Texas Loving (The Cowboys)

by Leigh Greenwood

  Edward felt the familiar tightening in his stomach. Daphne Bidwell was a beautiful woman, intelligent, and possessed of a dowry large enough to ensure his family’s financial future, but he’d always envisioned himself with someone more down-to-earth, someone who could share his life with him, living in the country instead of a suffocating society milieu governed by the rigid and stifling rules of a queen who’d been in deep mourning for nearly thirty years. Daphne knew nothing about the country and he cared nothing about the city. Their worlds didn’t meet, yet they were expected to make them merge into a successful marriage. He didn’t want to marry a woman whose conversation was entirely about her friends, parties, or clothes, and who disliked horses.

  Daphne had lived her whole life in London, waited on by a platoon of servants and attended by her old nurse, a governess, and now a suitable lady’s companion. The only child of a wealthy banker, she’d been groomed to marry a title and become a dutiful wife. As far as Edward was concerned, she’d been molded and shaped until they’d squeezed the life out of her.

  Edward intended to do his duty, but he could never forget an old school chum’s description of the year he’d spent in the American West working on a cattle ranch. The stories of untrammeled freedom from the strictures of society, of weeks spent camping out during roundup, of whole days in the saddle, had fired Edward’s imagination. He told himself such a life wasn’t possible for him, but it was real enough in his mind to make his impending future difficult to accept.

  His back was against the wall. His father and his great-uncle had no concept of what it took to earn the money they spent so thoughtlessly. No matter how hard he worked, no matter how many times he explained the need to invest in the land rather than wringing every possible penny from it, the family fortunes had continued to dwindle until the Davenports were on the verge of bankruptcy. As the next person in line for the title after his father, it was Edward’s duty to marry a woman with money.

  He’d tried for Charlotte’s sake. He liked his stepmother. She had mothered him with warm affection when she married his father soon after his mother’s death. He’d tried for the earl. The old man was almost as bad as his father about spending money, but he encouraged Edward in his efforts to improve the estate. Edward really tried for Patrick, had never held it against his brother that even a casual observer could tell their father adored Patrick as much as he disliked Edward.

  “I’d marry an heiress if I could,” Patrick said, “but no one is interested in the second son. Besides, no female is going to notice me when you’re in the room. Even Father admits you cut a noble figure.”

  “In broadcloth. I don’t do well in satin.” Edward wanted an uncomplicated life, a family that felt like a family, a home where he felt that he truly belonged instead of feeling he’d somehow been dropped into the wrong place and time—even though Patrick constantly tried to convince him he’d make a good earl.

  “Stop being so critical. You look very impressive in your dress clothes. Besides, you’re the most caring person I know.”

  Edward threw his arm over his brother’s shoulder. “You’ve always come to my defense, but it’s time you started looking out for yourself. Davenport men marry young. Can’t have a hot-blooded young buck like you on the loose.”

  Patrick laughed heartily. “You’re older, so you have to be sacrificed first. Besides, if it comes to being hot-blooded—”

  Edward laughed. “Not another word. Whatever you’ve heard is undoubtedly an exaggeration. Do I look like the kind of man to be chasing after women?”

  He didn’t have to. Women chased him. Women who had no more in their heads or their hearts than his great-uncle’s title and the position in society it would give them. He wanted a woman who would love him for himself, but he wasn’t sure that woman existed.

  London, England

  For a month Eden’s anticipation had been building to the point she thought she might burst. Her grandfather had told her endless stories about England, the city of London, his country estate, and the several members of his family. She’d heard all about the bad temper of the viscount, who was the son of the earl’s deceased younger brother, about the wonderful qualities of the viscount’s wife, Charlotte. She also knew about the difficult nature of the viscount’s heir, Edward, but her interest had settled on the viscount’s second son, Patrick. It wasn’t hard to figure out that her grandfather would have been delighted to have Eden and Patrick fall in love. Eden had never thought of marrying an Englishman, but the earl made Patrick sound like such a wonderful man, she wasn’t willing to discount the possibility. However, she was a practical woman, not given to wishful thinking or fanciful imaginings. England was a foreign country. She didn’t know if she would like it . . . or any of its inhabitants.

