Simmer All Night (13 page)

"I'm not certain," she replied. "However, the tone of Lord Welby's voice and the way John reacted to its mention suggested it is something less than proper. I pressed for more information, but he guarded his tongue. He might not be so reticent if you were to ask."

Cole read her like a book. "You think it's a bordello."

"The viscount did mention something about costumes," she replied, shrugging.

Cole smirked. Chalk up a black mark by Parkwood's name. Ever since the mirror incident, Christina Delaney didn't abide men who frequented houses of ill repute.

Standing, Cole turned his thoughts toward the missing parchment. He paced the confines of the folly, his brow furrowed in thought. Imagine, the Republic of Texas's Declaration of Independence hanging on a whorehouse wall. Half of him bristled with offense at the notion. The other half wanted to laugh. Somehow, it had an appropriate ring. The fathers of the Republic had made four extra copies of the original document and sent them by messenger out around the country in order to spread the word that independence from Mexico had been declared. Considering the business whorehouses did in a country populated mostly by men, chances were good more men would have read the news there than anywhere else.

"I'll see what I can find out about this club," he told her.

"Good." A thoughtful smile curved her lips as she mused, "Since you'll be busy with John, I'll concentrate on Lord Welby."

"Has he provided any information about the quest?"

"Not the Declaration. At this point, my focus with him has to do with my other search."

Other
search?
Cole shoved his hands into his pockets. "You mean you'll be busy flirting."

"How else am I supposed to find a husband like Mother wants?"

He wanted to ask if she were as free with her kisses over here as she was on the other side of the Atlantic, but he thought twice about bringing that particular subject up.

As she continued rattling about her social life, Cole's mood grew stormy. He wanted to shake some sense into her. She hadn't a clue as to what was truly important here. Of course, that's because she hadn't been told the truth. Cole found the news of Elizabeth's condition hovering on his tongue. Christina had a right to know just why her mother pushed her toward these Brits. He'd bet his favorite saddle she'd drop these earls and marquesses like a bad smell and hightail it home to Texas if she knew the facts.

Which was exactly why he couldn't tell her.

He cleared his throat. "If you want to know what I learn from Parkwood, meet me here tomorrow at the same time." He left the folly before she said any more.

He regretted his words the following day when a damp and chilly wind ushered him through the statue garden and past ornate fountains to the wood walk. That in turn led to the folly and his appointed rendezvous with Miss Christina Delaney, Texan spy and husband hunter.

The small stone building was a good ten-minute walk from the house, something he hadn't minded during the recent pleasant weather. Today was a different matter.

"Better we had chosen an indoor spot for this," he muttered. With its three levels and four wings, Hartsworth had more than few appropriately private spots. Besides, their business wouldn't take a minute. Parkwood had talked freely about his Texas ties, and before their conversation ended, Cole had asked the man outright about the missing Declaration. Parkwood denied ever seeing such a document and Cole believed him. He'd also agreed that such a treasure belonged in Texas, and he volunteered to survey other family members for any information they might possess. The chilly breeze whipped around Cole, and he stuck his hands into his pockets and grumbled, "We're finding a new rendezvous from now on."

Halfway to the folly, he had just rounded a rendition of Zeus when a hissing sound emerging from the marble god's lightning bolt brought him up short.

Hiss-s-s-s.
"Mr. Morgan. Wait. Come here." Sophie Kleberg's head popped out from behind Zeus's leg. Her brother waved from over a shoulder, then crooked his fingers at the same time he signaled for quiet. Cole moved toward them.

Michael mouthed the words "Miss Chrissy" while pointing at the hedge behind him. When Cole was close enough, the boy whispered in his ear. "You've got to stop her, sir. This one worries me."

"This one what?" Cole responded in a normal tone of voice.

"Shush. He waylaid her on the way to your meeting. He said he wanted to talk."

"Who?"

Michael jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Mr. Welby."

Cole noted the boy's use of the word "mister" instead of "lord" in regard to the viscount. It pleased the Texan in him that Michael refused to make any titular distinctions. Because the Kleberg family occupied the space of "dear family friends" rather than servants on the social pecking order at Hartsworth, the boy's insolence was for the most part ignored.

