by Craig, Emma
More than once she even pondered the wisdom of asking Jed to marry her. Since he’d bedded her, he’d probably feel honor-bound to do so should she ask. Her pride rebelled, though, and she couldn’t bring herself to pop the question.
Even if he could be brought to sacrifice his principles and break his engagement with Miss Amalie Crunch, Tacita knew it was the gentleman’s business to propose, not the lady’s. She’d embarrassed herself enough by asking him to make love with her in the first place. She wouldn’t complete her humiliation by asking him to become her husband.
Anyway, Jed needed a suitable wife. Not her, a woman with no more idea about how to survive in the rugged West than Rosamunda. Although, she couldn’t help adding in her own defense, she’d done remarkably well thus far. So had Rosamunda.
Besides, if he cared for her enough—if he loved her— he would ask her, Amalie Crunch or no Amalie Crunch.
He didn’t, and Tacita’s heart ached painfully.
# # #
As the coach rattled its relentless way through the towering redwood forests in the northern part of California and neared San Francisco, Jed’s heart and mind both were turbulent. Guilt gnawed at his guts and a sense of impending loss ate at the rest of him.
He’d taken Tacita Grantham’s purity, thereby violating his own code of honor and his almost-engagement to Miss Amalie Crunch. And once they arrived in San Francisco, Tacita would expect him to go on about his business as if she meant nothing to him, just as he meant nothing to her. But she didn’t mean nothing to him. She meant more to him than life itself.
Time after time, he almost abandoned his principles and his pride and begged her to marry him. He was even willing to endure the censure of his family, knowing he’d be breaking both a promise and Miss Amalie Crunch’s heart, in order to have Tacita. The knowledge that she was engaged to that dratted Jeeves fellow stopped him every time.
Jeeves could offer Tacita everything she wanted, barring protection, although Jed supposed his money could buy that well enough. Jeeves could offer her world travel and a fancy home in England and all the damned Yorkshire terriers she could ever want. Jed could offer her a pretty nice home in Busted Flush, Texas, and a bunch of horses. And his love. And, he guessed, he wouldn’t even object too strenuously if she wanted another one of them—those damned rat-assed terriers. It was a puny bargain, and he knew she’d never go for it.
Chapter 17
Rosamunda had her back feet propped on Tacita’s knees. Her front paws rested on the windowsill of the stagecoach, and her head hung out as far as Tacita would let it. She looked around eagerly, sniffing furiously, her eyes bright with interest.
So this was San Francisco. Interesting place. It smelled of salt water and creosote, fish guts and chopped liver, incense and roasting meat, poverty and wealth, and thousands of humans and horses and cats and dogs. Somewhere in this milling throng was Rosamunda’s one true love, Prince Albert.
As her little tail wagged back and forth like a crazed pendulum, Rosamunda could hardly wait to meet him.
# # #
The stagecoach rumbled to a noisy stop, and what looked like a hundred men ran out to take care of the horses and baggage. Urchins crowded around the coach, hoping for tips if they helped passengers to their final destinations. City noises, dust and odors swelled up around them.
Jed cleared his throat. “Reckon we’re here at last.”
“Yes.” Tacita cleared her throat, too. “Yes, I guess we are.”
“I’ll see you to the Palace.”
“Thank you.”
He hesitated, then asked, “Is there anything else I can do for you? Anything at all?”
She hesitated, too. “No. No, I don’t believe so.”
They looked into each other’s eyes for several moments. Tacita said, “Thank you.”
After another few moments, Jed said, “You’re welcome.”
Rosamunda growled impatiently.
Jed said, “I’ll get your suitcases and hire a wagon to take your other stuff to the hotel.”
“Thank you.”
They hardly spoke after they boarded the cab which would transport them to the Palace. Jed looked out of a window on one side of the cab and Tacita looked out of a window on the other.
Rosamunda shared the window with Tacita. Her tail wagged up a storm.
