Читать книгу Midnight Rider - Diana Palmer - Страница 8

CHAPTER THREE

BERNADETTE FOUND HERSELF IN the exclusive Meriwether’s Dry Goods Store with no clear idea of what she was going to buy.

The brother of the owner, Mr. Clem Meriwether, who’d been the head clerk for as long as Bernadette could remember, met her at the door with a wide smile.

“Lovely to see you again, Miss Barron,” he said formally. “What can I help you with today?”

“My father sent me for a ball gown, Mr. Meriwether,” she said. “I don’t quite know—”

“But I have just the thing!” He chuckled as he led her inside. “And what a coincidence that it should arrive today. It’s from Paris, an original design which was intended for one of the Carson girls in Fort Worth, but she declined to accept it, and it was sent to us on consignment. I had no idea that anyone here would want it. We’re so distant from real society...” He turned and his ears seemed to go red. “Begging your pardon, miss, I never meant that your father wasn’t social or anything!”

“Think nothing of it, Mr. Meriwether,” she said with a gentle smile. “I didn’t take offense.” She didn’t think it prudent to add that her father would have gone right through the roof and canceled his account if he’d heard what the nice man had said.

“We heard about this ball he’s giving next month. Is it true that the Culhanes are coming all the way from El Paso?”

“Well, the parents, anyway,” she amended. “We understand that two of the three sons are vacationing together on a cruise, leaving one behind to watch the ranch property.”

“Still, it’s something of an honor for any of the Culhanes to travel so far for a party, yes?”

“Yes, it is,” she had to concede. “They’re staying at the ranch for a week, of course, along with the other guests.”

“Any other Texans on the guest list?” he probed gently as he took an elegantly trimmed box from a shelf.

“I’m not really sure,” she replied. “Father’s kept very quiet about his guest list. I think he wants to surprise me,” she added with just the right touch of mischief.

“That’s understandable. Is it your birthday?”

She shook her head. “It’s no real occasion,” she lied, not wanting to admit that her father was holding the ball primarily to auction off his daughter to the man with the most impressive title. “Just Father’s idea of a summer diversion, although he is saying that it’s a celebration of his new railroad acquisition.”

“So much the better.” He put the box down on the counter, opened it with a flourish and drew out the most exquisite gown Bernadette had ever seen in her life. She stopped breathing at the sight of it.

He chuckled. “No need to ask if you like it. If you’ll wait a moment, Miss Barron, I’ll get my wife to come and help you try it on.”

He stepped to the back of the store and called for Maribeth, a small, cheerful woman who came right along, drying her hands on a cloth.

“I’ve been putting up bread-and-butter pickles, Miss Barron. I’ll save you two or three jars for when you come next time.”

“Why, thank you!” Bernadette said, surprised by the offer.

“It’s nothing at all. Now, let me help you with this dress. Isn’t it lovely? And Clem never thought anyone around here would need such a grand gown! It’s actually from Paris, France, you know!”

The little woman babbled on as she led Bernadette back to the makeshift fitting room and helped her into the gown. It took a while, because there seemed to be a hundred tiny buttons to fasten. But once the gown was on, Bernadette knew that she’d have sold anything she owned to get enough money to buy it.

It was white, a delicious concoction of soft material that fell to her ankles in layers of lace and georgette, festooned by pink silk flowers and tiny blue bows. The bodice was draped with the same soft georgette and tiny puffed sleeves echoed the motif. Her shoulders were left bare and the tops of her pretty breasts were just visible. It was a seductive dress without being vulgar. Bernadette looked at herself in the mirror with pure awe.

“Is that me?” she asked, her heart pounding with excitement.

“Oh, my, yes,” Mrs. Meriwether said with a sigh. “What a delightful fit, and how it suits you! You must leave your hair down and tie it in back with a pink silk ribbon, my dear. I’ll show you how.”

“I’ve never worn my hair down,” she said doubtfully.

“It will be perfect with this gown. Here. Let me show you.”

She took down Bernadette’s elaborate coiffure and replaced it with a simpler one, offset by the pink satin ribbon she made from a length of the silky material. “There,” she said when she finished. “Do you see what I mean? It’s perfect with the dress.”

