A Fella for Frances

by Donna K. Weaver

  “Don’t even talk to me about loss of freedom, when a man can legally beat his wife with no consequences.”

  Edgar’s expression turned pained. “Not all men are violent, Frances. Look at your brother. Charles and Marshall.”

  “But a woman doesn’t really know a man’s true character until after the noose is around her neck.” Frances sniffed. “Don’t pull that face with me. You’re the one who used the word.”

  “True. I cannot speak for other men, but I would never strike a woman.” Edgar said the words with unexpected force. His eyes were as open and honest as she’d ever seen them.

  “Why do you feel so strongly about it?” she asked softly.

  “Because my father struck my mother.” Edgar rubbed a pale scar on the side of his jaw.

  Then Frances understood. She’d assumed he’d gotten it from a fight, but she’d never considered it might have come from a parent.

  “You tried to defend her?”

  “I did. That was when I was sent off to school.”

  “Is she still with him?”

  “She died the following year.” Edgar’s eyes went a little shiny, and he wouldn’t meet Frances’s gaze. “She was expecting a baby and fell down the stairs.”

  “I’m sorry.” Frances touched his hand for a second, pushing down the anger she felt at the powerlessness he must have experienced.

  “Perhaps now you can understand a little of why I’m determined to stop your uncle, especially if you’re right and he’s responsible for your father’s death. The situation you and your sisters have found yourselves in—and I admit my own participation in some of it—has created in me a desire to help people who cannot help themselves. That’s why I’ve decided to open a law office here.”

  “Well, good for you.” Frances had been furious with Edgar last fall when she’d discovered his duplicity. The more she was learning about him, though, the more she was beginning to see a good man behind the shallow façade. “What’s your plan for feeding false information to my uncle?”

  “If you can bear my company,” he said his tone tentative, “I suppose we should attend a few functions together. The mayor is talking about hosting a ball to honor the viscount during his stay. Perhaps you would allow me to escort you.”

  “Well, you and I will both be there anyway as part of the wedding party. I hate fancy balls and those horrible dresses they make women wear. That’s one thing I love about being out West—things aren’t so rigid. I love to square dance. It feels livelier and freer than country dances.”

  “Don’t think formal clothing worn by gentlemen is any more comfortable.” Edgar ran a finger along the inside of his shirt’s neckband. “These starched collars are enough to choke a man to death.”

  “Ha! Try being cinched into a corset, my friend. That was another thing I gave up when we moved here. I don’t think those things are healthy.” France’s thoughts drifted back to the ball, and she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “This viscount would be the ultimate dude, wouldn’t he?”

  “What do you have in mind?” Edgar asked, leaning forward too.

  “Well, think about it. Judith’s brother, Marshall, and therefore the viscount’s step-grandson, owns a dude ranch. She’s marrying the owner of another dude ranch. What’s better for visiting foreigners than to have a taste of life on a ranch? I think Marshall should treat them just like he does his summer guests.”

  “Including one of our monthly dances rather than a formal ball?” Edgar nodded, looking thoughtful. “I think you might be right. If he returns to England with grand stories of the adventures he had here, it could lead to an increase in clientele for both ranches. You’re brilliant.” He covered her hand with his.

  An unexpected sense of connection with the man flooded through her, and she frowned. Edgar Lowell had a way with women. Frances had seen plenty of the waitresses sending him goo-goo eyes. She slid her hand free, and leaned back in her chair, choosing to pretend he hadn’t touched her.

  “We should talk to the mayor about this. I’ll mention it to Luke, and you bring it up to Marshall.” She glanced at her new wristwatch, a Christmas gift from Marshall and Doris. “I should be getting back to the Lucky L.”

  “Maybe you should wait,” Edgar said, his gaze on the hotel entrance. “They look as though they might have some news.”

  Frances shifted in her chair. Maude and Charles were hurrying inside. Frances stood and waved them over. Edgar was right. From their expressions, they must have news.