Although Tacita had been in several large cities, including some in the eastern United States and Europe, Tacita had never seen anything like San Francisco. Rough-looking characters who seemed like something out of the Gold-Rush days shared the sidewalks with men in fancy suits who might have appeared more at home in New York City. Chinese boys rushed here and there, pigtails flying out behind them, with buckets suspended from long poles balanced on their shoulders. Other lads, dressed in knickerbockers and soft caps, darted up and down the streets carrying messages or selling newspapers. Shrill cries went up from street vendors. A cable car clanged and pelted down a tall hill in front of their cab. To Tacita’s surprise, the horse pulling their cab didn’t so much as flinch at the racket.
Many downtown buildings were draped with red, white and blue bunting, in anticipation of the city’s Fourth of July celebrations, Tacita supposed. She wondered what today’s date was. They’d planned their trip so that she’d arrive in San Francisco sometime before the middle of July. She presumed Jed, who was so utterly competent in every regard, had adhered to the schedule.
Excitement filled the atmosphere as effectively as the city’s famous fog, and hammered for entry in Tacita’s heart. Her heart, however, brimmed too full of sorrow to allow room for excitement. Or anything else. She and Jed would part as soon as they got to the Palace. She hoped she wouldn’t burst into tears and embarrass them both.
And then they were there.
“I’ll help you down,” Jed said.
“Thank you.”
Rosamunda gave a shrill bark of excitement.
The Palace was about as grand a hotel as Tacita had ever seen. Plush carpets muffled their footsteps and gilt trappings caught their eye.
Trudging next to her, Jed looked as stoical as any man Tacita had ever seen. If he possessed any emotions, they were so well hidden she couldn’t see them. She wondered if their impending parting would wound him at all, or if his heart was as hard as his outer demeanor. She didn’t think he possessed a hard heart, but she wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
“Do you suppose that fellow’s here already?”
His question interrupted the dismal flow of her thoughts and she jerked, squeezing Rosamunda and making her yip. “Who? Edgar? I don’t know. What—what’s the date? Do you know?”
“It’s the first of July.”
Right on time. Tacita had known how it would be. She smiled faintly, recalling her first meeting with Jed Hardcastle and how she’d mistrusted him. Now she’d gladly offer him her life. In fact, she’d do it in a minute if he had any use for it, which he didn’t.
She felt her smile tremble on her lips, and pinched them together so they wouldn’t tilt into a sob and give her away. “I expect he’s already here. I believe his ship was to dock sometime near the end of June.”
Jed nodded. They had reached the registration desk. Tacita stepped forward, knowing she had to take over now; that her days of relying on Jed to take care of things were gone, never to be recaptured.
The clerk behind the counter smiled at her in a superior way, as if to let her know that, while he was here to serve, he was doing so in an establishment known to play host only to the rich and famous and that she’d better belong to that group or she’d soon feel his contempt. Tacita was familiar with that smile. She gave the clerk one of her own, which was geared to let him know she understood his message and, what’s more, she could buy him and a dozen just like him.
The clerk understood, too, and his attitude immediately became ingratiating. He even rubbed his hands together, sending thoughts of Uriah Heep darting about in Tacita’s brain. For the first time in her memory the l
ittle game, which she used to play without so much as a thought, struck her as ridiculous. Of course, she’d become used to the rugged Western honesty displayed by Jed Hardcastle. He didn’t have any use for silly games like this one. She played it with the clerk now, though, since she didn’t perceive an alternative.
“My name is Tacita Grantham. I believe you are holding a suite of rooms for me?”
She saw Jed glance at her quickly and knew he hadn’t heard her sound like this since they first met in Powder Gulch. She smiled at him to let him know her tone was only for the hotel clerk.
“Yes, ma’am, Miss Grantham,” the clerk said. “Indeed we are. Allow me to get a bellman for you.”
“Thank you.”
Tacita, Jed and Rosamunda stood before a pile of luggage while Tacita gave directions to a harried-looking bellman. All of a sudden Rosamunda began barking in a manner that sounded hysterical to Jed. He glowered down at her because he was in a really bad mood.
Tacita, on the other hand, who must have known her dog’s barks better than he did, said, “Oh, my goodness, darling, do you see someone you know?”
