Kissing Comfort (51 page)

Newt was offended. “I beg your pardon,” he said gravely. “But your Uncle Tuck and I confronted Santa Anna at Buena Vista.”

“You, Uncle Tuck, and a few thousand other soldiers, including Old Rough and Ready.”

“Yes, well, Santa Anna had thousands more and we sent him back to Mexico City.”

Comfort looked to Bode for help and saw immediately she'd get none. “I suppose you have a similar story.”

Bode didn't draw on his war experience. He reminded her of what was relevant. “We've already gotten the best of Crocker once, Comfort, and we didn't know who we were fighting then. The lottery was certainly his idea. If he'd been in the saloon that night, he would have recognized John Farwell. It's fortunate for us that he wasn't. He likes to manage things from a distance.”

“The Rangers will never confirm that he hired them,” she said.

“They might,” said Tuck. “If they knew Crocker was a Pink. I think it's safe to suppose he kept that from them. The Rangers have no use for the Pinks.”

Comfort could see Bode was considering that, wondering if there was an advantage to turning the Rangers against Crocker. “You can't control the Rangers,” she reminded all of them. “You can set them on a course, but believing that you're in command after that is foolish.”

Newt looked from Tuck to Bode. “She's right.”

Comfort thought that would be the end of it, but then she glimpsed a look passing among them, guarded and restrained, and she realized that they were thinking about what she'd said but differently than how she meant it. “I was trying to caution the three of you.”

“So you have,” said Tuck. “And we're grateful.”

Comfort fell silent, waiting. When none of them spoke, she tilted her head to one side and lifted an eyebrow. “I'm to be excluded, then. Very well.” She stood and addressed Bode. “Should I assume that we will be staying here for the present?”

“I think that's for the best, don't you? Newt and Tuck say we're welcome.”

“Then I'm sure we are. Excuse me. I want to speak to Mrs. Hilliard about dinner.” She turned, skirted the bench, and quickly put herself on the path to exit the conservatory. As swift as her retreat was, she was still within hearing distance when Newt said, “She's got her hackles up, gentlemen. Could be we'll need to hire a taster for the soup course.”

 

 

Standing outside Comfort's bedroom, Bode wondered what he could expect from her when he entered. She was polite at dinner, deliberately so. Newt and Tuck didn't comment, but he didn't believe that they'd failed to notice. All of them had survived the soup, so it seemed that if she meant to kill them, it would be done with kindness. He'd had to leave immediately afterward in order to speak to Alexandra. Comfort hadn't asked to join him, and he hadn't invited her. It was a strained parting, and it left him feeling unsettled and wanting to make amends even though from his perspective he'd done nothing wrong.

He wasn't convinced it was safe for Comfort to leave her uncles' home, but that was only part of the reason he didn't want her with him. Being fairly certain how his mother would react to what he had to say concerned him almost as much. Alexandra's habit of rushing to protect Bram meant that she would look for and find someone to blame. Comfort was the likeliest scapegoat whether or not she was in Alexandra's sights. Better that she was not.

Comfort was sitting cross-legged on the bed when Bode eased into the room. “You don't have to tiptoe,” she said, not looking up. “I'm awake.” She examined her fingers where she'd been pushing at the cuticles with an orange stick. Satisfied with her effort, she set the stick between her tin and the oil lamp on the nightstand and picked up a glass of water. Trying to judge his mood, she watched him as she sipped.

Bode removed his jacket and laid it over a chair. “I stopped by my place and asked Sam to come back with me. Your uncles said it would be all right. We brought your trunk and my bags. It's all downstairs. Sam didn't have much except for what John gave him. Your butler . . . Mr. Barker?”

“Barkin.”

“Yes. Barkin. He's showing Sam where he can stay. I told Sam I wouldn't need him this evening.”

“Good.” She emptied the glass and put it back beside the carafe. “The dressing room's through the door on your left. I didn't know that you'd bring anything from your apartment. Tuck gave me some nightclothes for you. It's all in there. Suey Tsin brought fresh towels.”

