Читать книгу Cowgirl for Keeps - Louise Gouge M. - Страница 12

Chapter Four

Rosamond spent the early part of Sunday afternoon making space for Beryl’s clothes in her wardrobe.

As she worked, she searched for reasons to like Garrick. He’d given his valet the day off but seemed displeased when Roberts and Richards attended a different church with Rita and Consuela. Of course before Roberts left, he made sure Garrick was properly dressed. She wouldn’t let those small matters count for anything. Not much, anyway.

With her room in order, she searched for Percy and found him relaxing in a rocking chair on the front porch. Garrick sat on the porch swing.

“Are you ready?” Why did she sound so giddy? “Beryl’s waiting for us.”

Percy nodded. “I’ll be delighted to see her again.” Such a sweet remark, especially since he’d talked with Beryl just a few hours ago.

Was that frown Garrick wore his favorite expression? As they walked around the house toward the barn, Rosamond chided herself. She must stop these unkind thoughts about him.

“We’ll take a wagon for Beryl’s trunk,” she said, “but if you feel like riding, we can saddle horses, too.”

Garrick stopped. “Do you mean...?” He clamped his mouth shut and resumed walking.

Rosamond could guess what he’d started to say. “Yep.” Her teachers at the academy would have apoplexy over her quick return to Western slang. Yet something about Garrick made her want to do just that. Right away, her conscience smote her. Deliberately irritating a person wasn’t the way to show God’s love. “The cowhands are off today, so it’s up to us to hitch the team to the wagon and saddle the horses.”

“Brilliant.” His tone suggested something entirely different.

“Capital.” Percy picked up his pace. “It’s been a while since I saddled a horse. I relish the challenge.”

In spite of one reluctant student and another entirely too enthusiastic helper, Rosamond managed the affair without a catastrophe. Soon she was driving the wagon up the lane, while the men rode along beside her. She occasionally glanced at Garrick and noticed him gazing at the distant mountains or watching migrating geese flying above them. Judging from his placid facade, he seemed to be enjoying himself for the moment.

Despite their disappointment over Beryl leaving them, her sisters helped load the wagon. Even Garrick pitched in with heavier items, impressing Rosamond with his strength. With servants to do everything for him, how could he be so strong?

Soon they were traveling back to Four Stones. Beryl sat beside Rosamond on the driver’s bench, but she’d tied her mare to the wagon...a good sign. Her willingness to ride might be the first step toward restoring her courage.

Riding close to the wagon, Percy chatted with Beryl over the clatter of the wheels. A stranger looking on might assume they’d known each other all their lives. So far, Rosamond hadn’t heard a word of disagreement between them. They liked the same books, the same music, the same pastimes. What an agreeable marriage they could have. Too bad Garrick couldn’t hide his disapproval. Did he hold some power over his cousin to prevent this romance?

The valets returned to Four Stones in time to help Garrick and Percy move the trunk and luggage to the bedroom. Consuela helped Beryl unpack, and Rita planned a hearty meal for everyone rather than taking the evening off. All four servants appeared to be energized by a jolly mood, and a hint of romance sparked between Rita and Roberts. Percy and Beryl still had eyes only for each other. Rosamond couldn’t help but long for a romance, too, but with so much work for her school and the hotel, she’d have no time for such an indulgence. Or so she tried to convince herself.

* * *

“That will do, Roberts.” In the mirror, Garrick admired his cravat, which his man had tied with expert precision. Yet for some reason, he felt irritated at being fussed over despite having been dressed by a valet since leaving the nursery.

“Very good, sir.” Roberts never revealed emotion while doing his job, although yesterday Garrick had seen him smile constantly as he talked with Rita in the kitchen.

When everyone left for church yesterday morning, he’d not been pleased to see the valets and the female servants going south while the Northam family traveled north. But, after all, it was the servants’ day off. He couldn’t insist that Roberts attend the same church.

“Your portfolio, sir.” Roberts handed the folder to Garrick.

