A Texan's Honour

With slightly narrowed eyes, she concentrated on the older woman, fighting the painful thoughts. After a long moment she managed to say, “I know it is considered a breach but please call me Patience.”

The kindly woman smiled, gentle understanding in her warm expression. “Then you should call me Heddie.”

“Gladly,” Patience said.

“Now that we have that settled, come sit over here, and eat. I want nothing left on that tray when I come back, hear?”

Patience nodded then let the woman help her to a small sitting area as she fought back tears. No one had fussed over her this way since her mama’s death. Had she lived, would her mother have rescued her as she’d promised that fateful day? Patience would never know. Just as she would never know if the accident that had taken her mother and brothers’ lives had been an accident at all. She’d always feared her husband had had a hand in forcing that carriage off the cliff. The evidence of the tracks on the road had told the story of negligence at best, murder at worst. But she hadn’t been questioned. She didn’t believe there had even been an investigation at all.

“Eat up, now. I’m off to find something for you to sleep in.”

Patience dug in as ordered. The simple fare was delicious, the soup tasty and warm, the bread crisp and sumptuous. It had been so long since she’d eaten.

Although she’d been taught to take small bites in order to converse with guests throughout a meal, this evening, all alone, Patience fairly wolfed the food down. Her mother would have been mortified. Tears filled Patience’s eyes. Penelope Wexler was long gone.

Mrs. Winston returned not long after and dropped a nightgown on the bed. “There you go, dearie. Oh, done already? My you were near starved, weren’t you?”

Embarrassed, Patience dropped her gaze. “I’m so sorry. You must think me terribly unmannered to have all but inhaled my food that way.”

“What I think is that you were in great need of nourishment. Now let us get you out of those clothes so you can get some sleep. Mr. Alex sent up some brandy. You should drink it. It may help you sleep. Problems can be handled in the morning.”

Patience nodded and stood. Heddie helped her undress and put on the nightgown that must belong to Amber, judging from the small size and exquisite quality. Wondering what was to become of her, Patience climbed back onto the bed Mrs. Winston had turned down. The brandy did help and she fell into an exhausted sleep rather quickly, though it was a sleep haunted by the past and future.

She wakened several times with a start, thinking the man Alexander had seen out of the window had somehow found her. Each time she roused she was greeted by a small gas flame glowing in a wall sconce across the room. It illuminated the area enough so she could see that no one but her was in the room.

Hours later the morning sunshine slanted through the bedroom window, rousing Patience from her restless slumber. Though her sleep had been disturbed by nightmares, she had still slept. She hadn’t felt this rested since that awful interview with her father when he’d proclaimed her fate and banished her to her room until she capitulated.

She pursed her lips and swung her feet to the floor. He must be furious, surely having discovered her missing by now. And with Amber gone for Ireland, Patience had no one to turn to.

What am I to do?

If only there was some way for her to get far enough away. She walked to the window and cautiously peeked through the airy curtains, wondering if the man Alexander had seen was indeed someone in her father’s employ. Was he still lurking out there? Her stomach knotted. If he was, how would she be able to escape again?

The bedroom door opened slowly and Patience whirled, half-expecting one of the men from her nightmares to be standing there. But it was only Heddie backing in with a tray in her hands. The mixed scents of coffee, warm bread, bacon and fried eggs entered with her.

“Mr. Reynolds asks that you stay in your room until he’s taken care of some pressing matters. He wants to make sure it’s safe for you to come down. He was quite adamant.”

“How can it not be safe inside the earl’s home?”

“He said he isn’t sure about your rights under the laws here in the United States. Or his for harboring you. He thinks it would be unwise for you to risk being seen until you have a plan and he knows no one can legally force their way inside to look for you.”

Her heart fell. She knew the answer to that. She had no plan and no rights with a father as powerful as hers. With his connections at city hall things went his way in spite of the downfall of Boss Tweed and the Tammany Hall political machine. That was why she had run here. Amber’s husband, the Earl of Adair, had as much power here and abroad as her father. She’d hoped the earl would be able to help her find a safe haven. She was beginning to fear there was no such place.

