by Barbara Goss
Chapter Seven
The carriage let them off in front of Buttersworth Mansion, just as it began to snow. Ellen squealed with delight. “Look, Ned, it’s snowing.”
“We get a lot of that in Kansas,” he said somewhat abruptly.
As they entered the foyer of the home, Emma Radcliffe gave Ellen a stern look and then disappeared in another direction. Ned could hear the music and the noise of a babbling crowd—male and female voices, and silly sounding, phony laughter. He removed his hat and allowed Ellen to lead him to the area where it was most crowded.
Ellen looked at him and gasped. “Put your hat on, Ned.”
“Where I come from it’s impolite to wear your hat indoors,” he said.
“I want you to look like a real cowboy. Please, put it on,” she begged.
Ned fumed inside. He didn’t want to be at that ball, he hated crowds, and now she wanted him to wear his hat indoors, when he’d noticed no other person wearing one.
With as pleasant a voice as he could manage, he said, “I’ll carry it in front of me for all to see.”
Ellen pouted, but continued weaving through the crowd until she stopped abruptly in front of a group of ladies about her age. He didn’t think he’d survive the stares everyone gave him, and felt like turning around and walking out.
Ellen pulled him in front of her and said, “This is my cowboy, Ned Benedict.”
All the ladies smiled. Some just stood there with their mouths hanging open.
“Isn’t he handsome?” Ellen said. “He’s even proposed to me.”
“And she’s refused me,” Ned couldn’t help but add. The last thing he wanted was for Ellen to accept that hasty, reckless proposal, now. Ellen had disappointed him. Sure, she made his blood boil when she kissed him and wriggled close to him, but there were more important things to a relationship than that. For one thing, she had no consideration for his feelings, showing him off like a prize cow at the fair.
The orchestra started playing a waltz. Ellen floated into his arms and danced him to the middle of the floor. He waltzed with her, although he wasn’t proficient in that particular dance. Luckily, the floor was so crowded, no one noticed he was just slowly moving this way and that. Had they played a Virginia reel, he’d have been right at home on the dance floor.
For the first time since boarding The Snow Queen, he wished he were home, sitting on the porch with Maria. Ellen stoked a fire in him, but Maria’s company had kept him warm.
When the dance was over, they walked back to the corner where her friends congregated. A few of them were returning from the dance floor, as well. Suddenly, Ellen was pulled from his grasp. He spun around to see a tall, young man, looking at Ellen with venomous eyes.
He’d pulled her off to another corner of the room where they seemed to be having a lively discussion. Ned shrugged. Rather than stand alone and feel ridiculous, he asked one of Ellen’s friends for a dance. She smiled and flew into his waiting arms.
“Are you a real cowboy?” she asked.
“Not really. A cowboy herds cattle to market and works on a cattle ranch. My uncle and I run a sheep ranch,” he said.
“You dress like a cowboy,” she said.
“Well, everyone in Kansas dresses like this on Sunday. We wear flannel shirts, boots, large brimmed hats, and wool pants during the week.”
He’d asked the least attractive girl to dance. He supposed he thought, that way, he wouldn’t be refused. She had red hair, freckles, and spectacles, but as he looked at her, he noticed she had beautiful eyes and a fairly good figure. If she’d wear her hair in a less bushy hairstyle and use a bit of powder, she might be more attractive.
After the dance, he led her back to the group, where several of Ellen’s friends were watching Ellen and the stranger. They looked worried. One of them approached Ned and said, “We’re worried about Ellen. Lord Davenport is upset with her. He just dragged her through the French doors to the patio.”
“Who is this fellow?” Ned asked.
“He’s the man her mother wants her to marry,” a blonde woman said. “I bet he’s angry at her for being with you.”
