A Texan's Honour

“On the contrary. Amber calls you a hero. She wrote about the problems in San Francisco and how you saved them all from certain death. I am sorry it cost you so much personally.”

Alex pushed thoughts of that night out of his mind. He relived it often enough in his nightmares. “I did only what I had to do. The question is how may I help you? We—Winston and I—already assume you’ll stay the night.”

She looked at her hands where she’d rested them in her lap. “That is very kind of you but I don’t wish to put you out. Or to cause you trouble. My father is a powerful man.”

“I assure you, powerful men rarely frighten me. I cut my teeth on a father who probably makes yours look like a petulant angry kitten. We seem to have troublesome sires in common. So tell me. What is so forbidding about yours that you would flee him?”

She sighed, staring at him as if weighing her options. The expression in her startling eyes clearly put him in the dubious category of the lesser of two evils. Truly, nothing new to him.

“I am a recent widow. My marriage was more on the lines of a prison sentence—though the prison itself was quite lovely.” She looked down again as if ashamed of her next statement. “My husband was very disappointed in me as a wife. To spite me, he went through his fortune in his last years. He left me penniless at his death. I had no choice but to return to my father. Father blames me for the problems in my marriage and now has arranged another marriage. Soon.”

Alex was incredulous, though why he would be after his treatment at his own father’s hands he did not know. Perhaps because she was so utterly angelic he couldn’t imagine any man, especially her father, not being softened by that endearing grace. “Your father blamed you?”

“My husband spoke ill of me to Father. And my father also holds a great grudge against me. My husband refused to allow me to travel, you see. Impatient to see her only daughter and how I was enjoying the wonderful marriage my father had arranged for me, my mother and brothers came to visit. She departed swiftly when she saw how unhappy I was. They were killed on their return trip. All of them.”

Alex’s own father had certainly been capable of such disloyalty. “And so your father blames you for their deaths and not your husband or the driver of the carriage?”

“My husband was a friend of Father’s and, as I said, he often spoke ill of me so I would have nowhere to go if I tried to flee my marriage. He claimed I’d grown full of myself and that I’d declared Mother would need to visit me if she wanted to see me. At least she left knowing the truth.”

“You said you’re recently widowed. For how long, if I may inquire?”

“Three months.”

He blinked. He knew Americans were less formal in general than the English but not in the upper echelons of society. Bedraggled as she had been on arriving, she was clearly from that group. “And yet, you said he wishes you to marry again soon.”

“The man is another of his friends though quite a bit younger. Mr. Bedlow has long wanted me.” She shivered and, though Alex could tell she tried to hide the reaction, he saw nonetheless.

“Father told me he has arranged our marriage for two weeks from now.”

“Am I to understand you don’t wish this man’s attention?”

She cast her gaze at her knotted fingers. “I refused the marriage, and more specifically the man, so Father locked me in my room. He told the servants they were not to feed me until I agreed to marry Mr. Bedlow. He made a mistake, though. Amber had come into my life at Vassar.” Patience’s smile was just a touch mischievous. “She taught me to climb trees. And the tree outside the terrace of my room has grown quite a bit since I lived there before my marriage. It was an avenue of escape. And I took it. I must admit, as afraid as I was of falling, my greatest fear was that if I fell and therefore failed to make my getaway, the fall might not kill me.”

Alex was truly horrified at the thought of a young woman preferring death to marriage to the man chosen for her. He wondered if his mother had had similar feelings when she’d been told of the marriage his grandfathers had arranged. And now he knew his father had eventually killed her. Or rather Alex had, by sharing the knowledge of his father’s misdeeds with her. If only she hadn’t found the courage to stand up to Oswald Reynolds over the earl’s murder.

If only he’d kept his own counsel.

Just then Mrs. Winston bustled in carrying a tray. “Time enough in the morning to make plans and decisions. Off with you now, Mr. Alex,” she ordered. “And here’s a bit of a snack, dearie. The husband says you fainted. Nothing a bit of soup and tea won’t cure.” She pinned Alex with a hard glare when he didn’t move. “What is it you’d be waiting around for, Mr. Alex?”

After assuring Patience that she’d be safe for the night, Alex stood and left, cursing his own cowardice. Had he not called upon Jamie’s love-able harridan of a housekeeper in the first place, he’d still be sharing a few more moments with their guest. Then he cursed his own stupidity and reminded himself that the only things he felt for Mrs. Gorham were lust and pity and he’d sworn not to let either emotion rule him in the future.

Patience stared after the admittedly handsome Alexander Reynolds as he left, having chivalrously promised to keep watch on the house while she slept. He’d been so kind. And had not even blinked an eye at all she’d revealed.

But really—what had possessed her to blurt out her shameful personal history? She tried to gain solace from the knowledge that she hadn’t spelled out the full spectrum of the degradation her husband had subjected her to.

But the question remained. In spite of all she already knew about Alexander Reynolds from Amber, she was unsure if she could trust him or any man ever again.

“You can trust that one,” Mrs. Winston said.

Patience jumped nearly a foot and her head instinctively snapped around to stare into the kindly face of the housekeeper who’d shooed Alexander away. It was as if she’d heard Patience’s thoughts. Her doubts. “How could you know what—?”

“What you were thinking?” the woman finished, her gray head canted. “Uncertainty is written all over your face, dearie. And I know he’s trustworthy because I’ve seen a lot in the years I’ve worked for the Quality. Their station doesn’t always mean they’re good people. The earl and his cousin are. Now, let’s get you fed and ready for bed, shall we, Mrs. Gorham?”

That name almost always thrust her back into those humiliating days that had ended only three months ago. No matter how much she managed to block out the memories, those awful days were still there waiting to haunt her when she least expected. She’d heard it said that time healed all wounds, but she was sure anyone who believed that had been given a decent amount of time. Instead, she had more poisonous memories to keep the others company. The newer ones, however, hurt worse because they were wounds delivered by her own father’s betrayal.

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.