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The Rancher's Temporary Engagement
Stacy Henrie
Undercover FiancéeThe Pinkerton agent that Edward Kent hired is intelligent, capable—and unexpectedly female! Though shocked to learn that Maggy Worthing will be investigating the threats to his Wyoming horse ranch, Edward needs to find the culprit. And if that means a temporary engagement to give Maggy a cover story, he’ll play along with the feisty detective.Maggy always gets her man—at least when it comes to solving crimes. The young widow refuses to marry again and land under another husband’s thumb. Unmasking Edward’s enemies will earn her a longed-for promotion…but the heart has its own mysteries. Could working together with the handsome English aristocrat spark a real and loving partnership?
Undercover Fiancée
The Pinkerton agent that Edward Kent hired is intelligent, capable—and unexpectedly female! Though shocked to learn that Maggy Worthing will be investigating the threats to his Wyoming horse ranch, Edward needs to find the culprit. And if that means a temporary engagement to give Maggy a cover story, he’ll play along with the feisty detective.
Maggy always gets her man—at least when it comes to solving crimes. The young widow refuses to marry again and land under another husband’s thumb. Unmasking Edward’s enemies will earn her a longed-for promotion...but the heart has its own mysteries. Could working together with the handsome English aristocrat spark a real and loving partnership?
STACY HENRIE has always had a love for history, fiction and chocolate. She earned her BA in public relations before turning her attention to raising a family and writing inspirational historical romances. The wife of an entrepreneur husband and a mother of three, Stacy loves to live out history through her fictional characters. In addition to being an author, she is also a reader, a road-trip enthusiast and a novice interior decorator.
Also By Stacy Henrie (#u67cf2392-5586-5b70-82bb-846c32f180a9)
Lady Outlaw
The Express Rider’s Lady
The Outlaw’s Secret
The Renegade’s Redemption
The Rancher’s Temporary Engagement
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
The Rancher’s Temporary Engagement
Stacy Henrie
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08043-9
THE RANCHER’S TEMPORARY ENGAGEMENT
© 2018 Stacy Henrie
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
“You are going to ruin this investigation,” she hissed. “Could you have looked any more appalled at playing the role of my fiancé?”
“Are you mad?” Edward countered, keeping his voice equally low. “Of course I’m going to be shocked and downright annoyed when you announce such a ridiculous fiction.”
Maggy crossed her arms and glared at him. “There wasn’t time to ask how you felt about it. Besides, I told you that I was coming up with a role.”
“Yes. But I didn’t think that would be pretending to be my fiancée. This is madness.” He threw his hands in the air, then spun to face the fireplace. “There is surely some other role for you to play.”
He sensed her stepping toward him. “This is the best way. You said it yourself, Edward. The only way I can gain access into that club is to pretend to be your wife or fiancée.”
He had only a moment to realize he liked hearing her say his name before she went on. “Believe me, I wouldn’t choose this role if I didn’t think it absolutely necessary to this mission.”
Edward wasn’t sure whether to be offended by that remark or not.
Dear Reader (#u67cf2392-5586-5b70-82bb-846c32f180a9),
On a research trip to Wyoming for one of my other Love Inspired Historical Westerns, I visited Sheridan and the nearby small town of Big Horn. The beautiful landscape and a lovely preserved 1890s ranch house looked like the ideal spot to set a story.
Those weren’t the only reasons I set Edward and Maggy’s story near the foothills of the Big Horn Mountains, though. Like Edward, a number of gentlemen from the United Kingdom settled in the area and established horse and polo pony ranches. The British Cavalry did, in fact, contract with ranchers in the area to supply horses for use in the Second Boer War. And though that war didn’t start until 1899, for the purposes of my story, I have the Cavalry interested in Edward’s horses the year before. Also of interesting note, Queen Elizabeth and Prince Phillip visited the Sheridan area in 1984 and purchased polo ponies from there.
The ranchers’ wives’ club is my own creation, though the Sheridan Inn is an actual building and was the hubbub of social events back in the day. Buffalo Bill Cody was part owner of the inn and was reported to have auditioned acts for his Wild West show on the inn’s front porch.
The Pinkerton National Detective Agency opened a branch location in Denver, Colorado, in 1886. James McParland became the superintendent of the Denver office in 1888. As one of the most famous of Pinkerton’s detectives, McParland is best known for infiltrating a gang of assassins in Pennsylvania in the 1870s. And while the position of head female detective is fictional as far as I know at this time in the agency’s history, Allan Pinkerton, the agency’s founder, did employ the first female detective in the U.S., Kate Warne, in 1856.
My hope for this story is that readers will enjoy Edward and Maggy’s adventure, their chance at love and their realization that we are all of unchangeable worth, regardless of what we do or what has happened to us.
I love hearing from readers. You can contact me through my website at www.stacyhenrie.com (http://www.stacyhenrie.com).
All the best,
Stacy
But if we hope for that we see not,
then do we with patience wait for it.
—Romans 8:25
To my editor, Elizabeth.
Thank you for believing in that first story and the ones that came after. I’ll be forever grateful for your outstanding help with this part of my writing adventure.