Ned wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation if this man wanted to fight him or challenge him to a duel. Mercy! That was all he needed. Yet, as a gentleman, he had to see if she was all right. He hoped this Davenport wasn’t bullying her. Their earlier discussion—out of his hearing—hadn’t looked too friendly. The man had been waving his arms around and Ellen had stood with her hands on her hips as she answered him back.
He approached the doors and slipped out onto the dark patio, but couldn’t see anyone there. Perhaps her friends had been mistaken. He started to turn back when he heard a giggle. He turned in that direction and strained to see in the darkness, managing to spy a bit of pink behind a large evergreen tree. He stepped off the patio and circled around so that he’d be able to see around that tree, but from a distance—what he saw shocked him.
The man was kissing her passionately, and she wasn’t fighting him off, either. In fact, she seemed to be encouraging him, rubbing the back of his neck all the while.
Ned didn’t know what to do—should he walk up to them and say something, or slink back into the ballroom? Finally, he decided on doing neither, walking swiftly across the lawn to the front of the mansion, he just continued walking. He had no idea where he was headed, but he’d had enough. As he walked, he wondered how he’d ever find his way back to the Radcliffe home.
After a while, he spotted a small buggy approach him with two huge wheels, pulled by a single horse. A man was sitting on the driver’s bench, behind the cab of the buggy. He’d seen a few vehicles like it at the waterfront on the day he’d arrived. Ellen had told him they were hansom cabs, buggies for hire to deliver people to their destinations. He hailed the vehicle by stepping off the curb and putting his hand out.
The man stopped the cab. “Where to?”
Ned tried to remember the street on which the Radcliffes lived. “The Radcliffe place,” he said, still trying to think of the name of the street—he’d looked at the envelope and read the letter enough times to have had it memorized.
The cab driver shrugged and was about to drive off when Ned remembered. “It’s Beaufort Gardens, number 22.”
“Hop in, then, mate.”
Now Ned had another problem: he had no money on him. How would he pay the cab fare? He hoped the man would allow him to go into the house to fetch his money, once they arrived.
The cab had looked attractive from the street with its glass windows and fancy lanterns, but once inside, it smelled of stale beer and cigar smoke.
When the cab stopped in front of the Radcliffe home, Ned asked him to wait and said that he’d be right back out with his fare.
“You stiff me and I’ll come banging on that door until I wake the whole house, I will,” he said.
“I’ll be out with it as quickly as I can.” Ned ran up the walk, up the steps, and into the foyer, where Robert was just about to climb the stairs.
“Ned! Where’s Ellen?”
“I’ll explain, but I need to pay the hansom cab. Can you loan me until I can find my money upstairs in my room?”
“Certainly.” He turned, walked back down the long hall, and slipped into the study, and was back in no time with several coins. “This should pay for the ride and a good tip.”
Ned took the money, and ran out, and gave it to the driver.
“Thank ya, kindly!” he driver said and sped off.
Now Ned had to confront Robert Radcliffe to explain. He walked slowly into the house, wondering how he’d explain what he’d seen.
Just as he’d expected, Ellen’s father was waiting for him, an anxious look on his face.
“What happened?” he said.
“Can we go into the study?” Ned asked.
Robert nodded and led him back to the study. He saw the embers in the fireplace had already been banked for the night since Robert had been about to turn in for the day.
“Tell me,” was all he said.
Ned closed his eyes and sighed. How much should he tell him?
“I’m not one for crowds, you see—there were so many people and it got so that I couldn’t breathe, so I just left. I knew Ellen would be safe with her mother there.”
Robert sat and studied him for several moments. “Now, tell me what really happened.”
“What makes you think there’s more?” Ned asked.
“Because I don’t think you’d leave Ellen unless she’d done something to anger you. Did she embarrass you in some way? She can be quite outspoken at times.”
Ned knew Robert wouldn’t give up until he’d given him the truth. “Who is Lord Davenport?”
“Who, indeed?” Robert said with a disapproving tone. “His name is Alistair Townsend, Earl of Davenport, and he happens to be the man her mother’s been pushing her toward.”
