Cecily climbed into bed and Alice tucked the blankets around her. “Thank you for listening to me prattle on, m’lady.”
“My pleasure, Alice.” She stifled another yawn. “Good night.”
Alice turned out the lamp and left the room, but Cecily did not close her eyes to sleep. She had too much to think about. Alice’s declaration of love for Nick kept running through her mind. Perhaps that was the key, to love a man in spite of his flaws, hoping that he would be as charitable and overlook your own shortcomings. Had she been too harsh on Charles? Did he deserve another chance? Before she could make up her mind, sleep overtook her. She slept soundly, and dreamed of England, green and cool and so far away.
Chapter Nineteen
The next morning, Charles arose early and rode out to a place on the prairie where wildflowers grew. He felt slightly foolish riding back to the house with an armload of blossoms, but if Cecily wanted wooing, then she would have it, flowers and frippery and all.
Once inside, he called Alice and asked her to arrange the flowers and deliver them to Cecily as soon as she awoke. “Oh, they’re lovely, m’lord.” Alice beamed as she cradled the blooms in her arms.
“Do you think Lady Cecily will be pleased with them?” He tried not to sound as anxious as he felt.
Alice’s smile never wavered. “Pleased? M’lord, she’ll be delighted, I assure you. What lady doesn’t like to receive flowers from a gentleman? And to think you picked these yourself!” She was still murmuring encouraging words as she bustled away to find a vase.
“No time for breakfast this morning, Mrs. Bridges,” Charles said as he passed through the dining room on his way to his study. “Would you bring a cup of coffee into my office, please?”
He sipped the coffee while he composed a note at his desk. Two broken pen nibs and six sheets of paper later, he had something that suited. Part love letter, part invitation, the note pleaded with Cecily to have dinner with him that evening. Wine, candlelight, and just the two of them. He would take Reg’s advice and court her properly. Given time, he hoped to win her heart once more.
He rang for Gordon. “Deliver this to Lady Thorndale at breakfast,” he said.
“Should I wait for a reply, m’lord?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. I won’t be here anyway. I have an urgent business matter to see to.”
“What about Mister Worthington, m’lord?”
“Tell Reg I’ll see him when I return.”
An hour later, Charles halted in front of the sheriff’s office in Fairweather. He tied his horse next to Grady’s dun gelding and went inside, ignoring the sick feeling in his gut. Better to have it out with the man now than spend the rest of his days here watching his back.
Charles found the office empty, though the sound of a cell door clanging shut told him the sheriff was likely upstairs with a prisoner. Determined to wait, he passed the time reading the Wanted posters tacked to the walls.
His gaze eventually came to rest on the portrait behind the desk. The resemblance between Ben Grady and his son was evident, but the father had a hardness about the eyes that his son did not possess. The earl had that hardness about him, too, a refusal to compromise with life that made him at the same time strong and too brittle to accept change.
“Worthington! What are you doing here?”
Charles turned and watched Grady descend the stairs. The lawman’s normally dapper suit was dusty, and he had a bandana knotted around one hand. “I came to talk to you about your ranch,” he said.
“Your ranch now.” Grady went to the desk and opened a bottom drawer. He pulled out a flask and set it on the edge of the desk, then began unwrapping the bandana. “Found out you didn’t get a bargain, didn’t you?”
“I had nothing to do with the purchase,” Charles said. “My father bought that note without my knowledge.”
“Guess he wanted to have another piece of property for you to play with.” He uncorked the flask and upended the contents over his hand, his mouth set in a hard line, face pale and pinched.
“What happened?” Charles stepped forward and stared at the jagged tear in the fleshy part of the sheriff’s hand.
“Danny Fells bit me.” Grady jerked his head up toward the ceiling, and the cells above, then began re-wrapping his hand.
“Why did he do that?”
“I cornered him and he fought back like the animal he is.”
Charles leaned back against the desk and waited for Grady to say more, but when the sheriff remained silent, he prompted him. “Why did you arrest him?”
Grady hesitated a moment longer and darted a glance at Charles. “Caught him over in Hulltown trying to sell a stolen beef.”
Charles resisted the urge to gloat. “Congratulations on bringing him in.”
Grady looked wary. “Why would you congratulate me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Grady leaned forward and tightened the knot in his bandage with his teeth. “There’s no love lost between us,” he said when he was finished. “Don’t try to deny it. You may not have personally bought the note to my ranch, but somebody had to tell your old man it was available.”
Charles bowed his head. “I’ll admit I sent a telegram to my father, but what if I did? As you yourself admit, the property is no bargain. I’d think you’d be better off without it.”
Grady scowled. “What would you know about it? Born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You never had to work a day in your life for anything.”
“Maybe not physical labor, but I paid a price for what I’ve got one way or another.” He folded his arms across his chest and studied the sheriff for a moment. He wasn’t a big man, and he didn’t have the leathery look of most of the hard-bitten cowboys and stockmen Charles knew. “Why did you have the ranch in the first place? Did it belong to your family?”
Grady looked away. “No. Not my family.”
“Did you purchase it as an investment, then?”
“You might say that.” To his astonishment, a wry smile split the sheriff’s face. “I won it playing poker.”
