Simmer All Night (28 page)

"Actually, there are a dozen or so men who are interested in the American West—Texas in particular—spread around the country. I exchange letters with them upon occasion."

"Is a Lord Melton among them? I seem to remember my grandfather mentioning his name in connection with Texas."

Bennet frowned. "Melton. Yes. He poses himself as a Texologist, too, although I coined the term. He doesn't collect. His interest in Texas is limited almost exclusively to political topics. He casts himself as a historian, you see, and focuses his studies on Britain's relationship with Texas during the days of the republic. Apparently, Charles Elliott, Britain's charge d'affaires to Texas, was a cousin or family friend or something, and another family member had something to do with the Texas Legation in London."

"Ah." Chrissy nodded sagely. "So he collects government documents or some such thing?"

"No. He simply studies them. In fact, he's been to Harpur Priory to study my ephemera."

"Oh? What sort of ephemera?" Chrissy pressed.

Bennet shrugged. "Quite a selection of different things. For instance, I have newspapers that date back to the days of the Republic."

Chrissy hoped his assortment of ephemera included more than old newspapers, but she decided to wait until her visit to Harpur Priory to delve further into the matter. If Bennet was in possession of the Declaration, she'd need to step carefully. She couldn't forget how prickly he'd been that day at the ruins when Cole suggested they might do some horse trading with his Texas collection. What would they do if they found out he had the document, but he refused to give it up?

"I would imagine some items in your collection are quite valuable. Has anyone ever stolen anything from you?"

Something ugly flashed in his eyes and he visibly tensed. "Yes. I had supplied items for a museum exhibition and one of my Texas Paterson five-shot revolvers disappeared."

"That's terrible."

"I was quite upset. I no longer display my more valuable items. At times temptation is difficult to deny."

Unbidden, a picture of Cole, naked and kneeling above her flashed through her mind. "Yes, that is so true."

A footman approached Lord Bennet with a question concerning the proper way to pack the barbed wire exhibit. While they conversed, Chrissy did her best to banish Cole Morgan from her thoughts and keep her mind on the business at hand. To that end, when Bennet turned back to her, she said, "Lord Bennet, about those dozen or so men you mentioned who share an interest in Texas. Have you ever considered establishing a formal group where ideas could be shared, papers given, that type of thing?"

Bennet's eyes narrowed as he considered the suggestion. "Hmm... an Anglo-Texan Society. No, I haven't, but what an extraordinary idea. I can envision it now. I could give my treatise on the Dauntless Dozen."

"The Dauntless Dozen?" Chrissy asked.

Bennet ticked the names off on his fingers. "William Blazeby, Daniel Bourne, George Brown, Stephen Dennison..."

"Heroes of the Alamo," Chrissy said, recognizing the names.

"All of whom were born in England. In researching their backgrounds I have uncovered some very interesting information. In fact, I have considered drafting a letter to Lord Melton in regards to the Dauntless Dozen because I have information he will consider valuable."

"How perfect. You must do this, Lord Bennet. You must organize a society, an Anglo-Texan Society." She beamed a brilliant smile his way, then added, "You'll be its first president, of course."

He drew himself up and his chest puffed with air. "Oh, well. Yes, I suppose I should accept the office if I am the man responsible for creating the organization." He pursed his lips, thought for a moment, then added, "I shall have to consider how best to structure a group such as this. Then perhaps I'll send out invitations to meet at my club in London once the Season starts. I imagine the majority of our potential members will come to town for the festivities."

Chrissy summoned her most disappointed voice to say, "Oh. I had hoped you would organize the association sooner than that. I would love to be a part of it—if you allow women to join, of course. I'm sure my dear friend, Mrs. Kleberg, soon to be Lady Welby, would support the Anglo-Texan Society with her patronage, if females were allowed."

Bennet's eyes brightened. "Of course, of course. I would not consider having it any other way. And now that I think about it, I don't see why I couldn't host the first meeting at Harpur Priory."

"Wonderful." Chrissy clapped her hands in exaggerated delight. "How soon do you suppose you could arrange the gathering? I shall coordinate my visit with it and—" She broke off abruptly and clapped her hands. Though she'd been steering the conversation this way all along, she made it appear as though the thought had just occurred to her when she said, "Oh, Lord Bennet. I just had the most marvelous idea. Why don't we broaden the scope of the organizational meeting and make it a social event as well as a scholarly meeting."

