Deep in the Heart of Trouble (18 page)

“Why do you think Spreckelmeyer hasn’t said anything?”

She considered his question. “You could always ask him.”

Tony tapped his fist against his mouth. “It just doesn’t make any sense. If Spreckelmeyer knows who I am, why would he have granted me permission to court Essie?”

Mrs. Lockhart lit up. “You’re courting Essie? Why, no one has said a word!”

“That’s because I haven’t stepped out with her yet. I’m still undecided about the whole thing.”

“Why? She’d be a wonderful catch for any man.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then, what is it?”

Lowering his gaze, he ran his finger along the rim of his cup. “She’s Spreckelmeyer’s sole heir.”

“So?”

“So don’t you think it looks a bit suspicious for the disinherited son of Blake Morgan to suddenly take an interest in the spinster daughter of the largest producer of oil in Texas?”

Mrs. Lockhart pursed her lips. “In
Wooed and Married
, Mr. Tayne pursued the Lady Conyngham. She, too, was a spinster—and every bit as attractive as our Essie. Yet all of England opposed the match, claiming the second son of the new baron simply wanted to increase his family’s lands and wealth. But it was a love match, and after Mr. Tayne had slain a dragon or two—figuratively speaking, of course—”

“Of course,” Tony said.

“—love conquered all and the young people married and went on to live a full and happy life.”

He drained the last of his coffee. “That’s all well and good, Mrs. Lockhart, but I can’t court Essie simply because Mr. Tayne courted Lady What’s-Her-Name.”

“Conyngham.”

“Exactly.”

“What if you confess all to the judge and reassure him that your motives are honorable?” she asked.

“Why? He’s already given me permission, of a sort, to court Essie.”

“What do you mean, ‘of a sort’?”

Tony rubbed his neck. “He said I had to ask Essie directly for permission and if she agreed, he would be favorable to the match.”

Mrs. Lockhart rolled her eyes. “For the love of Peter. That man has not been the same since Doreen passed.” She picked up their cups and moved to the washbowl. “Tell me this, Mr. Bryant. Are your motives pure?”

He stiffened, then sighed. “The advantages of marrying her are not lost on me. But my … interest … has nothing to do with that. I intend to earn my position in life and not have it handed to me—by inheritance or marriage.”

Mrs. Lockhart nodded. “Well, I recommend you court her as planned and if you find yourself more interested in the inheritance than the woman herself, then you can simply bow out gracefully.”

“That would hardly be fair to Essie.”

“It would be better than marrying her for the wrong reasons.”

He nodded. “What about Anna?”

The elderly woman picked up the lantern and headed out of the kitchen and over to the parlor, Tony following.

“I think it is too early to make any moves on that front,” she said. “So long as nothing official has been announced, you still have time.” She slipped a book from the shelf. “Now, I’d like you to read this and we will discuss it when next we meet.”

He glanced at the title.
Marjorie’s Fate.

“Mrs. Lockhart, I really don’t think—”

“Pay particular attention to the strategy employed by the down-on-his-luck earl who thwarted his wicked brother’s scheme to steal his lady love.”

She handed him his hat. He took it, knowing he’d read her book, if for no other reason than to have an excuse to come back and spend time with someone who knew who he was and liked him anyway.

Squeezing her elbow, he whispered, “Next time we meet, I’ll come in the back door.”

Her eyes sparkled with delight just before she extinguished the lantern and shooed him out the door.

chapter SIXTEEN

ESSIE TOLD herself she chose her Worth gown and her favorite tall walking hat to make a favorable impression on Mr. Baker. But it wasn’t Mr. Baker’s reaction she pictured in her mind.

She checked her gown in the mirror. The stamped linen fit her close as a sheath, the maroon design standing out on the lighter background. A wide revers of white plush narrowly massed on her shoulders, then knotted in the middle of her back above full pleats. Tasteful, yet eye-catching.