Charles couldn’t conceal his astonishment. He looked again at Grady’s long-fingered hands, at his meticulous dress and ornate moustache. “You’re a card shark!”
Grady stroked the moustache. “Yeah. Before I put on the badge.”
He resisted laughing. Though Grady had relaxed some, he might not yet see the humor in the situation. “Then why did you become a sheriff?”
Grady looked over his shoulder, at the man in the portrait. “My father was sheriff here before me.”
Fathers again! “My father sent me here, did you know that?” Charles asked. “Along the way, I discovered I like being a rancher. Do you like being a sheriff?”
Grady hesitated, then shook his head. “It’s what he always wanted.”
A sudden surge of empathy for a man whom he’d come to think of adversary made Charles uncomfortable. “Now I know why you had a worthless ranch and why you became a sheriff,” he said. “Only one more question.”
“Why would I want to answer you?”
But Charles pressed on. “Why are you harassing Madame LeFleur and her girls? What harm are they doing anybody?”
Grady’s expression darkened. “You think it’s right for girls to be selling themselves to men that way?”
“No, but it’s their choice.”
The sheriff turned away. “You don’t know anything about it.”
“And you do?”
He thought Grady had said all he had to say, but just as Charles was about to turn and leave, the sheriff spoke again. “I knew a girl once, in a place like that. She wanted out, but with no money and no where to go. . . a customer beat her to death when she wouldn’t let him stay all night.” His shoulders slumped, a man bent by old grief.
Charles bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For the ranch. . . and the girl. For everything.”
He faced Charles once more. “Is your father proud
of you now that you’re a big success in Texas?”
Was he? “I don’t know.”
“I guess we never do, do we?” He sat on the edge of his desk and fixed his gaze on the portrait again. “My old man was shot by a drunk in a saloon two years ago. I’ll never know what he thought of me.”
Charles moved closer. “Maybe in the end, it’s more important what we think of ourselves.” He offered his hand. “Can we declare a truce?”
Grady looked at him a long moment, then completed the handshake. “Truce.”
* * *
Sitting alone at breakfast, Cecily read through Charles’ note again. My dearest Cecily. Please do me the honor of having dinner with me this evening. Words cannot adequately express my feelings, but I promise to make an attempt. I ask only your patience and understanding.
Not exactly words of love, but encouraging words, nonetheless. She felt a flicker of hope. She would do her part to make this evening a success. Now, what should she wear?
“Good morning, Cecily. You’re certainly looking radiant.”
She looked up and found Reg in the doorway. “Good morning, Reg. Did you sleep well?”
“As well as any condemned man, I suspect.” He helped himself to tea from the pot on the sideboard.
“What is that cryptic remark supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, my dear. Merely that the earl has charged me with taking a run-down ranch and making it a success. I can’t see it’s a task for which I’m particularly well-suited.”
“Then why do it?” She pushed a plate of half-eaten eggs and bacon away from her, too excited to eat.
Reg sat across from her. “You underestimate the earl’s power of persuasion,” he said. “It was either do this, or be cut off without a cent. At least here I’m an ocean away from him. And Charles seems to have done well enough.”
“Yes, I think Texas agrees with Charles.”
“And you. I don’t know when I’ve seen you looking lovelier.”
She laughed. “It must be six years since you’ve seen me. I imagine I’ve grown up a little in that time.”
He shook his head. “It’s not just age that’s improved your looks. There’s a different air about you, a new self-assurance, I think.”
She considered this. “I suppose being out on my own for a little has been good for me.”
“Good for all of us to leave home for a while, I dare say. Gives you a fresh perspective.”
“What are your plans for the day?” she asked.
“I suppose I ought to ride over and take a look at this new place the earl has saddled me with. Would you like to come?”
“Thank you, but no.” She had too much to do before this evening.
He took a bite of toast and chewed thoughtfully. “It’s probably just as well. The state he’s in, Charles is likely to think I’m moving in on his territory.”
What an odd thing to say. “What do you mean?”
He grinned. “I’ve never seen him so besotted with a woman.”
“Really?” The thought pleased her immensely.
“Yes, I can tell because, for the first time in memory, he’s at a loss for words.” He popped the last bite of toast into his mouth, drained his tea cup, and stood. “I’d best be on my way.”
When he was gone, she checked the clock on the mantle. Only a little after nine. Hours before she had to get ready for dinner. Perhaps she should have gone with Reg. How would she occupy herself all day?
She could go for a ride. And she needed some ribbon to trim a gown. She pushed back her chair and headed upstairs to change. Yes, she’d ride into town and go shopping. While she was there, she’d stop at the Academy and see if there was anything she could do to help there.
An hour later, Cecily stood on the threshold of her new classroom at the Fairview Academy. This was to be her room, where she would teach people to read and thus transform their lives. The prospect sent a shiver of anticipation up her spine. She stepped into the room, and trailed her gloved hand along the chair rail along each wall. The smell of new paint stung her nose, and sawdust swirled at her feet and caught in the hem of her trailing gown. In her mind’s eye, however, she saw the room clean and filled with furnishings, and with students. Hattie had shared the exciting news that eight people had already signed up for the class. Just think, eight people in whose lives she could make a difference.