"A social event?"

"I would imagine that by hosting the organizational meeting at your home, we'll find it more difficult to encourage some of the less enthusiastic potential members to attend. If we make it an event no one would want to miss, it will go a long way toward solving that problem."

"Ah, I see now. An event. I like the idea, but I fear I don't know how such broadening of scope would be accomplished."

"That's easy," Chrissy said, beaming. "We could take my grandfather's idea of the Texas Ball and elaborate on it. We could make it an authentic Texas weekend. We could all pitch in and give demonstrations of our particular talents in addition to the papers. You told me last night you have become quite proficient at lassoing your longhorns. Mr. Morgan does some amazing feats with a gun."

Bennet frowned. "This sounds similar to Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show. I don't want that. The show portrays the myth of the American West. I have serious, scholarly research to present."

Chrissy waved a hand. "I'm not suggesting a show, but a demonstration, a reenactment. Perhaps Cole's trick shooting is a little too showy, but an exhibition of the proper way to lasso your longhorns would be the perfect complement to a barbecue." She smiled sweetly and added, "I'd be honored to make my chili if you'd like."

"A barbecue," Bennet mused. Then his eyes rounded in horror. "You are not suggesting Mr. Morgan slaughter my longhorns, are you?"

"No, of course not. Any beef cattle will do. Not pork, though. Real Texans eat beef barbecue. We'll have my chili and Lana's cornbread and potato salad and beans. If your guests bring children, we can have a taffy pull. And a dance, of course. No barbecue is complete without a dance. Everyone seemed to enjoy last night's entertainment. Why, the first meeting of the Anglo-Texan Society would make the earl's cowboy ball pale in comparison. Say you intend to make it an annual event and you'll have people clamoring to join."

Bennet folded his arms and gazed into the future. "Yes. The Society will be a scholarly, yet social pursuit."

"Destined to be one of the most prestigious associations in Britain, I imagine. And you, Lord Bennet, will be its founding father."

He hooked his thumbs behind his lapels. "I shall have to get a new portrait painted. Perhaps I'll wear the cowboy hat I purchased in Dallas during my last visit."

"Perfect, Lord Bennet. That sounds just perfect. Now, let's check a calendar and set a date, shall we? And if you'd care to write out the invitations before you leave Hartsworth, I'll make certain they are posted immediately."

"Yes. I'll certainly do that."

Chrissy left the state anteroom a short time later with a spring in her step, appointment book in hand, and Cole's probable reaction to her news playing like a Shakespearean comedy through her mind. He'd be both impressed and annoyed. He wouldn't be able to deny her plan was a good one, and he wouldn't like it that she'd bested him in the Declaration hunt yet again.

She couldn't wait to tell him.

She tried the library first, but didn't find him there. She checked the billiard room, the gun room, the music room, the state rooms, and all the corridors before trekking out to the orangery where she found the earl once again tending his plants. "Grandfather, have you seen Cole this morning?"

Thornbury glanced up from his seedling and said, "No, he was gone before I awoke."

Chrissy froze. "What do you mean
gone?"

"It is a simple word, my dear. He has gone. He left. He departed Hartsworth before dawn this morning."

* * *

Cole wished for the thousandth time that he'd brought his own horse with him to England. He'd spent too many days traveling on trains, in coaches, and atop rented horses. His rear end would have appreciated the familiar comfort of his own saddle.

Ten days after the cowboy ball, Cole returned to Hartsworth. He arrived with marriage licenses in his pocket and the proverbial burr beneath his tented saddle. In his absence he had discovered that Lady Bug had been stirring up trouble.

"Don't ask me why I'm surprised," he muttered to himself as he swung from his saddle and tossed his reins to a groom. "I should have known Christina wouldn't take my orders lying down."

Using "Christina" and "lying down" in the same sentence had been an unfortunate choice of words. The vision that blew through his mind made him hotter than a San Antonio summer.

This was not the way to deal with the woman. It put him at a disadvantage. Cole would need all his wits about him when he explained what he'd done, and walking around with a poker in his pants tended to drain a man of his brains. To his great dismay, such a condition had become quite common of late. It happened almost every time he thought about Christina.