“Indeed it is,” Bernadette had to admit. She looked young and elegant and somehow vulnerable. She almost looked pretty. She smiled at herself and was surprised by the change it made in her rather ordinary features.

“And a fan to go with it,” the little woman was mumbling. “Where did I put that silk one...aha!”

She produced a fan so pretty that Bernadette fell in love with it at once. It was made of pale pink silk with elegant patterns of flowers, outlined in ivory lace. It was the most beautiful fan she’d ever seen.

“And these gloves, and that little purse. You’ll need shoes. Let’s see what we have....”

It was the most exciting hour of Bernadette’s life. By the time she had her purchases wrapped up and was ready to leave, she felt as if she’d been let out of prison. The ball would be the crowning glory of her life, despite her father’s matchmaking. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Eduardo’s face when he saw her!

* * *

HER FATHER DIDN’T TRUST Bernadette to make the arrangements for his ball, so he’d assigned them to Mrs. Maude Carlisle, a former social secretary to one of the Astors in New York, and the wife of a prominent retired army officer in San Antonio. Mrs. Carlisle was staying with friends in Valladolid for several weeks and she was overjoyed to help Mr. Barron plan his grand fete.

She knew exactly how to go about organizing things on a monumental scale, and she set to work at once. Two weeks later, she’d alienated half the staff on the Barron ranch. This didn’t bother Colston one bit. But Bernadette was overwhelmed with complaints. Everyone including Maria cried on her shoulder while the painstaking arrangements were made. There was a bakery to cater the confections, a local cook to cater the finger foods for the hors d’oeuvre table and flowers purchased from a greenhouse. No detail was overlooked or left undone. Bernadette did her best to stay out of the way of the ongoing madness.

She put on her riding skirt and had the stable boy saddle her pretty bay mare for her. She’d just mounted when her father came into the barn.

“And where are you going?” he demanded. “Mrs. Carlisle needs you to talk to Maria about the dinnerware.”

“Why?” she asked with some surprise.

“Maria’s suddenly forgotten how to speak English, that’s why!”

Silently, Bernadette applauded her friend’s initiative. That was one way to get around Mrs. Carlisle. “You know I don’t speak Spanish,” she lied without meeting his eyes. Actually, she’d kept her knowledge of that tongue a secret from her father as well as Eduardo, because it gave her a definite advantage when dealing with her father. She could talk to the staff in their own language whenever she liked. He couldn’t. He spoke only Gaelic and English.

“You could convince Maria at least to talk to the poor woman!”

“I’m going riding, Father,” she said. “I must get some fresh air in my lungs.”

He glared at her with suspicion. “You’re running away. It won’t do any good. Klaus Branner and Carlo Maretti are due here tomorrow on the train from Houston.”

Her heart jumped and she felt suddenly sick. “I’ve told you how I feel about this,” she said stiffly.

“And I’ve told you how I feel,” he said narrowly. “Eduardo hasn’t been near the place in two weeks,” he added, and refused to let her know how that worried him. He didn’t think much of her abilities to attract Europeans, but Eduardo had this way of looking at her just recently. He liked Eduardo, too, and respected him. It would have been the ideal match. He wondered why Eduardo had apparently changed his mind after their discussion. “It seems that he’s no longer in the running, my girl, so it’s my two candidates or else.”

What he said was true. Eduardo hadn’t come to call, which was very unusual for him, and Bernadette had worried herself sick about the reasons. It was impossible to invite herself to his ranch, so she waited in vain for him and watched her dreams disintegrate. She knew that without the hope of Eduardo as a suitor, her father would turn quickly to his other two candidates. As he had.

Bernadette stared down at him with a drawn face. “Maybe they won’t want me,” she said daringly.

“They’ll want you,” he replied tersely. “Because they want my money!”

She made one last attempt to reason with him. “Don’t you care if I’m happy or not, Father?” she asked miserably. “Don’t you care at all?”

His face closed up, went tight and hard. “I’m not happy,” he pointed out. “I’ve been alone and miserable for twenty years because of you!”

Her features contorted. “You aren’t blameless!”

He looked as if he might explode. “How dare you speak to me in such a way!” he blustered. “How dare you!”

Her lower lip trembled. She gripped her riding crop more firmly, until her knuckles went white. “I hope I never live long enough to treat a child of mine the way you’ve treated me,” she said huskily. “And I hope you live long enough to be sorry for it.”

