Wildblossom (31 page)

Unbidden, tears filled Vivian's eyes and throat. "Oh, after what I've had for the past year, this house is a palace, and this bed is big enough for ten of us."

Moonlight streamed into the bedroom through the long windows on the far wall, lending just enough light for Shelby to make out her friend's features. She turned toward her and whispered, "I hope I'm not prying, but I haven't been alone with you since we boarded the train in Cody. You haven't told me how you were able to get away from Bart...."

The silence seemed bigger than the house. Vivian made sounds that weren't quite words, and then at last she managed to say in a curiously unemotional voice, "Well... I had to poison him."

"Poison him?" Shelby echoed, aghast.

"Yes. I put rat poison in his potatoes."

"Viv—do you mean that you
killed
him?"

"I had to." She turned the other way, snuggled down into the down pillow and savored the exquisite softness of the sheets. How could Shelby ever understand what had gone on in the Croll home?
"I had to."

Chapter 15

"I couldn't be more relieved to have Christmas behind us," remarked the Marquess of Sandhurst as he went into his dressing room to slip into the impeccably tailored charcoal-gray jacket that Manypenny was holding. "Don't you agree, old fellow? All that
congeniality, coupled with the endless repetition of holiday customs, becomes tedious beyond endurance." He waited while the manservant whisked microscopic bits of lint from his back with a small silver-handled brush. "I'll confess to you that my future in-laws are even more trying than my own parents. Of course, it's only because of the impending wedding that I was subjected to so
much
Christmas celebration—" The sight of Manypenny's barely perceptible flick of an eyebrow brought Geoff up short. "What was that about?"

"I have no idea to what you are referring, my lord."

"You arched your eyebrow; it's no use denying it, I am attuned to every nuance of your being."

"I am flattered to hear it, my lord."

His jaw hardened. "Manypenny, answer me!"

"I was just thinking that there might be at least one person in this world who could persuade you to sing carols and drink wassail and decorate the entire house with pine boughs... and you wouldn't find any of it
trying in the least."

Geoff closed his eyes against the pain. Sometimes he wondered if his heart was truly damaged, for memories of Shelby could pierce him like a dagger. But he was learning how to recover more quickly from such episodes. He clenched his jaw, took a deep breath, then opened his eyes... and saw the newspaper lying on his dressing table. It was open to an article with an unmistakable headline:

Wild West Show Opens Today at Earl's Court.

"My lord, are you ill?"

Picking up the paper, he threw it into the waste bin. "Manypenny, I do not appreciate these decidedly unsubtle hints that I break all my promises here and dash back to Wyoming. You may as well face reality; I have."

"Allow me to beg your pardon, sir, if I have offended you. I only thought that you might wish to visit Earl's Court for a slight taste of that other world...."

"If you assume that I have not been aware for weeks that Cody and the Wild West troupe were returning to London, you gravely underestimate my powers of observation. The city has been covered with advertising posters." His tone was cold. "I am going out. Where is my umbrella?"

"Here, my lord." He watched his master stride out of the dressing room: wide-shouldered, lean-muscled, and defiantly civilized in his superbly tailored and tasteful clothing. It gave the old manservant a lump in his throat just to watch him. When they left Wyoming, Manypenny had believed that the future was sadly unalterable, but slowly he had begun to reconsider.

"Oh, incidentally..." Halfway across the spacious bedchamber, Geoff turned and looked back through the doorway. "I am off to Gloucestershire this afternoon, and I believe I shall ask Charles and Lady Clem to come along. London is a dead bore. You'll have to pack us up, Manypenny."

* * *

"Thank goodness Mama doesn't know how we're living," Shelby said to Vivian with a beleaguered smile. "Of course, I didn't know myself. If Colonel Cody had told me we'd be occupying a tent throughout the winter, I'm not certain I would have agreed to come."

"At least it has wood floors, and a stove to keep us warm."

"And at least there's plenty of room for both of us," Shelby agreed. She was sitting on the edge of her cot, wrapped in sweaters and a coat, and sipping the hottest tea she could stand. "We were lucky to get Annie Oakley's own tent. Most of the others are smaller." She sighed. "I'm relieved, too, that I needn't perform yet."

"Very true."

"Can you think of anything else we should be thankful for?"

It wasn't so much the cold that plagued them as the bone-chilling dampness of the London winter. "I'm thankful we aren't at sea any longer. I've never been sicker in my life. And—" She stole a sideways glance at her friend. "—I'm most grateful of all that I don't have to live with Bart Croll anymore. This is heaven in comparison."

"Shh!" Shelby cautioned. "You mustn't even say his name, Viv. If anyone should find out... I mean, I may understand completely, but I don't think the police would."

Vivian glanced down at her pale hands. She hadn't worn her wedding band since that day. As soon as he'd tossed the terrified Willy at her and headed to the outhouse, Vivian had torn the ring from her hand so hard her finger had bled. And then she'd begun searching for the rat poison.

Shelby knew everything now. During the long sea voyage, Viv had been sick most of the time and Shelby had stayed beside her in their tiny stateroom. There, half delirious and plagued by horrendous nightmares, Viv had resurrected long-buried memories. She'd shown Shelby scars: a permanent welt on her back from Bart's belt, and the burn from the cigarette he'd put out on her thigh. Before long, however, it became clear to Shelby that Viv's innocent soul had been injured much more seriously than her body. "If only you'd told Geoff and me how bad it was," she had whispered, blinking back tears as she pressed a cool towel to her friend's brow. "We would have found a way to save you!"

Shelby might not have been able to rescue her in Wyoming, but she was determined to protect her now.