“Thank you.” Bode didn't try to engage her in conversation. He went straight to the dressing room, pausing on the threshold when he saw the ball-and-claw-footed tub had been filled with water. Slim fingers of steam rose from the glassy surface. A nightshirt draped the back of a chair, and neatly folded linens rested on the seat. He glanced over his shoulder and found Comfort watching him. “For me?”

She nodded. A slightly crooked smile edged her lips, and for the first time since leaving the conservatory, the smile wasn't forced. It touched her eyes as she waved him on. “Go. The water will get cold.”

Bode didn't require more encouragement. He quickly stripped off, sank halfway up to his chest in the fresh, hot water, and immediately closed his eyes. His arms rested on either side of the smoothly curved rims of the tub. Except to raise two fingers in greeting, he didn't trouble himself to stir when Comfort approached. Her hand brushed the back of his, and then she moved the towels from the chair to the floor and sat.

“In the event you don't realize it,” she said, “this bath is by way of an apology.”

He opened one eye, his expression wary. “Hackles down?”

“More or less.”

Satisfied that she wasn't going to push him under, Bode closed his eye and slipped lower into the tub. He rested the back of his head against the rim. “How did you know when I'd get here?”

“Suey Tsin was watching for you. We started the bath as soon as she saw you. She didn't mention Mr. Travers was with you.” Comfort edged the chair closer to the tub. “Was it awful?”

The question puzzled him for a moment until he realized she was talking about his conversation with Alexandra. “By the time I arrived, Hitchens had already told her that I'd visited earlier. Whatever relief she felt on hearing that was forgotten by the time I returned. She was unhappy that I hadn't waited for her this afternoon and angry with me for disappearing in the first place. She didn't want to hear about Bram, but I made her listen. I was right that she suspected gambling debts. I think she was genuinely shocked by the amount.”

“She supported the engagement,” Comfort reminded him quietly. “She must have had some idea that what he owed was considerable.”

“Perhaps I should have said that she didn't admit to it. I didn't press her, Comfort. I know from experience that nothing comes of it. She would only say that she was in favor of seeing the engagement through to becoming a marriage because it was the proper thing to do. She mentioned your leveling influence on Bram and that you would do well by him, but she never once hinted that she was looking at you and your family to assume responsibility for his debt.”

Comfort nodded. “I think it would have been astonishing if she had. It's one thing for her to acknowledge that Bram has failings of character, but quite another for her to admit that she's supported them. What did she say about the part Bram played in my abduction?”

“She didn't believe it.”

“Oh.”

“And when you told her we're married?”

“I didn't.” He opened his eyes and regarded Comfort steadily. “I never told Bram that we were married either.”

She frowned slightly. “I didn't realize.”

“Both of them think that you were here all the time that I was gone. They don't know where I was, and they don't know the details of how you were able to get away from the Rangers. Bram knows more, of course, but if he discusses it with Alexandra, he has to admit his involvement. If Mother broaches the subject with him, she risks hearing things she'd rather not know. I don't think they'll talk about it.”

“What about Mr. Crocker?”

“Bram clearly understands what the man is capable of, and Alexandra knows now that he is trying to collect Bram's debt. She holds me responsible for Crocker getting into her home and getting so close to Bram.” Bode responded to Comfort's confusion with a wry chuckle. “If I hadn't disappeared, she wouldn't have hired the Pinkertons. She's angry with me for putting Bram in danger and reminded me that he can't defend himself.”

“I'm sorry, Bode.”

He shrugged. “It wasn't unexpected.”

“It's oddly complimentary that she doesn't feel compelled to be so fiercely protective of you. When you left without a word to her, she did whatever she could to find you, but when she has to choose which one of her cubs to shield, she'll always choose Bram. That's because she realizes you can take care of yourself.”

