by Dawn Brower
“Mr. Nash?” Samuel came out of the barn.
Fletcher glanced around. “Didn’t realize I was home already.”
“You’ve been sitting on Oro here for a couple of minutes. Are you all right?” Samuel narrowed his eyes at Fletcher. “Have you been drinking?”
“A little. Will you take care of Oro for me?” The ground seemed farther away than he remembered and he stumbled when his right foot made contact.
“I hope you’re off to bed.” Samuel took Oro’s reins.
Samuel didn’t approve of drinking under any circumstances.
“I’m off to see Miss Strange.” He took off his hat. “If you’ll see to my horse.”
“I’ll take care of him, but it is getting late, Mr. Nash. You should reconsider seeing Miss Strange in your condition.”
“I’m fine. Thank you.” He wobbled as he walked, but he owed Miss Strange an apology. She would get it. Tonight. Now.
He put one foot in front of the other and made his way up to the house. Through the servant’s entrance at the back. Although he’d been inside this area plenty, he had no idea where they might have stashed Miss Strange. Upstairs, perhaps. His mind swirled like water going down a drain. Was she in bed? Was it too late to call on her?
“Mr. Nash?” Mrs. Lusk came through the doorway that led to the kitchen. “Is everything all right?”
He swayed, though he tried to stand straight. “I’m in need of a moment with Miss Jange.”
“Erm, Miss Strange, you mean?”
“Yes. Strange. Her. If you’d tell her.” He removed his hat and held it in both hands.
“Are you inebriated?” Mrs. Lusk narrowed her eyes. “You seem out of sorts.”
“I had a drink or two, but I’m perfectly sorted, ma’am.”
“If she wishes to see you, then you can meet in the parlor. Give me a moment to fetch her.” Mrs. Lusk turned away. “I hope you mean to make it quick. It’s getting rather late.”
The parlor. He’d been there on his first visit to the house to finalize the contract Camprich had offered. He hadn’t been back since. The outdoors was his domain, not some carpeted, velvet-draped sitting room where rich folk rubbed elbows.
He followed Mrs. Lusk, but instead of going upstairs, he turned for the main part of the manor. The damned thing had so many rooms and they were hardly ever used. It wasn’t like Camprich was bothering to fill his house with children.
“I would. Little ones everywhere if I could. That’s what Rosalyn wanted.” Unexpected tears blurred his vision.
The parlor was dark, but a key on the wall offered gas to fill the lamps. He winced as he turned it up too high. The bright lights tortured his eyes. Not unlike the stage lights in the arenas where he’d performed in the shows.
“Ladies and gentleman, we are proud to present to you one of the fastest guns in the West! Fletcher Nash.”
The echo of Wild Bill’s voice rang in his head. He’d tear into the arena on Oro’s back, shooting at targets as his trusty steed raced past them. Early in his career, he’d never missed. As the drinking took hold, his aim disintegrated faster than the targets.
“Mr. Nash?” Miss Strange entered the parlor. She recoiled when she caught a whiff of him. “Have you been drinking?”
Small in stature, but curvy, the dressing gown she wore closed up to her throat left none of her figure untouched.
“Miss Strange. I have something to say to you.”
“This is unusual. It couldn’t have waited for tomorrow? I wasn’t expecting company. In fact, it’s probably improper to meet with you, but I feared something was the matter.” Her slender brows drew together over her frown. “It’s not Little Dan, is it?”
“It’s not the pony. It’s us. This couldn’t wait. Rosalyn demanded prompt apologies. You’re nothing like her.”
The frown grew. “I’m sorry? Who is Rosalyn?”
“My wife.”
Her nose scrunched and her eyes narrowed. “Your wife? You previously claimed to be single. I’m sorry. This is all very strange and you’re not making any sense. There’s an odor of liquor about you and I think it’s clouding your mind. I’m going to bed. Good night, Mr. Nash.”
“She died. In childbirth. Back in Texas.” The words tumbled from him. “She was fearless. I don’t like to talk about her because…” He tapped his chest. “No one could compare.”
