ToLoveaLady

by Cynthia Sterling

  “A fetching little blond. A little too fussy for my tastes, but she seemed quite taken with Gordon when I found him and asked him to take me to you.”

  Hattie Simms? Charles released the brake and popped the reins to start the horses forward. Was everyone suddenly involved in a romance except him?

  “So what is this celebration I seem to have ended up in the middle of?” Reg gestured toward the barbecue pits and picnicking families.

  “The Texans’ Independence Day,” Charles said.

  “Fairweather appears to be a prosperous enough town,” Reg observed. “A trifle rustic, but I suppose that’s to be expected.”

  “It’s very different from England, but I’ve grown to like it.”

  “Lady Thorndale, what is your opinion of Fairweather?” Reg leaned forward, one hand on the back of the buggy seat, almost, but not quite touching Cecily’s shoulder.

  “I quite like it here. As Charles says, it’s very different, but I think that’s the most appealing thing about it. No one cares if you’re a titled lady or gentleman or the daughter of a Soho charwoman, as long as you contribute something to the community.”

  “Then you must be held in high esteem indeed, for the beauty and grace you add to anywhere you find yourself.”

  “Oh, you are as much of a rogue as you ever were, aren’t you?”

  Charles’ fingers tightened on the reins. “You see, brother, there’s no need to practice your skills on Cecily,” he said, forcing a lightness into his tone that he didn’t feel. “She knows you too well to be impressed.”

  “Why, I do believe he’s jealous.” Reg winked at Cecily. “I’d better behave myself or he’ll be calling me out at dawn with pistols at ten paces.”

  He sat back and spent the rest of the journey with his hat tilted over his face, dozing, or at least pretending to. Without Reg’s attentions to animate her, Cecily fell silent also. Charles watched her out of the corner of his eye, wondering if she was reliving that moment of passion by the buggy. Had he managed to soften her feelings toward him, or merely to confuse the issue further?

  By the time he drove the buggy through the gate to the ranch, the sun was dipping toward the horizon, painting the cloudless sky with streaks of crimson and amber. Reg straightened his hat and sat up. “So this is Nobility Ranch.”

  “How did you know it’s called that?” Charles asked as he climbed down and went to help Cecily alight. But Reg leapt to the ground and offered his hand to Cecily before Charles could reach her.

  “Some loafers at the depot referred to it by that name when I asked directions to the Double Crown.” He escorted Cecily from the wagon and released her with a smile. “I was going to rent a horse from the livery when someone told me I could find you at the celebration in the town square.”

  “It’s good to see you again, Reg.” Cecily nodded to him. “I think I’ll leave you and Charles now. I know you have a lot to talk about.”

  She did not even look at Charles before she went into the house. He turned and began to unfasten the horses. Without a word, Reg began to unbuckle the animal on his side of the wagon. “The men are all in town at the celebration,” Charles explained as they led the horses to the corral. “Things are different here. We rely less on servants and more on ourselves.”

  “I grew used to that in the Navy, and the help in India was unreliable to say the least.” He shut the gate after Charles and fastened it. “Fending for myself suits me.”

  They pulled the buggy to the shed, then walked into the house, to the back parlor that doubled as Charles’s office. “The cook, Mrs. Bridges, left a cold supper in the kitchen if you’re hungry,” Charles said. “And there’s water in the boiler for a bath if you care to draw your own.”

  “Perhaps later.” He sank into a sagging armchair. “What I’d like now is a drink.”

  Charles opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle. “Kentucky whiskey. Different character from Scotch, but I’ve grown to like it.”

  “Sounds just the thing.”

  He filled two glasses half full of the golden liquid and handed one to Reg. They clinked them together in a silent toast, then sat back to sip in silence.

  Reg took a long drink. “Ahhh. Just what the doctor ordered.”