A week had passed since Tony asked for Papa’s permission. Yet he’d said nothing at all to her about courtship. Had he changed his mind?

She ran her finger over a new wrinkle between her eyebrows that she didn’t remember seeing before, then sighed. The more time she spent with him, the more she enjoyed his company, his wit, and his willingness to discuss anything with her—whether it be politics, gas versus electricity, or Mr. Ford’s motorized carriage.

He was courteous, hardworking, and attractive, and he could ride a bike with the best of them. Most of all, he didn’t seem to mind her independent ways anymore. If he truly did want to step out with her, what could it hurt?

But she knew all too well what it could hurt. The real question was if courting him was worth the risk. Worth the risk of rousing talk in town. Worth the risk of making herself vulnerable. Worth the risk of being rejected.

The clock chimed two. Pinching her cheeks, she headed down the stairs. Tony crossed the porch just as she reached the entryway.

He wore a silk vest, gray trousers, and summer jacket. They stared at each other through the screen door.

“The first time I saw you through this door, you were sliding down the banister,” he said.

“Shhhhh.” She glanced over her shoulder, then quickly opened the screen. “Papa might hear you.”

“You were wearing knickerbockers and a hat that reached clear to here.” He held his hand level with his nose. “And then you looked at me and I thought you were just about the prettiest thing I ever had seen.”

She raised a brow. “You thought I was married to my father.”

“And I was jealous of him.”

Her stomach somersaulted.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Yes. Let me just poke my head into Papa’s study and tell him I’m leaving.”

When she returned to the entryway, Tony stood holding the door open. She stepped out onto the porch and hesitated at seeing a Studebaker carriage parked in front of the house. The buckboard held a front and backseat with a natural wood finish and green cloth trimmings.

“We aren’t walking?” she asked.

Riding through town all dressed up like this would look too much like courting, and she certainly didn’t care to have her employees or the townspeople misinterpreting the reason for her excursion.

“I’m taking some tools to the Central Blacksmith Shop,” he said. “Plus, M.C. will have a trunk with him. I figured a carriage would be best.”

She glanced at the boot of the vehicle. Sure enough, a box of tools had been stowed there behind the second seat. Not seeing any way around it, she allowed him to escort her down the sidewalk and assist her into the buckboard.

Shaking out her skirts, she noted he’d replaced his mud-splattered work boots with his Sunday boots. The expensive kind the cowboys called Wellingtons.

Once again she wondered what had happened to change his circumstances. He enjoyed playing a card game or two with the boys, but she couldn’t imagine him gambling away his life’s fortune.

He simply didn’t strike her as the type. But looks and charm and good manners meant nothing, really. It was what was on the inside that counted.

“You look awfully fetching, Essie. Is that a new hat?”

She glanced at him. “No. It’s not new, exactly. I just don’t wear it too often.”

“Well, it’s very nice.”

Despite herself, she was pleased. With its tall, willowy plumage, maroon satin ribbon, and butter-colored lace, it was one of her very favorites.

She tipped her face up to the sky. It offered no clouds to temper the sun’s penetrating rays, but a steady breeze kept her from getting hot in the open carriage.

Mr. Drake’s towering pecan tree—whose branches had provided her with hours of quiet reading as a child—spread beyond his yard and stretched out over the road. Warblers and songbirds that had poured into town after crossing the Gulf of Mexico flitted through its branches, each trying to outdo the other in song. Mrs. Davis’s rose garden thrived, showing off blooms of white, yellow, and pink.

They reached the smithy’s in no time. Tony jumped down from the seat, instructed her to stay put and toted the box inside. Moments later he rejoined her.

It couldn’t be more than ten after two. What in the world would they do for the next fifty minutes while they waited for the train to arrive?

Clicking his tongue, Tony pointed the buckboard south.

“Where are we going?”

“We’ve some time to kill, so I thought a ride out to Two Bit Creek would be nice.”

