The Rocky Mountain Heiress Collection (107 page)

“My brother is not the only one who went to war, Charlotte. I’ve seen my share of field repairs, as it were.”

“Field repairs?”

Alex’s lips turned up in the beginnings of a smile, and she knew he was teasing.

“How lucky I am to be in the presence of a professional,” she said, though without as much sarcasm as she intended.

“Indeed you are. Now stop being uncooperative and leave this to me.” He studied the curtained bed then allowed his attention to drift up to Charlotte’s stare. “Are you decent?”

She tugged her wrapper down over her ankles then nodded. “I am.”

“All right. Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

Alex threw back the blankets and reached for her foot. With the gentlest of touches, he turned it first to the right and then to the left. “Nothing’s broken,” he said, “but you’ve made a mess of your bedding, and you’re still bleeding a bit.” He went to find cloth and a basin, and returned a moment later.

At the touch of the cloth on her cut, Charlotte flinched. Then, by degrees she became aware of Alex’s close proximity, of the feel of his fingers as they slid down the back of her ankle, the set of his mouth as he remedied the damage she’d caused by stumbling about in the dark.

With Alex’s attention elsewhere, Charlotte could study him. Little had changed about the viscount in the four years since they’d last met except, she noted, the tiny crescent-shaped scar on the left side of his chin.

His hands stilled. He’d caught her staring.

“Something wrong, Charlotte?”

She tucked her dressing gown back around her ankle then leaned toward Alex. “Actually, I was wondering …,” she touched the scar, “what happened here?”

The ship rumbled beneath them while the sound of the night bells drifted toward them. Charlotte’s hand fell to her lap as she waited, watching Alex’s face.

“I’m sure you already know.” Alex gave her a look that told her
he’d take no foolishness. “Now allow me to complete my doctoring, please.”

While he worked, Charlotte watched her temporary husband. His care of her injury was gentle and efficient, his touch firm but quick. Once he’d stopped the bleeding and applied a small bandage, he disposed of the cloths and then returned to her bedside to tuck the blankets around her.

“Stay in bed, Charlotte,” he said. “I will be fine without your supervision.”

“Supervision? I assure you I intended no such thing.”

Their gazes met. “What did you intend, wife?”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked away. “Stop calling me that.”

“Fine, but mind my words please, and stay put.” He extinguished the lamp. “Good night.”

Alex had padded all the way back into the other room before Charlotte recalled the question he had not yet answered.

“You’re not done here,” she called. “About that scar. You never told me how you got it.”

“Sleep, Charlotte,” he said, his voice tired.

“As soon as you answer me,” she replied.

His shadow once again filled the doorway. “Didn’t your father tell you about the meeting we had after you left for Wellesley?”

Curiosity chased surprise up her spine. “Did my father do that?”

“No, of course not.” In the dim light she spied Alex’s hand touching his chin. “I just assumed he’d spoken to you.”

“Oh, no. Papa didn’t dare mention you in my presence.” Charlotte ducked her head then peered up at him. “Nothing personal. It was the
idea
of what you represented.”

“What I still represent.”

“Yes.” She snuggled down into the pillows, feeling a sudden, strange desire to hide.

“You probably do not recall that when your father first offered your hand in marriage, I declined because I had another offer.”

She did, but Charlotte wasn’t about to admit it.

“Before I could accept the offer the second time it was made,” Alex continued, “I had to decide whether to end my association with the other young lady.”

Charlotte’s heart jolted, an odd feeling for one so intent on ridding herself of the man.

“The young lady and I had not met, but her father had been in discussions with my solicitor. Thus, when the time came to withdraw from our tentative agreement, the news was not well received by the young lady’s father.” Alex paused. “Mind you, the man had proven quite difficult to pin down when it came to negotiations, so I was well within my rights to step away from the table and end the discussions.”

The moon went behind a cloud, plunging the bedchamber into darkness. Charlotte heard rather than saw her companion shift positions. Her gaze went to the window where the sprinkling of stars beckoned. Had she not allowed her paints and canvases to be packed away …

Charlotte shook away the thought. Painting was something she hadn’t attempted in years. Four years, to be exact. Not since she left the ranch for Wellesley. And while Colonel Cody had understood that her studies came first, Grandfather still asked on occasion if she’d taken up the hobby again.

“So the girl’s father did that?” she asked Alex when the silvery moon returned.

“He did,” Alex replied. “Now, if you’re done with the questions, I suggest you allow me my rest.”

Without waiting for a response, Alex turned and disappeared into the sitting room. As she heard the creak of the sofa that indicated the Englishman had returned to his makeshift bed, it was all Charlotte could do not to ask who the other girl was.

“Better I don’t know,” she said as she closed her eyes. “Not that it matters. He’ll be free to marry her soon, should he wish.”

But even as the whispered words escaped her lips, Charlotte knew she didn’t want her husband to run to the welcoming arms of another woman. Even if he wasn’t her husband anymore.

Not that she would ever admit this to Alex.

Or anyone else, for that matter.

August 21, 1891
Denver, Colorado

The
Teutonic
sailed so fast across the Atlantic that a new speed record was set, and yet the voyage had seemed interminable. After five days of sea air and close quarters with her polite but distant traveling companion, Charlotte was more than ready to board the train for home.

The size of the Beck rail car allowed for little privacy, a welcome change from the first class ship cabin that had become her prison. With Alex spending much of his time reading his charts and books and making notes in the mountain of journals he’d brought along, Charlotte had been left to fill her days reading or staring out at the ocean.