“Thank you.” He unfastened the clasp and thumbed through the architectural drafts to refresh his memory. All was in order. “I won’t need you until after dinner. This afternoon I’m meeting the minister in town, so I’ll require something appropriate for the occasion.”

“Yes, sir.” Roberts coughed softly into his fist, as he did when he wished to speak.

“Yes?”

“Would it be permissible for me to assist Mrs. Northam in her garden this morning?”

Pleased by his valet’s thoughtfulness, Garrick nodded. “That’s fine.”

The smile that spread across Roberts’s face extinguished that pleasure. Rita would no doubt be working with them.

Garrick had no time to ponder the matter. He must meet Rosamond in Colonel Northam’s office in a few minutes. That thought instantly improved his disposition. Despite her coolness toward him, he’d missed her at breakfast. Or maybe he simply wanted to decipher that coolness and possibly overcome it. He wouldn’t succeed with the hotel unless he gained her favor.

As he walked down the hallway to the front staircase, he heard girlish giggles coming through the closed door of her bedroom. Giggles just like his sister’s. How would Rosamond and Helena get on? Would they like each other? But they’d never meet, so he shrugged off the thought. Another thought took its place. Rosamond and Beryl were obviously in the midst of a hen party. Would Rosamond even bother to keep their nine o’clock appointment?

Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. Reverend Thomas, referencing Spurgeon’s sermon, reminded the congregation that this Scripture verse was a command from the Lord. Garrick must demonstrate God’s love to the young lady by thinking well of her rather than assuming some fault on her part. After all, her care for her friend indicated a nurturing spirit, as did her desire to establish an upper school in this wilderness. In any event, he must work with her, so he’d do well to develop a positive outlook.

As instructed, he made the Colonel’s office his own, spreading out his carefully made plans on the large exquisite oak desk. He’d worked with an architect in London before coming to America and knew exactly what to build. Uncle insisted he spare no expense, but of course Garrick wouldn’t misuse his generosity.

“Good morning.” Rosamond entered the room carrying a tray laden with beverages and fruit tarts.

Garrick’s heart seemed to stop. Her gown was the color of daffodils, a shade of yellow few ladies wore well, yet it warmed her complexion to a lovely glow. How beautiful she was, especially when she smiled. Even her eyes shone with enthusiasm, a good sign this meeting would go well.

His heart hammering with this unexpected admiration for her, he stood and walked around the desk. “Permit me?” He took the tray and set it on a side table. Should he compliment her? Tell her she was beautiful? No, of course not. This was a business meeting, not a party. “I don’t suppose this is tea?” Oh, bother. That surely sounded like a complaint.

She laughed. He sighed with relief.

“If you recall—” she poured steaming black coffee from the elegant porcelain pot into matching cups “—our two countries don’t share a good history in regards to tea.”

“No, but—” the twinkle in her eyes alerted him that she meant the remark to be humorous “—if I’m not mistaken, the relationship between our governments has changed considerably since 1773. After the passing of more than a century, surely we’ve managed to persuade you as to the superiority of tea over coffee.”

She handed him a cup, leaving him to add his own cream and sugar. He added considerable amounts of both to minimize the brew’s bitter taste.

“I’ll admit an occasional cup of tea makes a nice change. Many Americans prefer it.” She took a sip and eyed him over the porcelain rim. “In my opinion, nothing beats coffee to help get the day going.”

“Ah, well. To each his own. Or her own.” This was hardly a matter to argue over. “I brought some gifts for your parents but haven’t yet presented them. Among them is a tin of Earl Grey tea, which has become a favorite among—” he started to say “the British aristocracy,” but an inner voice stopped him “—many of my friends.”

“I heard of Earl Grey tea at finishing school.” She appeared to pucker away a smile. “You know the earl, of course?”

“Of course.” The words were out before he could stop them. She’d baited him, and he’d bitten. Now he must try to fix the damage. “Not well, though. And he’s the third Lord Grey. The tea is named for the second Lord Grey.”