He pulled himself up to his full height and glared at her. “That day will never come.”

She turned her horse and rode away, leaving him standing alone.

She couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so low and desperate. Eduardo was out of her reach, and her father’s candidates were to arrive the following day. She wondered if she could run away without being caught. It was a poor way to cope, but she knew that other young women in similar predicaments had done such things. If all else failed, it was one workable solution, even if her precarious state of health made it impractical.

* * *

SHE WAS DEEP IN THOUGHT, without any real idea of where she was going. This area of south Texas was mostly scrub brush and cacti, sand and dust and heat, even in the spring. But she loved the sense of freedom it gave her with all that long empty horizon in front of her. It was like looking at the stars at night; it made her little problems seem very insignificant. Right now, she needed that most of all. The imminent arrival of two titled Europeans made her sick to her stomach. Perhaps they wouldn’t like her. But if they needed money badly enough, they’d probably be willing to marry a scarecrow, a cow, anyone. Even her.

She guided the little mare toward the stream that crossed her father’s land. There were a few willow trees there, along with mesquite and some poplars. The leaves were the soft, pale green of new growth, and there was a breeze. It wasn’t as smoldering hot as it usually was, either. She dismounted under a big mesquite tree and tossed her flat-brimmed hat to one side as she bent to wet her handkerchief in the stream.

Birds called overhead and she wondered at their sudden burst of noise just as she heard hoofbeats approaching.

She turned, moving closer to her mount. It was a lonely place, and there were often bandits about. But as the rider approached, she recognized him at once and sighed with relief. As usual, a thrill of sheer joy went stabbing through her at the sight of him. He sat a horse like a soldier, very straight and proud, and she loved just looking at him.

“What are you doing out here alone?” Eduardo called curtly as he drew close.

His words breaking the spell she seemed to be under, she smiled ruefully. “I’m escaping Mrs. Carlisle.”

His eyebrows arched under the wide brim of his hat and he smiled. “Mrs. Carlisle?”

“She’s organizing the grand ball,” she informed him. “I’m trying to stay out of her way. So is everybody else. The whole staff may resign any minute now.”

“Shouldn’t your out-of-town guests be arriving soon?”

“My father’s handpicked matrimonial candidates arrive tomorrow,” she said with undisguised revulsion. “One’s German, the other’s Italian.”

“He invited them, then,” he murmured under his breath. This was a surprise. Colston Barron hadn’t seemed interested in other candidates for Bernadette’s dowry the last time he’d spoken with the man. Of course, he’d avoided the place like the plague since then. Guilt had kept him away; it disturbed him to think of using Bernadette for his own ends. He was ashamed of himself, of his less than noble motive, wooing a woman he didn’t love for the sake of financial gain. It was dishonest at best, and he was too honorable not to be suffering from a bad conscience.

“Of course he invited them,” Bernadette replied. She glanced at him sadly, with faint accusation. “You’re not one of his prospective hopefuls, by the way, in case you were wondering. That should be of some comfort to you.”

He pulled a cigar case from his shirt pocket and extracted one of the Cuban cigars he favored. He produced a small box of matches and lit it before he spoke. “I see.”

She wondered why he should suddenly look so thoughtful, so tense. He turned away and she studied his profile. Could he be upset because he wasn’t a candidate for her hand? She didn’t dare hope so. But what if he was?

He felt her avid gaze and turned to meet it. She colored prettily. “How are you going to feel about living abroad?” he asked.

“It’s that or find some way to support myself,” she said wearily. “My father says either I get married or I get out.”

“Surely not!” he exclaimed angrily.

“Well, he threatened to do it,” she replied. She rubbed the mare’s soft muzzle absently. “He’s determined to have his way in this.”

“And will you do what you’re told, Bernadette?” he asked quietly.

She looked up at him, red-cheeked. “No, I will not! Not if I have to take a job as a shop girl somewhere or work in a factory!”

“Your lungs would never survive a job in a cotton mill,” he said softly.

“The alternative is to be someone’s servant,” she replied miserably. “I couldn’t hold up to do that, either. Not for long.” She leaned her cheek against the horse’s long nose with a sigh. “Why can’t time stand still or go backward?” she asked in a haunted tone. “Why couldn’t I be whole instead of sickly?”