“I know. I came to understand a long time ago that it's infinitely better to be the son she pokes in the chest rather than the son she coddles.”

Comfort moved from the chair to kneel on the folded towels beside the tub. “Sit up and I'll wash your back.”

“Feeling the urge to coddle me?”

“I am, and you shouldn't get used to it.” His low chuckle made the water ripple. Ignoring him, she dipped a washcloth in the water and lathered it with soap. “Lean forward.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Bode closed his eyes as she pressed the washcloth to his back. Every wiry thread of tension tugging at his shoulders began to snap or soften. His skin tingled with the sensation. An electric spark skittered down his spine. Groaning softly, he let his head fall forward.

Comfort lightly scrubbed the exposed line of his neck. Under her fingers, she could feel him begin to relax. It only bothered her a little that she still meant to question him. “Will I have an opportunity to meet Mr. Crocker?”

Bode laughed. “You have no shame.” He reached back and pointed to a spot on his shoulder. “Right there, please.”

She pushed his hand out of the way and applied the washcloth with rather more industry than was required. After a few moments of scrubbing, she eased off and leaned over so she could whisper in his ear. “Well?” she asked. “Will I?”

“Not if I can help it,” he said. “I don't know what he'd do.”

Bode's answer wasn't unexpected. “It seems that he's no longer interested in me.”

“And if that's true, I'd like to keep it that way.”

“Can he really do what Bram said? Take over Black Crowne and sell off the assets piece by piece?”

“You know he can. He'll have the backing of the men who hired him. That's what will move David Bancroft to sell off the mortgages and loans.”

“He has to notify you of the intent.”

“Yes, but my only recourse is to come up with the money myself. Bancroft knows I can't do that. Thanks to Bram, so does Crocker.”

“When do you think it will happen?”

“According to Bram, Crocker's already set things in motion with the bank. He and Bancroft are just waiting for me to reappear. If someone hasn't informed Crocker already, then Bancroft will tell him after we meet tomorrow morning.”

“Did your mother know anything about this?”

“No. None of it. She's frightened.”

“I don't understand why anyone is waiting for you to show yourself. Your mother is still the owner of Black Crowne, isn't she? If Crocker's already spoken to Mr. Bancroft, then why didn't Bancroft tell your mother that he was going to sell the mortgage and call in the loans?”

“Perhaps because Crocker asked him not to, or it might be that Bancroft knows she defers to me in matters regarding the business.” Bode felt Comfort's hesitation in the slowing circle of her hand across his back. “You have another idea?”

“Not really . . .”

He turned his head to look at her. “You do. Tell me.”

“I wondered if it's because she's a woman. She told me once that men have all the advantages and women bear all the consequences. I think she acts as she does at times so that she might have the advantage.”

“Are you suggesting something?”

“Invite her to join you when you go to see Mr. Bancroft.”

“That complicates the arrangement I have with her.”

“The one where you take the responsibility for the business and she takes the money from it?”

Bode's grin was wry. “That's the one.”

Comfort held out the soap and washcloth to him. “It's just something to think about.” She stood. Her nightgown was damp where she had leaned against the tub. She plucked it away from her breasts and gave the fabric a little shake. When she saw Bode's attention shift from the soap to her, it was difficult to suppress her amusement. “Don't be long,” she said.

And while her retreat was hasty, the look she cast over her shoulder lingered long after she disappeared.

 

 

Bode couldn't say what woke him. He only knew that it wasn't Comfort. She was sleeping so deeply beside him that he could hear her breathing. Except for a sliver of moonlight coming through a slender part in the curtains, the room was dark. He pushed himself up on an elbow and looked around. He could make out the chair beside the fireplace and the small writing desk near the window. Closer to the bed he saw the outline of the extinguished oil lamp, the water carafe and glass, and the shadowed line of the orange stick on the night table. Some light was reflected in the mirror above the vanity and revealed the clutter of small pots of cream, perfume atomizers, and combs.