Fancy Pants (Only In Gooding Book #1) (29 page)

Her head lifted. “Thank you, Velma.”

“I fixed bluegill. Pancake caught them in the pond this morning.”

“That sounds lovely.” Sydney went to the table and took her seat. The fish might have been made of hairpins and moss for all she cared. After picking at a few bites, she rearranged what was left on her plate and rose.

“Something smells great, Velma,” Tim hollered as he came tromping in. He stopped at the window and opened it, and a fresh breeze sailed through the room. “Sit back down, Sydney. I didn’t mean to interrupt your meal.”

“You’re not interrupting me. I’m done.”

He glanced at her still-full plate and glared at her. “Oh no, you’re not! You sit back down there and eat!”

She remained standing. “There’s no need to thunder at me. I stated I’m done, and that is all that needs be said. You will not order me about in that manner again.”

“Oh yes, I will, Miss Fancy Pants. Fuller left me in charge here and specifically put you in my care. You’re under age, and that means you’ll obey. Now sit down, or I’ll make you sit.”

“My uncle put a nonexistent nephew in your care.”

“He knows you’re a girl now, and he still told me to watch out for you.” The chair legs scraped loudly on the floor as Tim yanked it back. “Your seat, Miss Hathwell.”

She glowered at him and stiffly sat back down. “
Lady
Hathwell.”

“Eat!”

Sydney forced herself to take a few more bites. She knew he watched her and counted every mouthful. His displeasure rolled over her in waves. After struggling to swallow one last bite, she carefully blotted her mouth with the napkin, murmured an unintelligible excuse and slinked away in lady’s boots that constricted her feet only a fraction as much as Tim’s words constricted her heart.

By suppertime, she’d written to five more possibilities. The task should have taken far less time, but her heart wasn’t in it.
If only things could be different. If only I could be Tim’s friend again. But
that’s impossible. He’ll never forgive me
. She struggled to compose decent letters and had to rewrite two because of blots. Still, she had the envelopes addressed and ready to go. With a few minutes to spare, she slipped upstairs to comb her hair.

She came back down to find Tim looking at her envelopes. A frown deepened the creases in his forehead. “Mr. Creighton, I would appreciate it if you’d unhand my missives. They are private.”

He dropped them. “You discussed the matter with me. I hardly consider it to be a secret. With Fuller gone, I’m bound to watch over you, whether either of us likes it or not.” His expression made it clear he didn’t like it.

Quelling the desire to weep, she hid behind the emotionless mask she’d been trained to assume. “Sir, you hold no sway over my affairs and the arrangements I make for my future.”

“Awww, Sydney! Young women don’t strike out like this on their own. I reckoned you’d dabble around in a shop in town— not venture someplace halfway across the country.”

I couldn’t bear to be close to you and suffer the icy distance you’ve put
between us
. “I believe I’ve been quite clear: Stay out of my affairs.”

“Whoa! Wait a minute!”

“No, you wait, Mr. Creighton.” Her hands fisted at her sides, and they shook with temper, as did her voice. “More than anything, you made it plain I’m unwelcome. You objected to having to ‘nursemaid an English miss.’ Don’t you dare stand there and suggest that you give a fig about me or my future. I can and will manage.”

“You don’t have the faintest notion what things cost. I assumed you’d find something local and Fuller could help you out. You can’t afford—”

“I specifically searched for positions in which lodging is provided. I’ll manage.”

Tim shook his head. “That’s unnecessary. Sydney, your uncle is rich! You aren’t blind . . .” He swept his arm in a wide arc. “Look around you. Fuller will be happy to pay for you to go to the most expensive school.”

She directed a cool stare back at him. “I have no need to look about. A man who owns land and cattle as he does is obviously well to do. That doesn’t matter a whit. Do you expect me to assume I am to share in my uncle’s wealth when I cannot even share his roof? Come, Mr. Creighton, I don’t wish to delude myself.”

“How can you judge the man? You’ve never even met him!”

“How can he judge me? He’s never met me, either.”

He looked thunderstruck for a few seconds. “That’s different. You’re a woman.”

“You, sir, have just relegated me to poverty—a dreadful poverty of spirit simply based on my gender. When you believed me to be a male, I had a future. I could ride and shoot and rope. I plowed and mucked out stables, I cleared a field and even rescued a child. Now suddenly you limit my horizons because my form is unlike yours. I may have a narrow waist, but you, Timothy Creighton, have a narrow mind!”