“I can’t believe that any father would cast off his daughter just because she refused to marry a candidate of his own choosing,” he said irritably.

“Isn’t it done in Spanish families all the time?”

He dismounted, cigar in hand, and moved to stand beside her. He was so much taller that she had to toss her head back to see his lean, dark face when he was this close.

“Yes, it is,” he replied. “In fact, my marriage was the result of such an arrangement. But American families usually don’t make those kinds of choices.”

“That’s what you think,” she replied. “It’s done all the time in the wealthier families. I knew a girl at finishing school who was forced to marry some rich French vintner, and she hated him on sight. She ran away, but they brought her back and made her go through with the ceremony.”

“Made her?”

She hesitated to tell him why. It was vaguely scandalous and one didn’t speak of such things in public, much less to men.

“Tell me,” he prompted.

“Well, he kept her out all night,” she said reluctantly. “She swore that nothing happened, but her family said she was ruined and had to marry him. No other decent man would have her after that, you see.”

His dark gaze slid down her slender form in the riding habit and he began to smile in a way he never had before. “How innovative,” he murmured.

“I went to the ceremony,” Bernadette continued. “I felt so sorry for her. She was in tears at her own wedding, but her father was strutting. Her new husband was a member of the old French nobility, the part that didn’t die in the Revolution and was later restored to its former glory.”

“Did she learn to accept this match?” he probed.

Her eyes clouded. “She hurled herself overboard on the ship taking them to France,” she said, and shivered. “Her body washed up on shore several days later. They said her father went mad afterward. She was his only child, and his wife was long dead. I felt sorry for him, but nobody else did.”

Eduardo smoked his cigar and stared at the muddy water of the stream. There had been a good rain the day before, and the ground was soaked. He felt oddly betrayed by what he’d heard. He wondered why Bernadette’s father had such a quick change of heart. Perhaps he realized that Eduardo wouldn’t be easily led in business, or perhaps he felt that a man who was half Spanish wasn’t the sort of connection he wanted to have. It stung Eduardo to think that Colston might feel he wasn’t good enough to marry his daughter.

“I’m sorry if I’ve embarrassed you,” she said after a long silence had fallen between them.

He gave her a level look. “You haven’t,” he said. “Why does your father care so little about your happiness, Bernadette?”

She glanced away, her gaze resting on the river. “I thought you must have heard long ago. My mother died having me,” she said. “He’s blamed me ever since for killing her.”

He made a rough sound in his throat. “What nonsense! God decides matters of life and death.”

She turned her gaze back on him. “My father doesn’t believe in Him, either,” she said with resignation. “He lost his faith along with my mother. All he believes in now is making money and getting a title in the family.”

“What a desolate, bitter life.”

She nodded.

He thought she looked very neat in her riding habit. Her hair was carefully pinned so that the wind barely had disarranged it. He’d always liked the way she sat a horse, too. His late wife could ride sidesaddle, but she could barely stay on. Bernadette rode like a cowboy.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked suddenly.

A corner of his mouth turned up. “Looking for strays. I can’t afford the loss of a single calf in my present financial situation.”

She frowned slightly. “Your mother married a millionaire, didn’t she?”

His eyes flickered, and his face went taut. “I don’t discuss my mother.”

She held up a hand. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that I thought since she got the ranch into its present difficulties with her spending, she might be willing to make amends.”

He didn’t soften. “She wouldn’t lift a finger to save it, or me,” he said coldly. “She held my father in contempt because he wouldn’t let her give lavish parties and have a houseful of guests staying for the summer. She drove him to such despair that he died...of a broken heart, I think, but I was young, only eight,” he mused, a terrible look in his eyes as he remembered the scene all too vividly. “My mother was with her latest lover at the time, so I was sent to Spain to live with my grandmother in Granada. When I was old enough, I came back here to reclaim my father’s legacy.” He shook his head. “I had no idea what a struggle it was going to be. Not that knowing would have stopped me,” he added.

She was fascinated by this glimpse at something very personal in his life. “They say that your great-grandfather built the ranch on an old Spanish land grant.”

“So he did,” he replied.

“Did your mother love your father?”