“I should dress and be on my way,” she told Heddie Winston. “I don’t think Mr. Reynolds understands whose runaway daughter he’s taken in. I am nothing more than Lionel Wexler’s chattel.”

Mrs. Winston smiled kindly and shook her head a bit. “You should know Alexander Reynolds isn’t afraid of your father, dearie.” She frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t believe he’s afraid of anyone. Considering the man who raised him, I can’t imagine there is a person alive who could intimidate Mr. Alex.”

She took the tray to the sitting area where Patience had eaten last night. “Now you sit right over here and eat your meal. When you’re done, have a good soak. The bath is the door at the end of the hall. I’ve left a robe in there and I have someone brushing your dress out and fixing the torn hem. She’ll bring it up when she’s finished and then she’ll draw your bath. I’ll see she tidies up in here while she waits to help you dress.” Heddie turned back and motioned to the slipper chair. “I washed out your chemise and I’m about to iron it the rest of the way dry. Everything will be just fine. You’ll see.”

Patience ate what she could, no longer as ravenous as last night. Trying not to notice the time passing, she bathed, dressed and let the young maid fool with her hair. Then she paced. Three hours after Heddie Winston left her, Patience had run out of tolerance with hiding in a child’s room. She had begun to feel like a prisoner again.

Opening her reticule, she spread the jewelry her mother had brought along on that fateful visit just before the accident that had taken her life. It had been her grandmother’s and her mother’s. She fingered it now, remembering with a sharp pang the day her mother had given the items to her. And the shame she’d felt as she’d hidden it, guarding it under a loose floorboard in her closet. She’d made sure no one knew she had it, especially after her mother’s death and her father’s subsequent desertion. For the five remaining years of her marriage, she’d kept it hidden from her husband, at first unable to use it for escape. Following her mother’s departure that day, he’d kept her a virtual prisoner.

Finally he’d had a heart attack that had left him so wasted, the worst he’d been able to do was strike her on the back of the legs with his cane as she passed him. She’d learned to wear extra petticoats that made the attacks as ineffectual as he’d been in bed.

He’d blamed her for that, too!

And so she’d endured, knowing she had nowhere to go, hoping Edgar Gorham wouldn’t live much longer, thinking she’d be able to use his wealth to build a life for herself once he was gone. He’d lived two and a half years longer, though, and all she’d been able to do was fight against his attempts to crush her spirit. She was unsure of how well she’d succeeded.

She fingered the pieces of her heritage nestled in a handkerchief, hating the thought of selling the only visible tie she had to her mother and grandmother. But she had no choice. She could not enter another marriage to a man she despised. She needed to thank Alexander and be on her way.

Chapter Two

Alex stood at the window of Jamie’s study, looking down at the busy street below. He watched as Palmer, his man of business, entered the carriage and drove off. Palmer had given him a good picture of the man their guest was up against. The news wasn’t good. Other than Amber and Jamie, Patience Gorham probably hadn’t a friend in the world who’d go up against her father.

Or Howard Bedlow.

And she was up against them both.

Dammit!

A noise behind him drew his attention. Reflected in the window’s glass, Patience stood in the doorway to the study. “Got impatient did you?” he said and plastered on a grin before turning. Thank God he’d had a bit of a forewarning. The way he felt at that moment he’d have sent the girl scurrying out the front door.

Into danger, no doubt.

Alex cursed under his breath. He’d been wrong. With some nourishment and rest, she was even lovelier than he’d remembered. And more than a bit alluring.

“I’m sorry to disobey your order but I must get on my way,” she said. That soft melodic voice that had followed him into sleep washed over him.

At dawn, Winston had relieved him of his watch on the house so he’d gotten a couple of hours of sleep but she’d been there waiting for him in his dreams, with her rich silky hair, those heart-stopping eyes and that voice that got him hard every time he heard it. And this time was no exception. Which left him feeling like the worst sort of cad. The poor thing was terrified of men—himself included.

He forced his mind off his hunger for her and onto her situation. It was good that no one had come pounding the door down, sure she was inside. Now that it was nearly nine in the morning, he was almost sure no one had seen her arrive last night. But he was just as sure there would eventually be an inquiry since apparently Patience and Amber corresponded.