Michael continued, "I think we have a problem with him. I wasn't too worried about any of the others, but Mr. Welby seems dangerous."

"Dangerous? I don't know, Michael. A talk in the garden sounds innocent enough, even if the weather is less than pleasant."

Sophie backed out of the bushes. "Hurry. They've gone into the maze."

"Come on, Mr. Morgan," the boy responded, tugging on Cole's arm. "What if he wants to do more than talk?"

"He does," warned Sophie, her eyes round with worry. "Earlier when I was spying on Mr. Lord Welby, I heard him tell his valet he has plans for Miss Chrissy. The ladies here say he's the most eligible bachelor in England, and even my Mama thinks he is very nice and she is very, very picky. Miss Chrissy is so beautiful and perfect that of course he'll fall in love with her like everyone else. It could have already happened and he might be ready to propose."

Cole would have replied, but he'd been struck speechless by the idea of Christina cast as perfect.

"We are worried she just might accept," Michael added. "She's been acting even sillier about this wedding stuff than usual. She and Mama talked about what baked goods to have at the wedding supper."

Sophie shook her finger at Cole. "This is your fault, Mr. Morgan. You have to stop her."

"My fault? What did I do?"

"You helped send her away from Texas. Now she's gonna get married and live here forever and that won't make her happy. I think my Mama would be happy living here, but Miss Chrissy won't. She has always said she has Texas in her heart."

"Wait just a minute. Sending her to England wasn't my decision." And why was he defending himself to a couple of curtain-climbers? Cole shook his head and firmly pushed aside the doubt that crept into his mind. "Look, as far as Welby goes, I think you are worrying needlessly. She's just flirting."

She wouldn't jump into marriage this fast. Not even impulsive, reckless Christina Delaney.

But what if you're wrong?
Cole moved toward the maze.

"She flirts and flutters too much," Michael observed.

"Amen to that," Cole agreed.

Sophie lifted her chin. "Mama says Miss Chrissy acts completely proper. She says men fall over themselves to be near her no matter what she does or says."

"That's true," Michael said glumly. "It's even worse here than it was at home because in San Antonio, everybody knew Mr. Jake would kill them if they did wrong by Miss Chrissy. Well, everybody except the vaqueros in the square. I think that's one reason she liked being Chili Queen so much—the men weren't always looking over their shoulder for Jake."

Cole remembered her dancing and kissing that man in the square that night and scowled. Maybe the Kleberg youngsters had a point. Maybe he should have been keeping a closer watch on Christina. He had promised Jake he would. Just because she'd acted within the bounds of acceptable behavior so far while in England didn't mean she couldn't get herself in trouble.

As if she had read his mind, Sophie reached out and tugged on his coat. "I really like Mr. Earl of Thornbury, but he's not much help. He wants her to marry one of these men and stay in England close to him."

"You know better, sir," added Michael. "You know she shouldn't marry one of these Englishmen unless she has fallen in love with them which I promise you she hasn't because that's what she told my mama. You need to fill in for Mr. Jake. You must be her brother."

Be Christina's brother? Cole grimaced. The very idea of it repulsed him, but he wasn't up to digging too deeply for the reason why. "Fine," he said, giving in. He didn't cotton to the idea of Welby for Christina's husband anyway. "Where is she?"

Michael peered through the bushes behind the statue of Zeus, then said dryly, "She's over here. She's letting Mr. Welby look for something in her mouth. With his tongue."

Cole bit off a curse and joined the boy at the bushes. "Dammit," he muttered, staring through the leafy branches toward where the Englishman had Christina wrapped in his arms for a kiss.
Some
things never change.
"Children, y'all run along back to the house. I'll take care of this."

Rounding the hedge, he heard the viscount croon, "You take my breath away, my dear. I would be honored if you would consent to being my wife."

Cole didn't give her time to answer as he filled in for Jake. "If you want to keep your tongue, you'll make sure it stays in your own mouth where it belongs."

The couple broke apart. He had the grace to look sheepish. She all but bared her teeth in anger. "Morgan. You need to go away."