Allowing himself one brief, incredulous look at Tacita, Jed turned toward the elaborate front door of the lobby. What he saw made him frown.
It was Jeeves. Jed would recognize the prissy sissy anywhere, even if he weren’t hauling another Yorkshire terrier behind him on a fancy braided leash, and even if Tacita hadn’t whispered, “Edgar,” to confirm his knowledge. The damned pansy looked like he ought to be wearing a monocle. So did his damned dog.
Because he felt so rotten, he growled, “It’s your intended, Tacita.”
“Yes,” she said. “I see.” She didn’t sound as happy as Jed would have expected her to sound.
Rosie, he noticed, acted like she was about to swoon from ecstasy. It figured. He wished he could kick something. Preferably Rosie, although the Englishman would do in a pinch.
Tacita lifted a hand. “Edgar?” She said it too softly and the pansy didn’t notice her, but continued to mince his way across the lobby to the registration desk. Jed glowered menacingly at his back, which did every bit as much good as Tacita’s greeting.
She spoke a little louder then. Jed got the curious feeling she didn’t really want Jeeves to hear her. Wishful thinking, he decided contemptuously, and told himself to get used to it. Tacita belonged to Jeeves now, and that was that. His stomach heaved.
“Edgar!”
The fairy heard her that time. He had just turned, and had just smiled, when a shrill cry from Tacita pierced Jed’s eardrums. Irritated, he turned to scowl at her, only to find her gaze glued to the front door again. He spun around, hoping whatever had captured her attention was something he could kill, preferably with his bare hands.
It was Farley Boskins. And Stagecoach Willy, whom somebody must have bailed out rather more quickly than Jed considered seemly. And Virendra Karnik. And another Indian fellow Jed hadn’t ever seen before. And a man with bushy mutton chops who started walking rather unsteadily away from the group until Boskins caught him by a coattail and dragged him back in line.
Two tall, burly men, swaddled in strange white cotton clothes and turbans, walked several paces behind the other men. Even though Jed couldn’t see a single weapon between them, he had a feeling these two could be really dangerous.
“Uncle Luther?” Tacita stared uncertainly at the group of men, then turned to look up at Jed, her wide blue eyes wide making him want to kiss her. Which didn’t surprise him any, as he always wanted to kiss her. She said, “It’s my uncle Luther,” in a very doubtful voice.
“The drunkard?” he asked, just to be sure, although he didn’t figure the unknown Indian could be her uncle.
“He’s not a drunkard!”
Although Jed lifted a skeptical brow, he didn’t argue. Nor could he figure out what was going on.
Tacita took a hesitant step forward. Jed got the strong impression that she didn’t know why these men were here, any more than he did.
“Miss Grantham?”
The high-pitched, rather nasal question startled both Jed and Tacita into turning toward the registration desk again. Rosamunda began straining on her leash, her toenails digging fluffs of carpeting into tiny balls under her feet.
“Edgar?” Tacita took a step towards her intended bridegroom, then stopped and looked at her uncle and his entourage once more. She took a step towards them, too. “Uncle Luther?”
“Tash,” fell out of Luther’s mouth. Jed’s nose wrinkled up in distaste. He’d never been fond of drunks, and was surprised to find one in Tacita’s family.
“Miss Grantham?” the unknown Indian said, making both Jed and Tacita’s attention veer in his direction.
“Tacita?” Edgar said again.
“Ha!” said Farley Boskins
“Miss Grantham?” the Indian said at the same time.
“Mr. Hardcastle,” Karnik murmured, looking like he’d rather be hiding in a corner.
“Tash,” Uncle Luther repeated.
“Huh,” Stagecoach Willy muttered.
Rosamunda yipped.
Prince Albert answered.
Jed held up his hands. He hated confusion. “Let’s all be quiet for a minute.”
Nobody complied until he bellowed his request a second time. Then noise ceased all over the hotel. Prince Albert squatted and peed on the lobby carpet. Rosamunda flattened herself out on the floor and squeaked. A group of businessmen turned to look at him. A bellboy dropped a piece of luggage. Uncle Luther fell to his knees. Even the registration desk clerk stopped speaking in mid-sentence and ducked behind the counter. Crystal tassels on the chandelier above their head tinkled into the silence.
