Tracie Peterson (3 page)

“If you think he’s so wonderful, Penelope, why don’t you marry him?” Amelia snapped. The heat was making her grumpy and her sister’s interrogation was making her angry.

“I’d love to marry him,” Margaret said in a daft and dreamy way that Amelia thought epitomized the typical addle-brained girl.

“I shall speak to Father about it immediately,” Amelia said sarcastically. “Perhaps he will see the sense in it.”
If only he would.

Margaret stared after her with open mouth, while Penelope took the whole thing with an air of indifference. “You know it doesn’t matter what you want, Amelia. Father must marry you off before you turn twenty-one this autumn, or lose mother’s money. Her fortune means a great deal to him. Surely you wouldn’t begrudge your own father his mainstay.”

Amelia looked at her younger sisters for a moment. As fair-haired as she, yet more finely featured and petite, Amelia had no doubt that they saw her as some sort of ogre who though only of herself. Their mother’s fortune, a trust set in place by their grandmother, was specifically held for the purpose that none of her daughters need feel pressured to marry for money. The money would, in fact, pass to each daughter on her twenty-first birthday, if she were still unmarried. If the girls married before that time, the money reverted to the family coffers and could be used by their father, for the benefit of all he saw fit. Amelia knew it was this that drove her father forward to see her married to Sir Jeffery.

“I have no desire for Father to concern himself with his financial well-being. However, there are things that matter deeply to me, and Jeffery Chamberlain is not one of them.” With that Amelia left the room, taking up her parasol. By the time she’d reached the bottom step she’d decided that a walk to consider the rest of Greeley was in order.

Parasol high, Amelia passed from the house in a soft, almost-silent swishing of her pale-pink afternoon dress. She was nearly to the corner of the boarding house when she caught the sound of voices and immediately recognized one of them to be Logan Reed’s.

“You sure asked for it this time, Logan. Hauling those prissy misses all the way over the mountain to Estes ain’t gonna be an easy ride,” an unidentified man was stating.

“No, it won’t,” Logan said, sounding very disturbed. “Women are always trouble. I guess next time Evans sends me over, I’ll be sure and ask who all is supposed to come back with me.”

“It might save you some grief at that. Still,” the man said with a pause, “they sure are purty girls. They look as fine as old Bart’s spittoon after a Sunday shining.”

Amelia paled at the comparison, while Logan laughed. How she wished she could face him and tell him just what she thought of Americans and their spittoons. It seemed every man in this wretched country had taken up that particularly nasty habit of chewing and spitting.
No doubt Mr. Reed will be no exception.

“I don’t think I’d compliment any of them in exactly those words, Ross. These are refined British women.” Amelia straightened her shoulders a bit and thought perhaps she’d misjudged Logan Reed. Logan’s next few words, however, completely destroyed any further doubt. “They are the most uppity creatures God ever put on the face of the earth. They have a queen for a monarch and it makes them feel mighty important.”

Amelia seethed.
How dare he even mention the queen. He isn’t fit to …
The though faded as Logan continued.

“The Brits are the hardest of all to work with. The Swedes come and they’re just a bunch of land-loving, life-loving primitives. The Germans are much the same and always bring a lot of life to a party. But the Brits think everything goes from their mouth to God’s ear. They are rude and insensitive to other people and expect to stop on a ledge two feet wide, or any other dangerous or unseemly place, if it dares to be time for tea. In fact, I’d wager good money that before I even get this party packed halfway through the foothills, one of those ‘purty’ women, as you call them, will expect to have tea and biscuits on a silver tray.”

At this, Amelia could take no more. She whipped around the corner in a fury. Angered beyond reason and filled with rage, she took her stand. “How dare you insult my family and friends in such a manner. I have never been so enraged in all of my twenty years!” She barely paused to take a breath. “I have traveled all across Europe and India and never in my life have I met more rude and insensitive people than here in America. If you want to see difficulty and stubbornness, Mr. Reed, I’m certain you have no further to go than the mirror in your room.” At this she stormed off, feeling quite vindicated.

