Texas Blonde

by Victoria Thompson

  Richard quickly regained his composure, determined to put a good front on things. The girl might yet alienate her grandfather. Perhaps her marriage would do the trick. But if not, he wanted to be on the girl's good side. With an expertise born of experience, Richard got the luggage loaded and his charges ensconced in the carriage in short order.

  "I think you'll find the ride very pleasant," Richard said as the carriage moved away from the train station. "Broad Street is known for its lovely homes."

  And rightly so, Felicity realized as she watched mansion after mansion pass by her window. "Mr. Gordon said that my grandfather lives nearby," she ventured, wondering what type of home she would discover him occupying.

  "Yes, he does," Richard confirmed proudly. "He lives on Rittenhouse Square, which is considered to be the heart of the most fashionable section of town."

  "Oh, my," Felicity murmured, hazarding a glance at Joshua's face. He did not seem pleased by this information, but what had he expected? They knew her grandfather was a wealthy man, and after seeing his railroad car, they could logically anticipate that he lived in a mansion. Before she could point this out, however, Richard spoke.

  "And what exactly is your occupation, Joshua?" he asked, assuming his role as charming host.

  Josh studied the too friendly smile a moment before answering. Obviously, Winthrop was prepared to be politely, if insincerely, enthusiastic about whatever Josh named as his profession.

  "I'm a rancher," he said.

  "A cattle rancher?" Richard asked with an empty smile. At Josh's nod, he inquired, "And how many cows do you… uh, keep?"

  Josh easily read his contempt. Obviously, Winthrop pictured Josh with a milk pail and a dozen heifers. "Oh, it depends on the time of year. In the spring we have more, of course, and in the fall we sell some off," he explained with elaborate casualness. "Most times we run between fifteen and twenty… thousand."

  "Thousand!" Richard gasped.

  Josh nodded again, biting back a satisfied smile. "It keeps us busy," he said almost apologetically, and pretended a renewed interest in the passing scenery. He purposely did not look at Felicity. He did not want to see her awe at the beautiful homes they were passing. Was she already growing discontent with the log and adobe house back at the Rocking L Ranch?

  Although she was certainly in awe, Felicity was not a bit discontent. All she could think about as she looked at these houses was how cold and impersonal they seemed. Then the carriage came to a halt in front of the coldest of them all, an imposing structure of Italianate styling.

  "Here we are," Richard announced.

  "This is where my grandfather lives?" Felicity asked in disbelief. "It looks like a… like a bank!" she exclaimed, reexamining the classical facade for some hint the building might really be someone's home.

  Joshua made a funny noise that might have been a smothered laugh, and Richard glared at him for just a second before assuming his patient charm once again. "Yes, it is rather impressive, isn't it?" he remarked as he climbed down and reached to help Felicity alight from the carriage.

  Felicity tried not to gape, but the task became more difficult with every passing second. When the massive front door opened to reveal an entryway three stones high and paved with pink marble, she felt as if she had stepped into a fairyland.

  "Good afternoon, Mr. Winthrop," a tall, dignified man in livery said as they entered.

  "Good afternoon, Bellwood," Richard responded coolly. "This is Mr. Maxwell's granddaughter and her husband, Mr. Logan. We are expected, I believe."

  "Yes, sir. Miss Maxwell will receive you in the drawing room," Bellwood informed them. "May I take your coats?" When he had, he said, "Follow me, please."

  To Felicity's wide-eyed amazement, this elegant man- who had hardly even glanced at her or Joshua, although surely he was curious about them-turned smartly on his heel and conducted them to a pair of sliding doors midway down the long entrance hall. He slid them open with a flourish.

  "Mr. Richard Winthrop, Mr. and Mrs. Logan," he announced in stentorian tones, and then stepped back to allow them to enter.

  Richard led the way, approaching a small woman in pink who rose from a gilt sofa to greet them. Felicity and Josh stopped just inside the door. Felicity put a hand on her stomach to still a flutter of excitement as she prepared to meet her Aunt Isabel.

  "Richard?" a feeble voice inquired tentatively.

