скачать книгу бесплатно
Edward led her toward the nearest pasture so they wouldn’t be overheard. When they reached the fence, he released her, keeping his back to his wranglers and foreman. “What exactly are you wearing?”
Maggy looked down at her clothes as if she’d forgotten what she’d put on. His staff certainly wouldn’t forget any time soon. “A shirt and pants?”
“Precisely.” He shot her an impatient look. Was she truly unaware of the stir she’d caused or her breach of propriety in dressing in such a fashion?
She folded her arms and her countenance hardened. He may have only known her for a few hours, but Edward could easily identify when her dander was up. “And what is so abhorrent about my clothes?”
“Nothing,” he said with a module of patience, “if you intend to lasso one of my horses or muck a stall. However, if you plan to parade around town as my fiancée, then I’d ask you to please not do so looking like a man.”
Her pink lips parted as if she were about to throw out a rejoinder. Then she obviously thought better of it and shut her mouth. She glanced back the way they’d come, a never-before-seen look of consternation settling onto her pretty face. “You’re right. It’s just that these clothes...” Her blue eyes flashed with momentary vulnerability before she lifted her chin. “It won’t happen again. I will endeavor to act and look as a proper society fiancée should.”
“Thank you.” But he felt less victorious than he’d expected. While clothes and appearances were critical to playing their respective roles, he had a hunch that Maggy felt most comfortable, most like herself, in the clothes she wore at this moment. He felt a pang of remorse at the thought of taking that comfort away from her.
Pushing out a sigh, she faced away from him. “I’ll go change.”
“No need just yet,” he said. “I already told McCall that you’d chosen your outfit for the express purpose of not soiling one of your gowns during your tour of the ranch.”
A small smile appeared at her mouth. “That was rather quick scheming on your part.”
“A first, I’ll admit.” Edward chuckled. “But I’ve had a rather effective albeit persistent teacher today.”
Was it his imagination or did she blush? Before Edward could decide, Maggy took a step forward. “Let’s see this ranch of yours.”
“Maggy.” He waited for her to turn around, then he offered her his arm. “I’m supposed to be showing my betrothed around the ranch.”
She hesitated, her gaze riveted on his sleeve. “Right, of course.” Determination etched her features as she strode back to his side and linked her arm through his. He could feel the tension radiating through her fingers, though.
He placed his hand over hers, hoping it would be reassuring this time. “Ahead of us is the main barn. Shall we start in there?”
“Yes.”
He was relieved to see a flicker of gratitude in her eyes, which meant that right now she found his touch more comforting than jarring. And for some reason that felt as much a victory to him as anything else today.
* * *
By the time he’d finished showing Maggy around the ranch and introduced her as his fiancée to every member of his staff, Edward was wound tighter than a lasso inside. She hadn’t said much, though she didn’t look bored, either. There had been a succession of nods, a few questions and plenty of bright smiles for the wranglers. But what did she think of the Running W?
It surprised him that he cared about her opinion of the ranch, unlike the last time he’d shown a Pinkerton detective around the place. That had been all business. This time, however, Edward had a peculiar desire to impress Maggy. Which made little sense. It wasn’t as if they were really engaged.
After watching her rub the nose of his horse, he worked up the courage to finally ask her estimation. “Well? What do you think of the place?” He feigned disinterest in her answer as they exited the stable.
“It’s beautiful, Edward.” She stopped walking and removed her straw hat, giving him a full view of her face. “Very impressive what you’ve managed to do in five years.”
Was she being truthful? He hoped so. “I am proud of it.”
“As you should be.” She offered him a brief smile. “And we need to ensure that it remains as it is.”
“Yes, of course.” The reminder of why she was really here sobered him and returned his thoughts to the necessary success of their temporary engagement. “I believe my staff is quite taken by you.”
Her eyebrows arched in a look of haughty amusement. “Even in my unladylike attire?”
“Even then,” he replied with a deadpan expression.
Rolling her eyes, Maggy started for the house. “I’m glad to hear it. And now I’m ready for that supper you promised.”
“One moment.” He caught up to her near the porch. “Around here we dress for supper.”
She shook her head. “What do you mean? I don’t understand.”
“We... I...change for supper.” He motioned to his dust-speckled trousers and shirt. It wasn’t necessary to be more formal for the dinner table—particularly when he usually dined alone—but it was a throwback to his growing-up years in England. Truth be told, he rather liked putting on a fresh pair of clothes after a hard day’s work, then sitting down to a delicious meal.
“Change into what?” Her arms were tightly folded again.
Edward cleared his throat. “I’ll put on a suit as I would if we were going to the Sheridan Inn for dinner. And you...well...you can dress in one of those gowns you said you owned.”
“This is a nightly ritual?”
He nodded.
For a moment, her eyes fell shut as if she were summoning patience from deep inside herself. “All right,” she said, opening her eyes. “I shall dress for dinner, darling.”
“Excellent, my dear.”
Spinning on her heel, Maggy marched toward the guest house, her straw hat smacking her pant leg. “But I am not rearranging my hair,” she called back loudly.
