Читать книгу To Love A Texan - Georgina Gentry - Страница 9

“Hell!” Brad muttered as he watched Lillian Primm sashay to her buggy and get in. She was the damndest woman he had ever met. Worse yet, she intended to ruin him financially by meddling at the Lily and thereby cutting into his business. He watched her drive away, head high. She reminded him of her aunt, not very pretty, fiery red hair and stubborn as an army mule. “Lil, what a joke you played on me.”

Or had she? Certainly Lil McGinty had really expected the school-marm to accept the money and never find out that her aunt was the madam of the most successful bordello in all east Texas. In point of fact, he was a little miffed with Lil. He had thought she would leave him a lot more than she had because they had been such good friends.

Dewey shook his gray head and smoked his pipe. “You really think there’s anything to that old tale about Lil hiding money in the house?”

Brad made an exasperated sound. “Oh, hell, she never said anything to me, and who knows what she did with all her profits? For all I know, she put it in a bank in Beaumont or Dallas to fund a home for stray cats.”

“No, some of it funded…” Dewey started to say something, seemed to think better of it. “You’re right about one thing, Brad, I never saw such a stubborn woman. Wait ’til the local boys hear about her plans. There’ll be more hell raised than the alligator did when the lake went dry.”

“Oh, she ain’t gonna reform the girls.” Brad snapped as he returned to the window to watch Miss Primm driving down the street, posture straight and head high. Inside, he wasn’t so sure. Besides being stubborn, Miss Primm seemed like a very determined and opinionated woman. Worse yet, she had morals and principles and hadn’t turned into a giggling, swooning idiot who went to mush when he smiled at her.

Dewey stood up. “Reckon I’d better not tell the boys at the pinochle game just yet. We don’t want the whole male population to go into a panic.”

Brad reached for his Stetson. “Don’t tell ’em,” he snapped, “because it ain’t gonna happen. I’m in charge at the Lily and if Prissy Primm thinks she’s gonna change things, she’s got another think comin’. She’ll find out Brad O’Neal ain’t a man to be messed with.”

“She beginnin’ to get under your skin?” Dewey grinned.

“Hell, no,” Brad growled, “I ain’t gonna give her another thought. She ain’t pretty and she’s too damned smart for a woman.”

The two walked to the door.

Dewey said “I don’t envy you, my boy, having to deal with that stern old maid.”

“I may just kill her,” Brad thought aloud.

“They’d throw you in jail.”

“Not if the jury met her,” Brad said. “They’d probably want to give me a medal. I reckon I can make it so miserable for her at the Lily, she won’t stay long. In the meantime, I reckon I’d better get the locksmith.”

“Luke will be at the pinochle game,” Dewey reminded him.

“Oh, hell, I forgot about that. Well, tell him to come over tonight or first thing in the mornin’. I ain’t about to have anyone in town think I might want to get into that old maid’s drawers. I got a reputation to uphold. See you later, Dewey.” He went out and swung up into the saddle of his fine black stallion, then rode toward the big Victorian house at the end of the street. As he neared it, he saw Herman, the goat, munching day-lilies and grass out near that damned old rusty bird bath. Why would Lil have thought he wanted that? No, Lil had played a joke on him, all right. And to think he’d given her that little diamond lily pin to celebrate her birthday.

He rode to the stable around back, turned his horse over to the young Mexican boy, José, and went in through the back door. He walked into the main room and stood studying the open balcony over the big gambling room. The railing Lil had fallen through had been repaired. Funny she should have fallen when she had walked along the balcony a thousand times. However, that hall light had been off; maybe it had run out of kerosene and maybe she’d tripped in the dim light. Even now, he could remember looking up when she screamed, and seeing her coming down to hit one of the billiard tables. She might have been okay except her head caught the eight ball. Rotten luck.

