Mr. Poker Face.” She stood aside and let him in.

  “Uh...” He shoved the daisies at her, much like he had when he’d brought dandelions to his mother. “These are for you.” So much for being suave and debonair. “And this.” He pointed to his coat pocket. “But you have to get it.”

  She took the flowers and smiled through them like a shy little girl. “Shouldn’t you shut the door?”

  “Oh. Um. Yes.” He closed it with his heel.

  “I have something for you, first.” She gave him a package neatly wrapped in brown paper with his name and a king of hearts on it.

  The sentiment that settled over him made him uneasy. He shouldn’t have been so pleased at such a gesture, and she probably meant nothing by it. In fact, she’d be better off in the final deal if he disappeared and let her get on with her life. Which he would as soon as they found Patrick.

  But he wished it didn’t have to be that way. He just happened to have the queen of hearts up his sleeve so he palmed it and put it beside the king.

  He opened the package. It was a new duster, similar to the one ruined when Wardell had jumped him. He’d thrown that one in the rag bin.

  “I like it. Thanks.” He held it up for inspection. Excellent quality and looked the right size, too. Leave it to his Lexie-girl to find something practical but still personal. “It’ll be my lucky duster.”

  He folded it lengthwise and draped it over the back of the divan. “And now, your gift—but as I said, you have to fetch it.”

  She looked so pretty, all done up, especially when the tip of her tongue moistened her lips. He planned to prolong the joy as long as possible. With two fingers, she plucked the small box from his pocket.

  “Now open it.” The box was labeled “Koenig Jewelers” so she’d know he bought her a bauble.

  She peeked inside. “Oh my stars!” Then she opened the box and took out the emerald necklace. “It’s beautiful—and it matches my dress!”

  “And your eyes. They bring out the sparkle in your eyes.” He took it from her. “Let me put it on you.”

  She turned around and he fastened the clasp. “There you go, Lexie-girl. Look at it in the mirror.” The necklace couldn’t have been more perfect and he could tell she liked it.

  “I put the staff on the alert that we might want to eat in, but as beautiful as you are, I’d be happy to take you out on the town. I also made reservations at the restaurant down the street. You choose.”

  She laughed. “I didn’t spend two hours dressing for nothing. We’re going out.”

  “Out it is. There’s a buggy waiting.” To be honest, any man would be proud to escort her anywhere, any time, but he’d like nothing better than to open the package and see what was inside. She’d seen him buck naked, but he’d only seen enough of her to make it hard to sleep at night.

  Chapter 12

  The restaurant rivaled any Lexie had patronized in New York or Washington, and the food was divine. Each table had a personal waiter wearing a turban, but the exotic Arabian décor belied the decidedly American menu.

  She ordered poached trout and Burke had oysters on the half shell. He spent more time looking at her than eating, though. And her corset was so tight, she could barely manage a small portion of the trout.

  Her appetite diminished altogether when she saw Professor Duane Troy heading her way. He’d retired two years ago and she wondered where he’d gone. Troy was one of the few faculty who thought it worthwhile to educate a woman, and she’d loved his history classes. But the last thing she wanted was to be found out, and she had nowhere to escape.

  “Miss Campbell, it’s such a surprise to see you!”

  Lexie pretended her mouth was full and nodded, not having a clue what to say.

  Burke stood and shook the professor’s hand. “You’re mistaken, sir. This is my wife, Mrs. O’Shaughnessy.”

  Professor Troy peered through his spe
ctacles. “The resemblance is uncanny. Miss Campbell is a bright girl—overly bookish for a wife, and a bit snappish, but she has reason to be.” He gave her the once over. “She could use some lessons from you on dressing.” He bowed. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. O’Shaughnessy.”

  “And you,” she said as he walked away.

  He turned around. “You even sound like her.” He scratched his head and doddered back to his table.

  What a sour note and a premature end to what would’ve been a lovely dinner. Lexie could barely breathe for the lump in her throat. “You have to get me out of here.”

  Burke seemed unfazed when he shrugged and sat down. “Dessert’s coming.”

  “So’s my crucifixion.”

  He told the waiter to box up the dessert, bring the tab, and call the buggy.

  She started to stand but he put his hand on her arm. “You can’t bolt,” he whispered. “That would be too obvious. We have to play this hand out. Now gaze into my eyes as if you want to rip my clothes off. Then no one will question why we’re leaving in the middle of the meal.”

  She did, but whispered back, “But wouldn’t it be better to be unnoticeable?”

  “Lexie-girl, your looks would attract attention anywhere. Every man notices a beautiful woman. And every man here wishes he could throw me in the street and take my place at your table.”

  Pish. She knew her clothes and hairstyle were attractive, but it was plain old her underneath it all. Still, she didn’t want to be ungracious. “Your bountiful praise is unwarranted, but thank you for the compliment.”

  The waiter returned a few minutes later, even though it seemed like hours, and said, “Your buggy is ready. I took the desserts out already.” He pulled out Lexie’s chair and helped her stand. “Congratulations on your marriage. May it be enduring, happy, and prosperous.” To Burke he said, “Mr. Dorsey took care of the tab.”