He shrugged. “She loved jewelry and parties and scandal,” he said through his teeth. “Embarrassing my father was her greatest pleasure in life. She adored notoriety.” He stared at her. “Your father said that your elder sister, as well as your mother, died in childbirth.”

Uncomfortable, she averted her eyes. Her hands clenched on the mare’s bridle. “Yes.”

He moved closer. “He also said that you’re afraid of it.”

Her eyes closed. She laughed without mirth. “Afraid? I’m terrified. It’s why I don’t want to marry. I don’t want to die.” It was true. Even her daydreams about Eduardo always ended with a chaste kiss, nothing more. Oddly, it didn’t occur to her to wonder why her father should have told him such a personal thing about the family.

Eduardo was studying her. She was slight, yes, he thought, but she had wide hips and she was sturdy. Surely the asthma would be infinitely more dangerous than her build in the matter of childbirth.

“Not every woman has a hard time with childbirth,” he said. “My late wife was much thinner than you, Bernadette, and she had an easy labor.”

She didn’t like talking about his wife. Her hand let go of the bridle. “I’ll bet she didn’t have a mother and a sister who both died that way.”

“She was an only child. Her mother is still alive.”

She turned, glancing at him. “Do you ever see her?”

He shook his head curtly.

“But, why?”

He didn’t want to talk about this, but it was unavoidable. Bernadette drew information out of him that no one else could have. “She was...put away.”

Her eyes widened. “Put away?”

“Yes.” A terrible look came into his eyes. “She’s quite mad.”

Her intake of breath was audible. “Heavens!”

He looked down at her. “Go ahead. Ask me,” he challenged when he saw her hesitation. “Surely you don’t mean to stop before you find out if my wife was deranged, as well?”

Her gaze fell before the anger in his. “I’m sorry. I don’t have the right to ask you such a thing.”

“When has that ever held you back?”

She colored. “Sorry,” she murmured again, and moved to remount the mare.

His lean hand caught her just as she lifted her foot toward the stirrup. He turned her and then let his hand fall. His eyes searched hers. “Consuela was quiet and introspective and very dignified,” he said at last. “If there was madness in her, it only surfaced once. And about that, I never speak,” he added tersely.

“Did you love her?” she asked with soft, curious eyes.

“I married her because my grandmother chose her for me, Bernadette,” he replied. His chin went up. “It was to be a merging of fortunes, a family alliance. Sadly, I had little of my father’s fortune left, and none of my mother’s. Consuela’s family had suffered devastating losses at their vineyards because of drought and a disastrous fire that killed the vines. Both families saw in me a way to mend the old fortunes. But there was too much against me.”

She wanted to comfort him, but she couldn’t think of a dignified way to do it. “How...how awful,” she said. “I guess the ranch means a lot to you.”

“It’s all that I have left of my own.”

“You’d do anything to save it, wouldn’t you?” she asked in a subdued tone.

“Not anything,” he said, and realized that it was true. He wasn’t going to pretend to be in love with Bernadette to get her to marry him. “Although a good marriage would probably save me from bankruptcy,” he added with faint insinuation.

She touched the saddle with a nervous hand. “Do you have a candidate in mind?”

“Oh, yes,” he said. That, at least, was the truth. “Here, let me help you mount.”

He assisted her into the saddle and rested his hand just beside her thigh while he looked up at her thoughtfully.

“Don’t come here alone again,” he cautioned. “There are bad men in the world, and you aren’t strong.”

She lifted the reins in her gloved hand. “Teddy Roosevelt had asthma as a child, you know,” she said. “He went to Cuba with his own regiment and fought bravely, and now he’s governor of New York State.”

“You’re thinking of following in his footsteps?”

She glanced down at him and chuckled softly. “No, I didn’t mean that. I only meant that if he could overcome such an illness, perhaps I can, too.”

“Nothing mends weak lungs,” he said. “You must take care of yourself.”

“I won’t need to do that. My father has chosen two impoverished noblemen to do it for me.”

He studied her thoughtfully. “Don’t let him push you into anything you don’t want,” he said, suddenly vehement. “Life is far too short to be tied to a mate with whom you have nothing in common.”

“Fine words coming from you,” she shot back. “You let yourself be railroaded into marriage.”

