Lacy: (Sweet Historical Western Romance) (Pendleton Petticoats Book 5)

by Shanna Hatfield

  In that time, she’d barely finished making a list of all the décor Agnes needed to update, the new fashions her daughter and grandchildren should order, and the suitable business associates William should pursue.

  Although Agnes accepted her suggestions with a smile, William acted less than grateful to accept her helpful ideas.

  After all, she just wanted what was best for her children and their spouses. It was best that William continued along a successful political path so Imogene could continue to brag about her connection to a man who might one day be governor.

  Imogene sighed and ate another cake. Bored and in a testy mood, she hoped to find entertainment with some of her acquaintances during tea, but all of them were busy doing one thing or another.

  Slighted by their supposed plans elsewhere, Imogene slumped against the soft velvet cushions of the claret-colored settee. Her gaze traveled over the walls, done in shades of pale and emerald green with claret accents. A floral rug on the floor, patterned in greens with hints of gold and dark mauve, was to her liking.

  At least Agnes hadn’t succumbed to the current crazy notion of lightening the dark rooms of the previous decade by using paler hues and removing the heavy drapes.

  Imogene’s heart nearly stopped beating in her chest when she stepped into Eleanor’s home in Philadelphia to see the girl had redecorated the entry, parlor, and gathering room in yellows and creams. All the light spilling in the windows had given her a monstrous headache. Besides, Imogene still considered the Philadelphia house hers although Eleanor’s husband, Mathias, had paid her more than a fair price for it years ago.

  If she didn’t know better, she might have concluded Eleanor had taken decorating advice from Grant.

  Thoughts of her wayward son made her sigh again. She had such high hopes and dreams for her only son and youngest child. The handsome young man was intelligent and witty, not to mention ambitious and adventurous. He always had been.

  However, the combination of his ambition and need for adventure had driven him across the country to that horrendous wild western town he preferred to call home. The only redeemable feature of the place was the fact a world-renowned dressmaker resided there.

  Unfortunately, the beautiful girl had married an Italian, of all things. Imogene did have to admit the man was attractive and charismatic, despite his questionable upbringing. It was too bad, really, that Ilsa set her sights on Tony Campanelli instead of Grant.

  Then there was the unfortunate matter of Marnie Thorsen. She was one of the few people Imogene genuinely liked, but before she could suggest Grant court the girl, Ilsa’s brother rode in and swept Marnie off her feet.

  For all his grit and gumption, Grant needed her assistance in finding a suitable wife. It galled her that he’d walked away from the bank business her husband spent years building to start his own bank in that backward town of Pendleton. All on his own, he built it up, refusing to accept help from anyone.

  Although his home there was lovely and in a very respectable part of town, Grant desperately needed her help with his décor.

  Every time she visited, she tried to guide him into seeing how much better dark burgundy or blue wallpaper would look in the parlor instead of the pale cream damask he’d selected.

  Instead of the wooden Venetian blinds he left open over the windows, she’d hinted that velvet drapes would be so much more becoming and give a greater sense of his wealth.

  Much to her dismay, he steadfastly refused. At least she hoped he’d considered redecorating her bedroom. The light, airy space positively made her eyes ache, especially when she preferred to sleep long past the time the sun arose.

  While Imogene mused over her children’s shortcomings, she absently finished the entire plate of teacakes.

  When a maid stepped into the room and discreetly coughed to announce her presence, Imogene stifled a groan as she sat up and brushed crumbs from the front of her silk gown.

  “Yes? What is it?” Imogene scowled at the young maid. In her opinion, William and Agnes needed to take a firm hand with their staff. They seemed far too uppity for their stations and went about their duties humming. Why, just yesterday, she’d caught two of the maids laughing as they polished the silver in the dining room.

  It was utter nonsense.

  She planned to speak to William about the matter as soon as he and Agnes returned home. Since they’d only left for their trip two days ago, though, she’d take the staff in hand and guide them into proper servants until her daughter returned.

