“You can’t leave yet. I got somethin’ to say.”
“Perhaps you could send me a letter. I really must go.”
“Come outside with me. I got lots of plants outside,” he said in a little-boy pleading way.
She hoped she wouldn’t regret this, but then maybe his “lots of plants” was a garden.
It was a garden: acres of fragrant, flowering shrubs and perennials, roses and trees.
“It’s as beautiful as the house,” she said, wishing she could explore the pathways she saw outlined in the moonlight. “What else did you have to say to me, Mr. Taggert? I really must leave soon.”
“You know, I used to see you when you was a little girl. You used to play with Marc Fenton. Course you never noticed me. I was just the stable boy,” he said tightly, then relaxed. “I always wondered what you’d turn out like, what with bein’ a Chandler and playin’ with the Fentons, but you turned out real good.”
“Thank you.” She was puzzled by this talk and wondered where it was leading.
“What I got to say is that I’m thirty-four years old, I got more money ’n I know what to do with, I got a big empty house and an attic full of furniture that needs movin’ downstairs, and I wish somebody’d hire me a cook so me and Edan don’t have to eat our own food. What I need, Miss Houston Chandler, is a wife and I decided I want you.” He said the last triumphantly.
It took Houston a moment before she could speak. “Me?” she whispered.
“Yes, you. I think it’s fittin’ that a Chandler should live in this, the biggest house Chandler, Colorado, will ever see and, too, I had somebody do a search on you. You been to some real fine schools and you know how to buy things. And you know how to give parties, like the ones Jay Gould’s wife used to give. I’ll even buy you some real gold plates if you want ’em.”
Houston was recovering herself, and the first thing she did was turn on her heel and start walking.
“Wait a minute,” he said, walking beside her. “What about a date for the weddin’?”
She stopped and glared at him. “Mr. Taggert, let me make myself perfectly clear. First of all, I am already engaged to be married. Second, even if I weren’t engaged, I know nothing about you. No, I will not marry you, even if you ask me properly instead of making a lordly decree.” She turned away again.
“Is that what you want? Courtin’? I’ll send you roses every day until the weddin’.”
She stopped again, took a deep breath, and faced him. “I do not want you to court me. In fact, I’m not sure I ever want to see you again. I came to see your house and I thank you for showing me. Now, Mr. Taggert, I want to go home, and if you want a wife perhaps you should look at one of the many unattached women in this town. I’m sure you can find another so-called true, deep-down lady.” With that, Houston turned, and if she didn’t quite run toward the front of the house, she certainly didn’t collect any dust.
“Damn!” Kane said when she was gone, and he made his way upstairs.
Edan stood in the upstairs hallway. “Well?”
“She told me no,” Kane said in disgust. “She wants that penniless Westfield. And don’t you say nothin’ about I-told-you-so. I ain’t done yet. Before I’m through, I’m gonna have ‘Lady’ Chandler as my wife. I’m hungry. Let’s go find somethin’ to eat.”
Chapter 4
Houston crept quietly into the Chandler house, making sure the stairs didn’t creak as she tiptoed up them. Mr. Gates trusted Leander completely and Houston was quite unsupervised when she went out with him.
As she slipped into her room, she smiled at her mother, whose frowning face was peeping through her bedroom door. Once inside, the door closed, Houston smiled as she realized that her mother was probably frowning because Houston was supposed to be Blair yet she’d just entered Houston’s room. No doubt her mother’d guessed their game and not liked it.
With a shrug, Houston dismissed her mother’s disapproval. Opal Gates loved her daughters, indulged them, and wouldn’t question what they’d done, or betray them to Mr. Gates.
As Houston began to undress, she thought of her evening. That beautiful house, so empty, so uncared for. And the owner had offered it to her! Of course, he was part of the package, but then every worthwhile gift had some strings attached.
Sitting down at her dressing table, wearing her corset and drawers, she absently applied cold cream to her face. No man had ever treated her as Kane Taggert had tonight. All her life she’d lived in this little town, and everyone knew she was the last of the founding family. She’d grown up being aware that she was some sort of possession to be acquired, as in “no party is complete without one of the Chandlers.” When the prominent, rich Westfields came here from the East when Houston was a child, it seemed to be taken for granted that a Chandler and a Westfield would marry.
And Houston always did as she was told. Blair stood up to people but Houston never did. Over the years Houston had learned to do exactly what was expected of her. Everyone around her thought she should marry Leander Westfield so she set out to do so. Since she was a Chandler, she was expected to be a lady, so she was one.
Dressing like a fat old woman and going into the coal camps was the only unladylike thing she’d ever done, and that was in secret.
Looking into the mirror, she saw fear enter her face as she thought of what Leander would have to say if he found out about Sadie. Leander liked things his own way. He knew exactly what he wanted in a wife: one without surprises.
Standing, she began to unfasten her corset. Tonight had been an adventure, a one-time happening before she gave up all adventures and became Mrs. Leander Westfield.
Taking a few deep breaths once her corset was off, she allowed an irreverent thought to flash through her mind: what would a man like Kane Taggert do if he found out his wife was the driver of a huckster wagon every Wednesday?