  Charles studied his brother over the edge of his glass. Yes, Reg was definitely thinner. And older looking too. The hard muscles of his arms and the few silver strands at his temples spoke of difficult times. “You were in India how long?” he asked after a moment. “Two years?”

  “One year and ten months.” He took another drink and closed his eyes, head resting against the wall behind him.

  “Did you like it?”

  “I hated it.” His voice was flat, as if he were remarking on bad weather, or a steeple-chaser that had run poorly.

  “Then why did you stay?”

  He opened his eyes and fixed Charles with a weary look. “After I left the Navy, I was determined to prove to the earl that I could make something of myself.”

  Charles had forgotten how Reg always called their father the earl, as if to distance himself even further for their sire. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you.”

  He drained his drink. “Not half as sorry as the earl was. He was positively livid. Said I was the only one of his sons who had failed at everything.”

  Without being asked, Charles stood and refilled his brother’s glass. He could imagine his father saying those very words. Growing up, things had always fallen hardest on Reg. He had felt the sting of the earl’s words, and the bite of his lash, more than either of his brothers. Apparently, little had changed.

  Reg sat up straighter, his gaze wandering around the office. “I hear you’ve done well for yourself. The earl says the ranch is prospering.”

  He nodded. “If he thinks that, why does he want me back in England?”

  “He’s growing older, feeling his mortality.” He set his half-full glass aside and sat forward, elbows on knees, clasped hands hanging loosely. “He’s ready to have you take over running the estates, ready to dandle grandchildren on his knee.”

  “I can’t quite picture Father tolerating small children around, much less dandling them.”

  “He might surprise you.” He frowned. “He’s gotten frailer since you left. When I first saw him, I was shocked at how he looked — like an old man.”

  Charles turned away, and walked to the window that looked out over the endless expanse of prairie behind the house. “He’ll go on like that for years. The Worthington men are notoriously long-lived.” But even as he said the words, worry pinched his gut. Even if he didn’t always see eye to eye with his father, it was frightening to imagine a world without him in it.

  “He wants you home, Charles.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t intend to go.”

  He heard the sharp intake of his brother’s breath, and felt his shock reverberate across the room. “Why not? Wasn’t that the plan you’ve followed all your life?”

  “I’ve changed my mind.” He watched a flock of birds settle in a mott of scrub oak, their dark shapes like Christmas ornaments in the fading light. “Since coming here, I’ve discovered I enjoy being my own boss.”

  “So you intend to stay.” Reg paused, then added. “This does change things.”

  Charles turned to face him again. “What do you mean?”

  “The earl didn’t just send me here to fetch you. Texas is my second chance.”

  Charles frowned. “You’re not making sense, brother.”

  He sighed. “Apparently, he’s bought another ranch — a bonafide bargain — and he expects me to turn it into a money-making enterprise. I have a year to sink or swim.” Relief lightened his expression as his eyes met Charles’s. “He won’t like you going against him, but I have to say, I’ll welcome having someone here to show me the ropes. I don’t know the first thing about cattle and ranching.”

  Charles hardly heard him. The news about this other ranch echoed in his
head. “Father bought another ranch? Where?”

  “Some place called the Ace of Spades or something like that.”

  “The Ace of Clubs?”

  “Yes, that’s it. It’s supposed to be very near here.”

  Anger knotted his stomach. No wonder Grady had been so upset with him. The earl had bought the note behind Charles’s back. The sheriff thought Charles had swindled him.

  “You haven’t been listening to a word I said, have you?”

  “What?” Charles realized Reg was staring at him.

  “What’s wrong? You look as if you’d gladly murder someone.”

  “The Ace of Clubs belonged to the local sheriff, a man who has been a thorn in my side since I arrived here. Instead of allowing me to try to diplomatically acquire the property, our father went behind my back and bought the note, leaving me with more of a problem than ever.”

  Reg nodded. “That sounds like the earl.”

  “I don’t understand. Did he think this was going to entice me to come home?”