  “You’re not going to believe it,” Maude cried as she embraced Frances.

  “Perhaps we should have this discussion in a private room,” Charles suggested, glancing around the room and the people openly watching them.

  Edgar slipped away, probably to arrange it. She was dying to find out what they were talking about, but her brother-in-law exchanged glances with his wife. Maude gave a little sigh.

  “We do have some good news about our wedding trip,” she said.

  “I was beginning to wonder if you two were ever going to take one. Will you get to go to San Francisco?” Frances asked.

  “My friend James just confirmed the dates in April. He’s arranged time off,” Charles said.

  “We can’t go any later,” Maude said, lowering her voice, “or I’ll be too large.”

  “In here,” Edgar called from the doorway of the room where the meetings of the Ladies’ Improvement Society were held.

  “I know Charles wants coffee,” Frances said. “Do you want hot chocolate, Maude?”

  “That would be wonderful. I’m glad for the snow to make travel easier, but it’s so cold again.”

  Charles put a hand on his wife’s back, and they went into the room. Frances gave the order to the waitress and followed them in. As soon as she shut the door, Maude spoke.

  “The judge granted our appeal.” She clapped her hands and practically squealed.

  “I’ll bet your uncle is furious.” A flash of worry crossed Edgar’s face. The waitress knocked on the door, and he jumped up to open it for her. Once she’d left, he added, “Will you go to Indianapolis to claim your inheritance, or is that something you can do from here?”

  As the two men started talking about legal possibilities, Frances considered the implications. Now that the court had recognized their marriage, it must mean Luke’s authority to sign for Doris’s marriage to Marshall had been recognized. Did that mean the court had granted him guardianship of Frances? If that were the case, wouldn’t it strip Uncle William of any power over her? She still wanted to see the signature page of her father’s will.

  “We’re trying to decide if we should simply let the courts handle the release of the funds,” Charles said. “Our Indianapolis attorney is working with my father’s accountant to see what our best options are.”

  “Well, I don’t want someone else going through our things and deciding what to keep and what to sell,” Frances said.

  “You can’t go back.” Edgar pinned her with a hard gaze that surprised her with its intensity. It almost seemed as though he were worried for her.

  “We’re going to have to sell the house and the contents,” Frances said.

  “No.” Maude glanced at Charles. “There are many items in our Indianapolis home which should not be sold. We have a few heirlooms but most only have a sentimental value. They belonged to our parents, and I am loath to give them up. Including furniture.”

  Frances’s Steinway. If they had two grand pianos in Lilac City, they could put one in the community center as the dance hall was now being called, thanks to Judith. She’d been talking about starting classes in music. Though, perhaps Marshall would be willing to make a trade and have Luke’s Steinway and they could put the Circle B upright at the community center.

  “What are you thinking about?” Edgar asked, pulling Frances from her thoughts.

  “Pianos.” She explained.

  “That’s a great idea,” Charles said, “but we can’t do anythi
ng until you girls are able to claim your inheritances. Granting Luke guardianship doesn’t give him access to your assets.”

  “Have you considered the possibility,” Edgar asked, glancing at them with a wary expression, “that William Lancaster might have already pilfered the liquid assets from the estate? He’s obviously desperate.”

  From her sister’s expression, Frances concluded Maude and Charles had discussed it. Frances forced herself not to say what was on her mind, but she ground her teeth. Edgar’s eyes widened at the noise. Remembering Mr. Ito’s calming exercises, she took a few deep breaths before looking at the others. She didn’t want to upset Maude whose pregnancy had made her extremely emotional.

  “Have you discussed this possibility with Luke and Doris?” Frances asked, saying the words softly.

  Her sister and brother-in-law exchanged sheepish glances.

  “You have.” Frances straightened. “But you never thought to mention it to me?”

  “You tend to blow up,” Charles said, his expression unapologetic. “Since there’s nothing any of us could have done about it anyway, we decided to spare you the frustration.”