Brad had scrambled to his feet and rushed to the table, but there was nothing that could be done. Immediately, girls and their customers had run out of upstairs rooms to peer over the balcony, screaming and asking what had happened. Brad had even thought he’d seen that damned Lieutenant Fortenbury among them, although Brad wasn’t certain. If so, the lieutenant must have sneaked in, because the Texas Lily had been off limits to the young twerp after Brad had caught him cheating at cards and the officer had welshed on a number of gambling debts.

And now Brad was going to have to deal with Lil’s niece. The Lily was quiet this Sunday afternoon with the girls probably napping in their rooms. The ironclad spinster school-marm had indeed given him a headache. He went behind the bar and poured himself a stiff drink, which was unusual for Brad. He seldom drank because he was certain it affected his poker game. “Miss Primm could drive Reverend Lovejoy to drink,” he observed dryly as he sipped it. What was he going to do? He had to get rid of Miss Primm, but he wasn’t certain how to accomplish that. She wouldn’t sell out and she couldn’t afford to buy him out. “A woman with principles,” he snorted and leaned against the bar, “I ain’t used to dealin’ with that.”

He rubbed his square chin. And now, she was going to move in. Even the thought made him cringe. Maybe he could annoy her so much, she would pack up and leave town. Not likely. Miss Primm seemed as determined as any female he’d ever met. She certainly wasn’t like most women, or any woman he’d ever met.

“You can say that again,” he grumbled under his breath. If he couldn’t drive her away, what else could he do? He thought about it a long moment, then smiled. “Okay, so she’s a pain in the ass, and stubborn, but she’s a woman, ain’t she? There’s my answer.”

He knew that he could play women like the strings on a fiddle. He’d certainly used his skills on enough females. He’d left a trail of broken hearts across the Lone Star state. Not that he did anything underhanded; he was always right up-front, telling the gal he would not be tied down. That message always acted like a red flag to a bull and they charged in, determined to hog-tie him and put a wedding ring through his nose. Oh, there had been one beauty after another, but none had taken his heart and never would. He was a Texan to the core and he valued his freedom and independence. Besides, why buy the cow when he could always get free milk?

He sipped his drink, smiled, and began to make plans. Maybe even an old maid schoolteacher from Boston could be vulnerable to his virile male charm. “Oh, yeah, when hell freezes over,” he grumbled. Miss Primm seemed too smart, or too strait-laced to fall for a man’s wiles. But then, she had never been charmed by the champion ladies’ man, Brad O’Neal.

He wandered back toward his downstairs bedroom. From upstairs, he heard the girls laughing and talking. Although pretty and very talented on a mattress, suddenly they seemed stupid and inane to him, and he’d had them all. None of them offered a challenge like the quick-witted old maid. He winced at the thought of bedding her. She was too skinny and not pretty at all; at least, not what he considered pretty. Her dress was modest and severe and she wore her fiery hair pulled back in a plain, no-nonsense bun. “Well, after a few drinks, all women are beauties,” he muttered. Now if she’d just keep that educated mouth shut while he made love to her. Not likely. No doubt she’d never even been kissed, but she’d still try to instruct him on how to do it.

He plopped down in his favorite chair and lit a cigar, grinning. “All right, Miss Primm, you have thrown down the gauntlet to the biggest ladies’ man in east Texas. If I can’t buy you out or scare you out, maybe I can charm you out of your share of the Texas Lily.” He thought for just a moment that it really wasn’t fair or gallant to seduce an innocent. Then he thought about how she’d probably wreck his business if he didn’t get her out of town.

Oh, if only she was prettier so the task would be appealing. Miss Primm was definitely coyote bait, the worst kind of Texas insult. “Yes, my dear lady, if you dare to go toe-to-toe with me, you may find yourself losin’ your virginity besides losin’ your share of the Lily.”

He shuddered again. He had no doubt he could charm her drawers off; the question was, could he stand to bed the stern spinster? “Anything to save the Texas Lily,” he promised himself and he meant it.

Lillian had driven away from the lawyer’s office gritting her teeth. Oh, that damned Texan thought he was so smart and was so sure of himself. Just the way he had looked at her let her know he thought he was God’s gift to women. Not that Lillian knew anything about men. Her stern, cold mother had been very strict and now Lillian understood why. She must have been afraid her daughter might turn out like her Aunt Lil. Lillian had never even been to a ball, although one of her young students at Miss Pickett’s had taught Lillian how to dance.