“He wasn’t too happy with her tonight when he saw her with me. That’s why I asked.”
“He’s a snob and a hot head. I really wish I could help you win her away. Would you consider kidnapping her?” he asked with a grin.
“I’m not sure Ellen is for me, Mr. Radcliffe. In fact, I’d say she’s already head over teacups with this Davenport.”
“Why do you think that?” Radcliffe sat up straighter in his chair as if the conversation had just gotten more interesting.
“I went out on the terrace to look for her and they were…sort of busy.”
“What? Where was her mother?”
“I don’t know, sir. I didn’t know what to do, so I did the brave thing and ran away.” Ned held his head in his hands. “I really thought she cared for me. I wouldn’t have come all this way…”
“Do you want me to have a talk with her about this?” Radcliffe asked.
“No!” he said quickly. “No. I just want to go upstairs and turn in for the night.” Ned stood. “Goodnight, Mr. Radcliffe.” He walked briskly up to his room.
After tossing and turning for quite a while, Ned had finally fallen into a peaceful sleep, when he was jerked awake by someone touching him. He opened his eyes, but the room was too dark to see who stood by his bed until the fragrance Ellen had worn that evening drifted his way, and he knew it was she.
“What are you doing in here?” he said, sitting up.
“Where did you go and why?” she said.
Ned could see her standing by the bed in a white gown, her hands on her hips.
“I found myself a cute gal who loves cowboys and we took off to another party,” he said.
“What?”
“Go back to your room, Ellen. We’ll talk tomorrow. I’m not sure what to say to you right now.”
“Did you really go off with someone?” she asked.
“No, I took a hansom cab. Alone.”
Ellen sat down on his bed. “But why?”
“You disappeared and left me standing there alone so I—”
“I met an old friend and we were discussing a mutual friend, and when I came back from my talk with him, you were gone.”
Ned couldn’t believe how smoothly she’d lied. He thought for several minutes before answering.
“Go back to your room. I’ll explain it all tomorrow,” Ned said firmly.
Ellen slid down into a lying position beside him and tried to pull him to her, but he refused to be pulled. He took a hold of her by the forearms and held them in his hands.
“Not this time, Ellen.”
Ellen was silent for several minutes and Ned thought perhaps she was pouting.
“You came out looking for me, didn’t you?” she asked.
Ned didn’t answer.
“You saw me kissing Davenport, didn’t you?”
Ned still remained silent.
“It was his birthday, and I gave him a birthday kiss, that’s all it was. He means nothing to me. As a matter of fact, after the kiss I told him I was going to accept your proposal,” she said.
“I’ve retracted that proposal,” he said dropping her arms.
“Retracted? But why?”
“Are you willing to return to Kansas with me?” he asked.
“No, I hate it there. I had hoped you’d like it here and stay. After you’d left, everyone told me that you were the most handsome and most exciting cowboy they’d ever seen and I was so proud to be with you. I didn’t know what to say when I learned you’d gone. I had to make up a story that you were called away by an emergency telegram.” Once again she tried to pull him down to her, but he refused to budge.
“Come on, Ned. Let’s continue where we left off this afternoon.” She stroked his cheek with her fingers. “I’ll let you go even further with me than ever before,” she purred.
Ned clenched his fists and felt his jaw tighten. “Get out of my room!”
“I won’t go until you kiss me,” she said.
“You’ll have a long wait.” He turned to lay with his back to her. “Do what you want, but I’m going back to sleep.”
Ned didn’t feel her body move off the bed, but he heard the rustling of clothing and wondered what she was up to.
Ellen put her arm around his waist. “Ned…” she said in a sing-songy way. “I’m lying in bed beside you without a stitch of clothing on. If I make enough noise, one of my parents will barge in and you’ll be forced to marry me. However, if you make love to me right now, I’ll won’t make a sound.”
