Texas Hold Him (10 page)

Lottie walked away knowing how a sparrow must have felt when a peacock entered the room. At one time, she would have been
comfortable in the presence of such a woman, but Lottie’s expensive gowns and flashy jewelry were some of the many casualties
of the war. Without them, she suddenly felt as drab as an old pair of brown work boots.

She waited patiently while the cook dished out their specials, so she could deliver them to their table as quickly and invisibly
as possible. But try though she might, she couldn’t help but glance occasionally in their direction until Dyer left the restaurant
. . . alone.

Lottie took a small sigh of relief and had headed back to clear their table when the peacock intercepted.

“I couldn’t help but notice you have an interest in my Dyer,” Mimi said. A caustic little twist to her words sent a warning
in Lottie’s direction.

“We have a business arrangement, nothing more.”

“That’s one thing you can be assured of.” Mimi sneered as she threw her words in Lottie’s face. “Dyer would never be interested
in you for more than a brief tumble in the sheets, and I promise you, before the bed is cold, you’ll be a fleeting memory.”
She scoffed at Lottie. “He has much more expensive tastes than some common saloon whore.”

Lottie stood stunned as the woman finished her tirade. She had never been attacked so viciously in her life. Evidentially,
the measure of a true lady had nothing to do with expensive gowns after all.

She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “Mrs. Anderson, I assure you, you have no reason to be jealous of Dyer’s attention
to me,” she said, with a cool edge to her voice. “While I will admit my circumstances have required I currently seek employment,
I would much rather be a lady masquerading as a saloon girl, than a whore masquerading as a lady.”

Mimi’s face turned a rather unattractive shade of red, complete with little white splotches on her neck. “I will see you dismissed
from this boat,” she said through clenched teeth. “No one speaks to me that way.”

Lottie held her tongue. Maybe she shouldn’t have said what she had. No one aboard the
Belle
even knew Lottie’s real name, let alone anything about her life before the war. She wanted desperately to put this woman
in her place once and for all, but she couldn’t risk her position
on the
Belle
. Too much depended on it. “Forgive me, Mrs. Anderson. I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You should be sorry.” Mimi’s arrogant expression was almost more than Lottie could bear. “But then, people in your station
are not expected to know how to behave.” She flipped open her fan and waved it under her chin. “Just remember, Dyer is mine,
and we won’t have any more problems.”

Thankfully, Dyer’s voice interrupted their exchange. “Ah, I’m glad I found you,” he said, walking toward them.

Mimi gave Lottie a smug little smile. “Of course, sugah,” she muttered in response to his statement. “Where else would I be?”
She turned back to face him, and Lottie prayed for the floor to open up and swallow her.

Dyer stopped next to them and offered his arm . . . to Lottie. “Surely, Miss Mace, you have not forgotten your promise?”

“Promise?” Lottie asked, working on her third fluster.

“Why, yes.” He lifted her hand and placed it on his arm. “You promised to allow me to escort you into Natchez this afternoon.
I have looked forward to your company all day. You can’t disappoint me now.” He tipped his head toward Lottie, then glanced
at Mimi. “If you’ll excuse us, Mrs. Anderson. We have plans.”

Dyer led Lottie out of the restaurant and some distance down the deck before he finally spoke. “I hope I wasn’t too late.”

“How could you be late for plans we didn’t have?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

They stopped at the front of the boat, where several wooden chairs sat facing the river ahead. Most were
empty now, but for a few passengers who had taken the opportunity to enjoy the shade of the upper deck. Luckily, the annoying
Mrs. Anderson was nowhere in sight.

“I came back as soon as I saw Mimi talking to you. She can be rather vicious when she puts her mind to it,” Dyer said.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

He chuckled. “I’m sorry for that.”

“No need to apologize. It wasn’t your fault.” She wasn’t sure exactly where to place this side of his personality. Considering
she usually felt a need to be rescued
from
him, being rescued
by
him was a new experience.

“Somehow I doubt that,” he said. “But in the meantime, I’ll wait here.”

“Pardon?” she asked.

