The Rocky Mountain Heiress Collection (114 page)

And she believed him.

She pulled him down for another kiss.

“Charlotte?” someone called from outside. The sound of horses filled the previously quiet night.

She sat bolt upright. “Papa?”

Alex groaned and fell back onto the pillow beside her. “It appears we’re being rescued, Charlotte.” He slid her a sideways look. “Best attend to your hair.”

She lifted her hands to her head and blushed at the mess of curls. When in the fog of kisses had that happened? Charlotte tried to remedy the damage, but her trembling fingers refused to cooperate.

“Here,” Alex said. “Let me.” His fingers combed quickly but painlessly through the tangles.

Footsteps outside quickly became boots on the porch, and then the door opened. The first member of the search party, Colonel
Cody, found the married couple sitting side by side on a bench in front of the fire.

If he noticed her mussed hair, the colonel did not say. He simply removed his fringed leather jacket and placed it around Charlotte’s shoulders. “Show time,” he whispered. He tipped his hat to Alex, then led her out onto the porch and into the waiting arms of her father.

“How did you find us?” she heard Alex ask.

“Knew there had been trouble when the horse came back without a rider,” Papa said as he helped Charlotte up into the wagon. “There are only so many line cabins out this way, so Bill and I took the ones to the south, and the other boys headed north.” He paused as Alex climbed up beside Charlotte. “So, how’d you end up unseated, Hambly?”

“Actually, I—”

“It was my fault, Papa,” Charlotte interrupted. She tucked her trembling hands into the folds of Colonel Cody’s coat.

Papa laughed. “Of course it was. Never suspected anything else.” He paused. “Though I do have to wonder if—”

“Excuse me, sir,” Alex said. “I believe we’ve already discussed what sort of questions regarding our marriage are not allowed. Might the one you’re about to ask fall into that category?”

“It just might,” Papa said with a chuckle. “So I’ll not ask.”

But Charlotte blushed all the same.

When they arrived home, the first rays of the morning sun peeking over the eastern horizon, she hurried up to her room and shut the door before Alex could follow.

By the time his knock sounded at the door, she had shed her wet clothes and donned a nightgown. He knocked again and called softly, “Charlotte?”

Charlotte opened her mouth to respond, to whisk him into her bedchamber so that she might once again find her fears gone. But losing her fears to Alex Hambly’s embrace only seemed like a good idea when logic was not involved. And now that she’d found her own bed, she’d rediscovered her good sense as well.

When he knocked one last time, she ignored his call.

The words
look what happened to Mama
chased her into sleep. But Alex Hambly caught her in her dreams.

September 8, 1891
Fort Collins, Colorado

Charlotte instructed the maids to pack everything, including her canvases and brushes. Where she was going she wouldn’t need most of these things, but it felt right to empty the room that had been her refuge and prison at the same time. And though she had no paints, she liked knowing the other tools of her hobby were available should she decide to pick them up again someday.

Moving to the window, Charlotte allowed her attention to slip past the breathtaking view of the Rocky Mountains to the cornflower blue Colorado sky. She would miss the West with its broad expanses of open land and bracing fresh air. While a storm could take her by surprise on the Continent, here in Colorado Charlotte could see one approach from miles away.

She let out a long breath. If only she’d seen her feelings for Alex before they’d surprised her in the cabin.

“No,” she whispered as the fear rose. “I’m sorry, Mama. I can’t.”

Charlotte wrapped her arms around her middle and closed her eyes. This fear was new, strange, and in direct opposition to the loss of
independence she once worried about. And yet everything about knowing for certain that giving in to a marriage meant allowing for the same loss her mother suffered felt true. Right. Terrifying.

A knock sounded, and she turned to bid the maid to enter.

“Beg pardon, ma’am,” the girl said, “but there’s a problem with one of the trunks. Might we leave it here until a replacement is found?” When Charlotte nodded, the girl gestured to someone behind her. “Bring it on in.”

A lad, not much bigger than the damaged luggage he carried, struggled to gently set the trunk in the center of her room. A nod and a poor attempt at a bow later, both servants scurried away.

Absently, Charlotte returned her attention to the sky and then to the trunk sitting squarely between her and the writing desk. Apparently the latches had given way, for the top was askew and one side bore a crack that reached midway down the trunk.

She opened it. No wonder the latch had broken. The trunk was full to the brim with books and papers and letters. One of the servants needed a lesson in packing.

Charlotte reached over the mess to the writing desk for the bell to call the maid, but she stopped when she spied an envelope from Uncle Edwin wedged partway inside the copy of
Sense and Sensibility
Uncle Edwin had given her at her wedding.

Odd that she hadn’t opened it when she opened the gift. Especially with her uncle helping Grandfather run the company, as the missive could contain important information.

A glance at the mantel clock told her there was nothing to be done for it now. After the reception, Charlotte could read and respond to the almost-missed correspondence. She set the letter on top of her writing desk and penned a note to the maid.

Then it was time to submit to the hairdresser and the small army of servants it took to remove all vestiges of the woman who’d awakened in her bed this morning.

Finally they finished, and Charlotte stood back and looked in the mirror. Miss Pence would have been proud of her transformation.

“Shall I fetch the mister?” the maid inquired.

“The mister,” Charlotte echoed. “No.”

Though she knew making an appearance with Alex by her side would be required of her, Charlotte planned to delay the inevitable as long as she could.

She touched the pearls roped around her neck, the pearls Alex had given her aboard the
Teutonic
. When her fingers found the bejeweled locket at the end of the rope, she opened it to reveal the time.