  “Mrs. Hill, a telegram arrived for you a few moments ago.” The maid stepped into the room, carrying a silver embossed tray with an envelope resting on the surface.

  “Give it to me.” Imogene snatched the envelope off the tray, wondering who would send her a telegram. Perhaps Agnes had come to her senses and would soon return home with the children.

  After reading the telegram, Imogene collapsed against the settee cushions. All the color drained from her face and she struggled to take a breath.

  “Mrs. Hill? Mrs. Hill!” The maid dropped to her knees in front of her and gently patted her hand. “Are you well, Mrs. Hill? Shall I send for the doctor?”

  Imogene sat in silence for several long moments with a dazed look upon her white face. The staff would later refer to those few moments of quiet as the peaceful calm before fury and thunder broke loose in the house.

  Quite suddenly, Imogene sat up, swatted at the maid’s hands and began barking orders. “Don’t sit there like a sniveling ninny. Run upstairs and fetch Betty. When you finish with that, send someone up to the attic to retrieve my trunks. I’m needed elsewhere, immediately.”

  The maid stared at her, shocked and inordinately pleased by the news Imogene planned to leave. When she failed to jump up and put Imogene’s orders into action, the woman grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet.

  “Did you hear what I said, you little twit? Move! Now!” Imogene’s screeching rattled across the rafters and echoed through the house.

  Everyone stopped their work, wondering what had upset Mrs. Fontaine’s irritable mother. For three months out of the year, they all tolerated her pretentious, overbearing, demanding presence. Mr. and Mrs. Fontaine always compensated them at the end of the three months for any suffering they endured during Mrs. Hill’s visits. The staff held on for the day when Imogene would pack her trunks and leave.

  The sound of her yelling didn’t stir enough curiosity in any of them to investigate. After waiting to hear if there would be another outburst, they returned to their work.

  Imogene stormed out of the parlor and started up the stairs. She met her personal maid, Betty, halfway up as the girl raced down the steps.

  “Betty, dear. Send someone to the train station to purchase two tickets to Pendleton then come help me pack. We will leave first thing in the morning.”

  “We will?” Betty asked. She was surprised by Imogene’s pronouncement as well as the speed with which her employer hurried up the stairs. Short and plump, the woman never moved faster than a slow saunter. At this particular moment, she lifted her skirts and raced up the stairs much as her two grandchildren were prone to do.

  “Yes. Grant has done the unthinkable — the unspeakable! We must get to Pendleton as soon as possible.”

  Betty wanted to question Imogene’s decision, knowing how much the woman loathed the town of Pendleton. While her three daughters all lived in beautiful urban areas, Grant had settled in a rustic town full of bawdy businesses and colorful characters.

  Personally, Betty found it enjoyable to be at Grant’s house. He didn’t employ any staff, other than a part-time housekeeper, and the atmosphere was generally relaxed. It was almost like a vacation for her, since her employer had few places to go and even fewer people to come calling at the house in Pendleton. Mrs. Hill spent most of her time sleeping, eating, and reading. Betty did a little cooking, but had plenty of time to read and rest.

  If Mrs. Hill wanted to go to Pendleton, then to Pendleton they
would go. Betty just hoped someone would warn Grant of his mother’s impending arrival.

  “I’ll send someone straightaway, ma’am, and be up directly to help with your trunks.”

  “Thank you, Betty.” Imogene managed a small, almost sincere smile before she turned and rushed up the remaining steps to her room. Betty was the one servant she treated kindly. The girl had been in her employ from the time she was orphaned at the tender age of ten. In some ways, Imogene looked on her as another daughter, although she’d never admit that to anyone.

  She entered her room and glared at the butler and gardener as they carried in two of her trunks.

  “Set them there,” Imogene said, pointing to a spot in the middle of the floor.

  The men set down the trunks then went to retrieve the rest of them.

  Imogene tossed the telegram down on the bed and looked around her room, not certain where to begin her packing. Betty and one of the other servants always took care of it for her.