Chapter Eighteen

Sydney’s words rang in his ears after she left the room. Tim didn’t want to give them credence; they were impertinent and emotional.
But they were also well thought out and true
.

Velma glowered at him from the doorway. “Supper’s on.”

“Good. I’m hungry.”

“Then you’re the only one around here who is. You have a way of taking away a body’s appetite.”

“Just what is that supposed to mean?”

She crammed her hands into the pocket of her apron. “You figure it out. Being as you’re the man around here, that makes you the smart one.”

“Just what put a crimp in your tail?”

“I took that sweet little gal to town today. She pasted a smile on her face, swallowed her pride, and asked at the emporium about positions as a governess or housekeeper or as a teacher at one of them boardin’ schools.”

“What?!”

“You heard me just fine.”

“She was supposed to be a student at one of those places! What do you mean, she’s thinking of being a teacher or housekeeper?”

Velma gave him a chilly glare. “A gal’s gotta do what a gal’s gotta do. Sydney pretended not to see the townsfolk’s surprise or pity, but it was there, plain as day.” She gave her head a sorrowful shake. “By now every soul in town knows you’re kicking that bitty woman out.”

Shame flooded him. “Come on, Velma!”

“Truth’s the truth. They got in some of the things she ordered. Lady Sydney insisted on paying for every last thing instead of adding them on Fuller’s account.”

“She didn’t have to do that!”

“Oh yes, she did. She’s got too much pride.”

“Pride? Pride! She wore britches! No lady with pride would ever be caught dead wearing britches.”

“You’re a fool to judge a woman’s heart by her clothes, Tim Creighton! Don’t you tell me otherwise.” Velma yanked her hand out of her apron pocket and pointed at the desk. “She sat straight and tall as could be over at that desk all afternoon. Bit her lip, but she didn’t shed a single tear. Poor gal has plenty of pluck and even more pride. You’re taking it all away, making her feel like she’s as worthless as a wad of chewed-up tobacco.”

“Tobacco!”

The housekeeper continued on, “She lost her mama and her papa. Did you know the relatives she had left sent her away to New York, hoping to marry her off? Things didn’t pan out. Did she moan and groan and whine? No. She hoped maybe she could fit in enough to have a home with her uncle. That’s not asking too much. She never asked for money or goods. She doesn’t even want us to bow and scrape and serve her.”

“I know that, but—”

“Oh, she’s been a handful, but she’s charming and she tries to help out. She should have married some rich man and lived a life of ease. Now her only goal is to live here somehow. If that doesn’t work out, she’ll fall back on having her aunt arrange someplace in England for her to watch someone else’s brats. Sydney’s already said she refuses to let anyone try to arrange another marriage. Poor bitty gal—can’t blame her. She’s not asking much of life at all. Nuh-unh. Not at all.”

Velma wouldn’t let him get a word in edgewise. “You didn’t like her from the moment she set foot on Forsaken, but she proved herself. You know it’s the gospel truth—the very morning, just before you found out she was a girl, you told me you thought Syd, the boy, was a fine youngster and you were proud of him. You
liked
him. Once you discovered he was a she, you suddenly forgot about the pluck and personality and only cared about the package. You act like you were the one who was betrayed by her little deception, but I’m telling you—
she’s
the one who’s been betrayed. She earned her place here, and you’re snatching it away just because she’s wearing a petticoat now.” Velma gave her head a sorrowful shake and waggled her finger at him as if he were a naughty boy. “Seems to me that with Fuller getting worse each month, he ought to be glad to have his own flesh-and-blood niece to act like a secretary or somethin’.”

“I told her she could stay till Fuller gets home!”

Velma gave him a heated look. “Now wasn’t it mighty generous of you to offer her bed space in her own uncle’s home?”

“Velma! What’s gotten into you?”

“Funny. I was wondering the same thing about you!”

Tim gritted his teeth.

“Time’s come for you to face up to the truth. You messed up the first part of this. You never bothered to look below the surface. Learn from your mistake. Instead of letting the clothes determine your opinion, look deeper. That gal is steel beneath the dainty lace and ruffles. She doesn’t know it yet, though. For all she’s gone through, she’s going to be fragile as icicles.”