His eyes narrowed. “I didn’t see it that way. I stand to inherit a fortune at my grandmother’s death, all the family lands and vineyards in Andalusia and my grandmother’s share of an inheritance. It was thought that an alliance with Consuela’s family would simply increase the inheritance for our children and therefore ensure the future prosperity of the entire family. But these days my grandmother looks with more favor on my cousin Luis, who also married to please her and who has a son.”

She stared at him blankly. “Would it hurt you to lose her money?”

He seemed hard at that moment, harder than she’d ever seen him.

“Not at all, if I could save my ranch. If I can’t, I might end up as a vaquero working for wages.” His eyes went dead. “I’d rather steal food than beg for it. An advantageous marriage would spare me that, at least.”

She was mildly shocked. “I never thought of you as an opportunist.”

He laughed coldly. “I’m not, as a rule. But lately I’ve become a realist,” he corrected.

“If you loved someone...”

“Love is a myth,” he said harshly, “a fairy tale that mothers tell their children. My grandmother told me that my parents weren’t in love while they lived together. I was fond of my wife, but I had no more love for her than she had for me. If you want to know what I think of as love, Bernadette, it has more to do with bedrooms than wedding bands.”

She gasped and put her hand to her throat. “Eduardo!”

His eyebrows levered up. “Don’t you know what I’m talking about, or are you as green as you look?”

“You shouldn’t speak of such things to me!”

“Why not? You’re twenty.” His eyes narrowed. “Haven’t you ever felt the fires burn inside you with a man? Haven’t you ever wanted to know what happens in the dark between a man and a woman?”

“No!”

He smiled mockingly. “Then your father is truly hoping for a miracle if he means to wed you to European nobility. You will be expected to do your duty, of course. A man needs a son to inherit the title. Or didn’t that thought occur?”

“I can’t... I won’t...have a child!” she said, shaken.

“Then what use are you to a titled nobleman?”

“As much use as I am to my father,” she agreed. “Absolutely none. But he won’t stop matchmaking.”

“Won’t he?” His eyes averted to the horizon thoughtfully. “Perhaps he will, after all.”

“Don’t tell me—you’ve come up with a way to save me!”

He chuckled. “I might have, at that.” He studied her curiously. “But you might think you’ve given up the frying pan for the fire.”

“How so?”

He put a hand on her thigh and watched her squirm and struggle to remove it.

“I want you,” he said curtly. “An alliance between us could solve my problems and your own.”

She colored. “You...want...me?”

“Yes.” He caught her gloved hand in his and held it tightly. “You knew it that day in the conservatory when we stared at each other so blatantly. You know it now. Perhaps it’s a less than honorable reason for two people to marry—that you need saving from a cold marriage and I need saving from bankruptcy. But in my house, Bernadette, at least you’d be independent.”

“And you would save your inheritance.” She eyed him curiously. “You know that I’m the bookkeeper for our ranch, don’t you, and that I can budget to the bone?”

He smiled slowly. “Maria sings your praises constantly. And even your father has to admit that you manage his affairs admirably.” His black eyes narrowed. “Your quick mind with figures would be an asset to me as well, Bernadette. And the fact that I find you desirable is a bonus.”

She watched him with renewed interest. “You didn’t have to ask me this way,” she said, thinking out loud. “You could have courted me and pretended to be in love with me to get me to marry you, and I’d never have known the difference.”

“Yes, I could have,” he agreed at once. “But I’d have known the difference. That’s a low, vile thing for any man to do, even to save his livelihood.” He let go of her hand. “I offer you an alliance of friends and a slaking of passions, when,” he added wickedly, “you have the courage to invite me into your bed. There are advantages and disadvantages. Weigh them carefully and let me know what you decide. But decide soon,” he added intently. “There isn’t much time.”

“I promise you, I’ll think about it,” she said, trying to suppress her delight.

He nodded. He smiled at her. “It might not be so bad,” he mused. “I have a way with women, and you need someone to make you take care of yourself, as well as independence from your father. It could be a good marriage.”

“I’d still be a bargain bride,” she pointed out, despite her embarrassment at his bluntness.

“With a Spanish master,” he murmured, and grinned. “But I promise to be patient.”

She colored again. “You wicked man!”

“One day,” he told her after he’d mounted his own horse, laughing softly, “you may be glad of that. Adiós, Bernadette!”