Simmer All Night

by Geralyn Dawson

  Lana frowned. "What does chili have to do with this catastrophe of a betrothal ball?" When Chrissy only laughed in response, her friend said, "All right, I give up. I'm obviously wasting my time. Here." She reached into her own gown's bodice and removed a pair of folded slips of paper, and handed them to Chrissy. "Notes from Cole and from your grandfather," she explained as she sailed back into her own room. "Read them if you dare."

  "If I dare," Chrissy muttered. Lana knew her well. Now she had to read the messages.

  She opened the earl's note first and read it aloud. "I apologize for hurting you, my dear. It was not my intention. Apparently, I haven't learned from the mistakes I made that drove your mother away. Please, I beg of you, do not follow Elizabeth's example. I love you."

  Some of the frost melted from her heart. She couldn't stay angry at the man, knowing his motivation was love. She stared at the second note and grimaced. Cole's motivation was something else entirely.

  He wrote: Quit being stubborn and stupid, Lady Bug. Your grandfather's confession changes nothing. You and I are getting married.

  "And you, Cole Morgan, have chili for brains."

  Downstairs, Lord Welby waited for her in the saloon, looking quite dashing in a midnight blue vest trimmed in gold. Chrissy's stomach sank. Welby's expression suggested he was as anxious as she to be here.

  He bowed and kissed her hand. "Good evening, my dear. You look beautiful as always. Shall we wait by the Marble Hall doorway? The dancing is about to begin."

  Chrissy's eyes widened as she spied a pair of cuts along his jaw and discoloration below his eye. "What happened to you, Lord Welby?"

  In a blatant attempt to dodge the question, he said, "I think it is time you called me Bruce, at least when we're having a private conversation."

  "Very well. Bruce, what in the world happened to your face?"

  He winced. "I see the face powder I borrowed from Mrs. Kleberg doesn't conceal as much as I had hoped. Let's just say your Mr. Morgan and I had a misunderstanding yesterday and leave it at that, all right?"

  So that's why Cole was all worked up when he came to me.

  She wanted to inquire further, but the viscount continued, "I admit to being eager to see what decorative theme the earl chose for tonight's special event. He's been quite secretive."

  "Yes," Chrissy said absently, questions about this misunderstanding still tumbling about her brain. Then, before she could give voice to even one of them, a new sensation captured her attention. She gazed around her. Something was causing her hackles to rise. She felt like a mouse being stalked by...

  Her gaze lighted on Cole. He stood leaning against the wall. Beside him was an elaborate sconce with ormolu branches above a plaster panel that depicted playful cupids. She thought it strangely appropriate. He was shooting arrows in her direction with his coldly furious blue-eyed gaze, and although he wore finely tailored evening dress, she easily pictured him naked. Except Cupid is chubby. Cole Morgan is all long, lanky muscle.

  The image disturbed her and Chrissy had to stifle the urge to stick out her tongue at him. She settled for smiling up and batting her lashes at Welby.

  From the corner of her eyes she saw Cole unfold himself from the wall and start toward her. He had the narrow-eyed, lean-hipped swagger of a gunfighter, and she halfway expected him to push aside his jacket and draw from a gunbelt. So when her grandfather stepped up to the double door leading from the saloon into the Marble Hall and called for quiet, she flashed a grin encouraging him to hurry.

  The Earl of Thornbury saw her, registered her smile, and beamed. "Ladies and gentlemen, I wish to welcome you all to Hartsworth on this most special occasion. In honor of my darling granddaughter, Miss Christina Delaney of San Antonio, Texas, I invite you all to my portrayal of an authentic Western cowboy dance."

  The doors swung open and the earl gestured his guests inside as the music swelled. Christina laughed when a fiddler, a pianist, an accordionist and a banjo player struck up the familiar tune of "Texas Breakdown."

  The Great Hall had been transformed. Enormous baskets filled with yellow roses sat in front of each of the marble columns and filled the huge room with the scent of home. Above the far door hung a huge painting depicting crossed flagpoles, one flying the Texas flag, the other the Union Jack. Along each wall were displays of items either from Texas or related to the state.

