Wesley zeroed in on his cousin who wore a grim expression. From what he could see, Martin was keeping close watch over Marcella.
Grumbling, Wesley stopped his pacing and peered toward the house once more. “There’s got to be something more I can do.”
“Calm yourself, Greystone,” Colt said. “Miss Bronson is putting on a splendid performance.”
“She has outdone herself this time. No longer is she a shy wallflower.”
“I agree.” Colt chuckled. “And I must admit, she is quite a beauty. It’s no wonder you had mistaken her for the wrong woman.”
Wesley grumbled and shook his head. “When will this dinner party end?”
A movement caught his attention and he swung the binoculars in that direction. One of the servants stumbled out of the side doors, holding a bottle of wine. Wesley rolled his eyes. Another one of Martin’s servants had been in his cousin’s collection again.
When the servant slumped by the side of the house, an idea popped into Wesley’s head. “Colt, I’m going inside the house.”
“Are you crazy?” Colt’s voice lifted.
“Hear me out first.” Wesley pointed in the direction of the servant who had passed out. “I need you to assist me as I change into that man’s clothes so that I can go inside and help serve Martin’s guests. You see, with me in there, I’ll be able to spread some gossip around about Martin, and in doing so, this will make the other men believe he’s not a respectable man. I’ll say that he’s losing money, or something along those lines.” He chuckled softly. “I’ll also be able to sway some of the men away from my blossom.” After realizing he’d said his nickname for her, he shook his head and added, “I mean, Miss Bronson.”
“Indeed, you are crazy.” Colt laughed.
Perhaps Wesley wasn’t thinking straight, but he felt helpless standing out in this thicket of trees doing nothing. Thankfully, within a half hour, Colt had assisted Wesley with undressing and redressing himself as a servant. Wesley even wore the man’s eyeglasses. Of course, he had to squint a little in order to see through them, but at least it altered his appearance slightly. Unless someone really studied Wesley, they wouldn’t know his true identity.
“I wish you the best of luck, because I honestly don’t see this ending well.” Colt slapped Wesley on the back. “I’ll be right here watching you and praying you don’t get noticed.”
“I’ll do my best to blend in.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
Colt’s laughter followed Wesley as he made his way toward the house. He didn’t understand what his friend thought was so comical. Wesley couldn’t wait until a woman caught Colt’s interest. Then Wesley would see what strange—or ridiculous—stunts his friend would accomplish to protect a woman.
Trying to act like a servant, Wesley kept his gaze down most of the time, only glancing up on occasion. He moved through the kitchen to collect a tray of champagne glasses, before quickly leaving to enter the room where Marcella and the others were.
He took his time, moving from person to person. Just as he’d assumed, none of them really looked directly at him. He did recognize some of the men from his early years of drinking and carousing with Colt, and he prayed they wouldn’t remember him.
Three men grouped together, whispering about something as they cast glances toward Martin who stood across the room chatting with another man. Wesley moved to the group of three and held out his tray of champagne.
“And I heard,” one of the men said, “that he had something to do with the deaths of his cousins and uncle just to obtain the Greystone ranch.”
Wesley tried not to grin. Perhaps coming into the party to spread false gossip was futile after all. At least Martin’s friends were already suspicious.
“The death of his family is a touchy subject around Martin.” Another man nodded as he took a flute of champagne from Wesley’s tray.
“Forgive me for interrupting,” Wesley said in a low voice. “But would you be interested in another little tidbit about Mr. Hinsdale—from a servant’s perspective, of course.”
At first the expressions on their face let Wesley know they were rather shocked that a mere servant would speak so boldly, but within seconds their expressions changed to that of interest and they nodded.
Wesley continued, “Some of the staff are saying that he was low on funds before his uncle and cousins died.”
The tall man snickered and shook his head. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve seen him at the gaming tables. He acts as if his bank account has no limit.”
Inwardly, Wesley seethed. That was supposed to be his money. “My point exactly,” he continued in a low voice. “He doesn’t do well at the gaming tables and so he is losing money fast.”
The three men traded glances in silence. Wesley knew he’d planted the seed of doubt in them, and that was worth the risk of being caught.
“If you will excuse me.” Wesley bowed and moved away. He figured those three men would tell others and by the end of the evening, nobody would offer for Marcella’s hand.
He paused, covertly scanning the room in hopes of seeing her, but he couldn’t. Panic engulfed him, and he snapped his head around, doing another quick search. Finally, he saw her in the corner of the room talking with Mr. Fisher. Wesley quickened his step and headed toward them. Just as he reached the two, he heard her lovely voice, and it calmed him greatly.
Fisher was a small pudgy man who stood as if he was in competition with some prince from a foreign land. Both Fisher and Marcella had champagne flutes in their hand.
“I would enjoy taking you hunting with me,” Fisher said with a smile. “Your brother-in-law tells me you love to hunt.”
She tilted her head slightly and narrowed her eyes. “He really told you I enjoyed hunting... animals?”
The man chuckled. “But of course. What else is there to hunt?”