“Why?”

He looked at her. “Why not?”

“I’m not sure it’s such a good idea, is all.”

“Why not?” he asked again, making no move to redirect the horses.

“Because in order to get there we will have to pass many of my rigs and the men will see us together.”

“So?”

“So,” she said, scrambling for a delicate way to point out the obvious. “It might produce some talk.”

“What kind of talk?”

“You know exactly what kind of talk.”

Pushing up the rim of his hat, he leaned back against the seat.

“Yes, ma’am. I guess I do.”

Now, what is that supposed to mean?
“Well, I’m not sure I care to stir up any talk.”

He chuckled. “Essie, there isn’t a woman in town who defies convention more than you. You own one business. Run another for your father. Wear bloomers. Travel clear to New York City by yourself, only to get your name plastered in the papers from here to kingdom come. You ride all over Corsicana on that bicycle and hold weekly shooting lessons for the women in this town. And now you expect me to believe a little ride out to Two Bit Creek is gonna upset your apple cart?”

Good heavens. Put like that, she sounded like an eccentric old maid. But what some thought of as eccentric, others took for something else entirely.

“It doesn’t mean I’m loose, Tony,” she said, fiddling with the gathers in her skirt.

He yanked the horses to a stop. Right there in the middle of Fifth Street. She had to grab on to the rail to keep herself from pitching forward. She glanced up and down the street, relieved to find no one else coming or going.

The muscles in his forearm swelled against his sleeve as he held the reins tightly wrapped in his right fist. “Look at me.”

She lifted her gaze.

His brown eyes conveyed acute displeasure. “I never, ever, for one single minute thought that you were anything other than the respectable woman you are.”

Swallowing, she nodded.

“Furthermore,” he continued, “I was not taking you out to Two Bit Creek for some prurient purpose. The train’s not due in for almost an hour, and you were looking so pretty in your dress and gloves and hat that I just wanted to take you for a ride.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but he wasn’t quite through.

“And you wanna know something else?” he asked, whipping off his hat. “I’m sick and tired of you assigning motives to me that I don’t have. First you question my integrity. Now you question my morals.” He twisted to face her. “I don’t know what makes you think otherwise, but let me assure you I’m not about to risk my job by playing fast with the boss’s daughter.”

She moistened her lips, refusing to be cowed. “I see. And if I wasn’t the boss’s daughter? Would you play fast with me then?”

“Take the deuce, woman!” A tick in his jaw hammered. “Sometimes you make me so mad I could strangle your pretty little neck. And no. I do not make a habit of playing fast with
any
women. Boss’s daughters. Farmer’s daughters. Any kind of daughters. You got that?”

The very fact that he was so insulted soothed many of her concerns. “Yes. I believe I do.”

“Good.” He slammed his hat back on his head. “Now. Do you think you can ride out to Two Bit Creek without finding fault every step of the way?”

She bit the insides of her cheeks. Never had she heard a more hostile invitation from someone who, she was beginning to realize, truly didn’t have some ulterior motive. “I shall do my best to steer my thinking in a more positive manner.”

“Fine.” He slapped the reins, and the buckboard lurched forward. “You do that.”

The horses shook their heads in protest and slowed to a walk after only a few yards. Essie’s mind backtracked, filtering through Tony’s exasperation and honing in on what he’d actually said.

“You were looking so pretty in your dress and gloves and hat that I just wanted to take you for a ride.”

She allowed his words to wash over her, seep inside and settle. In the past, she’d have waved off a declaration of that sort, assuming the speaker was simply being polite.

But Tony hadn’t been spouting platitudes. He’d meant what he said. He was attracted to her and wanted to ride out with her. So simple, yet so complicated.

She’d already admitted to herself that she found him attractive, as well. But so far she’d been very careful not to dwell on it.

She glanced at his hands as they loosely held the reins. Blue veins crisscrossed his tan skin, drawing her eyes to defined knuckles, masculine fingers and nails that, though scrubbed, still held a slight stain of oil.

