Читать книгу To Seduce a Texan - Georgina Gentry - Страница 10

Rosemary didn’t want to deal with Godfrey again, so she waited until she heard the dinner guests arriving in the front hall before she left her room and paused on the landing.

She was Queen Victoria, standing at the head of the grand staircase of her castle, about to go downstairs for a state dinner with the prime minister and a bevy of her most important, adoring subjects. She wore the crown jewels, of course, and a small diamond tiara. As always, she was regal and dignified.

Rosemary descended the stairs carefully and only caught her foot on the next-to-the-last step. She managed to right herself and grabbed for the imaginary tiara as the gentlemen rushed forward to assist her.

“Miss Burke,” said a young, pink-faced Union officer, taking her arm, “are you all right?”

“Of course,” she said. “I—I was merely feeling—feeling a bit faint.” She couldn’t stop staring at his yellow curls. “Good evening, gentlemen.” She sighed as she looked over her guests. The only one she didn’t know was the young major, who introduced himself. The others were the pastor, the doctor, and Mr. Simms, the owner of the biggest farm in the area, and his dull son.

They all murmured appropriate things about how happy they were at her return, and she managed to curtsey without falling. In the following moment of silence, her tummy rumbled like a bear because she hadn’t had a snack. Probably Queen Victoria’s tummy never rumbled. Godfrey glared at her and sighed.

“Perhaps,” offered old Dr. Graham, “the lady might benefit from a sherry? I know I could use one.”

Does the old man never draw a sober breath? Rosemary suspected the doctor had not been sober the night her mother died, but then he probably couldn’t have saved Agatha from acute appendicitis anyway.

Evidently Godfrey took the hint. “Of course.” He smiled broadly and ran his finger over his penciled mustache. “We’ll have a drink before dinner.”

He gestured the group into the library.

The major took Rosemary’s arm and escorted her toward a small love seat. She was several inches taller and probably outweighed him, she thought with a sigh. She didn’t want him sitting next to her, so she maneuvered so that she took a single chair, leaving him standing beside her awkwardly.

“I’ll pour,” Godfrey said with a flourish, “since the butler is busy with dinner. Sherry, my dear?”

She decided to be difficult. He couldn’t do anything about it with company in the room. “No, I—I’ll have a whiskey, if you please.”

“You mean sherry, don’t you, my dear?” His mouth smiled, but his eyes glared.

“I said whiskey,” she said in an unmistakable tone that caused the other gentlemen to shift their weight uneasily.

Godfrey forced a laugh. “Oh, these young ladies who have been on the Grand Tour, they do get some naughty ideas.”

That broke the ice and the other men laughed, too.

“I’m sure the lady was only joking,” the major said.

“If the men are having whiskey, that’s what I’ll have, too.” Oh, she was so brave tonight, just like one of her story heroines. In her own mind, she tossed her pretty head carelessly and all the men hung on her every word.

“All right, Rosemary, dear,” Godfrey said and there was an edge to his voice, “but don’t blame me if you’re sick in the morning.”

“Yes,” Doc chuckled, “whiskey and a lady’s delicate constitution just don’t mesh.”

The other men laughed as if dismissing her. Evidently they saw it as a rebellious, childish whim. Godfrey served the whiskey. “You know, it’s a good thing I have a storeroom. The best whiskey comes from the South, and the war has stopped the supply.”

“Oh, must he talk about the war?” young Mr. Simms protested. “I think it might upset Miss Rosemary.” His big Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked toward her.

“Actually it doesn’t,” she returned, sipping her drink. It burned all the way down into her empty stomach and she was already regretting her choice. “You’re all profiting off the war, aren’t you?”

The men looked at each other as if not quite sure what to say.

Old Mr. Simms stuttered, “Well, of course I’m selling a lot of horses and grain to the army.”

“And the bank is doing well, too,” she said and gave Godfrey a questioning look.

Godfrey blinked and sipped his drink. “Well, yes, my dear, the army needs payroll, and we have all these new people moving to town.”

The butler came to the door of the library. “Dinner is served,” he announced grandly.

“I hope we have a good wine?” Doc Graham asked.

“Of course. I knew you would appreciate a new vintage I just had shipped in,” Godfrey said.

Rosemary stood up, but before the major could move to her side, young Simms rushed to take her arm. His big Adam’s apple looked like a fist in his long neck.