She gasped and placed her hand on her throat. “Oh, Mr. Fisher How inhumane of you to hunt for mere sport.” She shook her head. “I suppose my brother-in-law meant well, because I do love animals. However, I love them as pets, not to hunt as mere objects for prizes only.”
“Pets?” He smirked.
“When I go riding every morning, I love to feed the deer and the birds.” She added to the dramatics with a heavy sigh. “I enjoy all types of animals. In fact,” she tapped her finger on her chin, “if I could figure out a way to remove that terrible scent from a skunk, I would love to have that as an indoor pet. They are such lovely creatures.”
Wesley quickly put his hand to his mouth to keep a laugh from blurting out. He couldn’t believe Mr. Fisher wasn’t laughing, too. But thankfully, the middle-aged man took Marcella seriously. The man’s eyes were wide with surprise and irritation.
“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Fisher snapped.
“Oh,” she hitched a breath. “Forgive me for saying this, Mr. Fisher, but that was quite rude of you to say.”
“I speak what’s on my mind, Miss Bronson.”
“As do I.” She gave him a sharp nod. “And with that being said, I can see that you wouldn’t make a very good husband at all, so if you will excuse me, I won’t waste anymore of your precious time.”
“Indeed, my time is extremely precious.” He bowed and left her side as if dogs were nipping at his heels.
Marcella blew out an exasperated breath and rolled her eyes. Her cheeks were red, and mouth was pinched in a fine line. Wesley could see she was tired of this evening already. So was he. Too bad they couldn’t figure out a way to end it sooner.
“More champagne, Miss Bronson?” he asked holding out the tray to her.
“Yes, thank you.” She glanced at him before placing her empty flute on the tray and taking another. “You cannot believe how much I need this right now.” She sipped the drink.
“I could tell you did, Miss Bronson.”
She passed him a smile before looking away. His hopes sank. In a way, he wanted her to notice him, but it wo
uldn’t be good if she had.
He frowned and prepared to step back, but then she inhaled abruptly and swung her attention back to him. Wide eyes met his and she slid her gaze over his face in close perusal. Gradually, the color in her face faded and she shook her head.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered.
Gladness filled his heart and he smiled wide. “I couldn’t stay away.”
She shifted her attention and scoped out the room. “What if someone notices you? What if Martin—”
“Shhh,” he said and gently touched her arm. “If we don’t make a scene, nobody will believe differently.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Only a few minutes.”
“You need to leave.” She sipped her drink.
“Can you sneak out of the room for a moment?”
“Don’t be silly,” she said with a chuckle. “Being the only woman in this room, I think I would be missed if I left.”
“Tell Martin you are going to use the... um, the powder room.”
Marcella’s face turned dark red. “Wesley,” she whispered. “I highly doubt this is a proper conversation—”
“Just do it.” He winked. “I’ll meet you down the corridor just before you enter the music room.”
He turned and made his way out of the party, not looking back to see if Marcella was coming, only because he knew she would.
ELEVEN
The heat in Marcella’s face grew to the point of making her head throb. Sometimes Wesley could say things that would take her unawares and leave her tongue-tied. However, she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed his company, and she loved how he could make her smile and laugh.
Although it completely embarrassed her, she informed Martin that she was stepping out to visit the powder room. Once she was out of the room, she hurried down the hall. Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she moved in the direction Wesley had given her. With each step, her heart hammered faster, and she became more anxious.
When she neared the music room, she slowed, listening for any sounds around her, especially those voices from Martin’s acquaintances. Thankfully, no one took it upon themselves to follow her.
“I’m in here.”
She swung her head toward the door of the music room. It opened enough for her to see a section of Wesley’s face. She hurried inside and closed the door behind her. When she finally was able to get a good look at him, she nearly laughed. He was dressed as a servant—minus the glasses he wore earlier—but not any servant she had ever encountered. The taut material of his servant’s shirt outlined every muscle of his shapely physique even as his every movement threatened to burst the seams of his pants in a most indecent manner. To think none of Martin’s guests even questioned why a servant would wear ill-fitting clothes.
“This has got to be the worst decision you have made since we met.” She shook her head. “Do you know how dangerous it is for you to be here?”
He grasped her hands and pulled her closer until she had to tilt her head back to look at him.
“Marcella, thanks for being so concerned about my welfare, but you don’t have to worry.”
She sighed. “How can I not worry? You have done so much to try and protect me. It’s only natural I should return the gesture.”
He caressed her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “I watched you from outside and you were putting on a great performance. When I overheard you talking to Mr. Fisher, I wanted to laugh. I believe, my blossom, that you were throwing the men off quite nicely without my help.”
She ran her palms up and down his arms. “As much as it thrills me to hear you say that, I’m still worried you will be discovered. I think you need to leave. I don’t want you getting caught.”
His dark eyebrows lifted. “How am I supposed to get caught when no one knows we are in here?”
Chuckling, she shook her head. “You never know who will want to sneak through the house. Perhaps one of the servants, or it could be one of Martin’s very intoxicated friends who become lost.” She shrugged. “I just don’t want to take that chance.”
He nodded. “Then I’ll go because I don’t want to worry you any further.” He touched a finger to the tip of her nose. “But before I go, I want a kiss that will last me throughout the night.”