  "Cousin Isabel, may I present your niece, Felicity, and her husband, Joshua Logan?" Richard said. He placed an arm around the lady's waist and escorted her toward where Josh and Felicity stood.

  Felicity watched them approach. Aunt Isabel was absolutely tiny, standing several inches shorter than her own five feet. Her aunt was wearing a frilly pink gown which had obviously been designed with an ingenue in mind, and she had her graying hair tied back with an absurd pink bow.

  But the face that stared up at hers was smooth and unlined, as if no worries had ever troubled it, and the eyes were as blue as her own. "Aunt Isabel, I'm so happy to meet you," Felicity said, smiling with genuine delight.

  But Aunt Isabel did not return the smile. Instead, she simply stared at Felicity for an uncomfortably long time. At last one frail, parchment-white hand rose to rest on the pink bosom. "Claire," Isabel breathed tragically, and promptly fainted.

  Oddly, she fainted right into Joshua's arms, or at least, that was the way it appeared to Felicity. At any rate, he managed somehow to catch her before she hit the ground.

  "What should I do with her?" Josh inquired with some irony when he had gotten a good grip on her.

  "Right over here, sir," Bellwood informed him with no change whatsoever in his expression. "On the fainting couch." He indicated an oddly shaped piece of furniture in one corner of the room. Josh gratefully carried his burden over to it.

  Following him, Felicity noticed for the first time that the room was enormous. Her first impression had been one of closeness, but she realized now what had caused that impression. The place was literally crammed with objects d'art of every description. Every wall and flat surface was covered with paintings, sculptures, figurines, and assorted knickknacks, which were, in turn, adorned with peacock feathers or silk flowers or some other foofaraw. Felicity realized vaguely that she could spend an entire day in this room and never see everything it contained.

  When Josh had laid Isabel down, Felicity examined her aunt's pale face in dismay. "Good heavens, what should we do?" she asked, appalled at the havoc her arrival had caused.

  "Perhaps you should throw some water in her face, madam," Bellwood suggested calmly.

  "Water?" Felicity asked incredulously, turning on him. That was when she noticed the twinkle in his eye. No sooner had she registered this incongruity than she heard her aunt moan, loudly and dramatically.

  "My salts, Richard," Isabel said feebly.

  "It works every time, madam," Bellwood informed Felicity in a whisper.

  Wide-eyed with amazement, Felicity looked back to observe her cousin Richard handing a vial to her aunt. He was as unmoved as Bellwood. She glanced at Josh. He, too, seemed unnaturally calm for a man who had just caught an unconscious woman. Was she the only one in the room who felt sympathy for her poor aunt… or did her aunt really need any sympathy? She turned a suspicious gaze back toward the small lady on the fainting couch.

  "Are you all right, Aunt Isabel?" Felicity felt compelled to ask.

  Isabel inhaled of her smelling salts and sighed. "Yes…yes, I'm fine now," she said with a weak smile. "How fortunate that handsome young man was there to catch me. Who did you say he was again, Richard?"

  "He's my husband, Aunt Isabel," Felicity replied for him, stepping closer to the couch where her aunt lay so she could better judge her condition.

  "Husband?" Isabel repeated, forgetting to sound faint. "We heard nothing about any husband. Why, you're much too young to be married, my dear," she added with a frown.

  "I'm nineteen, and I've been married almost a year," Felicity said, certa
in now that Isabel's faint had been faked. What she could not figure out was why.

  Isabel's cornflower eyes took Joshua in from head to toe and back again. "A year," she echoed, and looked as if she might faint again. "Oh, my…"

  "Isabel," Richard said impatiently.

  But she ignored him. "I'm so sorry I fainted. Such a silly thing to do, but you see, you look exactly like my sister, Claire… your mother, that is. It was such a shock. I had no idea…"

  "Isabel," Richard repeated, more firmly this time. "Does Uncle Henry want me to bring them up?"

  "What? Oh yes," Isabel suddenly recalled. "Bellwood will take you. Bellwood?"

  "This way, please," Bellwood said, the twinkle gone from his eyes. Perhaps Felicity had only imagined it the first time.