  “I’m past trying to determine what the old man thinks.” He picked up a dagger-like letter opener from the desk and turned it over and over in his hand. “The only thing I know is that as long as he lives, he wants to be the one calling the shots. If you go along, as you and Cam always have before, you’re in his good graces. If you’re a rebel like me, nothing you do is good enough.”

  “I suppose I’m taking a page from your book, then, and learning to be a rebel.”

  Reg glanced at him. “What does Cecily think of it?”

  Inwardly, he flinched. What would Cecily think of his going against a lifetime of

  training this way? Would she applaud his determination, or be horrified at his

  foolishness? He shrugged, feigning indifference. “What does it matter what she

  thinks?”

  He looked surprised. “Aren’t you engaged?”

  He hesitated, reluctant to reveal the truth, though whether to shield Cecily or himself, he couldn’t say. Reg’s steady gaze drew the admission from him. “We were. In fact, she came all the way here to convince me to marry her, but now that I’ve decided it’s what I want, she’s turned contrary.”

  “She didn’t look particularly contrary when I first saw you.” He grinned. “I must say, I scarcely recognized her at first. She’s definitely improved with age.”

  “She’s nothing like she was as a girl. She was always so agreeable, the model daughter.”

  “I could say the same thing about you.”

  He shrugged off this remark. “Do you know what she wants to do? She’s decided she wants to be a teacher.”

  “And you object, is that it?”

  He began to pace, agitation clawing at him. “I could care less if she teaches or makes hats, or dances the can-can. I just want her to be mine.”

  Reg frowned. “I don’t understand. The girl has been besotted with you for years. What changed her mind?”

  He groaned. “It’s my own damned fault I suppose, for taking so long to make up my mind. When she first came here, I was sure Father had sent her to trap me into coming home. The only reason I’d ever agreed to marry her in the first place is because it was what both our families wanted and I knew it was easier to go along than to rock the boat.”

  “And now you feel differently.”

  He sank into a chair. “I think I’ve fallen in love with her.”

  Reg leaned back against the desk and folded his arms across his chest. “This is serious. She knows you love her and still she rejects you?”

  Chin in hand, he looked mournfully at his brother. “I’ve made an ass of myself, Reg. I open my mouth to tell her how I feel and something completely idiotic comes out. She thinks I only want to marry her out of a sense of honor and she’s decided she wants more.”

  “I must say I admire a woman who knows what she wants.”

  “Don’t be glib.” He took a deep breath, struggling not to sound as desperate as he suddenly felt. “You’ve always had a way with women. What do I do now?”

  Reg thought a minute. “Maybe it’s time to start over.”

  “Start over? What are you talking about? I don’t want another woman, I want Cecily.”

  “And I think — judging by the way she was kissing you when I interrupted — that she still wants you. But women like to be wooed, and Cecily’s never had that.”

  “We’ve been engaged four years.”

  “When in all that time have you ever really courted her? I wasn’t home when your engagement was announced, but from what I hear, it had all the romance of a diplomatic treaty. After that, you saw each other at a few formal dances and dinners, but that’s hardly the stuff of female fantasies.”

  “Surely Cecily’s too intelligent to indulge in that kind of nonsense.”

  “Intelligence has nothing to do with it. It may seem nonsense to you, but it’s important for her to feel you think she’s worth winning.” He leaned toward Charles. “You do want to win her, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “Then you’ve got to woo her.”

  He frowned. “But how? You saw how she behaved toward me. She’ll scarcely look at me.”

  “I already told you how. Go back to the beginning. Pursue her as if you had just met. Bring her flowers, invite her to dinner, send love notes. Do whatever it takes to convince her you think she’s special.”

  Charles narrowed his eyes at his brother. “If you’re such an expert at this, why haven’t you married?”

  “Let’s just say I know what not to do.” He stifled a yawn. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll see about a bath and bed. Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  As Reg passed him, he stopped and put a hand on Charles’ shoulder. “And good luck.”