  After such a long period of waiting, it was hard to believe now that she was actually in the heart of London, the biggest city in the world. She stared out the windows of the hansom cab as it rattled over the cobblestone streets and its driver disputed the right of way with other cabs, private carriages, men on horseback, wagons of every description, and pedestrians who appeared to think all traffic should stop when they wanted to cross the street. In some ways, it wasn’t very different from Galveston or San Antonio.

  “I expect our ways will seem strange to you,” the earl was saying to Isabelle and Jake, “but Cyril and Charlotte will be happy to take you under their wings. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about this young lady,” he said, winking at Eden. “Patrick will make sure she’s well taken care of.”

  Isabelle had joked that it would be a wild twist of fate if Eden were to marry into English aristocracy, something her own mother had refused to do. But Jake wasn’t amused at the thought of his daughter living nearly five thousand miles from Texas or marrying a man who was puffed up with his own importance and talked funny in the bargain.

  It was all a great adventure to Eden. She’d smiled to herself several times thinking of what some of her classmates at her fancy Eastern college would say if they knew her grandfather was an earl. And if she were to marry the brother of the future earl, well, there wouldn’t be enough envy to go around.

  She told herself to stop being foolish. She was in England to enjoy herself, and learn something about her grandfa- ther’s life, not to find a husband. Still, her grandfather’s description of Patrick had piqued her interest. If the man was only half as good as the earl made him out to be, Eden was surprised he wasn’t married already. Twenty-two might be considered too young to get married in England, but in Texas Patrick would have been considered a man for at least five years.

  “I don’t know if you’ll meet Edward this evening,” the earl said as the cab turned into an avenue that was amazingly quiet after the noise of the main thoroughfare, “but Patrick will make sure you’re not neglected.”

  “I hope you won’t make him spend all his time with me,” Eden said. “I’m sure he has his own friends, his own plans.”

  “Once he gets a look at you, he’ll be happy enough to forget his friends,” the earl said. “You’re a very lovely young woman even if you aren’t quite as beautiful as your grandmother was.” He patted her hand. “Patrick will be as charmed by you as I am.”

  Eden was certain she would never again see anything as incredible as the city of London. From the beautiful buildings to the enormous tree-filled parks to the cobbled streets choked with traffic, it was all she could do to keep from staring like a provincial. But it wasn’t until she found herself in the entrance hall of her grandfather’s London home that she began to understand what it meant to be an earl. The whole house appeared to be made of marble: columns of green veined with white and black; walls of white flecked with gold; floors of alternating black and white squares; stairs of pure black.

  Life-sized portraits adorned the walls. She noticed the earl’s immediately. His angular features and white beard made him stand out from the others. His gaunt face was pleasantly cheerful despite being lined by suffering. By co
ntrast, the viscount’s portrait depicted a tall man with soft pink skin and a satin waistcoat stretched too tightly over his stomach. Smooth-shaven with thick brown hair combed ruthlessly into submission, he appeared to be suffering from the same sour disposition as most of his ancestors.

  “The drawing room is on the second floor,” the earl said as he accompanied them into the entrance hall. One servant held the doors while others were already unloading their luggage from the cab. “You can rest there until the housekeeper comes to take you to your rooms.”

  Just then a handsome woman appeared at the head of the stairs, accompanied by a man with a pained expression. “Welcome to Southampton House,” she said. “I’m Charlotte Davenport. This is my husband, Cyril, Viscount Wentworth.”

  Cyril’s forced smile did nothing to hide the anger that puckered his brow. Acting as though she hadn’t endured a long ocean crossing and an even more tiring journey from the port, Isabelle marched up the steps with the energy and decision that had characterized her whole life.