Edward chuckled as he headed inside. His good humor continued as he changed into a fresh shirt, trousers, tie, vest and jacket. Normally he looked forward to the quiet that came with taking his meals by himself. Mrs. Harvey ate when she wanted, and McCall felt it important to eat the meals she prepared for the outside staff with the wranglers. Which meant Edward ate alone more often than not. Tonight, though, he found himself looking forward to dining with Maggy. She might be stubborn and far from demure, but he supposed he could see why those qualities were important in a detective, especially a female one.
Had he really almost sent her away hours earlier? He was grateful now that he hadn’t. Did the Lord have a hand in that? Edward wondered as he headed back downstairs. He entered the dining room to find it empty. Should he wait for Maggy by the front door then, or take a seat?
As he was debating what to do, he heard the door swing open and shut, then the clack of heels across the entryway floor. He moved to the doorway of the dining room to meet her. She gripped her trailing skirt with one hand as she approached.
“Suitable for supper?” She did a spin, giving him a full view of her dress.
While it appeared well made, the pale yellow gown looked a few years outdated as Maggy had said, and the dull color of it washed the pink from her cheeks. Surely this wasn’t what a vivacious, engaged young woman ought to wear. Worse still, the carefree, open demeanor she’d displayed during their tour of the ranch had disappeared. She resembled a dressed goose awaiting execution.
“It does suit for supper.”
“But?” She pinned him with a penetrating glance.
Edward shifted his weight as uneasiness coursed through him. “Are all of your dresses similar to this?”
“Yes, I suppose they’re all the same style. Neither noticeably fashionable nor unfashionable. Light colors that don’t catch the eye. No ribbons or trim to come loose and betray that I’ve been poking around where I’m not supposed to be. Simple. Practical.”
Needing a moment to think, he led her by the elbow into the dining room where he pulled out a chair for her.
“What’s wrong with my dress, Edward?” She gave him an arched look as she took a seat.
He helped push her chair in, then sat beside her at the head of the table. “There’s nothing inherently wrong with it,” he hedged. He placed his napkin across his lap and felt relief when Maggy artfully did the same. Apparently, dinner etiquette would not be something they had to master, as well.
Mrs. Harvey’s fortuitous entrance into the dining room kept him from having to think up a polite reply to Maggy’s question. “Evening, sir,” his housekeeper announced as she placed full plates in front of them. “You, too, miss.” She beamed at Maggy.
“There’s been a new wrinkle to the detective plans, Mrs. Harvey.” He hadn’t taken the opportunity to let her know yet. “Maggy will be...” He glanced at the door, then lowered his voice. “I’ve asked her to be my fiancée for the duration of her time here.”
The older woman’s eyes widened. “Your fiancée, sir? Was that your idea to become engaged like that?”
“No,” Maggy interjected as she picked up her fork. “It was mine, Mrs. Harvey. I’m hoping it will allow me to become part of the ranchers’ wives’ club and gather critical information.”
Edward was grateful she didn’t disclose that they already had two suspects among the ranchers. As much as he trusted Mrs. Harvey, he sensed the less he discussed his case with anyone other than Maggy, the better.
Mrs. Harvey trained a shocked gaze at him. “You agreed to this plan, sir? Even after...” She let her words trail out, to Edward’s relief. The woman knew of Beatrice’s deceit, but it wasn’t something he wished to share with Maggy, now or possibly ever.
“Of course. It’s a brilliant one.” He felt Maggy watching him shrewdly.
His housekeeper eyed them in turn once more. “I’ll leave you to your meal then.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Harvey.” When the older woman left the room, Edward turned to Maggy. “I’ll offer the blessing.”
Her brows shot upward as she set her fork back down. She looked slightly startled—even a bit chagrined—at his suggestion, but she didn’t appear annoyed. Wordlessly, she lowered her chin. Edward shut his eyes and began to pray. He thanked the Lord for the meal and asked His blessings upon his staff and the investigation, as well.
Maggy’s disconcerted look remained as they began eating. Edward wondered what she thought of faith and religion. If she were truly his fiancée, he would hope to share a similar belief and love of God with her. Beatrice hadn’t. She’d attended church, of course, like the other wealthy families in their social circle, but her faith hadn’t been the anchor that it became for Edward and his sister.
He sampled a bite of food, pushing aside thoughts of Beatrice and the past. “I think you’ll find Mrs. Harvey’s fare quite above any boardinghouse or restaurant.” He shot Maggy a smile. “That’s partly the reason I asked her to accompany me to America.”
“The food is delicious,” Maggy agreed. “So you’ve known Mrs. Harvey a long time.”
It was more a statement than a question, but he nodded anyway.
“What did she mean about you agreeing to our plan ‘even after?’”
Edward stifled a groan, though he wasn’t surprised Maggy had not only caught his housekeeper’s slip but remembered it, too. “Nothing of consequence.” He took another bite, though he tasted little this time.
“Have you been engaged before?” Maggy inquired, her expression one of innocence. But Edward knew better. Her blue eyes were glowing with that same determination and tenacity he’d seen several times already.