He thought of her a lot.

Entering Hartsworth through the servant's door at the back of the house, he wandered into the kitchen where he suspected he might find Lana baking kolaches or her children charming an afternoon snack from the cook. The room was full of people, though empty of Texans, and he had just opened his mouth to ask after Christina when Michael Kleberg came shooting through the doorway, his sister at his heels, and hollering, "It's four o'clock now, Mrs. Peterson. May we please have our cookies and milk? I mean our
biscuits
and milk."

"Me too, Mis. Peterson?" Cole asked, offering the cook his most roguish smile.

"Mr. Cole!" cried Sophie. "You're back!"

"Thank goodness," Michael said with a grateful sigh.

Cole sat with the children at a table tucked away in a far corner of the kitchen. Thanking the cook, he accepted the plate of shortbread cookies, and took a sip of the glass of milk she handed him. Then he shot the Klebergs a smile and said, "Yes, you scallywags, I'm back. So tell me why you said thank goodness?"

Michael chomped away, swallowed, and answered. "Because Miss Chrissy has gone half crazy since you left. She's running a mile a minute working on Mama's wedding plans and putting together some big barbecue at that church house where Mr. Bennet lives."

Cole frowned into his milk. "Yes, I heard about the Anglo-Texan Society meeting to be held at Harpur Priory."

"That's it. Gonna be school and a barbecue. Miss Chrissy's been making list after list after list."

Sophie's eyes went round and serious. "She's been working on her chili recipe, too. We think she's
changing
it, but we can't hardly believe it because it's already perfect just like it is. Mama says for us not to worry, that the Queen of the Chili Queens won't ruin her recipe. She says with you gone Miss Chrissy doesn't have anyone to tussle with so she's full of pent up energy. Says she's like a pot of chili that has cooked too long without being stirred."

Cole almost spewed his milk. Stirring Chrissy's chili, so to speak, was nearly all he'd thought about of late.

He tossed back the last of his milk, then set the empty glass on the table and rose. "Well, reckon I'd best see to the woman. Do y'all know where I can find her?"

Michael nodded. "She's up at the fishing pavilion on the middle lake. Got a package from Texas yesterday—some new fishing lures she ordered from Castaway Bait Company."

"Really?" The news distracted Cole for a moment. He'd had some mighty good luck on Castaway's bait, himself. "In that case, I suppose I'll go fishing."

Sophie daintily wiped her mouth with a napkin. "Are you going to stir up Miss Chrissy while you're at it?"

"I'll do my best."

"Good." Michael plunked an entire cookie into his mouth, then sputtered crumbs as he said, "Mama told Sophie and me we didn't have to worry, that you'd take care of things once you got back. Mama told us you are just the man for the job."

"I'm the only man for the job," Cole countered.

Leaving the Kleberg children in the kitchen, he strolled outside and started down the path that led to the fishing pavilion. The brisk exercise combined with the anticipation of seeing Christina again invigorated him, and by the time his destination came into view, he was feeling quite the cock-of-the-walk.

"Pent up energy? Needing a stir?" He lengthened his stride. "Reckon it's time, then, that I turn up the heat. Just a little bit, though. Want to take it slower this time." He glanced up at the sky, noted the position of the sun, and smiled. "Don't look now, Lady Bug, but you are going to simmer all night."

* * *

Chrissy had always loved to fish. Some of the happiest memories of her childhood were the long summer days spent with Jake and Cole along the banks of the San Antonio River. Back then, using bacon for bait, they'd lure crayfish—or crawdads, as they called them—from their homes along the muddy banks, and name them after the teacher at school or the bad-tempered clerk who manned the mercantile candy counter. They'd bait hooks with breadcrumbs and pull sunfish and perch out of the water by the dozens. When they were in the mood for more serious fishing, they'd dig worms and dangle their hooks for black bass and bluegill.

A few years ago at Christmas, in a rare display of discerning gift-giving, Jake had given Chrissy a tackle box filled with artificial baits made by a Galveston manufacturer called Castaway Bait Company. Even though she still loved to fish, Chrissy had outgrown her willingness to put worms on a hook. The artificial bait not only solved that problem, they added the challenge of accurate casting to the mix and made fishing all the more enjoyable.