A Texan's Honour. Kate Welsh
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