“I’m sorry I lost my temper,” he said.

She pushed a tendril of hair back up into her hat. “It’s all right. I seem to have that effect on people.”

Squinting, he searched the horizon. “You have no idea of the effect you have on me.”

She lifted her gaze.

He swallowed, causing his Adam’s apple to jump up, then roll back down his throat. “I’d like to court you, Essie.”

She caught her breath.

“I asked your father, but he said I must appeal to you directly.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. That’s just what he told me.”

“No, I mean, why do you want to court me?”

He frowned. “What kind of question is that? The same reason any man goes courting.”

“Why
do
men go courting?”

He appeared at a total loss. “Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because they just do.” He turned the team west, taking the long way around in order to avoid passing any of Sullivan Oil’s rigs.

She grabbed on to the wing to steady herself. “Let me rephrase it, then: What are your intentions?”

“Are you trying to make me mad on purpose? This is the last time I’m going to tell you. They’re completely honorable.”

She sighed. “I don’t want to know what
kind
of intentions you have. I want to know what they
are.
If you can’t tell me, then the answer is no.”

He slipped a finger in his collar and gently tugged. She understood his discomfort but did not want to misinterpret or mistake what he was asking her. At this point in her life, there was only one acceptable reason for a man to go courting, and that was if he was considering marriage.

The longer he took to respond, the more she realized she had her answer.

“It’s all right, Tony,” she said. “Let’s forget you ever mentioned it.”

“No,” he said, panic lining his voice. “I just don’t know what to say.”

“It’s a simple question.”

“It’s not.”

On the outskirts of town he guided the horses off the road and onto a lightly worn trail that led to the creek. Sand and grass muffled the horses’ hooves. The wheels creaked with each turn.

He sat up straighter. “I would like to see you more often in a more intimate setting so that I can get to know you better.” He let out a
whoosh
of air.

“You’re all alone with me every night.”

“That’s different. We’re working. Training. You’re bossing me around the whole time.” He shook his head. “I want to take you somewhere. Like the soda shop or fishing, even. I want to pick you up at your house knowing that you’d put on your finery for me—and only me. I want to go where there is no boss or trainer. I want to go somewhere with just you and me.”

The trees grew thicker. The sound of water churning reached her ears. Loamy smells stirred from the earth.

She toyed with her gloved fingers. “And what,” she whispered, “would all that lead to?”

The creek came into view, its contents chafing against the banks, racing toward an unseen goal.

He pulled the carriage to a stop, anchored the reins and turned toward her, placing his arm along the seat back. “Well, ideally, I suppose it would lead to marriage. Occasionally, however, I’ve seen it lead to heartache.”

She nodded. “Tony?”

“Hmmm?”

“What if I knew right now that it would lead to heartache.

Would you still want to pursue this, um, courtship?”

He frowned in confusion. “What makes you so certain our courtship would lead to heartache?”

“Because,” she said, taking a deep breath. “If your feelings for me were to grow to the point of making an offer, I would be honor bound to reveal some things about me that might cause you to change your mind. And that would then lead to heartache.”

An expression of skepticism crossed his face before he realized she was serious. After a moment of thought, he rubbed his mouth. “Would you like to tell me about them now and get it over with?”

She clasped her hands together. The last time a man had asked to court her, she’d laid all her past transgressions on the table before proceeding. But she wasn’t the same person now as she’d been then.

For the past four years she’d learned to embrace her singleness. Enjoy it. Be proud of it.

Mrs. Lockhart’s words to Tony flitted through her mind.

“She hides behind her spinsterhood… . She worries about what people think… . She won’t want to step out with an employee.”

A fish jumped above the surface of the creek, the sun catching its silver scales in a moment of brilliance before it disappeared back into the safety of its home. She scanned the water, waiting for some of its companions to do the same, but no other fish appeared.