"Did you see that the flags in the arena are flying at half-mast?" Viv asked.

"Yes! Poor Colonel Cody is so broken-hearted over Nate Salsbury's death," Shelby replied. "First his son-in-law and now his partner—dying on Christmas Eve. I knew he wouldn't cancel the show, but I heard from Uncle Ben that the cavalry banner will be wrapped in crepe."

"Do you want to watch the show this afternoon?"

"No, I don't think so. I'd rather wait for better weather. Do you mind?" Her thoughts began to pick up speed then. "And, since I obviously can't practice while the show is in progress, why don't you and I go off to see London? Uncle Ben's been an absolute slave driver ever since we arrived at Earl's Court. Don't we deserve an afternoon off?"

Vivian had brightened. "Where shall we go?"

"To tell you the truth, I'm dying to visit the British Museum, but perhaps we'd have more fun in Mayfair. I know my way around a bit from my journey here during college, so I can take you to Fortnum and Mason's to buy biscuits, jam, and tea for our lowly tent, and to Hatchard's Bookshop next door. After that... perhaps we'll go over to Harrods. It's a magnificent store, and there's a restaurant adjoining the Floral Hall, so we can have a nice hot luncheon." Shelby was brightening as she spoke. "What do you say, Viv? Let's get out of this dreary place before the mud oozes in and carries us away!"

* * *

Earl's Court was located on a big railroad junction in the West End. The grounds were comprised of twenty-three acres of gardens, courts, and exhibition halls. The Wild West Show had been performing there for fifteen years, and it felt like home now to the regulars. They had stables, a corral, and a grandstand that could seat twenty thousand spectators. The camp village, where Shelby and Vivian and Ben now lived, was erected among a grove of trees, and ran with surprising efficiency.

Vivian couldn't quite get used to the Indians who strolled past her in full regalia, complete with feathers in their long black hair and sometimes even wearing war paint. And there were countless other exotic performers from all corners of the world. Shelby constantly reminded Vivian that she needn't be afraid of strangers just because they happened not to be white.

Today, in spite of the drizzle, the mood in the camp was festive. As the girls headed toward West Cromwell Road, everyone they passed was in costume and excitedly anticipating the troupe's first show back on English soil. "Good luck!" Shelby called over and over, and Vivian managed to smile as well.

No sooner had they climbed into a hansom cab than Vivian forgot her intention to caution Shelby against being so friendly to a particularly fearsome-looking Brule Sioux. Instead, as they rolled through the crowded, misty streets, she found herself pointing at every building and park they passed. "What's that?" became her refrain, and their driver, Nigel, was happy to act as tour guide.

They passed Kensington Palace, then the palace gardens adjoining the Hyde Park. Presently, Nigel yelled, "This 'ere's the entrance to Rotten Row," as he pointed to the archway on their left. "That's where all the dandies ride their fancy 'orses ev'ry mornin' an' afternoon! The lot of 'em should try an honest day's work, I say!"

Shelby glanced over to find Vivian's staring, saucer-eyed, and she knew they shared the same thoughts. Rotten Row was where Geoff came to ride! Shelby's preoccupation with Geoff's possible presence in London was so overwhelming that she wanted to keep it to herself. She wished now she'd never confided so many of her feelings to Vivian. Now that they were near him, it would be easier if her unrequited love were a secret.

"Shelby!" whispered Vivian. "Do you suppose—"

"No. He'd never be in London in the winter. The Season doesn't begin until spring." She looked away, erecting a barrier of privacy. "Please, don't even think about finding him."

"Oh." Viv bit her lip. "All right."

She fell silent for a time, pouting a little until Nigel made a slight detour to show them Buckingham Palace. "That's where King Edward and Queen Alexandra live! 'Course, we all miss dear Queen Victoria, God bless 'er, but me wife says it'll do England good to have young blood." He went on to explain that Queen Victoria hadn't even lived in London, preferring the quiet country atmosphere at Windsor Castle.

Vivian was awestruck. "Oh, mercy! Do you suppose the king is looking out at us right now? I vow, never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I could ever see such a place, and it's all thanks to you, Shelby!"

They passed some of London's finest homes along Green Park, and then the cab turned onto Piccadilly. There was the Royal Academy on the left, and the most splendid carriages and richly garbed people that Vivian had ever seen. She was speechless by the time the cab pulled over in front of Fortnum and Mason's.

" 'Ave a wonderful day, ladies!" Nigel cried, beaming over the tip Shelby had given him. "I'll keep an eye open for you later, a'right?"

As they walked toward the entrance to Fortnum and Mason's, Shelby held the umbrella aloft in one hand and guided her friend with her other hand. Vivian had never been anywhere except St. Louis and Wyoming until these past weeks, so Shelby could forgive her for staring openly at each new sight.

"Oh, Lord—Shelby!" she gasped suddenly, pointing toward Hatchard's Bookshop, which was located next door. "Look, look!" Realizing that Shelby seemed determined
not
to look, Viv gathered her wits and cried, "For pity's sake, it's
Geoff!
Hurry, before he's gone!"

Nearly faint with shock, Shelby stood on tiptoe and tried to find him. There seemed to be a sea of black umbrellas, plus lots of dark-suited men wearing bowlers. And then there he was... the recalcitrant aristocrat. Hatless, Geoff stood out in the crowd. Even in December, he wore the lingering mark of the Wyoming sun, and his burnished looks were perfectly accentuated by a tasteful camel hair topcoat and a deep blue wool scarf. Under his arm he carried an unopened umbrella. Just the sight of him made Shelby feel giddy.