A tremble shook her frame and she took a step backward. “I’m still uncertain what this has to do with me. It doesn’t matter. Please leave. On your own before I call for someone else to remove you. Don’t seek me out again.”
“I want to apologize. For earlier when I left so quick. I figured I insulted you. Made you feel like what you want out of life isn’t important. Those people who took you into their house, they did the same thing. I’m not like them, Miss Jange—Strange. Rosalyn would have loved you.”
“Apology accepted. Please go.” She pointed at the doorway.
“I don’t think you mean it. You just want me to leave. Jayne.” He took a step toward her. “Hear me out. I feel bad about what I said. That you ought to see the world. You should get married instead. Find a husband, raise some kids. That’s what I wanted.” Until Rosalyn died.
“Oh, yes. I’ll run right out and catch a handsome bachelor. I think you’ve forgotten the part where men are not too impressed with me. Not that it’s any of your concern.” She folded her arms. “I’m finished with this conversation.”
“I’m impressed with you.”
She lifted her chin. “You would probably be impressed with a fish right now. That’s only the liquor talking. Tomorrow you’re going to regret all parts of this evening.”
“I only regret talking to you like that and leaving in a huff.”
Grey eyes narrowed at him. “I said it’s forgiven. We all have off days. Yours seems to have gotten even worse. You need to go to bed.”
Although starchy and aloof in her dressing gown, Miss Strange still managed to intrigue him. “Are you offering?”
Her palm cracked against his cheek. He’d taken worse blows, but it caught him off guard enough to turn his head.
“Ouch.” He rubbed the offended spot and leaned against the wall. “I’m a rogue, Miss Strange. I thought women liked that.”
“Not the sensible ones!” She balled her fists. “You’re making a fool of yourself. I am leaving now. Not another word out of you.”
Her angry pout drew him like a thirsty horse to water. So much emotion brewed behind the pewter grey of her eyes. He snagged her arm as she passed him. Whirled her into his embrace. Defiant eyes shined up into his, but before she could berate him, he lowered his mouth to hers. Silenced that protest. The flavor of tea lingered on her lips. Miss Strange didn’t resist. She pressed closer to him, held the kiss. Her soft lips crushed against his. Though somewhat clumsy, she was passionate.
Lust shocked straight through him. The first time he’d felt that since the last time Rosalyn had kissed him. Ros…
He let his arms drop from her sides.
Miss Strange backed away. “That was—you devil! You’re no rogue, but a villain!”
She lifted the hem of her dressing gown, then fled the room.
Fletcher rubbed the spot where her palm had connected with his cheek. He’d played both the hero and the villain in Wild Bill’s show. All the grief and drinking had convinced him that he was neither. That without Rosalyn, without their daughter, he was nothing. How could he replace them?
Chapter 5
Jayne yanked her brush through her hair. Her mind reeled with all the things she wanted to say to Fletcher Nash. How dare he grab her like a common strumpet? How dare he kiss her in the parlor where anyone might catch them? The scandal! She had a reputation to maintain. If anyone told her employers about it, she could lose her position.
She’d witnessed the misbehavior of many inebriated men. Mr. Nash’s advances were not surprising, but they were hurtful. The things he’d blurted out about his wife and how no
woman could compare were sad. But to kiss her after. Jayne shook her head.
This was not some Wild West novel. Some over glorified romance book where they would fall in love and spend the rest of their days together. She couldn’t afford to dally with a man, not when her very life depended on this job and the recommendations it might bring.
As much as she wanted a family, it was an unlikely dream.
From here on out, she would send Bethany to the stables on her own. She would never be able to persuade the child to give up her beloved horse, but she couldn’t risk further contact with Mr. Nash.
One small kiss wouldn’t make her fall in love with him. It couldn’t turn her desire for friendship into something else. He hadn’t even asked permission, for heaven’s sake. Surely a true gentleman would have waited for some sign that a woman was ready to be kissed.
Jayne groaned, folded her arms on the vanity, and rested her forehead on them. If only Lizette were here and they could discuss such things. She might have been only an accessory to Lizette, but they had been friends. Able to discuss romance and handsome men and what hopes they had for the future.