Not that any young man had come to court her anyway. The two or three who had acted even slightly interested when she was young had been run off by her strict mother. Then Mother had gotten sicker and every spare moment was dedicated to her care, leaving Lillian no time for a social life. By the time Mother finally died, Lillian had resigned herself to teaching other people’s daughters and never having one of her own. Her life had been planned in a long, dull line with no surprises. Now Aunt Lil’s will had turned her life upside down. What to do?

She had no one to ask, really. She drove down the street and back to the fort. It seemed everyone she passed stared at her curiously, even though she nodded politely as she passed. No doubt the story had already made the rounds of the whole town. Out on the parade grounds in the late afternoon shadows, Major Bottoms conducted his marching band. The soldiers didn’t look too happy about spending their Sunday thus engaged, but of course they couldn’t buck authority. Some of them looked sour and headachy and she assumed they had been at the Texas Lily until late the night before. Then she noted Lieutenant Fortenbury playing the tuba. She sighed as she nodded to him in passing. He should have chosen another instrument; the tuba only emphasized his height—or lack thereof.

Out on the Bottoms’ veranda, the major’s wife was serving iced tea to a group of ladies and invited Lillian to join them. “This is Mrs. Pugsley, her husband owns the General Store and this is Mrs. Darlington, her husband owns the livery stable.” The ladies nodded politely. “Edith has been filling us in, you poor dear,” dumpy little Mrs. Pugsley said.

Somehow, her patronizing tone annoyed Lillian. “How do you do? I assure you, I’m quite capable of dealing with it.”

“Oh, my dear, that gambler, he’s s-o-o-o charming,” gaunt Mrs. Darlington sighed. The other ladies looked at her. “I mean, so I hear; a charming rascal, someone told me.”

“He’s a rascal, all right.” Lillian frowned as she sipped her iced tea. She wondered if Brad O’Neal was presently in the back of Pug’s store, playing pinochle.

About that time, they were joined by the major and Lieutenant Fortenbury. “Good afternoon, ladies,” the major said, “you should have been there to see our parade.”

The younger man frowned and looked exhausted. No doubt that tuba was heavy.

“I saw it in passing,” Lillian said politely, “very good job.”

The major beamed. “We’ve got important people coming in on the train next week, I hear, so we’ll have to put on a parade, of course.”

The ladies all turned their attention to him. Obviously, Fort Floppett didn’t get many important visitors.

“Congressmen from Washington.” The major seemed as puffed up as a toad with his own importance.

“Oh, dear,” said his wife. The other ladies looked apprehensive.

“Now, don’t start getting too excited,” the major made a calming motion with his hands. “It might not mean anything at all, especially if the visitors see what an important post this is.”

Lillian spoke without thinking. “Is it?”

The others all turned and stared at her. “It is to us,” said young Fortenbury. “Why, if they should decide the fort is not needed—”

“Don’t even say it,” Mrs. Pugsley’s chubby face turned pale. “The whole town depends on the fort for our livelihoods—everyone knows that. Should it close, we’d be in desperate straits.”

“Not as desperate as the soldiers,” the major snorted. “Our next post would be the middle of Arizona, chasing Apaches.”

Young Fortenbury went into a spasm of frenzied coughing. Evidently, being shipped to that hostile desert was his worst nightmare.

Mrs. Bottoms looked about helplessly. “Let’s talk about something more cheerful.”

“All right,” said the major, turning his attention to Lillian. “How did your meeting with Brad go?”

“Brad?” the other three women asked simultaneously.

“Uh, I meant, that rake who runs the Texas Lily,” the major coughed and then busied himself sipping his tea.

“Gilbert,” his wife said, “that’s really none of our business.” Then she stared at Lillian with frank curiosity.

Lillian felt herself flush and shifted uneasily in her chair. “Rake is a good description of him, I’m afraid. He’s being completely unreasonable.”