She was suddenly queasy, thinking she might throw up. Ladies never did such a thing. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d made a fool of herself. She swallowed hard and allowed young Mr. Simms to escort her toward the dining room. They trooped in to dinner and Rosemary managed to take her seat at the end of the table as hostess without tripping over her hoops and stumbling. She felt her face pale as her stomach seemed to rock. Maybe she could faint in a ladylike manner before she threw up. She grabbed a piece of bread and stuffed it in her mouth while the gentlemen stared at her. If she could just get a little food in her stomach, she’d be okay.

Godfrey, at the other end of the table, glowered at her and said, “I’d like to ask Reverend Post to say grace.”

She had never thought Godfrey religious, but the pastor said a blessing and then the arrogant butler began to serve the food out of silver dishes. In the meantime, she was choking on the dry bread. She grabbed her goblet of water and gulped it in a most unladylike way. Godfrey glared at her again and turned his attention to his guests.

The food looked excellent. Among other items were pinto beans, a favorite of her father’s.

“When did we hire a butler?” she asked as she helped herself to rare roast beef the servant offered.

“While you were in Europe, my dear. All the best homes have one.”

“Well, we may be the only house in Kansas with a butler.” She snorted and accepted a deviled egg from a silver tray.

“Oh my! Asparagus,” the pastor said. “I do love them, and is that roasted quail?”

“Yes, and do try these new potatoes and gravy,” Godfrey urged, “and wait till you taste the wine.”

The butler was now working his way around the long dining table, pouring the wine. She waved him away. With the whiskey in her stomach just beginning to settle down, she wasn’t about to chance the wine. The candles in the big candelabra flickered and Rosemary sighed as she ate. It was going to be a long, boring evening, she was certain.

She retreated into herself and concentrated on her crystal goblet. She was Lady Georgiana at her country estate and now hosting a dinner for a group of eager swains. All were here just to court her because she was pretty, graceful and knew how to flirt. Each handsome gentleman was holding his breath, waiting for Lady Georgiana’s next witty remark.

“…don’t you think so, my dear?”

Rosemary jerked out of her fantasy and stared at Godfrey. “What?”

He frowned at her. “I said you were pleased with the improvements I had made to the bank, aren’t you, my dear?”

She must not sputter, but she had been caught by surprise. “Uh, possibly. I—I haven’t had a chance to think about it.”

All the men laughed and the major said, “Well, ladies shouldn’t bother their pretty heads about business anyway.”

She squelched the urge to splash her glass of water all over his fine uniform. “Tell us about news of the war, Major?”

“Oh, I don’t think you’d be interested.” He demurred modestly.

“Oh, but I’m sure everyone would like to know the latest,” she encouraged him.

“Uh, well.” The young man’s thin chest puffed out now that he was the center of attention. “We are winning on all fronts. Of course, I’m disappointed not to have been sent into the thick of battle, and I’m afraid it will all be over before I can get to the front and earn my medals. I don’t see why George Custer should get all the glory.”

“So brave,” she murmured and his face brightened. Maybe he was after the bank fortune, too.

“Yes, indeed,” he blustered, evidently encouraged by her comment. “He’s my hero. Reports from Washington say the Rebs are out of money to the point of melting down wedding rings and silverware. You know those blockade runners don’t want any of their worthless Confederate dollars.”

“Is that the reason the Rebs tried to invade California and Nevada?” the doctor asked and motioned to the butler to pour him more wine.

“Certainly,” the major nodded, “hoped to capture those gold and silver mines, but of course, were defeated. I hear they’re desperate for boots, overcoats, and food with winter coming on.”

Rosemary pictured hungry men shivering in the coming cold, wet and sick. She felt sympathy for them even though they were the enemy.

“And,” said the major, “they’ve been trying to rob our banks.”

“What?” That seemed to catch Godfrey’s attention.

“Oh, you needn’t worry,” the major joked. “Not around here. A group of them came down from Canada and tried to rob a bank in Vermont, and only this past August, a small group of their cavalry hit a bank in Kentucky. Didn’t get anything, I hear.”

“Kentucky?” asked young Simms, and his Adam’s apple bobbled up and down as he sipped his wine. “But Kentucky’s a Union state.”

“Exactly!” said the major. “Very daring of the devils, I’d say. Worse yet, they burned a Union barge on the river in that town and executed the black soldiers guarding it.”