Logan stared after her with a mocking grin on his lips. He’d known full well she was eavesdropping and intended to take her to task for it quite solidly. The man beside him, uncomfortable with the display of temper, quickly excused himself and ran with long strides toward the busier part of town. When Logan began to chuckle out loud, Amelia turned back indignantly.

“Whatever are you snickering about?” Amelia questioned, her cheeks flushed from the sun and the encounter. Apparently remembering her parasol, she raised it to shield her skin.

“I’m amused,” Logan said in a snooty tone, mocking her.

“I see nothing at all funny here. You have insulted good people, Mr. Reed. Gentlefolk, from the lineage of nobility, with more grace and manners than you could ever hope to attain. People, I might add, who are paying you a handsome wage to do a job.”

She was breathing heavily. Beads of perspiration were forming on her brow. Her blue eyes were framed by long blond lashes that curled away from her eyes like rays of sunshine through a storm cloud. She reminded Logan of a china doll with her bulk of blond hair piled high on her head, complete with fashionable hat. Logan thought he’d never seen a more beautiful woman, but he still desired to put her into her place once and for all.

“And does your family consider eavesdropping to be one of those gracious manners of which you speak so highly?” he questioned, taking long easy strides to where she stood. Amelia recoiled as though she had been slapped.

“I see you find my words disconcerting,” Logan said, his face now serious. Amelia, speechless, only returned his blatant stare. “People with manners, Miss,” he paused, then shook his head. “No, make that Lady Amhurst. Anyway, people of true refinement have no need to advertise it or crow it from the rooftops. They show it in action. And they need not make others feel less important by using flashy titles and snobbery. I don’t believe eavesdropping would be considered a substantial way to prove one’s merit in any society.”

Amelia found her tongue at last. “I never intended to eavesdrop, Mr. Reed,” she said emphasizing the title. “I was simply taking in a bit of air, a very little bit I might add. Is it my fault that your voice carries above the sounds of normal activity?”

Logan laughed. “I could excuse a simple wandering-in, but you stood there a full five minutes before making your presence known. I said what I said knowing full well you were there. I wanted to see just how much you would take before jumping me.”

Amelia’s expression tightened. “You couldn’t possibly have known I was there. I had just come from the front of the house and I was making no noise.”

Logan’s amusement was obviously stated in his eyes. He stepped back to the house, pulling Amelia with him. Leaving Amelia to stand in stunned silence at his bold touch, he went around the corner. “What do you see, Lady Amhurst?”

Amelia looked to the corner of the house. “I see nothing. Whatever are you talking about?”

“Look again. You’re going to have to have a sharper sense of the obvious if you’re to survive in the wilds of Colorado.”

From around the corner Logan waited a long moment before deciding he wasn’t being quite fair. He reached up and adjusted his hat, hoping his shadow’s movement on the ground would catch her eye.

“Very well, Mr. Reed.” Amelia sounded humbled. “I see your point, but it could have just as easily been one of my sisters. You couldn’t possibly have known it was me and not one of them.”

Logan looked around the corner with a self-satisfied expression on his face. “You’re a little more robust, shall we say; than your sisters.” His gaze trailed the length of her body before coming again to rest on her face.

Amelia turned scarlet and for a moment Logan wondered if she might give him a good whack with the parasol she was twisting in her hands. She did nothing, said nothing, but returned his stare with such umbrage that Logan was very nearly taken aback.

“Good day, Mr. Reed. I no longer wish to listen to anything you have to say,” Amelia said and turned to leave, but Logan reached out to halt her.

She fixed him with a stony stare that would have crumbled a less stalwart foe.

“Unhand me, sir!”

“You sure run hot and cold, lady.” Logan’s voice was husky and his eyes were narrowed ever so slightly. “But either way, one thing you’d better learn quickly—and I’m not saying this to put you off again,” he said, pausing to tighten his grip in open defiance of her demand, “listening to me may very well save your life.”

“When you say something that seems life-saving,” she murmured, “I will listen with the utmost regard.” She pulled her arm away and gathered her skirts in hand. “Good day, Mr. Reed.”