  “Well,” Frances said rising, “I suppose I should get to school with the other kiddies. I wouldn’t want to trouble the grown-ups.” She turned and headed to the door with as much dignity as her anger would permit.

  “I told you we should have mentioned it,” Maude was saying as Frances closed the door.

  Outside, the sun broke through the clouds and shone brightly on new snow. She had to close her eyes against the painful glare. Her head hurt as much as her pride did. How dare they treat her like a child? Her uncle thought to force Frances into a marriage, but they didn’t think she was old enough to be informed about possible embezzlement of her inheritance?

  Things would be different if she were married. Then they’d treat her like an adult.

  5

  Nick stared out the train window, glad to see familiar landmarks. He’d never spent such an antsy ten days in his life. It’d been fun to spend time with his folks and his brothers and sisters, but the whole time he’d had an unshakable sense of dread.

  Ever since Lowell had returned from his trip to New York, Nick had been watching how the man watched Frances. He had designs on her. Nick was willing to accept Mr. Breckinridge’s confidence in his cousin having changed. Lowell’s plans might not be nefarious anymore, but that didn’t mean his new ones weren’t more dangerous to Nick’s hopes.

  It hadn’t helped that his parents had pressured him to remain in Texas. Pa had even offered to give land instead of cash as Nick’s inheritance. A year ago, he’d have taken it. Now, his future lay in Wyoming. With Frances.

  As the train pulled into the Lilac City station, Nick buttoned his jacket and grabbed the knitted scarf Frances had given him. Not that she’d made it, though she’d given knitting a try. He chuckled to himself at the memory of her expression when she’d shown him her attempt. What a mess. It’d been adorable she’d even tried, though he was pretty sure it’d been because they’d overheard Tom McDaniel, the Lucky L Ranch foreman, confess to having knitted a blanket while being laid up with a broken leg.

  When the steam cleared, he made out Frances waiting ... with Edgar Lowell hovering nearby. Drat the man. Had he spent the last ten days in her company? The niggle of worry which had been plaguing Nick the whole trip intensified.

  As soon as he stepped into view, her face lit up with a huge smile. It made his pulse quicken. She launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck like she had the first time she’d seen her brother after nearly ten years.

  “Oh, I’ve missed you,” she said, her breath warm on his neck.

  How many times had he dreamed of this? Unable to help himself, Nick dropped his pack and wrapped his arms around her. He’d wanted to do it for months now. The closest he’d come to holding her was when they’d danced. Since she only liked the lively ones, it’d been nothing like this. She smelled so good.

  Frances pulled back a little and looked up at him. Something electric, like a static charge, seemed to snap between them, sending Nick’s heart clear up into his throat. His gaze dropped to her mouth. She seemed to soften against him. Could it be?

  He looked back at her eyes again, his pulse pounding so hard in his ears he couldn’t hear anything around them. For an instant, he thought he saw what he’d been hoping for all these months. Then it was gone, replaced with confusion and flushing cheeks.

  “About time you got back,” she said, her normally teasing voice a little stilted as she stepped back. “We’ve got lots to talk about, so hurry up.”

  And the old Frances was back. Dang it.

  “Why is Lowell here?” Nick asked, as he picked up his pack again.

  “Because he’s pretending to be my beau.” She made such a look of disgust, Nick had to choke back a laugh.

  Edgar shot her a martyred expression, but it was tinged with affectionate patience. It made the hair on the back of Nick’s neck stand up. The man was getting too attached to Frances. He’d had ten days to spend in her company and get better acquainted with her—all without Nick there to keep an eye on him. Only a fool would fail to see what a treasure she was.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked. “Because we need to talk, so you can get a bite to eat while we do.”

  “Has something happened to make you not want to talk about this at the Lucky L?” Nick asked.

  “Yes.” Frances gave one of her disdainful sniffs, but it didn’t hide the hurt behind it. “They refuse to treat me like an adult and are keeping things from me, so we’re not going to give them the benefits of our findings.”