He ignored her and turned his fiercest, narrow-eyed glare on the Englishman.

Welby held up his hands, palms out, and offered one of his patent winning smiles. "Now, one moment, Mr. Morgan," he protested. "This is not as unseemly as it appears. I have proposed marriage to her."

"You and the multitude," Cole drawled.

"Cole!"

He continued as though she hadn't spoken. "Listen up and I'll make this simple and sweet. Touch the lady again and I'll take one of those fancy vests you like so much and tie it in a hangman's noose. Around your neck."

"That's enough!" she snapped. "You can't say something like that. You have no hold over me."

"Yes, I do-I promised your brother I'd stand in his stead." With a glance at the Englishman, he added, "You've probably read of his exploits in the newspapers? Killer Jake Delaney?"

The pretty-boy viscount's eyebrows arched above doubting eyes. He met Cole's gaze squarely and his lips twisted in an understated smirk. It was, Cole thought, an English gentleman's way of saying
You're full of bullcrap.

Then Welby offered Christina a gentle smile and said, "Obviously you have family matters to discuss. Christina, you and I shall speak of this again later." With that, he dipped his head in a bow, then turned and retreated toward the house.

Chrissy fumed. "Curse you, Cole Morgan!" Her temper blazing, she barreled up her fist and took a wild swing at him. He dodged that blow easily, but she caught him by surprise with a strong kick to his shin.

Ignoring the pain in her toes, she demanded, "What's the matter with you? Welby proposed marriage, you fool. My first."

"First?" he repeated, rubbing his sore leg. "Fifty-first, maybe."

"My first while in England. From a viscount, no less. Within a month of my arrival. That's why Mother sent me here, Morgan. It's what I'm supposed to do!"

Anger flashed like lightning in his sky blue eyes. He struck like a rattlesnake with the question, "Do you love him?"

That shut her up. While she stood stiff and silent, Cole sent her a smile that was anything but amused. "I guess I have my answer."

Chrissy's defenses rose like a wall. "I like Lord Welby very much. Given time, it could grow into something more. And he professes to admire me for who I am. He doesn't want to change me."

"That's because he hasn't seen the real you," Cole shot back. "You've not been acting like yourself of late, Christina."

"That's not true," she countered, although now that he mentioned it, she suspected he did have a point. In her effort to find love without conditions, had she been placing conditions on herself?

Maybe she had been trying to conform to this society's behavior rules more than she ever had at home. Why? Was she afraid her mother was right after all? Was she afraid no one could love the real Chrissy Delaney?

It was a question she'd have to face another time. Right now she was too busy arguing with Cole.

And feeling more alive than she had in days.

She cleared her throat. "I'm simply trying to make a place for myself in proper society. That's what my family wants for me, what they think I'm too improper to have."

"So you're out to prove them properly wrong, is that it? That's stupid, Christina."

"It's what they want for me," she repeated.

"Since when did you ever do what your family wanted?"

She sucked in a sharp breath. It was a low blow, and ordinarily she'd end the argument by walking off. This time, however, for some reason she couldn't quite comprehend, she felt the need to explain. It was important to her that he understand.

Forcing calm into her voice, she said, "I was born trying to please, Cole Morgan. I was a good girl. I behaved. I did what good little girls were supposed to say and do. So, my mother should have been pleased, right?" When he didn't answer, she said it again, "Right?"

He scowled. "She
was
pleased."

Bitterness spiced her laugh. "Really? And how could you tell? Did she give me hugs and kisses for it? Did she tell me she was proud, that she loved me?"

He remained silent.

"I was very little when your mother died, Cole, but I remember how she used to reach out and hug you every time you walked by. I used to yearn for that."

"Your father used to hug and kiss you. He called you his sweet little love."

"Yes." Chrissy's throat tightened and her eyes stung at the memory. "Yes, he did and for that I am eternally grateful. When I lost him, I lost so very much."

"I know, Christina. He was a fine man."

She wrapped her arms around herself, huddling deeper in her cloak. "Both my parents treated Jake differently than they did me. Once you came to live with us, they treated you just like they did Jake."