Tim shook his head. “Pants or a dress—it makes no difference. She’s under my authority while Fuller is gone.”

Velma’s jaw jutted forward as it did when she went into a snit. “Yep, you’re right. Now do a better job with her than you have so far.” She walked off.

“I should have known this would happen,” Tim muttered. “Get a couple of women together, and they complicate things.”

Tim kept waiting for Sydney to come down to eat. She didn’t. He ate slowly, and still she didn’t appear. Should he go up and talk to her? His palms began to sweat at that thought. The encounter they’d just had didn’t go well at all. “Women.”

A juicy, rare beefsteak on his plate sat half eaten. It was his favorite dinner, but at the moment, it might just as well have been shoe leather. He hadn’t realized how having her sassy comments and saucy grin across the table improved a meal.

As a matter of fact, she’d made several small changes. Velma wasn’t one to move at top speed, and things got done when she was of a mind. Truthfully, doing all of the cooking and cleaning for a big house and two bachelors kept her more than busy enough. Sydney saw the details and set them straight. Velma mentioned that Sydney had stitched that sagging curtain ring. He’d seen Sydney sweeping dust from the doorsills and polishing the windows. Velma never bothered with those details.

Linen cloths on the table and bouquets of wildflowers . . . years ago, he’d appreciated such things. Louisa saw to those details, and they transformed a house into a home. Since her death, living in a place devoid of those touches suited him. The house had been as barren as his heart. But Sydney set about making changes, and he resented her raking up the pain he’d suppressed.

Tim tried another bite. Half choking on it, he cut another piece and began to gnaw on it. He glared at the empty place where Fuller usually sat and wished with all of his might that the old guy would get back and put an end to all of this nonsense. In the meantime, he’d foil Sydney’s escapade by holding back her letters.

Immediately after supper, Tim went to the desk. Sydney’s letters were missing. That fact set his teeth on edge. He found a list of schools. Each bore a tidy checkmark beside it. Next, he found the newspapers, and anger surged. She’d neatly drawn a thin border around five different ads. All were for housekeeper or governess positions. He knew one of the men personally, two of them by reputation, and had no idea who the others were. None of them was good enough to have Lady Sydney Hathwell share a pot of coffee with them, let alone have her brew it on their behalf.

He’d eat dirt before she scrubbed Jake Eddles’s floor or mopped his bratty kids’ noses. As for her going off to some other man’s home . . . Tim passed his hand down his face, as if the gesture might wipe away horrible possibilities flooding his brain. The woman was plain daft if she didn’t understand the danger. One look at her, and many a man would haul her straight off to his bed. Tim silently vowed he’d let a mustang drag him five miles before she ever stepped foot off Forsaken to take such a post.

That decision made, he suddenly noticed the downstairs seemed . . . lighter. It took him a minute to realize the drapes now swagged back, permitting the moon to slant in. Odd, how a piddling little change made that kind of difference. Nice, even. Maybe he could mention it when he saw Sydney tomorrow— not that he wanted her to think he was concocting insincere praise to smooth over things. But when she wasn’t getting into trouble, the woman did manage to accomplish some decent things.

When he walked upstairs to bed, Tim noted a sliver of light under Sydney’s bedchamber door. He had plenty to say, but it would hold until morning.

First thing in the morning, Tim noted Sydney’s door was open. When she didn’t appear at the breakfast table, he demanded of Velma, “Did Sydney check in with you, or has she gone wandering off after I ordered her not to?”

She gave him a dirty look. “Lady Hathwell got up early in order to take her letters to town. She wanted them to be in this morning’s mail pouch.”

“How could you let her go do anything so foolish?”

“Lady Hathwell is anxious to leave as soon as possible.”

“She’s not going anywhere. Leastways, she’s not going anywhere without Fuller and me approving of it. Who went with her?”

“No one.” Velma’s eyes flashed. “The men are all busy. She refused to have me accompany her. She insisted that you still needed me to cook your breakfast.”

“For cryin’ out loud! She has no business going off all alone.”

Velma shook her head. “One minute you’re tossing her out on her ear, then next breath, you’re shoutin’ that the woman can’t ride six miles into town without a keeper.”