  Christina stood just inside the door in wonder. She found this sight before her as amazing as her first glimpse of Hartsworth and the Marble Hall.

  She couldn't believe he had gone to this much trouble. She was touched. She was pleased. She wanted to cry.

  Then Welby gasped loudly and she turned to look at him. His eyes were rounded with shock. "Lord Welby?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

  He pointed and croaked out, "Look!"

  She followed the path he indicated and her chin dropped. The statues. How could she have missed them before? The giggle started low in her throat and bubbled up. It took all her effort to keep it from bursting free.

  Somebody—and she knew without a doubt who those somebodies were—had dressed all the statues in the hall... in Viscount Welby's precious vests.

  Those scamps. They promised me they'd put them back.

  The tittering throughout the hall suggested many of the guests had recognized the vests, as well. Welby's handsome face grew flushed. "Those children!" he exclaimed, obviously reaching the same conclusion as Chrissy. "They've gone too far this time. Mrs. Kleberg is simply too easy on them. They need to be punished and if she won't do it, I will."

  Chrissy froze. "Wait a minute, Welby."

  "Where are they?" he muttered, seeming to forget Chrissy entirely. He gazed around the hall. "Where is she? This is ridiculous. Doesn't she see she needs help with those two?"

  "Welby?"

  He patted her hand. "Excuse me, Christina. There is something I must do." Then her fiancé abandoned her on the ballroom floor.

  "Well," she said in a feminine huff, her gaze locked on Lord Welby's departing back. "Isn't this a fine how-do-you-do?"

  "Not in my eyes, it's not," Cole said, coming up beside her. He gripped her elbow and tugged her toward the center of the hall.

  "Cole, what are you—?"

  "It's time to do-si-do, sweetheart. Half of England is here watching and waiting for us to show them how it's done. Few folks from Texas, too," he added, nodding toward the musicians.

  "Texas?" She jerked her gaze to where he indicated, halfway expecting to see her mother. Wouldn't that just cap off this day? Instead she recognized the caller, the fiddler and his pianist, the accordionist and the strummer on the banjo. They were all from San Antonio, the regular players at the Saturday night cowboy dances held in the public assembly hall.

  "How did they get here?"

  "I doubt they swam," he replied, drawing her toward the center of the hall where three couples waited. "C'mon, we're the fourth two of the opening square."

  The fiddler made a fast run-through of his scales and Chrissy quit worrying about Welby. Since her grandfather went to the trouble to make these arrangements, she thought it only right to make the effort to enjoy the results. Besides, she'd always loved square dancing.

  She nodded hellos to the three other couples who would participate in this dance, and moments later, the music began and the caller went to work. "Honors right and honors left. All join hands and circle to the left. Break and swing and promenade back."

  Chrissy's mind whirled right along with her body as the caller guided them into The Ocean Wave, a dance requiring careful teamwork and timing. It was one of her favorites and though she tried to lose herself in the dance, she found she couldn't.

  This particular dance required that Cole rest his hand at her waist. It proved to be a major distraction. Every time he touched her, she burned. Every time he looked at her, his bluebonnet eyes warm and knowing, she sizzled.

  Nervously, she cast her gaze around the Great Hall looking for Welby. She needed to see him for a remin
der of what she was about. But she didn't spy her fiancé among the crowd, although she did see Lana and both of the children relieving the statues of their wardrobes.

  The caller sang out, "Wave to the ocean, wave the sea. Wave that pretty girl back to me."

  "Wave, pretty girl," Cole murmured in her ear.

  Shivers chased up and down her skin and she yearned to lean against him. The notion brought her to despair. What was she doing? How could she possibly be thinking of marrying Welby when she loved Cole?

  The tall, broad Texan swung her around as the dance required, and the dizzying sensation that resulted in her stomach reminded her of the interlude they'd spent in her bed. How can I go the rest of my life and never know that glory again?

  Maybe lovemaking was always that way. Maybe she'd find the same joy with Welby.

  Or maybe not.