A little embarrassed, Jed decided he might as well continue as he’d started. While Farley Boskins helped Luther Adams Williamson to his feet, he growled, “All right. One at a time.” He turned and pointed at Luther. “Are you Tacita—er—Miss Grantham’s uncle?”
Luther nodded, a gesture that made him list to starboard. Fortunately, Farley Boskins still held onto his arm. Jed eyed Boskins next, not kindly.
“I know who you are, even though I don’t know what the hell you’re doing here.” His gaze fastened on Karnik. “And you.”
Karnik, quaking a little, nodded. “Yes, sahib.” He still looked like he wished he were elsewhere.
Jed’s gaze fastened on Stagecoach Willy. “How’d you get out so fast?”
Stagecoach Willy shrugged.
“Who are you?”
Jed’s peremptory question had been asked of the unknown Indian, who had seemed to be quietly assessing Jed through the prior commotion. He smiled now.
“I, dear sir, am Avinash Agrawal, at your service.” He gave an elaborate bow.
Jed was not charmed. “Don’t reckon I can use your services, Mr. Agrawal. And I sure as the devil aren’t your dear sir. Just tell me who the hell you are and what the hell you’re doing here.” Tacita yanked on his sleeve. He wasn’t inclined to feel charitable or to modify his language today, however, so he ignored her.
“Ah, my dear friend—”
“As to that, I don’t reckon I’m your friend, either, dear or otherwise,” Jed barked, cranky as all get out.
Agrawal bowed slightly, as if acknowledging the appropriateness of Jed’s mood, as well as his words. “As you say, sir.”
Edgar Jevington Reeve, evidently fascinated by the motley assortment of humanity gathered in the Palace’s lobby, moved closer to the action. Rosamunda greeted Prince Albert with ecstatic yaps. Prince Albert reciprocated. Jed glared at all three of them. Only Edgar seemed intimidated.
“So, Mr. Agrawal, who the hell are you and why the hell are you here with all these other people? You the one who hired ‘em all to follow us? What’d you aim to do? Kill us? What for?”
“Oh, no, no, no, my dear fellow. Nothing so crude.”
Jed snorted. Luther, unable to stand perfectly still, veered to one side and Boskins yanked him back again. Jed bunched hi
s hands into fists.
Agrawal, taking note of Jed’s fists, sped up his recitation. “You see, sir, Miss Grantham’s uncle, Mr. Williamson—” He nodded at Luther, who blinked back fuzzily. “—has assured us that Miss Grantham is in possession of the Delhi Hahm-Ahn-Der Eye.”
Tacita and Jed exchanged a glance. Jed muttered darkly, “That damned eye again.”
Tacita said nothing. She looked terribly confused.
“It is imperative that the Eye be returned to the Great Goddess in Delhi. Otherwise, immense misfortune will befall my people.”
Jed offered a grunt. Encouraged by his show of interest, Agrawal went on. “Therefore, I made arrangements with Luther Adams Williamson. He in turn hired several of these people to fetch the Eye and bring it to me. I, in return, shall replace it in its rightful place, in the shrine of the Great Goddess in the Temple of Hahm, in Delhi.”
“Well now, isn’t that just dandy.” Offering the assembled men a good glare each, Jed said, “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” He turned to Tacita. “Do you know what the hell he’s talking about?”
Apparently too surprised by this turn of events to take exception to his language, Tacita only shook her head, bemused, and said, “No. No, I have no idea.”
“Y’neck. It’sh ‘round y’neck.”
Everybody looked at Luther. He looked back, his unfocused stare creating the impression that he was watching a rather dull play while his mind dwelt on other matters.
Agrawal smiled. Jed didn’t like his smile one little bit. He snarled, “What the hell’s he talking about?”
“Ah, my dear fr—er—Mr. Hardcastle. I fear Miss Grantham’s uncle is under the weather.”
“Under the table’s more like it,” grumbled Jed.
