A Texan's Honour

“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.”