The plump matron leaned even closer. “So what do you intend to do? The whole town is wondering—”

“Now who’s sticking their nose in other peoples’ business?” the major said.

“It’s all right,” Lillian hastened to say, although she really didn’t want to talk about it, but she was aware the whole group was leaning forward so as not to miss a word. “It seems we are at loggerheads. I can’t afford to buy him out and I refuse to accept his offer. The morality of accepting the wages of sins seems to me—”

“You wouldn’t think of closing the Lily?” The major paused, his eyes wide.

His wife peered at him critically. “Now why would you care, Gilbert?”

He avoided her eyes, busying himself with reaching to break a dead blossom off the nearest rosebush. “Well, I was thinking of economics, my dear. After all, if it were to close, the local cowboys would have to ride down to Beaumont and our poor soldiers—”

“Would take up more wholesome pastimes like playing croquet or joining the weekly nature walks my ladies’ club puts on.”

“To be sure,” said the major.

The three matrons nodded.

“Well,” Lillian said,” I’ve given this a lot of thought and I’m nothing if not decisive—headstrong, my mother called me.”

“Just what every man dreams of—a stubborn, headstrong woman,” the major muttered.

“What?” Mrs. Pugsley asked.

The major cleared his throat and fiddled with his drink. “I—I said, just what every man dreams of, a resolute, decisive woman. Good for you, Miss Primm.”

Lillian set her glass on a side table. “After much thought, I believe there is no course left to me but to move into the Lily and see if I can reform those poor, unfortunate girls.”

“What?” Lieutenant Fortenbury turned pale.

“I mean it,” Lillian nodded. “My aunt left me a little money and I am a teacher of both grammar and etiquette. I feel I could lead these poor girls to a better way of life and maybe find them respectable jobs or even husbands.”

“You mean, close down the upstairs at the Lily?” The major’s plump cheeks went ashen.

“Good for you!” The three matrons nodded approval, and Mrs. Bottoms declared, “That’s something the ladies of this town have long hoped for. Then the neighboring ranchers and our young soldiers might be more interested in our local respectable girls.”

“Not likely,” the major muttered and sipped his iced tea.

Lillian was now on fire with her idea. “Yes, I shall reform the girls and clean up or close that sinful establishment. Perhaps it is my destiny.”

“Hip hip hooray!” Mrs. Darlington shouted. “Ladies, we should drink a toast to this brave young woman!” The other two reached to clink their glasses together.

“What does Brad think about this?” the major asked.

“Don’t ask.” Lillian sighed. She thought she heard young Fortenbury groan softly.

The major said, “that only leaves the Bucket O’ Blood Saloon to entertain the troops and cowboys, and it’s a dirty little dump.”

His wife stared at him. “Now how would you know that, Gilbert?”

“Uh, the soldiers tell me,” the major said and avoided her glare.

“Nevertheless,” Lillian announced with new determination, “I cannot do anything about how that terrible rake operates his part of that house, but I can do something about closing down the upstairs.”

“Hurray!” The older ladies looked at her as if she were Joan of Arc. “My dear, every respectable woman in the county will want a statue of you in front of the courthouse.”

“And every man will want you hanged in effigy,” the major muttered.

And so it was that early Monday morning, Lillian packed up her few belongings, and borrowed the major’s buggy and a driver again. Mrs. Bottoms hugged her and wished her Godspeed and told her all the ladies in town would be forever grateful for her courage.

However, Lillian did not feel quite so brave as once again, she marched up the steps of the big white mansion and rang the bell. After a moment, Delilah answered the door.

“Oh, Miss, you is back?”

“I certainly am and I’ll be moving into Miss Lil’s room. Didn’t Mr. O’Neal tell you?”

“Yes, ma’am, he did, but I didn’t believe it, and I’m not sure he did, either. Mr. Brad ain’t gonna like that.”

Lillian shouldered her aside. “I don’t imagine he will, but he knows I’m coming.”