“Disobey my order?” he asked. His heart ached at this window into the kind of life she must have led thus far. He was sure it was the kind of life his mother had been forced to live.

“Mrs. Winston said I was to stay above stairs.”

Alex sighed. “You have no obligation to do as I say, Mrs. Gorham. I merely suggested you remain there for your safety. But you may do as you wish.”

Though it seemed forced, she gave him an ironic little grin. “Would that that were true. I came to thank you for your hospitality. And to ask if you know of a shop where I could sell my jewelry.”

Alex considered her. “A pawn shop? You know you won’t get half what it’s worth, don’t you?”

She clutched her reticule to her stomach looking pained and sad. “That cannot be helped. I need the funds to get away.”

The jewelry means a great deal to her. It couldn’t be a gift from her late husband, then. With her desperation so clear in her eyes, she would be a lamb for the shearing to any pawnbroker.

He gestured toward the divan and, breaking protocol, he took a seat in the chair nearest her so she would know he had no intention of crowding her. “I must warn you, that sort of establishment is probably being watched.”

She shook her head. “My father has no knowledge that I have it. My mother gave it to me just before her death. I was to use it to get away from Mr. Gorham should I feel endangered.”

“As that means you never felt that desperate, I am glad you still have it. May I ask where it is you plan to go? Will you try to follow the countess to Ireland?”

“No. The wharfs are surely being watched. I had thought to make my way out of the city by rail.” She bit that lovely full bottom lip with her even white teeth.

He wanted nothing more at that moment than to nibble that lip, as well. The thought made his breath catch.

Then she spoke again. “That is how I got here, but if the wharfs are watched, I suppose the rail stations are by now, as well.”

Alex forced his desire for her into the background of his thoughts again. But his resolve to help her had only strengthened in the last minutes. He supposed everyone had a weakness. His was apparently a need to help those being forced into desperate circumstances by ruthless men. He didn’t know if it was altruism or if he was condemned to spend his life proving to himself and others he wasn’t like his father.

He hated the idea that Oswald Reynolds still had that kind of power and influence over his life. Alex stared ahead, trying to put away the notion of offering more help than he’d already given.

His move west was supposed to mean he’d be blazing a new path for himself. Alone. No reminders of his past. No associations that tied him to anyone but Jamie and his family. But there she sat looking so alone and forlorn. How could he not offer help when she could leave her past behind, too, and he could easily help her do it. “You don’t know where to run, do you?”

Her hands still clutched the pouch containing the jewelry. “No,” she said.

And that one bleak, hopelessly spoken word sealed his fate.

Winston appeared in the doorway perhaps with a reprieve. “Sir, there is a gentl—A person looking for a young lady. He claims she is off in the head.” Winston glanced rather pointedly toward Patience when she gasped. “A danger to herself and others.”

“I am not …” She popped to her feet, still holding the reticule in a desperate clench. “I swear, I am not anything of the—”

Alex stood and lifted a staying hand to stop her rush of words. She had suffered enough and shouldn’t be forced to beg for her very life. To Winston he said, “I will handle this. Is that all?”

“I left him on the stoop.”

“That was unusually rude of you, Winston.”

“Yes,” Winston agreed and Alex would swear he’d nearly smiled.

To Mrs. Gorham, Alex said quietly, “I will send him on his way. As to his claims, I can detect a lie when I hear one even if it isn’t firsthand. A lady like you would never invent the tale you have told me. I had a mother who was a lady and all that was kind and gentle. I know you felt diminished by what you were forced to reveal. This is not an order, ma’am, but for your safety, you should go with Winston and put your trust in those trying to help you.”

She simply nodded and hurried down the back hall following Winston.

Alex proceeded to the front door. He took a deep breath and schooled his features into that of the carefree lighthearted swell he’d pretended to be for so long. It was another part of his life he intended to leave behind.

A large man with a pinched face and a slightly unkempt appearance stood at the door, a step below. He straightened from his slovenly posture against the rail, looking mulish and annoyed.