Leave it to her to find the one man in all of England who unsettled her. Her entire evening had been a confused jumble of emotion. She’d barely slept, partly from fear, partly from the annoying desire to kiss him again, and mostly because she should have slapped him again—only harder the second time.
Mr. Nash’s name came up repeatedly throughout the day. Perhaps Jayne had failed to notice before because she’d enjoyed his company, but each time Bethany said it now, she tried not to cringe. No amount of pleading from the little girl could get her to go to the stables. Even as Bethany fumed because Jayne refused to go to see Little Dan or the other horses, she remained steadfast.
Fortunately, Mr. Nash made no attempts to see her again or make any kind of apology. She hoped he suffered shame from the incident…if he even remembered it.
When she sent Bethany out about three weeks after the episode, Mrs. Lusk cornered her.
“I don’t know if you’re aware, Miss Strange, but Miss Bethany is having her birthday in a month. I had hoped for word that her parents would return in time to help celebrate, but there’s been no sign so far. I wondered if you would help us prepare a party for her.”
“I would be delighted, Mrs. Lusk. She did mention the day I started that her birthday was coming up. I’m glad I can be of service in helping her celebrate.”
Mrs. Lusk beamed. “Very good! I’ll assign you a list of duties. Some of them may involve going to town to fetch a few things. You don’t mind?”
“No, I’m happy to do it. Whatever we need to make Bethany’s birthday a success.” Her own birthday hadn’t been much of a day to remember. Far be it from her to let a young girl’s go to waste.
“Wonderful. I actually had a favor to ask of you today, if you’re available.” Mrs. Lusk removed a list from her pocket. “Normally I would wait for Mr. Nash to tell me he was going to town, but the cook is in need of a few fresh herbs for supper this evening. He’s rather temperamental about not having them.”
She froze at the mention of Mr. Nash’s name.
Mrs. Lusk pushed the list toward her. “While you’re at the shop, could you look for a bottle of the vanilla Miss Bethany likes in her oatmeal? The cook used the last of it this morning.”
“Mr. Nash wouldn’t be going to Upper Enggate with me?” She folded her fingers around the paper.
“He’ll drive the dog cart. I do hope you don’t mind. He was certainly out of his head that night he came here looking for you. But there’s not a one of us here who thinks he’d do something scandalous. He’s grieving, poor Mr. Nash. Lost his wife a few years ago. The dear thing hasn’t recovered well.” Mrs. Lusk shook her head. “Lord Camprich brought him here because he has a marvelous reputation for handling horses, but he had a bit of a drinking problem in the beginning.”
“It just occurred to me that I need to…” She struggled to think. “I have to plan lessons for tomorrow. Somehow it got away from me. I shouldn’t go to town today, Mrs. Lusk. I’m very sorry.”
“Oh, please? Miss Bethany won’t eat the oatmeal without the vanilla. There’s nothing we can use to substitute it.”
“Can’t someone else go?” Surely someone was available to fulfill the request. “Or perhaps serve her a different breakfast?”
Mrs. Lusk’s face fell. “I suppose you’re right. She could have any other thing in the morning, but her parents believe oatmeal is best. It sticks to the ribs. And supper will be bland without those herbs, but we’ve all suffered worse, I’m sure.”
Guilt weighed on Jayne’s shoulders. “I’m truly sorry, Mrs. Lusk. I would help if I could. You know Bethany’s education is as important as any meal.”
“How will she ever commit to learning without something in her little belly?”
Jayne had never wanted to use a swear word as much in her life. “Oh, all right. If you’re going to insist on it.”
Mrs. Lusk’s smile brightened the entire room. “Thank you! I’m sorry to push you into it, but I don’t feel right about any meal going unflavored. The cook would be so disappointed if no one could go this evening.”
“He owes me a favor. I’ll be sure to remind him when I return.”