From somewhere in the back of the house, she heard that deep male voice. “Delilah, who’s at the door?”

“The new owner of half the Lily.” Delilah drawled and Lillian was uncertain whether the maid was being sarcastic or not.

“What?” Brad O’Neal came striding into the entry hall, but by now, Lillian and her little carpet bag were already half-way up the winding stairs. He peered up at her. “I thought you were bluffin’.”

She glared at him. “I always say what I mean and do what I say.”

He was freshly shaven and dressed in a fine black coat and string tie. Even from here she could smell the scent of shaving soap and a fragrant aftershave.

“I am moving in as I said.” She announced.

“You can’t do that! The locksmith hasn’t gotten here yet—”

“Have you even called him?”

“Well, no,” he stammered, “I didn’t really think you’d have the gumption—”

“I’ve got gumption, Mr. O’Neal. Delilah, send a message to the locksmith to come over and put a stout lock on Miss Lil’s door.”

The black maid looked at Brad.

“You heard the lady,” he snapped.

“Thank you.” Lillian dismissed them both with a polite nod and continued up the stairs. Half-dressed girls poked their heads out of their rooms, eyes wide, mouths open. They were of all heights and hair colors, all of them pretty.

Lillian gestured to one of them, a petite redhead. “You, please direct me to Miss Lil’s room.”

Instead, the girl looked helplessly over the open balcony. “Brad, honey, what should I—?”

“Pansy, show the lady to Lil’s room!” He thundered from below. He sounded furious. Good.

“Thank you.” She smiled down at him.

“You are not welcome!” he shouted. “By the way, Miss Primm, we serve dinner around here at precisely noon, so we can open the Lily in the late afternoon for the first customers.”

“Fine. Set a place for me.”

The girls were still staring open-mouthed as the petite redhead led her into a large bedroom. “This is Miss Lil’s room, but—”

“And now it is my room. I am Lillian Primm, Miss Lil’s niece and you are?”

“Pansy.” The girl said and stared in curiosity as Lillian put her suitcase on the bench at the end of the bed.

“I think we are going to be friends, Pansy.” Lillian looked around.

“We are?”

“Despite what Mr. O’Neal may have told you, I am here to champion the cause of the working girl.”

“Huh?”

Pansy wasn’t the sharpest pencil in the box, Lillian thought sympathetically, but then, probably none of these girls had any education or any homemaking skills. No doubt, all their skills were directed toward a mattress. “Pansy, it is not polite to say ‘huh’? A lady says ‘I beg your pardon?’”

That pretty, sneering blonde sauntered in and leaned against the door jamb, smoking her cigarillo. “We ain’t got no ladies here.”

This one would be a major challenge, Lillian thought. She smiled at her anyway. “You can all be ladies with a little training.”

Pansy looked hopeful. “We can?”

“Certainly.” Lillian smiled at her.

The redhead looked hopeful. “You hear that, Sadie?”

“Don’t get your hopes up, kid.” The blonde frowned. “We gotta good place here and we don’t want it changed.”

Lillian was not one to be pushed. She had a backbone of steel. “We’ll see about that. You two can go and we’ll talk at dinner. By the way, ladies do not smoke.”

“I ain’t no lady,” the blonde said.

The girls both left and Lillian inspected the door as she closed it. It was a heavy, sturdy door that would be impossible to break down once a good lock was put on it. Not that she thought any man would break down a door to get to her. She sighed. She couldn’t even imagine a man bothering to turn the doorknob. At thirty-two, she had long ago resigned herself to being an old maid. The Civil War had left many widows and unmarried women in the North and even some of the prettiest, which she definitely was not, were not finding husbands. Many had immigrated west where there was a shortage of marriageable women.

