Wildblossom (25 page)

Shelby blushed and took a chair nearby, setting her glass next to his on the small table. "Well, I am a female."

"And a very lovely one. But, one can't help wondering if this is truly
you
."

She looked up to see clear perception in his eyes. "Percy, I trust you. Will you talk with me honestly?"

"I shall do my best."

She drew a deep breath and asked the question she'd been unable to face. "Must Geoff truly return to England?"

The elderly manservant looked stunned, then profoundly sympathetic. "Yes, Miss Matthews, I fear he must. His obligations are powerful, and there is much more at stake than his own desires. This interlude in Wyoming was never meant to be more than a brief idyll before the real work of his life begins."

"What do you mean?"

"His lordship will be a duke upon the death of his father, whose health is failing. That is a serious business. The family estates entail centuries of history, and he can't turn his back on those obligations." Manypenny reached out to pat her hand. "You must understand, he really has no choice. He's the only child and many people depend upon him."

Shelby's heartache made it difficult to breathe. This conversation took a hundred times more courage than rustling back cattle or fighting for her ranch. "And Lady Clementine Beech? Will she... make him happy?"

"Lady Clementine is a very nice young lady. It's a marriage that will do a great deal to restore the fortunes of the Aylesbury estates in Yorkshire."

"But... how cold-blooded that sounds, and how sad for Geoff!"

"My dear, if it is any consolation, I'm sure he wishes it could be otherwise. I fear that his lordship's fate was sealed the moment he was born."

Her head was bent; a tear dropped onto the fragile fabric of her sleeve. "I suppose I've known, deep inside, all along."

Manypenny suddenly felt a sharp stab of doubt, but before he could discern its meaning, Shelby rose at the sound of a rider approaching on the road.

"That's Geoff," she whispered, instinctively recognizing the cadence of Charlie's hoofbeats.

Turning the corner of the veranda, she glimpsed the horse and rider in the distance, their coloring strikingly similar. As the buckskin stallion drew closer to the house, Shelby saw that Geoff was more handsome than ever, his splendid looks roughened by nearly a month spent in the sun and wind.

The other men had come out of the barn to greet the returning traveler. Geoff handed Charlie's reins to Jimmy, then took off his hat and shook hands with Ben Avery. His eyes moved past the other man, though, searching until he spotted Shelby on the shadowed veranda, watching. He smiled and walked up the steps to greet her.

"What's happened to our sharpshooting, cowpunching Shelby?" he asked Ben. "Am I seeing things, or is she wearing a dress?"

She didn't hear her uncle's mocking reply, for all her senses were filled with Geoff. A ray of sunlight created an aura around him, burnishing his damp hair, picking up the twinkle in his eyes, the flash of his smile, the contrast between the brown of his arms and the blue of his shirt. Shelby noticed every nuance of the way he inhabited his travel-worn clothing. There was no trace of a dude left in Geoff, for even the denim of his pants was faded and soft, skimming the hard contours of his body.

When he drew near, Shelby knew that her heart was in her eyes. "Hello, Geoff."

"How did you know I was coming?" His voice was gently laced with amusement.

"Know?"

"I assume that you are decked out in this finery in honor of my homecoming...?"

Ben seemed to find this especially funny, throwing back his head to howl over the notion that his niece would dress up in honor of any man. She blushed at first, but then irritation with her uncle overtook all else and she gave him a sharp glance. "You are impossible!"

"I forgot how funny Geoff can be," he gasped at length. "Must be that English sense of humor."

Geoff regarded them both with a tentative smile, brows raised. "Clearly you've been lacking entertainment, Ben. I never meant to make a joke at Shelby's expense."

"I'll pour some lemonade," she said, and started toward the kitchen. "Perhaps we can sit down for a few minutes and you can tell us about your trip. How I envy you, traveling around Yellowstone Park!"

As he watched her go, Geoff wondered what the devil this was all about? Shelby was a vision in her simple dress of cream voile and lace, her cinnamon hair a luxuriant swirl atop her head. She was even wearing a corset that accentuated her breasts and the tiny span of her waist. He looked around and took in the pillows and flowers.

Was this Shelby's way of telling him that she loved him enough to give up her free-spirited existence on the ranch, after all? That she might be able to conform to the role of Marchioness of Sandhurst as long as they could be together? The mere possibility lightened his heart. It wouldn't be easy to get rid of Lady Clem, and his parents would surely balk, but there might be a way—if Shelby was truly willing to make the tremendous sacrifices that would be necessary. There would be a great deal to work out between them, but Geoff felt hope begin to bud.

He couldn't take his eyes off her as they sat down with glasses of lemonade and she cast her own eyes down in the manner of a shy, well-bred young lady.

"I should take a bath before I soil the house," Geoff said. "I must look a wreck."

"Not at all," she replied.

Ben cast a suspicious eye on both of them, but then Titus and Manypenny came in to hear about Yellowstone, and he was distracted. There was a lot of talk of water: spouting geysers; colorful, iridescent hot pools; the magnificent Yellowstone Lake, which Geoff described as being ultramarine in color; and the Tower Falls, which were said to descend 350 feet.

"I had heard about these sights and have even seen paintings," he said, "but being used to the gentler beauty of England, I truly could not imagine the... grandeur in advance." Geoff shook his head, still awestruck. "There are visitors coming in even by motor car now, so it's hardly a true wilderness, yet one can get away. The forests are dense, and the variety of animals is amazing...."

Manypenny spoke up in nonchalant tones: "Isn't it sad that people are spoiling the place? I'll never forget my own visit there in 1863. Of course, there weren't roads then of any kind! We hoped to make a new trail in from the east, but were prevented from doing so by some Indian troubles. Instead, we approached from Bozeman Pass, descending into Yellowstone Valley. I must say that my first sight of the Yellowstone River struck me quite mute."