Too damn bad, Alex thought as he gazed sardonically down his nose. Leaning on the doorjamb, Alex crossed his arms negligently. “I understand you’ve come seeking the Earl of Adair,” Alex said, making sure that no matter how relaxed he seemed to be he still blocked the doorway with his body.

“I’m with the Pinkerton Agency. We’ve reason to believe our client’s daughter came here looking for the earl’s wife. I’ve been sent to retrieve her.”

“Retrieve the countess?” Alex asked mildly, all the while considering the implication of the Pinkertons looking for one lone woman. Apparently Lionel Wexler was determined to get her back and by any means necessary.

The Pinkertons usually worked for powerful corporations against those who threatened their revenues or hunted dangerous criminals intent on menacing their clientele’s bank accounts and property.

Alan Pinkerton himself was a ruthless man. A few years ago he’d blown up a home where the mother of the notorious James brothers lived. Their younger half brother had been killed and their mother had lost an arm. Pinkerton denied the arson had been planned from the first but not many who lived by a strict moral code seemed to believe him.

“‘Course I’m not lookin’ for the earl or his lady,” the agent snapped. “I’m seeking Patience Gorham.”

Trying to appear just a bit vacuous Alex said, “Oh. I don’t believe I know that name. What is this about again?”

“She’s off her nut she is, sir. Mr. Wexler wants her back home safe and sound.”

Alex pretended to be startled. “Goodness. This sounds serious.” Then confused. “When is it you think she would have arrived on my cousin’s doorstep? And this Wexler chap is looking for a woman named Gorham but she is his daughter?”

The man’s gaze sharpened. “Thought you didn’t know her? Why so interested if you don’t know her?”

“Don’t know her. But I don’t live in my cousin’s pocket, either. I have my reasons for asking. When would this have been?”

“Yesterday or maybe the day before. Her papa isn’t sure when she escaped her room. Climbed down a tree like a child. Shows she’s not right in the head. Could’ve been killed or caused a scandal.”

The man had to be parroting Wexler’s concerns because Alex doubted this man had a clue how much of a scandal this would be were it to get out. Unfortunately, it was probably Patience who would be the one tarnished by the gossip this man was spreading. “I think you shouldn’t be letting that get out, in that case. I doubt her father expects you to go about damaging the poor daft girl’s reputation.”

The man had the good grace to look abashed.

But Alex was still left striving to keep his expression one of mild concern and not one of utter outrage. To how many others had this cretin bandied her sanity and good name about like an old society biddy?

Then the full import of what the man had said sank in. If they didn’t know when Patience had left, she must not have been given food for at least the two days in question. Nor had anyone bothered to check to make sure she was all right in her pretty prison cell.

It was a wonder she’d gotten this far before fainting. Suppose she’d fallen beneath the wheels of the train at the busy station or the hooves of a carriage team. Alex clenched his hands behind his back.

“This may be very bad,” he told the Pinkerton. “The countess added a maid to her staff only yesterday. Can you describe this woman?”

The man checked his notepad. “Uh … smallish. Red hair. Dark red, her papa said. Green eyes. ‘Bout all they told me so far. They’re working with a printer to make up handbills with her likeness on ‘em.”

“They? Her parents?” he asked, knowing her mother to be diseased.

“Her intended and her papa.”

Alex raised an eyebrow lazily. “Goodness, he must be a brave man to agree to marry a crazed woman. Or he must owe something to her father.”

“The maid, sir? There is a reward. And Mr. Pinkerton wants to impress this gent that hired him.”

“Well, I am sorry to tell you but the description does put me in mind of the new maid.”

The man put his foot on the top step but Alex put a hand to his chest, blocking his advance. “You didn’t wait for me to deliver the bad news. The earl and his family sailed yesterday for his estate. With their staff.”

“Where is it? This estate?”

For me to know and you to waste time finding out. If this ruffian worked on a false lead for a good while, Alex could use that time to get Patience out of the city. Let Wexler and the other one pay the Pinkertons to go chasing a wild goose.

Putting on his best, bored aristocratic expression Alex said mockingly, “He’s an earl. Where do you think his estate is?”