“For you to fetch what ever you need before we go into Natchez.”

“We didn’t actually have plans for this afternoon.”

“And have you had a better offer?”

His voice was too smooth and his smile too inviting, and if she had the sense God gave a goose, she’d lie and claim she couldn’t
leave the restaurant, but her shift had ended, and she hadn’t been off the
Belle
since they’d left New Orleans. The thought of walking on solid ground sounded too good to turn down.

“I’ll only be a moment.”

Mimi watched the insipid saloon girl scurry up the steps to the passenger cabins. It galled her to think Dyer would prefer
the company of that common trollop to a true Southern lady such as herself. She had not made this trip to watch Dyer consort
with another woman.

She tapped her folded fan against her chin in thought as a slow smile spread across her face. Dyer had better enjoy his little
tart while he had the chance. Things were about to change.

The clop, clop of the horse’s hooves on the cobblestone streets of Natchez brought with it thoughts of days gone by, one day
in particular. Lottie closed her eyes for a moment and allowed her mind to drift to a place that had existed once but never
would again. Glittering ball gowns and sparkling lights, delicious food and soft chamber music floated through her memories
as though it were yesterday instead of years ago.

There had been a man by her side in that carriage as well, though nothing like the one who sat there now. Toby Flanders had
a respectable upbringing and a promising future. Maybe even with her. They had gone to a soirée, and the evening’s magic left
her spellbound, so much so that when he asked her to wait for him, she agreed without hesitation. The next day, Toby left
to fight in the war, and when he returned, he found Lottie destitute . . . then, he found an heiress.

“Miss Mace?”

Lottie jerked open her eyes. “Yes?”

“Are you well? You were frowning.”

Of course she was frowning. She’d just realized the boy she’d admired her entire childhood hadn’t deserved a whit of it. “I
wasn’t frowning. The sun was in my eyes.”

“They were closed.”

“Because of the sun.”

She made a show of adjusting her bonnet, even though the shade of several large oak trees dappled the street as they rode
by. She dared not look at Dyer for fear he’d see through her and push for an explanation. It was bad enough realizing all
she’d wanted was Toby Flanders, and all he’d wanted was her money. Admitting that to Dyer was out of the question.

“Where are you taking me to find my cards?” A change of subject should save her that humiliation.

An unasked question flickered across his face, but luckily he chose not to pursue it. “There is a shop a few blocks from here
that caters to gentlemen’s whims. They will have your cards, and even some cigars if you’d like.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Thank you, but I have enough to last me.”

He chuckled as the driver turned the carriage down a street lined with shops and crowded with people. A young boy rolled a
barrel hoop with a stick while other children laughed and ran behind him down the lane. Yapping dogs followed their trail,
and more than one grouchy gentleman raised a cane at them as they raced by.

The carriage stopped, and Lottie accepted Dyer’s hand as he helped her step to the ground. Her mouth watered at the heavenly
smell of baking bread as it wafted from a restaurant on the corner, and much to her embarrassment, her stomach grumbled in
response. Hopefully, he didn’t hear. She rolled her gaze up to his eyes and caught a twinkle.

“I think we should step into this restaurant,” he said. “I just heard a beast growl, and I fear for our safety in the street.”

So much for hopes of his temporary deafness. “A
true gentleman would not point such a thing out to a lady.”

He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “Perhaps we should trade lessons. I’ll teach you poker, and you teach me how
to be a gentleman.”

“Do you really wish to learn?”

His lips parted, and his lashes lowered in an expression she’d already come to recognize as trouble. “What do you think?”

Simply put, that was the trouble. When he looked at her like that, thinking became complicated. “I . . . I think we should
eat.” Brilliant. Toby Flanders would be proud.

His parted lips broke into a smile. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

He escorted her into the establishment and to a small table in the corner. A red checkered cloth covered the top, and two
perky daisies in a glass vase sat in the center. The restaurant was remarkably crowded given the time of afternoon. Evidently,
this was the place to eat lunch when shopping in Natchez.

A waitress came to the table and spoke to Dyer. “The special today is fried chicken, if y’all are interested.”