“Oh dear,” said Reverend Post nervously, “I don’t think this is fit conversation for a young lady—”

“You’re quite right, Reverend,” Godfrey said. “We don’t want to shock Rosemary.”

“Oh, I apologize,” gulped the young officer, “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s all right,” Rosemary said. “After all, I asked. Anything that affects the war will affect banking even here in Kansas.”

“Quite right.” Godfrey beamed at her. “We must all remember to pray for all the poor souls being lost in the horrors of this terrible war.”

Everyone murmured agreement while Rosemary waited for lightning to come through the ceiling and strike the hypocrite.

Mr. Simms smiled at her. “I’m sure that with stalwart young men about like the major and my son, you needn’t worry your pretty little head about those dirty Rebs attacking this town.”

At least he had said “pretty.” Obviously Mr. Simms and his son had designs on the bank’s assets, too.

“Oh, I’m not worried,” she said, cutting up her roast beef. “I’m quite convinced Kansas has seen the last of the action. Indeed, as I was telling Godfrey this afternoon, I intend to take charge of the bank myself on my birthday per my mother’s will.”

“Halloween,” she heard Godfrey mutter under his breath, “how very appropriate.”

The other men looked shocked and the major said, “Surely you jest, Miss Burke?”

“Not at all.”

Godfrey laid down his fork and cleared his throat. His expression told her he’d like to stick that fork in her heart. “Don’t take my stepdaughter seriously, gentlemen. Perhaps she’s had too much to drink.”

“I have not,” she snapped and the other men looked at each other, uncertain what to say in the awkward silence.

Doc Graham drained his glass and looked about. “I could use another glass of wine. Excellent vintage.”

“Me, too,” said the other gentlemen to cover the awkward pause.

The butler went about the table, filling goblets. Rosemary waved him away again. She didn’t want any more of her conversation dismissed because the men thought she’d had too much to drink.

Doc Graham already looked drunker than a boiled owl, she thought, and wouldn’t know an excellent wine from moonshine, but he was the only doctor in town.

Doc Graham drained his wine without tasting it and looked down at his plate. “Oh, pinto beans, I see. I don’t think I’ve eaten those since the night I was here for dinner and Agatha…” His voice trailed off. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Miss Rosemary, I didn’t mean to bring back sad memories.”

It’s quite all right,” Rosemary said. “I understand you did everything you could to save my mother.”

“Yes, he did.” Godfrey sighed and the others nodded. “You were away at school and we’d had such a lovely dinner party and were all still having coffee in the library when my dear wife was stricken with acute appendicitis.”

“There just didn’t seem to be anything to be done.” Mr. Simms shook his head. “She lingered on for three days in terrible pain.”

“I heard,” Rosemary said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here before she died.”

“I prayed over her,” Reverend Post said, “and your stepfather held her hand all night. Never saw such devotion.”

Godfrey pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry, my dear, you didn’t get home in time for the funeral. My poor darling Agatha. I miss her still.”

“Uh, perhaps we should talk of lighter matters,” young Mr. Simms said uncomfortably.

There was an awkward silence before young Mr. Simms talked again of business.

Was there any way she could bring this dull evening to a close as the conversation dragged on?

Finally she said, “Godfrey, why don’t you take the gentlemen to the drawing room? I think I may retire early so I can ride early in the morning, and I’m not feeling well.”

Both young men jumped up to jostle each other about who got to pull out her chair as she stood up.

“No, no, gentlemen. You all retire to the drawing room for cigars and brandy. I’m going upstairs.”

Godfrey looked relieved. “Very well, my dear. Good night.”

All the men said good night and offered concern for her health, but she assured them she was only tired, nodded and left the dining room, attempted to make a graceful exit, but her hoop caught on a potted fern in the door and she had to stop to pull it free before leaving. She paused at the foot of the stairs, listening. The men were moving toward the drawing room, talking business as usual.

She ought to go upstairs and try washing the blood out of the white silk scarf. Godfrey would be so cross when he saw it. Worse yet, she didn’t want him asking questions and discovering she had wrecked one of his pet orchids.

She knew Godfrey was already furious with her for the small fuss at the table before his guests. She was powerless for less than three weeks and then she would take over everything. It was all hers unless she met with an accident, and though she was clumsy, she didn’t expect anything fatal. She went upstairs, got Mollie to help her out of her corset, and dismissed the sour girl. There was a small lamp burning on her bedside table and while Rosemary dug through her lingerie drawer for a nightgown, she found a large peppermint stick left over from at least two Christmases ago and a romantic novel she hadn’t read: Lady Cavendish and Her Secret Love or Carried Off by a Highwayman. She tasted the peppermint as she crawled into bed. No candy was ever too stale to eat, and the romantic novel looked promising.