Logan watched her walk away in her facade of fire and ice. She was unlike any women he’d ever met in his life—and he’d certainly met many a fine lady in his day. She was strong and self-assured and Logan knew that if the entire party perished in the face of their mountain challenge, Amelia would survive and probably thrive.

He liked her, he decided. He liked her a great deal. For all her snooty ways and uppity suggestions, she was growing more interesting by the minute and Logan intended to take advantage of the long summer months to come in which he’d be a part of her Estes Park stay.

Logan stood in a kind of stupor for a few more minutes, until the voice of Lord Amhurst sounded from behind him.

“Mr. Reed,” he began, “I should like to inquire as to our accommodations. The proprietor here tells me that you have taken one of the rooms intended for our use. I would like to have it back.”

“Sorry,” Logan said without feeling the least bit apologetic. “I’m gonna need a good night’s rest if I’m to lead you all to Longmont. It isn’t anything personal and I’m sorry Ted parceled out your evening comforts, but I need the room.”

The earl looked taken back for a moment, apparently unaccustomed to his requests being refused, but nodded as he acquiesced to the circumstances.

Logan took off before the man could say another word. He could have given up the room easily, but his pride made him rigid. “Oh Lord,” he whispered, “I should have been kinder. When I settle down a bit, I’ll go back to the earl of Donneswick and give him the room.” Logan rounded the corner of the house and found Penelope, Margaret, and Chamberlain sitting beneath the community shade tree. It was the only shade tree on this side of town. He couldn’t help but wonder where Amelia had gone, then chided himself for even thinking of her. There’d be time enough on the trip, not to mention when they reached Estes, to learn more about her. He could take his time, he reasoned, remembering that Evans had told him the party would stay until first snow.

Whistling a tune, Logan made his way past Amelia’s simpering sisters, tipped his had ever so slightly, and headed for the livery. Lady Amelia Amhurst, he thought with a sudden revelation. “There’s no reason she can’t be my lady,” Logan stated aloud to no one in particular. “No reason at all.”

T
he following day brought the hunting party together. Lord and Lady Gambett arrived with their whiny daughters, Henrietta and Josephine. Both of the girls were long-time companions of Penelope and Margaret, and their reunion was one of excited giggles and squeals of delight. Amelia stood beneath the shade of the community tree and waited for the party to move out to Longmont. She studied the landscape around her and decided she was very glad not to live in this dusty community of flies and harsh prairie winds. To the west she noted the Rocky Mountains and though they were beautiful, she would have happily passed up the chance to further explore them—if her father would have given her the option to return home.

Lady Gambett fussed over her daughters like a mother hen, voicing her concern quite loudly that they should have to wear such a monstrous apparatus as what the store clerk had called a “lady’s mountain dress.” The outfit appeared for all intents and purposes to be no different from any other riding habit. A long serviceable skirt of blue serge fell to the boot tops of each young lady, while underneath, a fuller, billowing version of a petticoat allowed the freedom to ride astride.

Amelia knew her own attire to be quite comfortable and didn’t really mind the idea of trading in her dainty sidesaddle for the fuller and more masculine McClellan cavalry saddle. She’d heard Lady Bird speak of these at one of her lectures on the Rockies and just remembering the older woman made Amelia smile. Lady Isabella Bird was a remarkable woman. Traveling all over the world to the wildest reaches was nothing to this adventuresome lady. She had come to the Rockies only two years earlier on her way back from the Sandwich Islands. By sheer grit and force of will, Lady Bird had placed herself in the hands of strangers and eventually into the hands of no one at all when she took a rugged Indian pony and traveled throughout the Rocky Mountains all alone. Amelia admired that kind of gumption. She’d never dreamed of doing something so incredible herself, but she thought Lady Bird’s accounts of the solitude sounded refreshing. Watching the stars fade into the dawn, Amelia wondered to herself what it might be like to lay out on a mountain top, under the stars and trees, with no other human being around for miles and miles.