Fate's Intervention (21 page)

“
Yes,
Father
,
”
Marcelle blushed beneath Matthew
’
s continued scrutiny and Matthew
’
s
smile increased.

She really is an enigma
, he thought. To risk excommunication from society simply to avoid a trip down the aisle was definitely unusual. Most women of his acquaintance would do anything to make that very trip. He held her gaze, trying to discern any trickery, but her return gaze was without guile. Well, if nothing else, he thought, his life had taken an interesting turn.

H
e had his own
reason
ing to contemplate. Why hadn
’
t he turned
Weatherman
down? Was he really so concerned over the welfare of this strange female that he would put himself in a position of spending time with her day in and day out for the rest of his life? Was he really concerned about losing White Star as a stud to his mares?

As
an
employee,
he had the option of leaving, but as owner of both the house and the business,
and
the provider of a sharp-tongued female. . . .

“
Okay, that
’
s settled then,
”
her
father
was saying.
“
We
’
ll stop by a lawyer
’
s office on our way to dinner and have him draw up the papers,
and then
we
’
ll head on back to the house after the auction tomorrow.
A
greed?
”

“
So
unds good,
”
Matthew
shook
Weatherman
’
s hand again
, finalizing their arrangement
. He wasn
’
t certain exactly what he was letting himself in for, but it couldn
’
t possibly be worse than losing his investment
and
White Star. He glanced over at Marcelle again, who had moved to her
father
’
s side and was helping him with his coat.

Was she
truly
dead-set against marriage, or was there really something wrong with her that made marriage out of the question? She was beautiful, no doubt, so why couldn
’
t she find a husband? It was definitely an interesting conundrum.

Marcelle felt numb. Had she really agreed to live with Matthew
–
in sin after her
father
died
–
simply to prevent a marriage
for which
she had
little
desire? The funny thing is, she did want to get married eventually, but not while her
father
was ill and certainly not to the elderly men
that
her
father
continued to
select
on her behalf
. Someone like Matthew, however, wouldn
’
t be such a bad catch. He
appeared as disagreeable toward marriage as she claimed to be, which meant she probably would spend the rest of her days living under his roof, her body in a constant state of curious desire.

She also knew that by accepting the agreement, shredded reputation and all,
s
he would be making future marriage prospects close to nil. She shouldn
’
t care.
A
fter
all,
her father had made it clear
she didn
’
t have to accept. So why did she care? She shook her head and refocused on her
father
,
unable or unwilling to think about it just now.
An agreement was an agreement and she
’
d uphold her end
.

“
A
re
you sure you
’
re up to leaving the room,
Father
?
”

“
Since
I
’
ve unloaded the burden of marrying you off, dearest,
”
her
father
teased,
“
I feel as if I could do a jig down Main Street and back.
”

“
Well, I
’
d prefer you just expend enough energy getting dressed and walking the short distance to the lawyer
’
s office and restaurant, if you don
’
t mind,
”
Marcelle smiled, attempting to lift her spirits. The decision they
’
d reached appeared to have lightened a heavy burden from her
father
’
s heart, giving him a youthful energy she hadn
’
t seen in months.
P
erhaps what had happened today was for the best. She only hoped so.

Matthew watched the two of them banter while Marcelle helped her
father
get ready, and
couldn
’
t help the smile that played across his face. There was a lot of love in this family and it would be sad when it ended. It reminded him of a happier time in his own life, with Melody and his two boys.

He wasn
’
t comfortable with the arrangement he
’
d made with Peter
Weatherman
, but he hadn
’
t any alternative to present to reject his offer either.
T
he thought of living under the same roof with a beautiful woman, day in and day out, for an undetermined amount of time, without laying a hand on her, was going to be murder on his libido.
Showing restraint would be a simpler matter while her
father
was alive, but after . . . perhaps if he thought of her as his ward. She was almost young enough.