  "Will you be all right, Aunt Isabel?" Felicity inquired perfunctorily, anxious to get to her grandfather at last.

  "Oh yes, dear. You go on. Papa will be furious with me if I detain you a moment longer," Isabel assured them.

  Once more Bellwood led them. This time he crossed the entrance hall and started up a magnificently carved mahogany staircase carpeted in maroon to harmonize with the marble on the entry floor.

  Josh took Felicity's arm and looked down to check her expression. She was frowning, and he was afraid she might still be concerned about her aunt. He leaned down close to her ear and whispered, "Your aunt didn't really faint… And she threw herself at me on purpose," he added.

  Felicity glanced up at his disgruntled expression and grinned conspiratorily. "I know," she whispered back. "You should be flattered." She knew from the disgusted sound he made that he wasn't.

  The upstairs hall was polished parquet covered with intricately woven runners. Felicity noticed everything, the vastness of the house that went on and on in every direction, the cavernous stairwell that extended up yet another story to a stained-glass skylight, and the plaster molding that adorned even the hallways. She could not begin to imagine the wealth required to build such a splendid dwelling or the labor it would take to maintain it. Vaguely, she realized that her grandfather must employ more people to run his house than she and Joshua required to operate their entire ranch.

  What kind of a man could amass such a fortune? What kind of a man would live in such solitary splendor? She had tried not to think of him as the ruthless businessman Blanche had hinted about. She had even tried not to think of him as the man who had disowned her mother for choosing to follow her heart instead of his edict. Instead she had pictured a frail old man, humbled by his own mortality and compelled by love to locate his only granddaughter.

  Had she deceived herself? She knew from experience that love was like a delicate flower-it needed warmth in which to grow. As Felicity looked around this flamboyant palace, she sensed no warmth at all. Could love survive here? Was that why her mother had fled with Caleb Storm?

  But if her grandfather did not love her, why had he sent for her?

  Bellwood paused before a set of double doors and knocked.

  "Come in," a muffled voice called from within.

  Bellwood opened the door and stepped back again, but this time Richard motioned for Felicity to precede him into the room. Hesitantly, she entered, her thoughts a jumbled mess she had no hope of sorting through now. Perhaps meeting the man himself would give her the answers. Blinking a little to accustom herself to the dim light in the room, she looked around. It was a bedroom, constructed on the same mammoth proportions as the drawing room and with the same overdone decor. But before she could take in any details, she saw a small man in a blue brocade dressing gown rise from a chair across the room. "My God," he said. "Claire!"

  Chapter Eleven

  "No, Uncle Henry, this is your granddaughter, Felicity," Richard quickly corrected, rushing to her side.

  Felicity stared at the old man, half expecting him to faint as Isabel had done. But he did not. Instead, he cast Richard an irritated glance. "Of course she's Felicity! I know that! I'm not senile yet!"

  Then he returned his gaze to Felicity, and the irritation disappeared. He smiled and held out his hand to her. "Come here, child."

  Somewhat relieved, Felicity went to him, taking the hand he offered. It was surprisingly warm; his grip, strong and sure. She studied him more closely. He was quite old, even older than she had expected, and he looked as if he had been sick for a while. His skin was pale and slack from loss of weight. But his blue eyes-a faded version of her own- sparkled when he looked at her.

  "You do look like your mother, you know. The resemblance is remarkable," he said after a moment.

  "So I've been told," Felicity remarked, dimpling.

  At her grandfather's puzzled frown, Richard explained. "Isabel fainted when she saw her."

  Maxwell nodded his understanding. "Isabel faints quite frequently. She's a spiritless girl. Never did learn how to behave in company, so she faints when she can't think of anything to say."

  So that explained it, Felicity thought, reflecting how such a habit must at times be a very useful device. But of course, she did not say so. She would have to be very careful to mind her tongue, as her father had often tried to teach her. She did not want to scandalize her grandfather or tarnish her mother's sterling memory by behaving improperly. Instead, she smiled sweetly and took the seat he offered her. He had been sitting at a small table by the window, and she sat opposite him.