Lillian looked around the room. It was a large, pleasant room but overly done in wine and pink brocades and silk. A thick Persian carpet covered the floor and the scent of perfume still lingered. It looked like a room decorated by a madam, Lillian thought, then was shocked to realize that she liked the decorating. She had never had anything but a sparse, bare, small room of her own. She shook out her two other frayed dresses and wished she had something nicer to wear. When she hung her few clothes in the closet and placed others in the bureau, she discovered a wealth of expensive gowns, shoes, and delicate lace underwear. Her Aunt Lil’s things. She sighed and stroked one of the fine silk gowns. Paid for by the wages of sin, she thought. She had never really known her aunt and wondered how and why the woman had ended up in this life. What was it Brad O’Neal had said? Don’t judge someone until you’ve walked a mile in their boots. Yet she was ashamed and angry at Aunt Lil for embarrassing her and her mother with her terrible lifestyle.

She leaned against the ornate bedpost and remembered the scent of his aftershave and the passion in those dark eyes. Careful, Lillian, she admonished herself, this is a terrible rogue, and there’s no telling what will happen when he realizes you really are closing your share of the Lily.

Lillian rang for the maid while she laid out a plain, high-necked, dark blue dress. She thumbed through the racks of Aunt Lil’s clothes. There were lots of satins and silks in many shades of blue and green. The woman had been much more voluptuous than Lillian, that was for sure. Even if she wanted to, Lillian couldn’t wear any of those fine gowns without gaining some weight.

What was she thinking? To be proper, Lillian should be wearing mourning. Now, what exactly was proper attire to mourn the co-owner of a whorehouse? She shuddered at the thought. She couldn’t even force herself to visit her errant aunt’s grave.

Delilah brought water to fill her pitcher and bowl. “I don’t know about you taking over Miss Lil’s room,” she muttered.

“I’m sorry, but there isn’t any other place for me,” Lillian smiled. “Were you with my aunt long?”

“More than twenty-five years. She rescued me from a slave auction. I know more about her than anybody else in the whole world and I know about you….” Her voice trailed off.

“Oh, did my aunt speak of me?” She really didn’t know much about Lil McGinty except that she was the black sheep of a very proper and highborn family.

“More than you know.” The maid abruptly departed the room.

That puzzled Lillian. Since Aunt Lil had only come to see them once and had not ever corresponded with her mother, Lillian had not even known how to inform her aunt that Mother had died. In the earliest years, Lillian and her mother had struggled to survive, her mother too fragile to work. Mother had said there was trouble over the legal aspects of Father’s estate. That must finally have been straightened out, because small amounts began to arrive and about ten years ago, much larger, regular stipends from the Boston bank had enabled the two to live comfortably, if frugally. Lillian had reasoned bitterly that Aunt Lil never gave them a thought. She was too busy with her rich, wastrel life.

And here Lillian was right in the middle of that life. Her mother would probably be horrified that Lillian was actually going to live in a whorehouse. “It’s that no more,” she assured herself as she washed and dressed for dinner.

The little French clock on the bureau was chiming noon when a bell rang downstairs and the maid called. “Dinner’s on the table, ladies.”

Lillian looked at herself in the long mirror by the closet door and sighed. Sometimes she forgot her plain looks and middle age, but it was hard to forget in a house full of winsome beauties. At least, in her high-necked dress and sensible shoes, she was respectable. Oh, so very respectable. It was going to take a great deal of courage to deal with these poor soiled doves—and especially with Bradley O’Neal—but she had had a grim, joyless life as long as she could remember, so she was used to adversity.

She went out her door and paused, looking down. Except for the poker tables and the billiard table and the ornate bar off to one side, it was a magnificent room that lay below her, with its stained glass and dark, waxed floors. It looked like the waiting room of a fine hotel. She paused at the railing, noting it had been repaired, and wondered about it.

Below her, Brad O’Neal appeared. “Miss Primm,” he said, looking up, “we are holdin’ dinner for you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“You lookin’ over where Lil fell?”

“She fell? From here?”

He nodded. “About where you’re standin’.”

Lillian took a step backward. “Oh, my.”

She came down the stairs and the gambler waited for her at the bottom. He held out his arm and she took it awkwardly. He led her into another magnificent room with a stained-glass light hanging directly over the big, round, golden oak table where the girls were already seated. “Ladies, may I present Miss Lillian Primm? She’s gonna to be with us a day or two.”