Everyone stared, agog, while Manypenny gazed off into space, smiling slightly at his memories. When Geoff found his voice, he cried, "Are you having us on, old fellow?"

He looked hurt. "Of course not."

"Why didn't you tell me you'd been here before?"

"It never came up, my lord."

"But 1863 was nearly forty years ago. How old
are
you, Manypenny?"

In sonorous tones he replied, "Eighty-
two
on Sunday last, my lord."

"No wonder you're so fond of the rocking chair now!" Titus laughed. "Once you let yourself sit down, it must've been hard to get up again!"

"Quite," he agreed with a sniff.

While questions continued to pour out for Manypenny about his view of the West at the time of America's Civil War, Geoff happened to glance out the window in time to see a young man ride up to the house. He would have gone himself to see what the boy wanted, but as soon as the knock came at the door, Titus and Manypenny challenged each other to get there first.

"Don't move, sir," Titus said to Geoff, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'll get it."

"I believe I should go," Manypenny countered with a frown. "It seems to be one of
my
duties."

When the two older men were out of earshot, Shelby said, "Those two have been rivals ever since Titus came back from Billings. Mr. Manypenny was so happy, rocking on the porch, until Titus began making remarks that seemed to imply that the old gentleman was lazy." She laughed fondly.

A moment later Titus came back around the corner of the kitchen area. "This fellow has a telegram for Mr. Weston!"

When Geoff emerged onto the veranda, escorted by Titus Pym, he found that Manypenny was guarding their visitor. The sunburned, gangly teenager said, "I'm supposed to deliver this to the Marquess of Sandhurst. That you?"

"I'm afraid so," Geoff replied.

"Well, then—here." He turned over the telegram, and looked shocked when Geoff gave him a few coins in return. "Gee, thanks, Marquess!"

Titus had wandered off to the new barn, and Manypenny returned to his rocking chair in the shade. Cold with dread, Geoff went to the other end of the veranda and tore open the yellow-tinted paper.

It took him a full minute to make sense of the tersely-worded message. His father, the duke, was seriously ill. He might die. Geoffrey was urgently needed at home, and must return to England immediately.

He leaned against the log house and attempted to absorb the shock.
Home.
But... this was home! If he'd known, he would never have gone off this month; he'd have stayed right here, cherishing each hour, courting Shelby properly so that she would want to spend the rest of her life with him.

Yet, in the bright glare of the telegram he held in his hand, his dreams for the two of them suddenly seemed impossible. If his existence in England was oppressive to him, how much worse would it be for Shelby? Society would be outraged and his mother would make her life hell. Everything Shelby had ever said about needing freedom echoed in his memory. How many times had she insisted that she could never tolerate the posturing and pretensions of London society?

Slowly, he made his way around the veranda to find Manypenny. The old man appeared to be waiting for him.

      
"My lord?"

"It's Father. He's very ill." It hurt to speak.

"I'll begin packing."

"There's nothing for it, is there." His voice was raw. "No escape."

"Not for a man of your character, my lord."

Manypenny got up and went into the house, and after a few moments, Geoff followed. To his surprise, Shelby was standing in the kitchen wearing her usual split skirt and plain fitted blouse. The voile and lace gown had disappeared.

"Are you all right?" she asked softly.

He started to nod, then brought a hand up to rub his brow. "I've been better. Would you care to take a walk with me?"

Shelby steeled herself, knowing that it would be a gift to Geoff if she could make his task easier. Together they went down the veranda steps, past the barn and outbuildings, to a meadow that stretched between the rows of dark-green potato plants. There was a split-rail fence at one end. Many times in the past they had ridden by it to see which birds might be perched on the rough wood, singing in the sunshine.

Geoff badly wanted to take her arm as they walked, but Shelby seemed untouchable. Instead he remarked in a carefully offhand tone, "I take it that you grew tired of the gown you were wearing earlier?"

"It was fun for a little while to dress up, but terribly impractical after that, don't you think? I mean," she paused to sweep a hand downward, indicating the rest of her, "this is who I am. I'd rather be comfortable and be able to do the things I love rather than trussed up that way."

"Yes. Of course." Stopping beside the fence, he caught her hand and held fast to her fingers until she stood before him. The distant, purplish mountains made a stunning backdrop for Shelby's unembellished beauty. It came to him that no other place in the world could be a more perfect environment for her.

"Was your telegram very important?" she asked.

"Yes." For a moment, Geoff closed his eyes. Shadows played over his sculpted cheekbones. "I have to go back to England, I'm afraid."

"I thought so."

"It seems that my father may be near death."

"Oh, Geoff, I am so sorry."

"Shelby – "

"No, you mustn't worry about me. I'll be fine. I know that you have to go, that you have obligations, and you don't have to explain." The words tumbled out, and she felt the tremor in her voice, but it seemed that she was hurting too much for tears, and that was a blessing. If she began to cry, he'd know the truth.

Geoff saw how pale and stiff she'd become, and felt her fingers go clammy in the hot July air. Yet how could he argue with her? Even if he could find a way to make his fantasy future a reality, how long would it take in England before she began to resent the restrictions and rules of life as a noblewoman? Shelby had said it herself: she belonged here.

"Life can be so complicated," he said hoarsely. "That's been the joy for me of these past months. Everything is simple here."

"Yes." She wanted to tell him that there was nothing simple about her life at that moment, that the Sunshine Ranch was clouded with heartache, but she stopped herself.

He ached to hold her, to kiss her, to tell her that he would never forget all that they had shared, but that would only make it harder.

"You're the strongest woman I've ever known, Shelby."