Already guests were assembling for what had been predicted by society columnists at both the
New York Times
and the
San Francisco Chronicle
to be one of the must-attend events of the year. Papa had outdone himself, sparing no expense as he hosted the Old West’s version of an elegant celebration.

Though she’d avoided all pretense of interest in the proceedings, it had been impossible to miss the barrels, crates, and wagonloads of party preparations arriving daily for the past week. Great tents had gone up where the horses once roamed, each furnished with enough gold, silver, crystal, and fine furnishings to fill a palace drawing room. But then, that was the intention.

To top it all, Gennie had pressed Papa’s old friend Colonel Cody to linger a bit longer before returning to Scouts Rest Ranch for the winter. He responded by commanding his best performers to join him in preparing a private Wild West extravaganza in honor of the newlyweds.

It was all too much.

Charlotte set such thoughts aside. Tomorrow the ruse would be over. No more playing blushing bride to Viscount Hambly, and no more avoiding Gennie and Papa when her husband was in their company.

She released the watch, allowing it to slide into place in the hollow of her neck. But something about the evidence of a memory she shared with Alex against her bare skin made her uncomfortable. Shifting the pearls around, she moved the bauble until it swung from the longest strand.

“There,” she said softly as a ridiculous tear threatened to fall. “No need to keep track of the time tonight.”

And yet she knew she would.

When the knock came, she composed herself. Crossing the room with her head held high, Charlotte opened the door to find not Alex but Papa.

“Might I come in?” he asked.

“Papa,” she said on an exhale. She moved back and allowed him to enter her room. “Yes, of course.”

He went to the window, where she’d stood some hours earlier. Rather than admiring the view, he too looked deep in thought. When she shut the door, he turned to face her.

“You might be fooling Hambly, Buttercup, but you have not fooled me.”

Her heart sank. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” The truth, she realized, for she’d shared very little with her father these past few months.

Papa’s gaze bore through her. “You love him.”

The accusation stunned her. How had her father guessed when she had barely acknowledged the fact to herself?

All attempts at pretense fell away. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t,” Papa said. “Until just now.”

“Oh, Papa. What am I going to do?” She fell into his arms, not caring what the embrace and the tears that came with it did to her carefully constructed exterior.

“There, there,” he said. “Is it so awful?”

Look what happened to Mama
.

Charlotte bit her lip and tried to will away the thought. The fear.

She failed miserably on both counts.

“What is it?” Papa demanded. “Has he treated you poorly? If he has, I swear on my life I’ll—”

“No, he’s been nothing but a gentleman.”
Most of the time
.

“Then if the problem isn’t Hambly, it must be …”

“Me.” Charlotte slipped from her father’s embrace and wrapped her arms around her waist. “It’s completely me.” Slowly she lifted her eyes to meet Papa’s stare. “I’m … afraid.”

He shook his head. “Of what?” Then his brows lifted. “Ah, well … perhaps you should have a conversation with Gennie regarding the wifely …”

Papa coughed as his face reddened. Had she not been so heartbroken, Charlotte might have giggled.

Instead, she shook her head. “No, that’s not it at all.”

Papa’s look of relief was short-lived. “Then you’ll have to tell me, Buttercup. I’m all out of ideas.”

She took her father’s hand. “For reasons that are mine alone, I can’t marry Alex,” she said. “Not now. Not yet.”

“Darling, you
are
married.”

“You’ve the connections to remedy that,” she said. “As does Alex. Only he refuses.” Charlotte paused. “There are valid grounds to annul the marriage. Do you wish me to state them?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I can guess.”

Charlotte tightened her grip on his hand. “Will you help release me from this marriage?” She paused. “Please?”

Papa looked away, then slowly returned his attention to Charlotte. “Not without knowing exactly the why of all this.” He held up his hand to prevent her response. “If you love him and you’ve got no compunction about performing the, um, requirements of a wife, then I need to understand why you want out of a marriage you’ve already been in this long.”

“All right.” Charlotte swallowed hard to dislodge the lump in her throat. “I won’t allow what happened to Mama to happen to me. I won’t … I won’t let myself love someone only to have them leave me.”

Her honesty appeared to take all the starch from Papa’s spine, for he quickly found the nearest chair. Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, her father sighed. Slowly, he lifted his head to find her.

“Come here.” He gestured to the chair nearest him.

She complied, though her feet nearly refused to move. “I’m sorry, Papa, but you required an answer, and that is the only true response I can give.”

“Well, I suppose it’s time we got around to the truth, you and I.” His shoulders sagged as their gazes collided. “It’s not fair to you that I’ve refused to speak of your mother. It just seemed simpler that way.”

Had she been able to find her voice, Charlotte would have told Papa exactly how complicated his simple solution had been.

“Until I met Gennie, your mother was the only woman I ever loved. It’s not right to find a love like that at so young an age.” He shrugged. “I was a fool, but I’ve no regrets. Were I to go back to the day I chose Georgiana for my wife, I’d do it all over again.” He sat back and waited
for some sort of response from Charlotte. When none came, he shrugged. “I suppose you’re looking for more than that.”

Charlotte cleared her throat. “Yes.”

“All right.” Again he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Your mother was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. Just looking at her caused me to lose all good sense. It was a good two weeks before I could speak more than a sentence or two in her presence without stuttering.”

At Charlotte’s smile, Papa continued. “Georgiana wasn’t without suitors. Chief among them was my brother.”

The breath went out of her. Uncle Edwin and Mama?

“But she loved you,” Charlotte offered.