“Or maybe more.” She smiled at the curious beauties. “Good day, ladies.”

“We ain’t ladies.” The blonde, Sadie, glared at her and put both elbows on the table.

“She said we could be,” Pansy, the little redhead, said.

The blonde snorted. “You dummy, don’t believe everything you hear. Don’t ya know a do-gooder when you see one?”

Brad said “Behave yourself, Sadie.” He pulled out Lillian’s chair so she could sit down.

Sadie subsided and poked food in her mouth with her spoon.

There were seven young beauties at the table. Besides Sadie and the red-haired, petite Pansy, there was a tall, black-haired girl, a pair of brown-haired twins, a strawberry blonde, and a Mexican girl. They stared at her with bold curiosity.

There was an awkward silence as Brad sat down at the head of the table. “Miss Primm, I hear you’ve met Pansy and Sadie. The tall one is Fern, the twins are Ella and Etta, the strawberry blonde is Flo, and the exotic beauty is Rosita.”

Lillian nodded and smiled. “How do you do?”

Sadie glared back. “Just what do you think you’re gonna do here?”

The others waited, watching.

Lillian forced herself to smile. “I haven’t decided yet, but when I do, I’ll discuss it with all the ladies.”

“I’m the most popular among the local soldiers.” Sadie offered.

“Says you!” The twins challenged her.

“Ladies!” Brad glared at them.

Lillian said, “I’m sure we’ll all get to be good friends. I have such plans.”

Again they looked at her curiously while Brad smiled ever so slightly. “Ladies, Miss Primm is Lil’s niece from Boston. She’s inherited Lil’s half.”

Sadie glared at her. “She don’t look like she can hold a candle to Lil.”

Lillian stared her down. “We’ll see.”

At her elbow, Delilah stood with a giant bowl of mashed potatoes and Lillian helped herself. She’d already had more food in the last couple of days than she usually got in a week in Boston. She took big slices of roast beef when it was passed to her. “Did you cook it, Mr. O’Neal?”

“No, but I raised it. I like to cook, but usually, I only take over the kitchen on Sunday.” He gave her a dazzling smile. “Please call me Brad. All the ladies do.”

“And you may call me Miss Primm.” She gave him a cold stare. She looked around. All the girls were dressed in fine, low-cut gowns. She had never felt as dowdy and homely and middle-aged as she did right now. “Some men would feel their masculinity threatened by an apron.”

He simply grinned again. “Now, Miss Primm, do I look as if my masculinity was lackin’?”

“I can promise you it ain’t,” Sadie said, and all the girls laughed.

Lillian felt her face flush. “It was not a personal inquiry, I can assure you, Mr. O’Neal.”

Delilah came through the kitchen door just then carrying another giant tray of meat. It looked like half a cow. That was followed by hot rolls and gravy, all sorts of vegetables and huge glasses of iced tea.

Brad dug into his food like a man who likes to eat. But then, probably all his passions were big, Lillian thought critically. He was probably like Falstaff in that Shakespeare play—with a huge appetite for women, food, and drink. The girls were now chatting with each other while Lillian ate daintily.

The gambler frowned and gestured with his knife. “Miss Primm, I think you’re as skinny as a rack of bones. Eat up, there’s plenty more.”

“What is this?” She stared down at some of the food as she helped herself.

“Fried green tomatoes and fried okra,” he explained. “Later in the summer, we’ll have watermelon.”

She hadn’t meant to, but she found herself eating heartily. She, who had always struggled to exist on thin soup and stale crackers, hot tea and weak coffee, now almost couldn’t believe how much food there was in Texas.

The girls were too busy eating to pay much attention to her. They talked and laughed like a bunch of magpies. Lillian winced at their table manners and their grammar. There would certainly be a lot to teach them to turn them into respectable women.

Just when she thought she couldn’t eat another bite, here came Delilah with a huge chocolate cake. “I really don’t think—” she began, but Brad ignored her words and gave her a thick slice. “Eat up,” he commanded, “you’re as skinny as a snake.”