Her heart melted as she slid her hands around his neck, leaning in closer. “An enduring kiss you shall have, my dearest Wesley.”
Their mouths joined in unison, and as before, excitement shot through her. She didn’t know if it was because this incredible man was kissing her again, or if it was the prospect of being discovered. Yet, it didn’t matter. She didn’t want anything to disrupt her happiness right now.
In the other times before, he started their kisses soft, but now he kissed her as though he was hungry for more. A spark of desire and longing took over in her soul, and she wished she could keep him with her all night. Forever, in fact.
Improper ideas filled her head, and she tried to push them away. She wasn’t married to this incredible man. Being intimate with him like this would create such a scandal, and if caught, it would ruin her reputation. Men in his standing usually jumped such disgraces with ease, but there was no way a woman could avoid such gossip.
Before she could muster up the courage to break the incredible kiss, the floor outside the music room squeaked and the door swung open. A loud gasp hit the wall in a thundering surprise, ricocheting around the room.
Marcella jumped in Wesley’s arms, but he didn’t remove his hold. Instead, they both faced the intruder, ready for battle.
WESLEY’S HEART RACED. At this moment, he didn’t know if it was more from the pleasure he felt while kissing Marcella or because he’d just been caught in an embrace. As he focused on their unexpected visitor, he regulated his breathing and his mind. He needed a clear head in order to figure out a way to get out of this mess.
“What is going on here?” Martin’s voice boomed through the room as he stared at Wesley. Seconds later, the man’s eyes widened, and color left his face. “Wesley? You are.... alive?”
“I am, cousin.” Wesley moved away from Marcella and walked to Martin. “And I’m here to take back my ranch and all the money that went with it.”
Martin turned and closed the door to keep their conversation private.
Wesley folded his arms behind his back and paced, allowing the silence of the room to weigh uncomfortably on his cousin. “I’m sure seeing me alive has come as quite a shock.”
“It has. My mother had sent me a letter to let me know that you might be alive, but...” He shrugged. “I don’t listen to rumors.”
“As you can see, I am alive.” Wesley stopped directly in front of Martin. Wesley leaned closer and added, “And I don’t expect to die anytime in the near future.”
“I’m certain most of us feel that way.”
“So, in light of what’s happened, I want to resume my life, which of course means taking back my ranch. I’ve noticed you have fired all my workers and brought some of your own.” Wesley slapped Martin’s arm, hoping to get a response, especially if he was the man Wesley shot that day someone had tried to kill him. “That will change quickly.”
“I understand.” Martin frowned and stared at the floor.
Wesley bunched his hands into fists by his sides. Martin hadn’t cringed or cried out at all. The man walked without a limp and didn’t show any gestures to make Wesley think he was still healing from a gunshot wound.
No, this couldn’t be right. The man should be in as much pain as Wesley still endured. Unless.... Had he been wrong to think Martin had killed Wesley’s father and brother?
He wouldn’t change his mind until he found proof that Martin didn’t kill his family.
“And one more thing,” Wesley added. “You will get rid of the idea of selling your sister-in-law to the highest bidder. She is free to marry any man she wants. And, you won’t frighten her little cousin ever again.”
Martin’s exp
ression hardened. “Greystone, I don’t care if you take back the ranch and money because after all, it’s yours. However, Marcella and Lottie are my responsibility. Not yours. I’ll do with them as I see fit.”
Wesley glanced at Marcella. Fear registered on her face. His heart dropped and anger consumed him. He swung his gaze back to his cousin. “If that’s the way you feel, then I’ll take Marcella home to the ranch with me. I’m also taking Lottie.”
Marcella tugged on Wesley’s arm. “You can stay in the guesthouse tonight. Traveling that far after dark isn’t safe.”
Wesley aimed a glare at Martin. “Is that all right with you?”
Martin flipped his hand. “Do as you wish. I want my life back to normal, and the sooner you take my sister-in-law and Lottie, the better things will be around here.”
Martin pushed past Wesley and hurried out of the room.
Wesley didn’t dare sigh with relief. Not yet, and definitely not until his cousin was arrested for murder.
MARCELLA YAWNED AND stretched as she shifted in bed. Immediately, her mind turned to Wesley. She prayed he was able to get some rest last night and she hoped Martin didn’t try to bother him... or attempt to kill him again.
It had only taken thirty minutes after Martin left the house for the rest of the party to depart. Wesley held Marcella a little longer than what was considered proper, but she didn’t care since there was nobody around to judge them. He gave her a steamy kiss before she retired in her room for the night.
It had worried her because Wesley was still seeking justice, and rightly so. And yet, she didn’t know how far he’d go to get it.
He’d shown signs last night of his leg bothering him, and although she told him to keep his limb elevated for a while, he refused. He’d told her that there was too much for him to do first. She begged him to see a doctor, and he promised he would... after Martin was arrested.
As Marcella moved to the closet to find something to wear for the day, the bedroom door opened, and her maid walked in carrying a tray of tea and muffins.
Mail Order Marcella Page 7