“Excuse me, Lady Cecily?”
The words sounded as if they’d been spoken by a small child, but when she turned and looked toward the doorway, she found Caroline Allen standing there, head down, the picture of dejection. “Miss Allen, is something wrong?”
“Everything!” The girl raised her head to reveal reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks.
“My dear, what is it?” Cecily hurried to the girl’s side.
Caroline’s lip trembled, and she bit it, as if in an effort to regain control. “It’s Danny,” she said after a minute. “Danny Fells.”
Cecily nodded, recalling all the bad things she had heard about Caroline Allen’s erstwhile beau. “Has Danny done something to hurt you?”
“Oh no!” Caroline shook her head so vigorously that the little silver loops she wore in her ears rattled. “Danny would never hurt me. He. . . he loves me.”
Tears spilled over from Caroline’s brown eyes. Taking pity, Cecily pulled her close. “If he loves you, then of course he wouldn’t hurt you,” she murmured. “A man doesn’t say those words lightly.”
Caroline drew back and dabbed at her eyes with an already sodden handkerchief. “Well, he never actually said the words. But. . . but I know he does.”
“How do you know?” The question popped out before Cecily could stop it. She didn’t mean to badger the child; she merely hoped for a clue that would guide her in her own romantic dilemma.
Caroline ducked her head, redness creeping up her neck to bloom in her cheeks. “He. . . we. . . did things. Love things.”
Cecily put a hand to her throat, thinking of the ‘love things’ she and Charles had done. But Caroline was just a child. She put a hand on the girl’s arm. “You. . . you’re not pregnant, are you dear?”
Caroline’s head came up, her eyes wide. “N. . . no! I mean. . . he. . . he said it couldn’t happen the first time, and we only did it once.”
Cecily gathered the sobbing girl into her arms once more and stroked her head while waiting for the sobs to subside. She was pretty sure one could conceive one’s first time. She’d thought often about the possibility that she was carrying Charles’s child within her, but she hadn’t the slightest idea what she would do if she was.
At last, Caroline’s sobs abated once more and she lifted her head. “Danny’s in trouble,” the girl said. “The sheriff arrested him for stealing cattle.”
Had Charles been right, then? Was Danny the thief? “Does the sheriff have any proof?” she asked.
Caroline ducked her head again. “Sheriff Grady says he caught Danny trying to sell a cow that weren’t his over in Hulltown.”
“That is fairly significant evidence, is it not?”
“He said he was selling it for a friend.” Caroline jutted out her lower lip in a pout.
Cecily put her hand under the girl’s chin and nudged it up until they were looking into each other’s eyes. “Do you believe him? Tell the truth, now.”
Tears puddled anew, spilling over and sliding down to dampen Cecily’s glove. “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Caroline whispered.
Cecily released her and patted her back, then handed her a fresh handkerchief. “Danny has done what he has done and must suffer the consequences,” she said. “Now you must decide what you will do. Why did you come here, to see me?”
“I. . .I’m so confused.” Caroline blotted her eyes and shook her head. “The day I met you, you were so kind and. . . and you gave me good advice, I thought. I didn’t know where else to turn.”
“What about your father?”
“No!” The panicked look retur
ned to Caroline’s eyes. “He never liked Danny. Sometimes. . . sometimes I think he doesn’t even like me anymore.”
“That’s not true.” Cecily brushed a stray lock of hair out of Caroline’s eyes. “Your father loves you very much. You’ve worried him, but if you can be woman enough to admit your error in judgment, he would like nothing better than to help you.”
Caroline hesitated, then nodded. “How could I have been so wrong? I thought Danny. . . I never thought he was a thief! I don’t want anything to do with men, ever again!”
The girl’s voice rose to a tremulous whine and Cecily feared another flood of tears. She grabbed the girl’s wrist and shook her. “You must be strong, Caroline. And you mustn’t let one man’s wrongdoing sour you on all men. There are good, kind men in this world, and one day you will find one of them who will love you for the worthy young woman you are.”
“But how will I know he really loves me? How will I know I love him?”
The answer came to Cecily as a gift; not just an answer for Caroline, but the solution to he own dilemma as well. “Your heart will tell you what your head cannot.”
Caroline closed her eyes, her lips moving silently as she repeated this advice. “I. . . I’ll try to remember. But what do I do in the meantime?”
Cecily patted your hand. “Go to your father. Remember that he does love you. No matter what.”
“All right. I will.” She stepped back, then leaned forward and planted a kiss on Cecily’s cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered, then fled, her feet making soft tapping noises on the wood floor as she ran.
Cecily listened until only silence echoed in her ears, then folded her arms and hugged herself. “Your heart will tell you what your head cannot,” she repeated. Which begged the question, what was her heart trying to tell her?
* * *
Charles was leaving the sheriff’s office when Mr. Perkins scurried up to him, waving a yellowed sheet of paper. “Telegram for you, Mr. Worthington,” he announced, so loudly that everyone on the sidewalk turned to stare.
Charles frowned. “A telegram? From whom?”
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