  The next portion of the dance called for Chrissy to remain in place, clapping to the music while each couple in turn performed their swing. While she did so, her gaze again sought the viscount, and this time she found him. He and Michael Kleberg were busy stripping a blue satin vest off the statue of David. A couple of Welby's gentlemen friends hovered around, apparently offering jibes. The viscount smiled blandly at them, then showed the boy how to properly fold the garment.

  Chrissy studied her fiancé, willing herself to feel an allure. It didn't work, so she tried again, mentally enumerating all his attractive features and characteristics. But no, handsome as he was, he didn't make her blood thrum and her heart sing. Almost against her will, she recalled that the single kiss they had shared had raised only mild interest in her.

  She lifted her gaze to Cole's mouth. His kiss was different, much different. His hands weren't the only thing that were magic. She wondered if every woman he kissed felt the passion he so easily roused within her.

  That thought made her stomach go sour, and she returned her attention to the dance. A few minutes later, the caller began the ending. "Left Allemande, and a right hand grand, Plant your 'taters in a sandy land, And promenade home!"

  The ball guests clapped as the music died away. Chrissy pasted on a smile and nodded her acceptance of the accolades. Cole did the same, then lifted her hand to his mouth for a kiss. "A pleasure as always, Lady Bug," he said softly.

  The rapid beat of Chrissy's pulse and the shortness of her breath had little to do with the physical exertion of the dance, and everything to do with her partner. As the caller announced a Circle Two-Step, inviting everyone to join in and learn the simple steps, she used the resulting press of dancers to slip away from Cole. Another moment in his presence, of his couch, his kiss, and she might do something even more reckless than her present course of action.

  She might agree to marry him.

  Chrissy decided she should spend some time with Welby. First, however, she found her grandfather.

  "So, do you like my surprise?" the earl asked. "This taste of home?"

  "I do," she said smiling. "I'm a little appalled you went to this much trouble, but I do love it. Thank you, Grandfather." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

  He beamed and preened. "What's a little trouble when your only granddaughter is getting engaged? Besides, I thought the theme appropriate for you and Morgan."

  "Lord Welby and I."

  He scowled. "I'm not announcing that betrothal. Never intended to. Want to make it you and that rapscallion Morgan."

  "Don't even think about it." Chrissy tensed and scowled right back at him. "Just because I offered my thanks for your efforts, don't think I'm not still furious with you."

  "I understand that you are a little upset. Dance some more, child. Activity is good for ridding the body of ill humors." He gave her shoulder an appeasing pat, then called out to an elderly gentleman passing by. After introducing the Marquess of Wirth to Chrissy as an old and dear friend, the trio made small talk for a few minutes.

  When the marquess moved on, Chrissy smiled sweetly up at the earl and returned the conversation to the matter at hand. "Grandfather, try and announce my engagement to Cole Morgan and I will have a case of ill humor the likes of which England has never seen."

  "Now, muffin."

  "Don't 'muffin' me. I mean it. And while we're discussing this, explain something to me, would you? If you never intended to support my marriage to Welby, why did you go along with the idea?"

  The earl frowned down at his fingernails. "Because of Morgan, of course. Your mama told me the man needed encouragement to realize what you mean to him, and after the daggers he shot in Welby's direction the day he arrived, I figured I'd play along and see if the young lord was the push your young man needed."

  "He's not my young man," Chrissy insisted.

  "If you say so," the earl dryly replied, gazing past her shoulder, "However, you might want to tell him that."

  Chrissy didn't have to look to know that Cole was bearing down upon her. Lovely. Just lovely. She couldn't find the fiancé she had, and couldn't get rid of the one she didn't need. Or didn't want to need, anyway.

  Sending a groan of frustration skyward, she ducked away from her grandfather, skirted the grand circle forming in the center of the hall and slipped into the hallway leading toward the library and the music room beyond. She'd hide out there for a time and collect herself. And think.

  She was beginning to recognize the sensation creeping over her. She'd felt the same way every time she broke an engagement. Oh, Chrissy. You're not going through with it, are you? You're going to break it off with Welby.

  Then the sight of the Kleberg children kneeling outside the library door brought her up short The door was cracked open a little more than an inch and Michael spied inside while Sophie kept her ear pressed toward the opening. Both children's eyes were as round as a Royal Derby plate.