The man cursed roundly, turned away and stalked off down the marble steps without another word. He met with three others a few doors down. Alex smiled as the detective gave his cohorts the news. “You’re welcome, you vulture,” he said under his breath and stepped back inside.

Now to find out if Mrs. Patience Wexler Gorham was brave enough to consider starting over in Texas.

Patience returned to the study, responding to a summons from Alexander Reynolds. Her nerves were still jittery after hearing the lies her father was willing to tell about her. Contrary to her previous belief, a heart could break more than once. But she had no time to nurse it.

Alexander stood as she entered the room. Heddie Winston trailed after her and surprisingly joined her husband on the divan. Having servants party to a meeting was an oddity but Alexander seemed quite at home with the situation. She rather liked that about him. Actually she liked a great deal about the man Amber had told her about. She wondered if he was really the man she saw and if his kindness was not just a facade, as her husband’s had been.

He gestured to the high-back chair where he’d sat during their earlier interview. Patience sank into it gratefully, her knees still a bit weak.

“Thank you for cooperating earlier, Mrs. Gorham,” Alexander said and leaned against the desk.

“As you pointed out, doing as you asked was for my benefit. What is it you wished to tell me? Does it appear I can successfully flee?”

“I may have managed to shift your father’s search from this neighborhood and, in fact, from these shores for a while. Right now they believe you arrived here in time to escape to Britain as part of the earl’s entourage. But that will last only so long.”

Patience felt suddenly a bit lighter. “That means it may be safer for me to sell my jewelry to use for train fare.”

“Safer but not entirely safe,” he cautioned. “The Pinkertons are wily and may still question New York’s pawnbrokers. Besides which, it isn’t right that you should be forced to sell that jewelry. I assume it’s all you have left of your mother.”

Patience nodded, any elation gone at the prospect of selling the pieces to ensure her safety as she had promised her mother. In its place flowed memories and pain at the thought of letting them go.

On nights when her husband’s cruelty had been nearly too great to bear, she’d crept to her closet to finger her grandmother’s emerald-and-ruby set. She’d close her eyes and remember the Christmases around the tree at her grandparents’ home. Nana had always worn the jewels on Christmas, their vibrant colors just right for the occasion.

Standing in her closet, Patience had held tight to her mother’s diamond necklace, the one Mama had given her that fateful morning they’d set off for home. “If you need to get away before I can convince your father to intervene, you must use these,” Penelope Wexler had begged.

“This isn’t about sentiment. It is about survival,” Patience said now, repeating her mother’s last private words to her.

“Yes, it is about your survival,” Alexander agreed. “I have an idea how to accomplish that and more. First you should know there is a part of your situation I am afraid you don’t know. Your betrothal was announced in the Times this morning.”

Patience gasped then had trouble forcing the air back out. “I refused. How could he do that?” She shook her head. “Mr. Bedlow is going to be furious when he learns I ran away. He is a man who cherishes his pride. This will make him a laughingstock. He will never give up. Never!”

“If you’re willing to take a chance, this additional information may not matter but I felt you had a right to know if you didn’t—which you clearly did not. My idea is why I’ve asked the Winstons to sit in on this talk. I’ve purchased a ranch in Texas Hill Country. The Rocking R is near a small town called Tierra del Verde. I am to leave for the Newark, New Jersey, train station in less than two hours. From there I am to go to Philadelphia where I will board the earl’s private car to travel from Philadelphia as far as San Antonio, Texas. You are welcome to join me.”

Patience stared at him—elation warring with fear. Alexander Reynolds, she knew from Amber’s letters, had lived most of his life in the pursuit of one thing—seeing to his cousin’s safety. But Alexander was also a man. Patience couldn’t ignore that basic fact. How could she travel from New York to Texas in a train car alone with a man? Any man? Even Alexander Reynolds?

Mr. Gorham had seemed all that was kind and gentle until their wedding night, when he’d been unable to perform and had blamed her. That night and all the nights after. He’d tortured her nightly, squeezing and pinching her breasts till they’d been bruised purple. Men, once alone with a woman, became animals.