  “I’m sure you’re horrified to have to receive me,” Isabelle said in her forthright manner, “but neither I nor my family want anything from you. After a short visit, we’ll return to Texas and you can forget we exist. For now, however, I would appreciate being able to sit down in a comfortable chair without being rocked from side to side, being choked by smoke, or having my teeth rattle in my head.”

  Charlotte appeared to be only slightly less stupefied by this speech than her husband, but she recovered quickly and led them into a room that could only be described as sumptuous. From the velvet curtains to the painted ceiling to the elegant chairs, the room bespoke a luxury only the very rich could afford. Eden couldn’t picture her brothers coming into such a room after being on horseback all day. Jake looked ready to bolt.

  “I apologize for not having everyone down to meet you, but we arrived in town later than expected,” Charlotte said. “Would you like something to drink? Tea, perhaps?”

  Jake’s face had lit up at the offer of a drink, only to fall at the mention of tea, but the earl was already offering him something more to his liking. Eden’s attention was drawn to the quiet entrance of a handsome young man of slender build and thick auburn hair. His complexion was fair and without flaw, his features finely formed and assembled into an uncommonly attractive face complemented by a charming smile that drew Eden in immediately. Though dressed in a white shirt, tie, waistcoat, and form-fitting suit, his style was casual.

  “Patrick, come meet your cousin.” Her grandfather turned to Eden. “His half brother Edward stands between him and the title—but the two of them still manage to be great friends.”

  “Uncle is always teasing me about Edward,” Patrick said with a quick smile, “but Edward will make a much better earl. I don’t have his stature, or his command over a horse.”

  Eden liked him immediately.

  “There’s a lot more to being an earl than size and horsemanship.” The viscount’s displeasure—Eden wasn’t sure at what—was plain to see.

  “Where is Edward?” the earl asked.

  Patrick turned to him. “He had some last-minute business with one of the home farms. He won’t be able to come down for several days.”

  “It wouldn’t be something earthshaking like the birth of a foal or the purchase of a new ram, would it?” Cyril grumbled.

  “I never inquire into Edward’s business,” Patrick said with an open expression.

  “Patrick is making excuses for him as usual,” the viscount said with a frown.

  Eden thought she saw a flicker of uneasiness, but Patrick was obviously too well trained to betray his feelings before strangers.

  “He must be here tonight,” Charlotte said to her son. “Daphne and her parents are coming for dinner.”

  “I’m sorry, Mother. I can only convey Edward’s assurance that he will be here as soon as possible.”

  Charlotte Davenport’s harrumph was more expressive than words.

  Eden had been under the impression that sons of the aristocracy had to obey their elders. It seemed, however, that Edward was different, something Eden found as interesting as Edward’s family appeared to find annoying.

  “We’re expecting Edward and Daphne to announce their engagement any day now,” Charlotte explained.

  “Edward is fortunate that Daphne is an undemanding woman,” the viscount said.

  “Daphne is fortunate to have found a husband who doesn’t neglect his estate,” Jake put in.

  “It’s stupid to put managing the estate above his obligations to the family,” the viscount sneered. “We hire people for that.”

  “His work at Worlege has increased our revenues,” the earl pointed out.

  “He wouldn’t need to worry about increasing our revenues if he would marry Daphne.”

  “You’ve done your best with the boy,” Charlotte said to her husband, “but everyone knows how stubborn he is.” Charlotte smiled fondly at her son. “He’s nothing like Patrick.”

  “You ought to be glad of that,” Patrick said with a self-effacing laugh. “I’d have no idea which animals should be saved for breeding and which were good only for slaughter.”

  Eden couldn’t see anything wrong with Edward’s knowing how to manage his livestock. In fact, she wouldn’t think much of any man who left the conduct of his business entirely in the hands of someone else.

  “Edward and Cyril seldom agree on anything,” the earl explained, giving his heir an impatient glance. “Though I don’t find the goings-on in the farmyard to be of any interest, I don’t see why it’s such a problem that Edward does.”