He shook his head. “No, I haven’t. Not officially anyway. Though I did believe there was an understanding between myself and a young lady.”
There, he’d told her all he wished to reveal. Even his vague description of his and Beatrice’s time together had resurrected the long-buried sting of her rejection. He didn’t wish to dwell on it anymore.
“What you need is a new wardrobe,” he declared, only too happy to return to the earlier topic. Maggy’s irritation over what he thought of her dresses was far safer and less painful than reopening the past.
She studied him a moment and Edward had a sudden urge to ask what she observed. Did she see the often neglected, thrown-over third son of Lord and Lady Healey? Or did she see the successful rancher?
“A new wardrobe?” she repeated at last. “Is that really necessary?” She made a face as if he’d asked her to roll around in a stable stall.
Edward couldn’t help the upward tilt of his mouth—both at her entertaining grimace and in relief that she hadn’t hounded him for information about Beatrice. “Some women are actually thrilled by the thought of new clothes. Especially when they are at the expense of someone else’s pocketbook.”
“You’re going to pay for new clothes...for me?” Her astonishment both amused and confused him. Had no one ever bought her anything before?
He picked up his water goblet. “I don’t think it entirely fair to ask Pinkerton to foot the bill. Not when you need to be outfitted with an entire new wardrobe.”
“Entire?” Her eyes narrowed. “What exactly does that mean, Edward?”
Taking a sip, he set down his glass. “You know—day dresses, evening dresses, hats, gloves, possibly even a ball gown. The wives’ club will host their annual summer ball in another month.”
“Why would I need a new hat and gloves?” Maggy retorted, her expression darkening. “It all sounds rather excessive. Not to mention a great waste of money.”
He had the impression she lumped herself in with the clothes as something—someone—unworthy to spend money on. Why would that be? She’d shown such confidence in herself as a detective. Did she not see herself as valuable outside of her profession?
“I agree it may be excessive.” She looked as if she could breathe again, until he continued. “But a waste or not, that is what you’ll need in order to convince these women you are one of them.”
“Fine. If asked, I’ll say my luggage was misplaced and I needed to replace what I lost.” She jutted out her chin as she forked another bite, the tongs tapping the plate with force. “And when am I to be subjected to the joys of obtaining a new wardrobe?”
He chuckled—he was coming to like her cheeky humor. “Tomorrow. That way we can square things up with the livery stable to have transportation at your disposal during your stay.”
“We’re keeping the nag and the buggy then?”
Edward scoffed, shooting her a teasing look. “The buggy, yes. But not that nag. Something tells me you’d appreciate a more spirited horse to convey you to and from club meetings.”
A mischievous smile chased the annoyance from her expression. “I believe that’s the first sensible thing I’ve heard you say all evening.”
Chapter Five (#u67cf2392-5586-5b70-82bb-846c32f180a9)
Maggy gritted her teeth, trying to appear patient and serene as the dressmaker tugged, poked and pinned. She felt like a peacock in the ready-made royal blue gown, with as many pins stuck in it as there were in the woman’s pincushion. What she wouldn’t give to see Edward submit to such ministrations. The thought pulled a smile from her. He might not think a new wardrobe so necessary after that.
She’d driven the buggy into Sheridan that morning, while Edward rode beside her on the horse they would switch for the nag. He made arrangements with the livery owner about keeping the vehicle for a few more weeks, then he drove her to the dressmaker’s shop.
It felt strange, and unsettling, to have a man watching out for her like that. And she still couldn’t understand why Edward would throw his money away on clothes she wouldn’t likely wear again once this mission was solved. She needed to be convincing as his fiancée, yes. But to have a great deal of money spent on her? The uneasy feeling returned to her stomach, though a traitorous seedling of pleasure attempted to sprout, as well. When had her father or Jeb ever purchased a gift for her? Never.
Her apprehension began to morph into choking dread as thoughts of the past took hold inside her mind. Maggy tightened her hands into fists and received a scolding look from the dressmaker for not keeping still.
“Sorry,” Maggy mumbled.
She had a job to do. And whether it felt nice or not to have a man’s help, no one else would be doing her work for her. It was past time to do a little sleuthing.
“Ms. Glasen, was it?” she asked the dressmaker, doing her best not to move.
The woman looked to be about Maggy’s own age, maybe even a few years younger. “Mmm-hmm.” Ms. Glasen had said little—beyond asking what sort of gowns were required to replace the ones Maggy had lost, if she had any preferences for colors, and if she was new in town.
“How long have you had this dress shop?”
The dressmaker’s amber eyes lit with pride. “Three years.”
Perfect. That meant the woman might be able to provide Maggy with some useful information. There was no reason the odious task of being fitted for uncomfortable clothes shouldn’t be profitable in other ways too.
“Do you know Mr. Edward Kent?”
Ms. Glasen’s forehead crinkled in thought. “He lives near Big Horn way, right? Owns a large ranch there, I think.”
“Yes, he does.” Maggy affected a tender sigh. “He’s also my fiancé.”