  Slowly sinking onto the bed, Imogene lifted the telegram and read it once again.

  GRANT CONSORTING WITH INDIAN GIRL STOP DIRE SITUATION STOP COME QUICKLY

  There were a few people in the wretched town of Pendleton incapable of minding their own business. Imogene made sure she befriended every single one of them during the years she’d visited her son there.

  Now, she felt nothing but gratitude for the nosy woman who sent her the telegram. Left to his own devices, Grant might actually consider marrying the heathenish girl. This was even worse than the time he professed his undying devotion for one of the housemaids when he was fourteen.

  Evidently, he had no more sense now than he did then.

  Imogene got to her feet and opened a dresser drawer, stuffing a bundle of nightclothes into a trunk.

  “If that boy can’t keep his head on straight, I’ll have to straighten it for him.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Grant whistled as he rode back to town after a quick visit to Nash’s Folly, mulling over Lacy’s words about romance.

  Fully intending to escort Lacy to the spring ball, he felt compelled to invite her with a gesture she would long remember.

  As he hurried back to Pendleton, his thoughts lingered on the look on Lacy’s face when she said she found him to be romantic. Grant had never considered himself one of those sappy fellows who went out of their way to woo a girl.

  Yet, he rode through town just a few hours past dawn with a basket full of fragrant blossoms collected from Aundy’s abundant flowerbeds.

  He enlisted her help when he decided his invitation to the dance must be a special one. Aundy suggested he give Lacy some flowers and take her for a ride somewhere outside of town then ask her to the dance.

  With a picnic lunch in his saddlebags and the basket of flowers hooked over the horn of his saddle, he couldn’t wait to surprise Lacy.

  Although she hadn’t said anything, she seemed disappointed he didn’t ask her to the ball the day Ilsa and Marnie announced it.

  Aware of her limited wardrobe, he wondered if she would allow him to pay Ilsa to make her a dress for the occasion. He quickly abandoned that thought. Lacy’s pride and sense of propriety would keep her from accepting anything she deemed charity. There had to be a way for her to have a new gown that made her feel like a princess.

  Wasn’t that the whole point of a ball? For a princess to be enchanted and fall in love?

  If Grant had anything to say about it, he fully intended to be the prince who swept Lacy off her feet.

  He went directly to Tony and Ilsa’s home since Lacy would most likely be there cleaning out the barn. In an effort to surprise the girl, he stilled his whistling and rode quietly up the driveway.

  Dismounting, he heard Lacy talking to the horses and the scrape of the pitchfork against the ground as she cleaned a stall. He stepped inside the barn and gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light. Star stood in the alleyway between the stalls while Lacy talked to her from inside the horse’s stall.

  “Do you think it’s ridiculous, Star? Do you, girl?” Lacy’s sigh carried a wistful tone. “It’s crazy to dream about going to the ball, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t think it’s crazy at all,” Grant said, stepping from the shadows and drawing a gasp out of Lacy.

  She spun around and glared at him from around the edge of the stall door.

  “Goodness, Grant! You scared me half to death.” She dropped a fork full of manure in a wheelbarrow then leaned against the pitchfork handle. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you. I hoped you might be coerced into going for a ride and another picnic with me.” Grant took the pitchfork from her. “Will you go, or must I beg? I can get down on one knee and plead but I’d prefer to do that on Tony’s lawn rather than out here in the barn.”

  Lacy grinned at him and nodded her head. “Of course I’ll go with you. Give me a minute to finish cleaning the stalls and feed the horses, then I’ll be ready to go.”

  Grant helped her complete the chores. He pushed the full wheelbarrow outside and behind the barn where Tony had a compost pile.

  While he did that, Lacy saddled Star and led her over to where Drew waited.

  The two horses blew air at each other in a friendly greeting. Lacy reached out to give Drew a scratch on his neck when she noticed the flower basket hanging from the saddle horn.