The girls all giggled and smiled at the gambler. Evidently, in their eyes, the rascal could do no wrong.

“Mr. O’Neal,” she said coldly, “It is quite rude to comment on a lady’s physical—”

“I’m just worried about your health,” he grinned at her. “After all, if something happens to one of us, the other gets both halves of the Lily. By the way, Lillian seems very stuffy. I think you look more like a Lily.”

“My name is Lillian, but you may call me Miss Primm.” She kept her voice frosty, which was difficult between bites of the delicious cake. “Mr. O’Neal, we need to talk.”

“Again? And call me Brad.” Again he gave her a charming, warm smile that was so full of animal magnetism, it made Lillian’s hand shake as she sipped her iced tea. Well, that might work on these young, daffy girls, but she was a mature woman, not easily taken in by some four-flusher.

The girls had been chattering with each other. Now they all got up and left the table without even asking to be excused or waiting for the host and hostess to get up from the table first. Yes, there was a lot to teach them. They all seemed friendly enough except for Sadie, who had glared at Lillian all through dinner. She seemed to see Lillian as some kind of interloper, competing for the gambler’s attention. As if Lillian would even consider…in her mind, she was naked in his bed and he was kissing her roughly, his big hands pulling her to him—

“Miss Primm, are you all right? You’re tremblin’.” He was staring at her as if he could read her thoughts.

She felt blood rush to her face. “It—it’s cold.”

“Cold? It’s almost June.”

“Never mind,” she snapped and let out her breath. “Mr. O’Neal,” she said, “after much thought, I have plans for my part of the establishment.”

“Good.” He wiped his mouth and lay his napkin next to his plate. “Your aunt had a head for business. If we must be partners, I’m glad to hear you’re takin’ an interest.”

“More than you know.” She smiled at him.

He shifted in his chair, a bit uneasy. Obviously, he didn’t trust Lillian. “The locksmith sent word he’d be here right after dinner.”

“Good. I’m pleased to hear that.”

He leaned toward her and smiled as she took a deep breath. The sheer animal magnetism of the man made her uneasy and she shifted in her chair. “Surely, Miss Lily, you wouldn’t think that I would push myself toward a lady. I am a Texan and I do have some sense of propriety.”

She snorted. “I doubt you know the meaning of the word.”

He grinned broadly. “Whatever I lack in formal education, Miss Primm, I’m sure I make up for it in the school of Hard Knocks. I come from a white trash moonshiner’s passel of kids in the Big Thicket.”

“The what?”

He tipped his chair back and lit a cigar without even asking her permission. “The Big Thicket. It’s a wild, swampy area in southeast Texas. My Pa was married three or four times and there’s a dozen kids scattered over Texas.”

Lillian waved her dainty lace hanky before her nose, but he didn’t take the hint. “My family comes from a long lineage of dukes and earls. We were never rich but very respectable. As a matter of fact, I’m hoping to become a member of S.N.O.B.S.”

“Snobs?”

“No, you dolt,” she snapped, “Sisters Noble of British Society.”

He grinned and smoked his cigar. “Sounds like the same thing. I always reckoned a man ought to be judged by his actions, not his ancestry.”

“In that case, sir, you should probably have been hanged by now.” She gave him a cold look as she stood up. “As I said, I have made a decision.”

“Good.” Now his smile seemed genuine. “I’ve got a few ideas myself on improvin’ business and—”

“No, no, Mister O’Neal, you don’t understand. I wasn’t bluffing. I intend to close the upstairs and help these poor, unfortunate girls find husbands or honest work.”

Brad O’Neal’s dark face went pale and he dropped his cigar in his plate. “What?”

“You heard me. From now on, the upstairs is off limits to men. I shall go inform the ladies that tonight, we will have classes in my room instead.”

“Miss Primm, you will ruin my business.”

“Oh, but I’m not bothering your share, Mr. O’Neal, and remember, I own the upstairs. Good day to you.”

He was cursing behind her as she walked briskly toward the stairs.