Dyer glanced at Lottie, who nodded in approval. “The lady would like the special, and I’ll have a piece of apple pie and some
coffee.”

“You don’t want lunch?” the girl asked.

“I, uh, already ate.”

Lottie’s face flushed. How could she have forgotten he’d already eaten?
She
had served him. “Mr. Straights, we don’t need to eat if you’d like to go ahead and shop—”

He waited for the waitress to leave. “Miss Mace, I’m
trying to be a gentleman.” He leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Not yet,” she said, prying her tongue from the roof of her mouth, “but the day is young.”

Dyer couldn’t remember the last time he’d escorted a lady into town. The women he entertained on the boats were there for
one purpose and one purpose only . . . and shopping was not that purpose. Surprisingly enough, he found himself smiling more
today than usual. Maybe he should shop more often.

He escorted Lottie to a modiste shop near the restaurant.

“Do they have cards in here?” she asked as he opened the door.

“No. I’ll find those across the street, but I thought you’d enjoy shopping here while I go to the gentlemen’s store. Ladies
don’t usually frequent Flannery’s.”

She made a pretty little ‘oh’ shape with her mouth and stepped into the shop. Bolts of textiles in every color imaginable
lay on tables and peeked from shelves around the walls of the room. Several women milled about, chatting excitedly about the
new shipment as they looked at fabrics and ribbons.

“I’ll be back shortly,” he said to Lottie, but he might as well have spoken to the wall. She’d already made a beeline to a
bolt of blue satin.

He smiled and shook his head, then turned, nearly colliding with a gentleman and his lady friend as they came through the
door.

Dyer stepped to the side so they could enter and had almost made it outside when he heard the man say, “I know you. You’re
a saloon girl from the
Magnolia Belle
riverboat. Since when do they let the likes of you into a respectable establishment like this?”

The shop fell silent. Dyer spun back toward Lottie. Her face turned ashen, and her lower lip quivered in an unspoken response.
He rushed across the room.

“Miss Mace?” He hoped none of the others would realize he’d just escorted her into the shop. “How good to see you again. I
was just thinking of your father this morning and wondered if the ambassador was well.”

She blinked once and swallowed. “He—he’s fine. Good of you to ask.”

“I wasn’t aware you had returned from Europe. A good trip, I trust?”

She managed a shaky nod. “Yes, thank you.”

Dyer turned to the man who had just announced her as a whore and narrowed his gaze. The bastard better make this right while
he had the chance. “I’m sorry, did I interrupt?”

The man stammered, “Well, er, no. I’m afraid I was mistaken.” He bowed to Lottie. “Forgive me, madam.”

She lifted her chin. “No harm done.”

Like hell.

Dyer offered Lottie his arm and escorted her from the shop. By the time they made it to the sidewalk, most of her color had
returned, but her hand still trembled as he led her to a bench under an ancient tree across the street from Flannery’s.

“Will you be all right here while I get your cards?”

She took a seat and folded her hands primly on her lap before she looked up at him and forced a smile. “I’m fine, Mr. Straights.
I’m not so fragile that a few harsh words can destroy me.”

That much he knew. So much more about the woman was a mystery.

“I’ll be right back.” He jogged across the street, anxious to get her cards and return her to the
Belle
. The day had taken an ominous turn, and something told him it wasn’t over yet.

How could it be? How could Dyer Straights be in Natchez? There was no way Straights could’ve known he was here. He covered
his trail far too well for Straights or anyone else to find him or even know who he was. Still, this did not bode well.

He watched Straights leave the woman on a bench, hurrying across the street to Flannery’s. He only had a few minutes to determine
what to do, or Straights might find him. He couldn’t take that chance. For the first time in years, things were going in the
right direction, and Straights couldn’t be allowed to ruin it. Not now.

The horse beside him snorted in agreement with his thoughts. A pair of fine thoroughbreds stood tied to a hitching post, the
carriage they pulled lightweight and little challenge for them. The owner had stepped inside a shop, leaving the prancing
beasts for just a moment, while he picked up some valuable or another.