Contents
Cover (#u901c3be7-1bf0-555e-a8a6-83a5a57a2088)
Back Cover Text (#uac18acca-26bc-572d-8fd2-60393399f10f)
About the Author (#u6bcfca81-e425-542a-a9f8-c14a80d9d15c)
Booklist (#u97c18f21-0ffa-5d96-bbe2-5b5551281952)
Title Page (#ud9881b10-d409-5391-9eb1-74d9df8acb96)
Copyright (#u42162fca-8d8f-53fb-9147-5a4910dc7187)
Introduction (#u13c512ae-6bc4-54de-91df-c7726e07c656)
Dear Reader (#uf1c2c883-aa92-5e35-85d8-02a65c6d85fc)
Bible Verse (#ud5e9b675-1b66-5232-a3de-260342f954f2)
Dedication (#uffce1db5-23b1-5a5d-a062-c817d796500a)
Chapter One (#u3ea74456-d7be-52a2-bb0f-2257f9a11a07)
Chapter Two (#u04c89946-de67-57ed-a216-3780ec9ff6c3)
Chapter Three (#u64d21c73-fc07-5459-9df9-95b02719a03b)
Chapter Four (#u662820c1-b669-5c00-9613-22a5d47e2d8d)
Chapter Five (#ue44e83f4-7701-53bf-aec8-6c32e09bbd76)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u67cf2392-5586-5b70-82bb-846c32f180a9)
Near Big Horn, Wyoming, April 1898
Edward Kent studied the gaping hole in the barbed wire fence and the trampled posts. This wasn’t the work of an animal—at least not the four-legged kind. Anger heated his neck more than the weak spring sunshine did as he slapped his cowboy hat against his leg.
“How many horses wandered off?” he asked his ranch foreman, West McCall.
“Ten, maybe fifteen. Some of the boys are rounding them up now.”
Edward dipped his chin in a curt nod. “Good. See that one or two of the others repair the fence.”
“Yes, boss.”
“We’ll put as many of the horses in the main barn and the corral as we can at night, for the time being, so we can post guards.”
“Will do.” McCall mounted his horse and rode off in the direction of the large barn and the wranglers’ quarters.
After jamming his hat back on his light brown hair, Edward wrestled one of the toppled fence posts until it stood moderately upright. New wire and fresh postholes would fix the fence. But it wasn’t likely to fix the rash of mysterious occurrences hobbling operations around the Running W ranch or end the threatening notes he’d been receiving over the past four weeks.
Go back to where you came from, Brit, the last one had said. Or else there will be trouble.
Edward cringed at the memory. His gaze swept the rolling hills and scattered trees where they touched the feet of the Big Horn Mountains. If he squinted, he could almost imagine himself back home in England. Though that wasn’t where he wished to be—not since leaving five years ago. The longstanding stigma of being a castoff, a throwaway, as the third son of an earl, stole over him and gripped his throat in a choke hold.
Coughing, he climbed onto his horse, Napoleon, and steered the animal toward the ranch house. Even at a distance the white, two-story home with its three-sided porch stood out like a pearl against a velvet-green backdrop. A swell of pride loosened the bitter taste of old memories. He’d come here, armed with only a dream and his inheritance. And now he ran the largest horse ranch in the Sheridan area.
But all his hard work would be for naught if he couldn’t figure out who was sabotaging him. He urged Napoleon faster, his stomach grumbling with hunger. McCall had come to the house at the start of breakfast with the news of the damaged fence and runaway horses. Edward had left without eating a bite.
Outside the small stable near the house, he dismounted and led his horse inside. “Time for your version of tea and crumpets, isn’t it?” he murmured affectionately to the black horse. The gelding whinnied and tossed its head, eliciting a chuckle from Edward. The horse wasn’t as tall as its predecessors, hence Edward’s choice of name. What the animal lacked in overall stature, though, Napoleon made up for in strength and agility.
Once he’d given the horse its grain and a rub on the nose, Edward headed into the ranch house through the front door.
“I’ve returned, Mrs. Harvey,” he called to his housekeeper and cook as he removed his hat and hung it on the hall tree. A pile of mail from yesterday’s post still sat undisturbed on the table. He’d been so busy overseeing the breaking-in of a horse yesterday that when he’d finally returned to the house, he hadn’t bothered to do much more than grab a late supper and head to bed.
He carried the mail to the dining room. On the top of the stack, he found a letter from his mother, no doubt asking when he planned to visit. Edward wished he could convince her to come here instead. He wanted to show that, although he wasn’t an earl and the estate heir as his oldest brother had been these last five years, that he’d worked hard at creating a good, successful life here.
Though a bit of a lonely one, his conscience prodded.
Edward ignored the thought. He’d discovered early on that the daughters of Sheridan’s wealthy ranchers weren’t so different from their English counterparts. In both countries, he was the sum of his bank account and supposed good looks, with little thought to his character or integrity—and no consideration at all to their own. He’d never loved the idea of money or appearances being the basis of a marriage. Living alone, in his opinion, was far more tolerable than entering into a marriage that wasn’t founded on mutual affection and respect. It was something his younger sister had helped instill in him.
“Just remember to be true to who you are, Eddie,” Liza had often reminded. “You are of worth, most especially to me and to God.”
Though one year his junior, his sister had exemplified wisdom and vision beyond her years. Perhaps that was the reason she’d left this world too soon, at the tender age of fourteen. Edward missed her still and hoped she knew that he’d tried to live true to himself in the fifteen years since her death.
Taking a seat at the polished mahogany table, he started sifting through the rest of the mail. There was a newspaper and some sort of penny dreadful—or dime novel as he’d heard them called here in America—for Mrs. Harvey.
As though she knew what “treasure” awaited her, Mrs. Harvey bustled into the dining room, a tray in hand. “Here you are, sir. Nice and warm once more.”