Marcelle couldn
’
t afford to dwell on it. When her
father
made the offer, all sorts of impure thoughts flitted through her mind before she could slam the door against them. Before temptation could strike again
–
opening that door and allowing the thoughts freedom
–
she turned the
mental
key on the mental door and threw it away, deep into the dark recesses of her mind.
From this day forward, she thought, eyeing Matthew from beneath thick lashes, she
’
d think of him only as an employee and friend.

From now on, Matthew thought, opening the door for Marcelle and her
father
, I
’
ll think of her only as my ward and my friend.

Yeah, right!
Both thought simultaneously.

“
It
’
s open!
”
Peter called. He was
hole up
in the study with Marcelle, reluctantly showing her the accounts and going over their finances. He had not raised her to handle the household budget, but with his life clock slowly ticking
his time
away, he had to prepare her to take over
; although should
he continued to feel improved of health, he may just beat whatever it was that had
a
hold
on
him.

Initially, upon returning to the house two weeks ago, he approached Matthew about the accounts, but Matthew had asked that Marcelle handle the books. The horses would take up his time, he said. He also would be busy traveling to solicit clients, delivering horses, training those horses and with the upkeep of his newly acquired property
, f
inding time to do the books would be difficult at best. Matthew also told him that teaching Marcelle the books would give her something more to do with her time besides get into mischief.

Therefore
, for the past week, he spent most of his time giving
Marcelle
lessons in
a
ccounting. Fortunately
,
for him, she was an apt and eager pupil.

Nancy
’
s head appeared in the doorway,
“
Sir
, there
’
s a Miss Blackwarth here to see Miss Marcelle.
”

Peter glanced at his daughter, a quizzical look in his eyes.

“
I didn
’
t invite her,
”
Marcelle said, equally puzzled.
“
S
hould I have Nancy kick her out on her derriere?
”

“
Manners, dearest,
”
her
father
chided.
“
Have Miss Blackwarth wait in the parlor and offer refreshments,
Nancy
. Marcelle will be along
shortly
.
”

“
Yes, sir.
”

“
What do you think she wants here?
”
Peter asked the moment the door closed behind the maid.
“
It
’
s not as if she
’
s ever made a social visit before.
”

“
S
he
’
s of marriageable age, remember?
”

“
You don
’
t really think . . . ?
”

“
Of course I do. Why else would she suddenly take an interest in visiting me? She
’
s never darkened our door
way
before.
Th
ere is one way to find out for certain, now isn
’
t there?
”
Marcelle said, a gleam in her eyes.

“
Marcelle, you will be pleasant to that young lady, do you hear me? Besides, she may have simply been waiting for you to call
on her
first. She is a new neighbor, after all, and properly reared ladies generally welcome the new young ladies in the vicinity. You, however . . . ,
”

“
S
aw her from a distance in town one day, which was plenty enough meeting for me,
”
Marcelle finished.
“
Besides, if she were any kind of lady and not the brainless twit that I take her for, she would have
sought a
friendship with
me
prior
,
and
not use
d
her first visit as a ruse to get to know our gorgeous new ranch hand.
”

“
Gorgeous, is he?
”

“
Never said he wasn
’
t.
”

“
Well, nevertheless, her
reason
for visiting today may be innocent.
”

“
Maybe, but at least have the courage to admit that it crossed your mind that her visit today has to do with Matthew and nothing to do with cordiality, will you?
”

“
I
’
m too much of a gentleman. Now, go and greet your guest and do try to be pleasant as I
’
ve said.
”

Marcelle gave her
father
a quick peck on the cheek,
“
For certain,
Father
. But are you willing to make a small wager . . . ,
”

“
Go!
”

Marcelle laughed and rose from her chair,
“
I
’
ll be back presently to finish going over the books.
”

“
No, no,
”
her
father
said wearily,
“
we won
’
t bother with any more today. I need a rest before supper.
”

“
A
s you wish. Can I have
Nancy
get you a glass of port to help you rest?
”

“
That
would be nice, dear.
”