  Grant stepped behind her, picked up the basket, and handed it to her with a flourish and bow. “My lady, these are for you.”

  “Thank you, Grant. They’re lovely and smell wonderful.” Lacy buried her nose in the fragrant blooms and inhaled their spring scent. “Do you mind if I leave them here? I’m afraid they’ll get droopy if I take them with us.”

  “I’m sure Ilsa won’t mind if you leave them here.” Grant walked her to the back door. He was about to knock when Tony opened the screen door and invited them inside.

  “Grant gave me these lovely flowers, but we’re going for a ride. May I leave them here until we return?” Lacy asked, holding the basket to her chest like a prized possession.

  “Of course. Set them on the table.” Tony motioned to the big kitchen table where a vase held similar-looking flowers. Tony grinned at Grant. “I see Aundy’s been picking posies again.”

  “Something like that.” Grant ignored the waggling eyebrows of his friend as he escorted Lacy outside.

  “If we’re not home when you get back, just come on in,” Tony called to them as they walked across the backyard. Grant raised a hand to let Tony know he heard him then waited as Lacy swung onto Star before he mounted Drew.

  “Thank you, Tony.” Lacy waved at him as she and Grant rode down the driveway and out onto the street. She turned her gaze to the banker at her side.

  He looked entirely handsome in his denims, soft chambray shirt, and plain brushed cotton vest. He wore a Stetson on his head and cowboy boots on his feet. If anyone saw him, they might mistake him for one of the cowboys around town instead of an esteemed banker.

  In need of a distraction from her attraction to the man, Lacy glanced around her. “It’s such a beautiful spring, isn’t it? The weather has been so lovely the last week.”

  “Lovely,” Grant repeated, lost in the light shining from Lacy’s dark eyes and the sunbeams glinting across her ebony hair. With determination, he shifted his gaze from her smooth cheeks and kissable lips to the road before them. They left Pendleton and rode southwest of town into the sagebrush and wheat-covered hills.

  “Where are we going today?” Lacy appreciated that Grant took her to different places on their rides together. Many of the areas she’d never seen, although they were all within an hour of Pendleton.

  “Not too much farther,” he said, pointing to two deer at the edge of a nearby field.

  Lacy nodded her head, acknowledging she’d seen the deer, but remained quiet.

  Grant rode up a steep incline and around a good-sized boulder before reining Drew to a stop.

  “Here we are.”
He quickly dismounted and started to offer his hand to Lacy but she easily slid off Star and looked around.

  “Where is here?” Her voice held a teasing lilt and her eyes twinkled with humor.

  “Here is on top of the world, or at least as close as we can get in an hour’s ride.” Grant waved his arm at the spectacular view below them.

  Lacy gazed down at a creek surrounded by trees and green grasses. In the distance, hills rolled up toward the sky. The air carried the scent of sagebrush and loamy earth coming to life after a long winter’s rest. Grant was right — she did feel like she was on top of the world.

  “It’s perfect.” Excited, she reached over and squeezed his arm, startled by the hard muscles beneath her fingers. She dropped her hands and stepped back, returning her attention to the surrounding landscape.

  “I’m glad you think it’s perfect, although I do believe something is needed before I can declare it so.” He removed his leather gloves and pulled a small box from his vest pocket, holding it out to Lacy. “Would you do me the honor, Miss Lacy Williams, of accompanying me to the ball at Dogwood Corners?”

  “Oh, Grant, I…” Lacy didn’t know what to say. She wanted to go with Grant more than anything, but she’d resigned herself to skipping the dance. She didn’t own a suitable gown and even castoffs from her cousins wouldn’t be fancy enough for a ball.

  Despite how much she longed to attend, particularly with Grant, she must refuse. “I’d love to go…” Joy filled Grant’s face so Lacy rushed to finish her sentence, “but I can’t.”

  “Can’t? Why not? Is there something in your traditions or religion that prohibits you from attending?” Concern etched grooves across his forehead. “I… I understand if it would…”