“I’ll tell him, Miss Strange, although I’m sure he’ll be most eager to comply. You’ve saved supper and breakfast. I’ll have one of the helpers run along to inform Mr. Nash to hitch up the dog cart. You should fetch a bonnet to keep the sun from your face.”
She’d learned long ago that it was easier to give in to pressure than listen to someone—Lizette—complain. If only anyone other than Mr. Nash was taking her to town. She climbed the steps to her room and fetched the bonnet as Mrs. Lusk had suggested.
Dread settled into her stomach. What if Mr. Nash attempted to kiss her again? They would be alone and anything might happen. Perhaps she could get Bethany to come back from the paddock to accompany them.
She dawdled at the mirror in front of her vanity. Plain Jayne had scarcely looked so dull as she did today. Boring grey dress, though it was a soft muslin, defined her figure. Lady Easton had her fitted for a corset, though Jayne hardly bothered with it. It had given her some curves, but really, when one was practically a stick straight up and down, it seemed a silly thing to bother with a corset.
The grey cloth made her complexion seem dull. She gave her cheeks a quick pinch, though she looked rather ill instead of invigorated. The bonnet covered her mousy hair. Decorated with only boring white flowers, it did little to improve the brown straw.
Perfect clothing to blend in, to make others stand out. The way she looked Mr. Nash would likely forget she was sitting beside him in the dog cart. Perfect.
She made her way outside, surprised to find Mr. Nash waiting.
He wore his usual garb, a loose-fitting maroon shirt tucked into tan duck pants. A vest and jacket covered his chest. The ever-present cowboy hat sat on his head. He touched the brim and nodded at her. “Miss Strange.”
“Mr. Nash.” She climbed into the dog cart without help. “I have a list of things to get per Mrs. Lusk’s request. I expect this journey to be all business.”
“No passing of pleasantries along the way?” Amusement came through his Texas drawl. “I’m hurt.”
“I doubt it.”
He climbed up beside her, but kept his distance as much as the seat allowed. “I’ve made an ass of myself. I had no business seeking you out the other night. No business kissing you. I made you uncomfortable.”
“You did. You spoke of your wife. I doubt she would have admired your rough nature that night. In fact, I dare say she would have been disappointed in you.” Perhaps it was cruel to bring up the woman he so clearly missed.
He set Duff into motion.
“On that account, you’re right. Rosalyn would have raised her hand to me if I’d done something so bold and uncouth to her before we married. It was foolish and impulsive. I won
’t ask for your forgiveness. I don’t deserve it. The whole incident must have unsettled you.”
“I was unsettled.” In more ways than one. “You should refrain from drinking.”
He lowered his gaze. “I nearly always do. A beer here or there, but that night I had whisky. It was a poor decision.”
“Indeed.” She folded her hands together on her lap. “Although, you do have my forgiveness if you promise nothing of the sort will happen again.”
“You have my word.” He smiled. “Rosalyn would have liked you. You have spirit.”
“Thank you. I think. I’m sorry for your loss. It must have taken a terrible toll on your life to lose her. And your child.” She bit her lip. “A son or a daughter?”
“Daughter.” He sounded a little hoarse. “She would be younger than Bethany. It both makes me happy and pains me to watch her grow, knowing my girl never got the chance.”
“That’s why you’re so fond of her.”
“Yes. She makes it easy to like her. Hard to overlook her. It’s helped me get over my grief by assisting her with riding. Teaching her things I can’t teach my own child.” His knuckles were white on the reins and his eyes appeared moist.
“I can’t imagine the pain you feel. Death touches us all in some way. I barely remember my mother. As far as I know, my father was never there. It’s not the same as losing the future you must have envisioned. No wonder you left America.”
He cleared his throat. “I never planned to. I thought I might stay with Bill Cody until I died. Or drank myself to death, which was the most likely outcome. It seemed a reasonable way to drown my suffering.”
What a terrible fate for a man so young. “But Lord Camprich found you.”
“During one of my better moments. He’d seen me shooting during a couple of the shows. And I was helping break horses for Cody. Some of them turned out nicely. Nearly as good as Oro. He said I had a way with them and he had a place where a touch like mine was needed.”