  We. Our. Did the plural include Edgar Lowell?

  “It’s a good thing I’m starving then.” Nick took a step toward the hotel. “We’ll have plenty of time to chew the fat while I eat my fill.”

  He was grateful Frances hadn’t taken the arm Edgar offered her as they headed across snow-packed Main Street. The slick attorney said something to her Nick couldn’t make out, but she shook her head.

  “I already told you that would be out of character for me,” she said, her loud voice drawing the attention of Mrs. Champion, the self-appointed matchmaker lady who appeared to have come to the station to collect one of her mail-order brides. Frances said more softly, “I won’t change myself for anyone.”

  Nick smirked. At least she hadn’t changed that about herself, even for a pretend courtship. Frances Lancaster was just fine as she was.

  Once they were seated in one of the private rooms, and Nick had ordered a meal and the others coffee and hot chocolate, Frances began to tell him what had happened since he’d left for his sister’s wedding.

  “Now the court’s upheld your sisters’ marriages, are they going to go back home to claim their inheritances?” Nick asked.

  “Since they’re both expecting, they’re hoping they can get the bank to release the funds without returning to Indianapolis.” Frances put down her mug. “But we need to visit our house there to decide what to keep and what to sell.”

  “So, the three of you will have to go back at some point,” Nick said.

  She nodded but didn’t say anything, her expression turning thoughtful. He could tell something was bothering her. He’d seen that contemplative look before, usually before she said or did something she thought others wouldn’t approve of. What was she up to?

  Nick glanced at Lowell to see if the man knew her well enough to understand the significance of her silence. His expression had turned wary so, evidently, he had. That wasn’t a good thing. It wasn’t until after Nick had accepted a refilling of his cup and the waitress had left again that Frances spoke.

  “There are marriage contracts, aren’t there?” she asked Lowell.

  “There have been for centuries. The wealthier the couple, the more likely they are to have a marriage contract. Why?”

  “Do they hold up in court?” Frances wore her serious face now and not one meant for intimid
ation. Whatever she was leading up to was important to her.

  “Usually, if the lawyer did a decent job in writing it. Both parties would have their attorneys review them and likely recommend changes. They would negotiate back and forth until they both reach a point where they agree or can live with the compromises.”

  Whose marriage contract could she be talking about? The food Nick had eaten wasn’t sitting well on his stomach now. Her sisters were both already wed. If Luke had any kind of contract with Judith, it’d likely already be in place what with the wedding so close.

  Frances didn’t look at either of them as she said, “I need a husband.”

  At the unexpected words, Nick sucked the coffee he’d been about to drink into his lungs.

  “I’ll do it,” Nick choked out and then had a fit of coughing. He’d known in an instant why she’d do it; she was tired of waiting for her inheritance. Struggling for breath, his gaze shot to Lowell. If he spoke first, Nick would lose her, so he gasped again, “I’ll do it.”

  Lowell watched him with narrowed eyes while Frances had jumped to her feet and taken to patting Nick on the back. When he wasn’t coughing out a lung anymore, she sat again.

  “I assume you wish to be married so you can claim your portion of the inheritance,” the slick attorney said to her, though his gaze never left Nick.

  “Of course, that’s why,” Frances said, glancing at Lowell like he was an idiot.

  “Then I would like to offer my services,” Lowell said, leaning forward. “It would kill two birds with one stone. You’ll fulfill the requirement in your father’s will that you marry before gaining your inheritance, and I would give the appearance of meeting your uncle’s demand.”

  “It won’t work with you.” Nick coughed to clear his throat. “Lancaster’s going to expect you to bring her to him immediately after the wedding. She needs someone she can trust who isn’t tied to her uncle.”

  “It would only be temporary,” Frances said to Nick and his heart leaped into his throat again. She’d said it to him and not Lowell. Frances continued, “The marriage contract would have to state our intent to have it annulled, however long it takes to satisfy the attorneys over my inheritance. Once I have control of that, you’d be free to move on.”