Chapter Eight
Ned felt a wave of fear flow through his body and he broke out in a flush of heat. What was he to do now? He certainly didn’t want to marry her anymore, and he definitely wouldn’t make love to a woman he wasn’t married to, but she had him cornered. Somehow he had to escape this dilemma.
Ned jumped out of the bed as fast as a jackrabbit, grabbed the quilt off the bed, and ran from the room before she could make the noise she’d promised to bring her parents into the room. He ran down the stairs and into the study where he curled up on the sofa and prayed the she-devil wouldn’t follow him.
He awoke to someone shaking his shoulder. He opened his eyes slowly, praying it wasn’t Ellen. It was her father, instead.
“What’s going on?” Robert asked. “Didn’t they give you a room upstairs?”
“Yes,” Ned said groggily. He cleared his throat and sat up. “I had a hard time sleeping so I came down here and must have fallen asleep.”
Robert laughed. “That happens to me quite often. It’s a comfortable sofa, but if I were you, I’d scurry back upstairs and get dressed so the house staff doesn’t see you in your nightshirt.”
Ned stood and wrapped himself with his quilt. “I’ll do that.” As he walked to the door, Robert stopped him by putting his hand on his shoulder.
“Ned, if you ever need to talk, I have wide shoulders and perfect hearing, despite my age.”
“Thank you, sir.” Ned quickly scampered up the stairs and into his room.
Ned requested a tray be sent up, rather than go down to breakfast. He didn’t think he could face either Ellen or her mother, at least not until he’d made some decisions. He had to figure out what he’d do next. He wanted to go home. He wondered how soon he could get a ship for America.
He couldn’t figure Ellen out. One minute she was cuddling up to him and pushing herself on him in the most provocative way, and the next she’s kissing some Lord or other. Did she even know what she wanted herself? Did he know what he wanted? He found his thoughts turning to Maria—sweet, sensible, ladylike, Maria. What was he even doing there? Even though he wished he were back in Hays with Maria, Ellen had a way of setting him on fire. Was that love?
Robert Radcliffe had invited him to talk, but how could he tell him about his daughter’s behavior the previous night? He could hardly believe the situation she’d put him in.
He missed Hugh and Travis, but mostly he missed Maria’s calming demeanor. He decided to write
some letters. His bedroom didn’t have a desk or writing tools, so he quietly headed for the study.
He found Robert in the study sitting at his desk, staring out the window. He turned when he heard Ned’s knock.
“Ned! Come in! I was hoping you’d stop by.”
“You were?”
“You weren’t at breakfast—is everything all right?”
“I guess I’m just a bit homesick. I thought I’d come down here and write some letters, if I may?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” Robert said, standing. “Sit right here. I’m going to read for a while. Will my sitting here on the sofa disturb you?”
“No, not at all,” Ned said.
He first wrote to Hugh, then he wrote a quick note to Travis, and then he started a letter to Maria. He sat with the pen above the paper for several moments. Then he wrote “Dear Maria,” and hesitated. What should he say? Their relationship hadn’t yet gotten to the point where he could write romantic things, no matter how much he wanted to. Her blue eyes were haunting him. He yearned for her quiet, sensible ways. He set the pen down and rubbed his face. What was love, anyway? Was it the hot rush he felt all over or the warmth he felt in his heart? Was it brown-eyed passion or blue-eyed warm companionship?
Finally, he wrote:
Dear Maria,
I’m homesick already. I truly miss you all. I often wonder what your mother and Hugh are up to, and what you might be doing. I think of you often.
It snowed a bit here last night, but it’s raining now and it’s washing away all the remnants, leaving mud in its place.
Things are so very different here. The people dress differently and speak with accents—and how I yearn to hear a good, American voice again.
I don’t think I’ll stay here as long as I had planned. In fact, I might check the schedules for a ship to America this week. I’d like to be home for Christmas.
Yours,
Ned
P.S., I found the answers I sought to find here.