  Maxwell glanced up impatiently at Richard, who hovered nearby, and caught a glimpse of Josh, who still stood in the doorway. "Who's that?" he demanded.

  "Oh, I'm sorry, Grandfather," Felicity said quickly, abashed at having forgotten to introduce Joshua. "This is my husband, Joshua Logan."

  "Husband!" Maxwell protested. "Gordon didn't say anything about a husband."

  "He forgot," Richard explained sarcastically.

  Maxwell snorted in disbelief. "Well, don't just stand there. Pull up a chair, young man," he commanded, motioning Josh into the room. "Richard, open the drapes so I can see these people."

  "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Maxwell," Josh muttered with an ironic smile that made Henry Maxwell's eyes narrow speculatively. So the old man was sizing him up, was he? Well, it was no more than Josh had expected, and he was ready. The only thing he hadn't been prepared for was Felicity's reaction to this situation. He had seen the awed expression on her face as she took in the magnificence of the Maxwell mansion. The fact that meeting her grandfather had made her forget that she even had a husband-for however brief a time-also disturbed him. But he would not let the old man see his concern. Instinct warned him that Maxwell would pounce on any weakness.

  Maintaining his smile, Josh carried a chair over to the table and sat down beside Felicity, stretching his long legs out in front of him. Henry Maxwell examined them with interest and then proceeded to study Josh's face.

  "That's quite a head of hair you have there, young man," he said. "What have you done to earn it?"

  Josh did not even blink. "I married your granddaughter."

  Neither man seemed to hear Felicity's surprised gasp. Gunmetal-gray eyes stared into faded blue ones in a silent battle of wills as the two men took each other's measure. After a very long minute, Maxwell said, "She must be just like her mother. Claire always was more trouble than any two women put together."

  Felicity frowned. What could her grandfather mean? She knew perfectly well how gentle and serene her mother had been. Or did she? Before she could think to ask about it, however, Richard's voice cut into her thoughts.

  "Joshua is a rancher in Texas. He owns twenty thousand cows," Richard reported. Felicity thought she heard an undercurrent of envy in his tone.

  "Twenty thousand, eh?" Maxwell mused. "You must be doing well, then."

  "We eat regular," Josh allowed, crossing his arms over his chest in a gesture of challenge. He decided not to point out to Richard that not all his cattle were "cows."

  Tired of this male sparring, Felicity tossed Joshua a warning look and said, "I brought you a present, Grandfather. W
ould you like to see it?"

  "A present?" he repeated, his attention shifting back to her. "Yes, I would like to see it."

  "I'll go get it," she offered, and started to rise, but Maxwell motioned for her to stay still.

  "Hastings will fetch it for you," he said. Another servant whom Felicity had not even noticed before stepped forward and listened intently to Felicity's instructions to fetch the red carpetbag that Mr. Logan had carried in with him.

  Felicity reflected that a person could get mighty lazy living in this house.

  "That's a lovely dress, my dear," Maxwell said when Hastings had gone.

  "Oh, thank you," Felicity said, flushing slightly. "It's my wedding dress." Self-consciously, she touched one of the buttons at her throat.

  Maxwell watched the motion thoughtfully. "I'll bet you made it yourself, too," he ventured.

  "Why, yes, I did," Felicity admitted, a little amazed that he should guess.

  Richard turned his head and coughed, but she barely noticed. Maxwell simply smiled. "Well, she's clever as well as pretty, Richard. I can see you have a real eye for style, my dear. Perhaps while you're here, you'll allow me to buy you a few more gowns."

  Felicity shook her head, smiling to soften her refusal. "I don't need any clothes, Grandfather. Mr. Logan is very good to me. I already have more dresses than I can wear."

  "Nonsense," Maxwell chuckled. "A pretty girl never has too many dresses. Besides, your friends will be disappointed if you don't come back with something in the height of fashion to show them. Indulge an old man his whimsy, will you? It has been too many years since I was allowed to buy something pretty for a beautiful young woman."

  Felicity glanced at her husband. Misreading his expression, she guessed that he was displeased by her grandfather's offer. "No, really-" she began, but Josh cut her off.