  Concerned, Chrissy came up behind them and listened to hear what held them in thrall.

  "I will go to her and tell her," came Welby's voice. "For days now my heart has been at odds with my sense of honor. I cannot withdraw my marriage proposal, but neither can I bear to give you up. I have feelings for you, my dear. Deep feelings. It would be wrong for me to say more before I have spoken with Christina."

  Deep feelings? Who is in the room with my fiancé?

  A feminine, trembling voice spoke. "You mustn't I won't allow it."

  Chrissy's chin dropped in shock.

  Chapter 10

  "Lana?" Chrissy murmured.

  She nudged Michael aside so she could see into the room.

  The library's two occupants did not notice her arrival, so intent were they upon each other. Behind a large mahogany library table, Lana stood facing Lord Welby, her expression filled with turmoil. "I spent time with you to help Chrissy, not to win you for myself. I wanted what was best for her."

  "You still do. We both know now that I'm not the right man for Miss Delaney. If I were I wouldn't be falling—"

  "Don't," she interrupted. "No. You can't. We can't. I forbid it."

  "My dear, whether I give voice to it or not does not stop me from feeling it."

  "You're mistaken. You hardly know me. Nothing happens this fast." Lana brought her fingers up to her temples and massaged them in small circles.

  "It can. It has."

  "No. You don't know what you want, Lord Welby. Two weeks ago you wanted Chrissy."

  "Two weeks ago I knew I was ready to marry and I methodically went looking for a bride. Yes, Miss Delaney appealed to me. She's a beautiful, fascinating woman." Then his voice deepened, grew husky. "Understand that I never expected to find love in marriage. It's not the way of the Harrington family. I thought with Christina I could find contentment, friendship. I thought I could be happy with that. But then you launched your campaign to convince me to take a trip to Texas and I found out that love can exist. It does exist."

  She winced and shut her eyes. "Then it must die,"

  "Why?"

  "Because of Chrissy! You are engaged to marry her. And even if that insurmountab
le obstacle didn't exist, there is still the problem of who you are and who I am. You are the most eligible bachelor in England. I'm a homespun widow with two hooligan children. You can't... be attracted to me."

  "Yes, I can, and I am. Very much so." Welby lifted her hand and pressed a kiss against her palm. "I ask you not to speak of yourself and the children in such a deprecatory manner."

  "I won't betray my friend."

  "Of course you won't. My dear, have you not told me she sets great store in making a love match? Wouldn't it be a greater betrayal of your friendship to allow this force to go forward knowing love does not exist on either side?"

  "But it could, given time," she protested. "You're a wonderful man, and Chrissy could come to see that."

  "She loves another," he argued. "Is Cole Morgan the man?"

  Lana's head jerked up and her gaze met his, her eyes wide and wary. "I never said that."

  Welby gingerly pressed his fingers against the discoloration beneath his eye. "I drew that conclusion on my own."

  In the hallway, Michael Kleberg whipped his head around and gaped at Chrissy. He whispered, "You love Mr. Cole?"

  "Shush!" she whispered back.

  "Mrs. Kleberg," Welby continued. "Lana, I don't wish to hurt Christina either. She is a lovely woman, both inside and out. I recognized that from the beginning. If you recall, I spent a great deal of time with her once she accepted my suit. I kept hoping that as we came to know one another better, something special would bloom between us. It never did. Instead, I began looking forward to the visits of a very beautiful, very special woman who seemed determined to send me to Texas. Did you know I decided to make the trip that very first day?"

  Bewilderment colored Lana's voice as she said, "But you argued against it every time."

  "Yes. Because I wanted to be with you. I'm afraid my gentlemanly honor is as shallow as a birdbath. However, I am comforted by the knowledge that Christina's affections lie elsewhere. If she's the type of friend you believe her to be, she'll be glad you've found a chance for happiness." He stepped closer, his voice growing intimate. "I won't give you up, my dear. Not when it's taken me so long to find the woman of my dreams. Do not ask me to give you up. Tell me you return my regard."