  “Good luck to you, too,” Charles said. “I think we’re both going to need it.”

  * * *

  Cecily sat at her dressing table, chin in hand, staring in the mirror. Was that young woman with the sun-burnt face and tangled hair really her? Had the thin veneer of a cultured young lady cracked at last to reveal the hoyden she had always been, older, but no wiser?

  She sighed and began to remove the remaining pins from her hair. Seeing Reg again had brought back memories of those days when she’d tied up her skirts and gone racing after him and his brothers. Of all the boys, Reg had had the most patience with her in those days. He lacked Charles’s glibness, but he had his own brand of charm, and he was the best listener, the one most likely to insist the others stop and wait for her to catch up. Perhaps because he most often felt the brunt of his father’s wrath, he was quick to defend the underdog, and consequently had a varying collection of strays and younger children trailing after him, including Cecily.

  Reg had been her friend, but Charles had been her idol. Handsome, brave Charles: the first to lead them into trouble and the only one who could talk them out of scrapes with his easygoing manner and effortless charm.

  She dropped the pins in a china bowl and picked up her silver-backed brush. Was she only one who saw the fear beneath that charm — the fear of not being liked, of not being good enough? She took a shuddering breath and blinked back tears. She knew that fear because she’d felt it so often herself. From the youngest age she’d been told that the whole of her family’s future lay on her slender shoulders: everything she did would reflect on her family. She had to be beautiful and witty and accomplished in order to make a good match and protect the family name. She’d done everything they had asked of her, and still, it hadn’t been enough. Only here, away from the cotton-wool protection she’d always known had she discovered what it was like to be her own person, to test her own strengths and weaknesses with a selfishness that sometimes amazed her.

  Even then, she had not stopped loving Charles. Perhaps she couldn’t stop loving him.

  She closed her eyes and put her fingers to her lips, remembering his kiss. There had been no charm and gentleness in that ca
ress, only raw hunger and a need that shook her to the core. Could it be he did care deeply for her, so deeply he was unable to put his thoughts into words?

  The door let out a squeal as it opened and she turned to see Alice tiptoeing into the room. “Oh m’lady, I’m sorry to disturb you.” Alice hastened to apologize. “I didn’t know you were still awake. I was only going to lay out your things for in the morning.”

  Cecily turned from the mirror. “It’s all right, Alice. Come in and tell me about your day. Did you enjoy the festivities?”

  Alice smiled. “Ever so much, m’lady.”

  “Tell me. What did you do?”

  “Oh so many things. We ate beef cooked in a pit in the ground. The Texans call it barbecue and it was quite tasty. Then I learned to play a game called horse shoes. They play it with real horses’ shoes, m’lady!”

  Cecily laughed. “Yes, I saw some people tossing them back and forth.”

  “After that, we listened to the music and Nick taught me to dance the way they do here. It’s very lively dancing, and great fun.”

  Cecily thought of the square dance steps she’d learned. She’d never gotten to try them with Charles.

  Alice moved closer. “Later on, we went walking and. . . and he kissed me.” A rosy blush swept her cheeks.

  Cecily smiled. This had been an evening for kissing, it seemed. “I take it you enjoyed it. And perhaps kissed him back?”

  She nodded, eyes downcast. “He’s a stubborn, insufferable man, but. . . I think I love him anyway.”

  Cecily stood and embraced the younger woman. “I’m happy for you, Alice. In spite of his faults, Nick is a good man.”

  “Yes, m’lady. I think you’re right.” She moved away, once again assuming an air of brisk efficiency. “I’d better go now, and let you get your rest, m’lady.”

  Cecily yawned. She hadn’t thought she was tired, but a great weariness had suddenly overtaken her. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Let me help you with your gown.” Alice helped her out of her dress and petticoats and into her nightdress, then folded back the bedcovers. “In you go, m’lady.”