At least she managed to give Alex the impression she’d done these things. Each time she turned a page, Charlotte would have been hard pressed to tell anyone what she’d read. And while the ocean unfolded in a shifting hue from green to gray to blackest ink, her thoughts wandered as she watched the waves drift past.

Now she could talk with Gennie and Papa and play games with little Danny. Always, however, her husband was present, and with Alex so near, her focus fractured.

The only time Charlotte could truly take her mind off her temporary marriage was when she and Papa talked business in the private study in the farthest section of the rail car. On those rare occasions when her father was amenable to answering her questions or debating the benefits of public offerings over private ownerships, all other worries vanished. With the door closed to interruptions and the scarlet curtains swaying with the rhythm of the rails beneath them, Charlotte finally felt worthy of the Wellesley education Papa had allowed her.

Today, however, with Denver practically in sight, Papa had banished Gennie and Danny to the sleeping chambers so that he might meet with Charlotte and Alex on some matter. But first, he’d asked that Charlotte come into the study alone.

She sat across the desk from Papa, the vast golden plains of Colorado sliding past outside and a poster from a show Colonel Cody had done back in 1887 staring at her from a frame on the wall behind her father’s head. She shifted her focus to her father.

Papa wore a troubled look, putting Charlotte on her guard. Apparently today’s discussion would not be about business. Or, worse, it would be about some mistake she’d made in the affairs she already handled for Grandfather. Only the request that Alex join them as soon as he could manage it kept Charlotte from believing she’d been unseated from the Beck Enterprises board before she could make any sort of go at the position.

Speaking first would betray her nervousness, so Charlotte settled into a more comfortable position to wait her father out. She allowed her gaze to slide past the poster to a collection of books, safe behind glass
and shelved floor to ceiling on either side of the window. When Papa first purchased the rail car, long before Gennie came into their lives, the lower two shelves had been filled with books just for her. A smile rose at the memory of the many times she’d curled in the corner, a book in her hand, while meetings or visits of some importance took place around her.

Her father sat back and studied the ceiling, one hand on his chin. After a moment, he swung his gaze to meet Charlotte’s nervous stare. This time she could no longer keep quiet.

“Something wrong, Papa?” she asked, working hard to keep her posture straight and her expression calm.

“I’m wondering something this morning, Buttercup.” He paused. “Hambly—does he treat you well?”

Not what she expected. “Yes, I suppose he does.”

“You suppose?”

She shifted positions. “He does,” she said with what she hoped was the proper amount of enthusiasm. “Very well.” She recalled his tender touch while seeing to her injury aboard ship.

“But you do not yet love him.” Papa waved away any response she might offer. “No, of course, you don’t. It’s too soon.”

Her father’s admission of that fact surprised Charlotte. Rather than continue the charade, she decided to attempt the truth.

“No, Papa. You’re right, I do not love him. Nor, truthfully, do I see that love is something Alex and I could achieve over time. We are simply far too different, and we want things that have nothing to do with marriage and children.” Having said more than she intended, Charlotte clamped her mouth shut, and her fingers worried with the trim on her sleeve. When Papa didn’t respond, she added, “But love wasn’t a consideration when you insisted on this transaction, was it?”

“Not the sort of love you’re thinking of.” He turned toward the window. “But understand that anything I have ever done with regard to you has been out of love.”

Again not what she expected.

An inexplicable spark of anger rose inside her. “So you insisted I marry Alex Hambly because you love me? You used my desire to attend Wellesley to force a marriage upon me because you love me? Well, that’s just wonderful.”

If Papa was upset by her outburst, he did not show it. He simply waited in silence until she shook her head.

“If you’re looking for an apology for my feelings,” she said, “I refuse. I will, however, apologize for the disrespectful tone.”

“Apology accepted.” He paused. “And for the record, you had a choice, as did Hambly. Nothing was forced on either of you.”

She opened her mouth to offer a rebuttal but found no argument against what he’d said. An uncomfortable silence fell between them.

“So,” Papa finally said, “is there anything you wish to tell me?”

“About what?” Guilt made her heart jolt, but she covered by offering a smile. “I don’t know what you think I might have to say.”

He shrugged, then removed his spectacles and set them aside, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Outside, the train’s whistle sounded, filling the room with the reminder that with every crossing, with every mile of track, they were closer to home.

Closer to freedom.

“I’m concerned,” Papa said.

Charlotte shifted positions and focused on the swaying, scarlet curtains to her right. “I can’t imagine about what.” She remembered her earlier worry. “Is it Grandfather’s company? Have I done something wrong? I assure you we aren’t going to compete with anything Beck Enterprises
is doing here in the States. And I’ve already spoken to Grandfather about going public with a stock offering, which would not only bring in some cash but would also—”

“Charlotte.”

She leaned back and folded her hands in her lap. “What?”

“My concern does not extend to any business arrangements you’ve made with your grandfather. In fact, I’m quite pleased that you’ve taken hold of your position with such enthusiasm, and I’m certain you will do whatever you set your mind to with great success. You always do.” He put his spectacles back in place, then rested his elbows on the desk. “As your father, my greater worry is for the condition of your faith.”

Wonderful. This discussion again
.

Charlotte exhaled a long breath. She and Papa hadn’t broached this topic in quite some time. Not since the summer of her third year at Wellesley, when they’d had a terrible row over her reluctance to believe that she did not chart her own course in life without a heavy measure of divine assistance.