It was a long time before she turned off her light, dreaming of being the beautiful, desirable Lady Cavendish.

The tumbledown cabin by the river seemed to be a good hiding place, and now Waco sat on a rock in the darkness overlooking the river. They were many miles from town and well hidden in a grove of cottonwoods. He rolled a cigarette, thinking. He was responsible for his men, and that weighed heavily on him. There was only one way to get the money they needed, yet he didn’t like the idea. It didn’t seem too chivalrous, certainly not to a Texan, to kidnap a sweet little lady like that banker’s daughter and hold her for ransom, but nobody had a better idea. After all, it was so evident that the banker adored her and surely would pay anything to get her back. Of course her father wouldn’t call in the law or the army; he’d be too afraid something would happen to sweet Miss Rosemary. Why, in a day or two, three at the most, the quartet would be headed back to Texas with all the gold they needed.

Yep, tomorrow, Waco was gonna find the banker’s mansion and scout things out to see when would be a good time to snatch her. He’d try not to scare her or make her cry, but like most women, she’d surely be terrified. Of course, he would see that not one hair on her head was harmed. No Texan would treat a lady that way. Of course, true Texans probably wouldn’t kidnap a lady neither, but he was desperate and running out of time.

He tossed away his smoke and went back into the tumbledown cabin to spread his blankets on the sagging floor. Tomorrow early, he’d tell the boys the details.

Rosemary was awake before dawn and dragged the sleepy, protesting Mollie out of bed to help her into her corset and a blue wool riding outfit complete with a jaunty hat with feathers on the side. Then she let the sleepy maid go back to bed while she rummaged around in the kitchen for a bit of breakfast. She didn’t want to get the cook up or wake that snooty new butler. She would have loved a cup of coffee, but she had no idea how to accomplish that. The cook always made her muffins and jam or coddled eggs, but Rosemary didn’t even know how to work the wood stove. Finally she settled for some cold milk and half a cake from last night, which made her very happy. She sliced some crusty bread and cold roast beef for a picnic lunch, wrapped it up in a napkin with a dozen cookies. Then she got an apple for her horse.

The house was still quiet and dark. She wished she could get some evidence on Godfrey St. John; she’d always been suspicious of his handling the bank’s money. Thinking that, she tiptoed into the library, crashed into a table, but managed to catch the lamp before it fell. She lit it and quietly rummaged through his desk. She had no idea what she was looking for and she didn’t find anything except a handful of speckled pinto beans, some of them cut up into tiny pieces. That puzzled her. Well, beans didn’t belong in a desk anyway. She picked up several and stuffed them into her pocket as she dug through the drawers. Nothing of importance. She thought she heard people stirring about upstairs, hurriedly closed the drawers, and blew out the lamp. She didn’t want to get caught snooping in Godfrey’s desk, so she’d look again when she had more time.

Now she went outside into the coming dawn. This early morn of October was going to be a crisp, sunny day. Around her, leaves had turned gold and scarlet. They swirled about her as she walked to the stable. Her favorite thoroughbred mare, Lady Be Good, whinnied when she saw Rosemary coming.

Rosemary rubbed the sorrel’s velvet nose. “I brought you an apple. Would you like to go for a ride?”

The mare snorted as she took the apple, and Rosemary looked about for the light sidesaddle. She could wake a groom, but she was perfectly capable of saddling a horse and she was an excellent rider. Did she dare ride astride? She thought about it a moment, decided that Lady Cavendish would use a sidesaddle as she rode about her English estate, and got that one down. She could hardly wait to be away from the house and Godfrey. She could lose her worries for an hour or so at least.

Rosemary felt almost dizzy with her freedom and the anticipation of a good lunch. Food had always comforted her when she was a sad little girl, and it still did. Her mother had always nagged her about her eating and never allowed her to ride unescorted or very far from the house. Since she’d spent so much time away at school, Rosemary was a stranger in her own area. Well, that was about to change. She would ride as far as she wanted to, and she hadn’t even left a note. Not that anyone would care where a lonely fat girl had gone riding.