“Be sure to tell Mother when you give her the tea.” She stepped behind the desk and began to study the drafts. “She always enjoys little tidbits of history like that.” She spoke absently, as if finished with the topic. Or perhaps the drawings distracted her. “So you think the Palladian style is appropriate for our hotel?” Disapproval colored her words.

While impressed by her knowledge of the architectural style, Garrick suddenly felt defensive. She’d learned of the hotel only three days ago, yet she would criticize his many months of hard work? Disparage a building design by London’s finest architects?

“Of course. What could draw travelers from Europe to this wilderness better than a hotel built in the grand style to which they’re accustomed?” Bother! That definitely sounded arrogant. He was tempted to bite his tongue. No matter what she said, he must be a gentleman.

She eyed him and smirked. “Oh, maybe something different. Something more in keeping with the wilderness they’ve come to see.”

The steel-like tone in her voice set his nerves on edge and fortified his defenses. Was this a trick? A test? Or did she actually mean to sabotage the one project upon which his entire future rested?

* * *

The steely glint in Garrick’s eyes signaled war, and she would gladly cross swords with him. These past few days, she’d come up with her own plans for the hotel. Some of the girls at the academy swooned over all things English, but no Englishman was going to try to reconquer her part of America while she could prevent it.

Love thy neighbor as thyself. The inner voice was soft but persistent. She knew the imprudence of failing to listen to it.

With a sigh, she dropped down into Father’s chair. “I can see you’ve been working for some time on these plans. Why don’t you show me what you’ve done?”

He tilted his head as if uncertain he’d heard her correctly. She swallowed a laugh. Apparently he’d expected a conflict as much as she.

“Well, um...” He came around the desk to stand beside her and shuffled through the papers as if looking for something. As he bent over her shoulder, the scent of bergamot filled her senses in a very pleasant way. Bergamot, the essence that flavored Earl Grey tea. Maybe she’d like the beverage more than expected. “It’s true that I’ve envisioned a grand hotel in the European tradition, but when you hear everything, I believe you’ll approve.” At last he pulled out a crisp white page. “Here is a list of my plans.”

She didn’t correct his word plans, but in her mind, she translated it to ideas.

“Lord Westbourne has been very generous with the funds allotted for the project because he hopes the hotel will draw the most august guests from among Europe’s aristocracy and nobility, perhaps even royalty.”

“Hmm.” Rosamond wouldn’t let herself say more. He didn’t know how much she disdained those very people. If they’d had their way in the past century, the United States wouldn’t even exist, would still be colonies enslaved to the whims of a ruthless monarch and the unfeeling nobility in the House of Lords. And now that America was a prosperous country, many titled men came over here to marry heiresses, wealthy girls who coveted those titles and forgot what this country was all about. Rosamond didn’t care about drawing European aristocrats to the hotel. Wealthy Americans from the East would come by the droves to experience what the Wild West offered.

“If you will notice—” his voice filled with enthusiasm, Garrick pointed to names at the bottom of the draft “—the hotel was designed by Messrs. Henman and Harrison, the architectural firm that designed the National Penny Bank in London. I’ve contacted Messrs. Aitohison and Walker, who built that very bank just three years ago. They await my wire and, upon receiving it, will send a team to execute the construction of the building.”

Rosamond looked up at him. “Anything else?” She might as well hear everything before unfolding her own plans.

His eyes sparkled, and for the first time, she noticed they were brown. A very nice brown with flecks of amber to catch the light shining through the west window. “The guest rooms will of course be furnished with the finest oak and mahogany furniture from English carpenters and velvet drapes from France. Again, I have simply to wire the firms I’ve engaged, and they’ll ship the items at once or build them to suit.” He questioned her with one raised eyebrow, and she nodded for him to continue. “I’ve also engaged a French chef and a staff of English waiters. And of course a sommelier.”