  “Because it makes him seem more like a farmer than the man who will someday inherit your title,” Cyril said.

  “Young people often have different ideas from those of their elders.” The earl turned to Isabelle. “I wonder what Deirdre would have thought of your cowboy?” he asked.

  She reached out to grasp Jake’s hand. “Probably what I thought of him when I first saw him,” she said with a hearty laugh. “Fortunately it didn’t take me long to realize a wonderful man could come in bad wrapping paper.”

  Eden loved to see her parents show affection, but she could tell Charlotte and Cyril thought it was unbecoming. Even Patrick looked surprised.

  Just then the housekeeper came to announce that their rooms were ready. The earl made his excuses and slipped away.

  “I’m so glad to meet you,” Patrick said to Eden. “It’s rather exciting finding that I have a cousin I didn’t know existed.”

  “Even if she is an American?”

  “Even then. I hope you won’t let Father’s irritation prejudice you against Edward.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t need my approval. I have a feeling the earl is rather fond of him.”

  Patrick smiled ruefully. “That irritates Father even more than my defending Edward. Now don’t let me keep you from your room. I’m sure you’re anxious to rest before dinner.”

  “I’m not such a feeble female. I’m used to helping cook supper after working all day.”

  Patrick looked surprised.

  “I grew up on a ranch,” Eden explained. “I have ten brothers and one sister. We all had jobs. I also liked to work with Dad and the boys when they’d let me.”

  Patrick seemed at a loss for words.

  Eden laughed at his perplexity. “Texans expect a man to work for his living. If he can’t, or won’t, we don’t consider him much of a man.” Eden supposed she shouldn’t have been so direct, but she wasn’t about to let anyone look down on her or her family. “Now before I offend you so badly you won’t speak to me again, I’d better go to my room.”

  Eden decided that one advantage of living in a ranch house was not having a bedroom on the fourth floor. After climbing so many stairs, she might need that rest after all. Her room was small but beautifully appointed. Though she appreciated the luxury, the view from her window was of the back side of another house, not the panoramic view of the hills tha
t surrounded their ranch. Yet it was so quiet it was hard to believe she was in a city of more than four million people. There weren’t half that many in the whole state of Texas.

  A knock sounded on the bedroom door and a maid entered the room. “The family is gathering in the salon,” she told Eden. “Dinner will be served in half an hour.”

  After giving her appearance one last glance, Eden stepped out of her room and was nearly run over by a man hurrying along the hall.

  “Pardon me,” he said and moved aside to let her pass.

  Eden’s initial feeling of irritation that he should be in such a rush vanished when she got a look at him. She didn’t know how to address him. He didn’t look like a servant, yet he didn’t look like a member of the household either. From his boots to his cap, he was a study in brown. His boots were worn and slightly muddy, his pants wrinkled and showing age. His shirt had probably been clean when he’d put it on that morning, but he hadn’t bothered with a tie. His coat, though cut well and of fine cloth, appeared to have been subjected to use in all kinds of weather. Yet despite his rumpled appearance, there was an air about him that bespoke a person of consequence. He started to move past her, then apparently changed his mind.

  Eden wasn’t sure she appreciated the way he looked her over. It wasn’t rude nor was it lewd. It was simply open and appraising. She couldn’t tell whether he liked what he saw or whether he was making a list of her flaws.

  “Do I meet your approval?” she asked.

  She was pleased to see him flush.

  “I shouldn’t stare, but I hadn’t expected to meet a stranger in the hall. Who are you?” he asked point-blank.

  “I’m Eden Maxwell. Who are you?”

  Chapter Two

  Edward had met many women in his life—most paraded before him in hopes of becoming the wife of a future earl—but he’d never met one who stopped him in his tracks. Even more confusing, he couldn’t tell what it was about her that was so unexpected, so arresting . . . so mesmerizing. She looked like a perfectly ordinary woman, more beautiful than most and with a figure that caused a stirring in his loins, yet he knew right away he’d never met a woman like Eden Maxwell.