Last Chance Beauty Queen (18 page)

Caroline ducked into the bathhouse down near the baby pool. She gazed at herself in an ancient mirror whose silvering had begun to deteriorate. The hazy image gave her a start.

Like every mirror, this one was brutal with the truth. She looked exactly like she’d been crying. In addition, the woman staring back at her had lost any pretense of being professional. It was like all her hard work had been swept away by Dash’s Lasso Fiasco—not to mention the forbidden kiss Hugh had just laid on her.

Her stomach flip-flopped, and she got that shivery feeling again. She was in trouble, wasn’t she? That kiss had been amazing. It was going to be hard to forget.

She dampened a paper towel with cold water and pressed it against her cheeks. She couldn’t seriously entertain kissing him again, could she?

No, absolutely not. She had a job to do, and kissing Hugh would get in the way of it.

“Hey, Rocky.” The voice carried an unmistakable note of derision. Caroline turned to find Cissy Warren leaning in the doorway with a smirk on her face that seemed to confirm every single one of Caroline’s self-doubts.

She should thank Cissy for her sudden appearance
down on the pier. Really, the senator’s daughter had probably saved Caroline from making an utter fool of herself. She hadn’t expected to have anything in common with Lord Woolham.

“I told Hugh I would go make sure you were okay,” Cissy said. “You look okay to me. A little windblown and tacky in that dress. But still, okay.”

“Thanks,” Caroline said between clenched teeth as she continued to dab away the ruined mascara on her cheeks.

“You need to keep your mitts off Hugh.”

Caroline said nothing. Cissy was Senator Warren’s daughter, a big mucky-muck in the textile industry, and everyone knew that whatever Cissy wanted, Cissy got. And besides, Cissy and Hugh were both playing in the same league.

“You hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“Good, because I’m telling you that the idea of becoming a baroness has some attraction for me, and according to Daddy’s research, his Lordship is just the kind of man who might be looking for a rich wife.” She let go of a little gravelly laugh and reached into her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She lit up and blew out a plume of smoke.

“And so I’m here to let you know that if you want to follow a Cinderella dream, you should aim for Dash Randall. A poor girl like you should always go for the money. A rich girl like me can go for the impoverished Englishman with the fancy title.”

Caroline turned around. “Impoverished?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve seen his Dunn and Bradstreet rating,
honey, and the man is mortgaged up to here. According to my sources—and they are good ones—he’s planning to marry some rich English aristocrat named Lady Ashton just to get his mitts on her money.”

Caroline stood there thunderstruck. “He’s engaged?”

“Well, no, not officially. But he
is
strapped for cash. That much I know.” Cissy took a drag on her cigarette. “So, you see, he’s not the Cinderella fantasy you think he is. He really does need my help if he’s ever going to build that factory. And trust me, I’ve seen the technical details on his loom. I want that technology.” She stopped and carefully blew out a few smoke rings.

Caroline knew better than to rise to Cissy’s bait. But even so, every muscle in Caroline’s body felt overwound, like a clockwork toy ready to explode into action. Hugh had kissed her like that and he was practically engaged?

He was mortgaged?

He was broke?

Oh boy, she hadn’t seen that one coming.

Cissy and her father finally departed from the barbecue. Hugh declined their offer of a lift back to the boardinghouse. Instead, he turned back toward the pavilion, intent on finding Caroline and taking up that kiss where they had left off.

This plan was, he knew, completely dastardly, seeing as her father owned the land he wanted. But he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to spend some more time with her. She had magicked him, like one of Petal’s little people. He was practically obsessed with her. He wanted to get to know her better.

His search for her didn’t get him very far before Bubba accosted him.

“You lied to me,” Bubba said.

“I did? About what?”

“You said Rocky would come crawling back to me if I danced with Rachel, but instead she took off.”

“She’s gone?”

“Yeah, I heard she left with her momma and daddy. They all took off kind of quick. And I couldn’t just take off after her, you know? I was dancing with Rachel Polk. You can’t just ditch Rachel.”

“I see, and why is that?”

“Because she’s drop-dead gorgeous, and also my truck loan is at the First National Bank, where her daddy is the manager and main loan officer. And besides, a guy missing his front teeth needs to show some respect. To be honest, I’m still amazed she danced with me.” Bubba blushed.

“So,” Hugh asked, “how was it, dancing with Rachel?”

“Oh, she’s real nice. We even talked some, which is amazing since she’s gorgeous, a college girl, and her daddy has money. She’s completely out of my league.” Bubba looked quite forlorn, which wasn’t all that difficult given the state of his face.

“So, you fancy her then?”

“Fancy her?”

“You like her.”

“Well, sure, everyone likes Rachel. She’s sweet and cute and, well…”

“So why don’t you ask her out, to the cinema or something?”

“Rachel Polk? I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

Bubba looked down at his feet.

“She was quite attentive to you on Thursday when I… uh—”

“Busted up my face?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s a good reason not to ask her out. I mean look at me. I lisp now.”

“Look, about that, I am terribly sorry. I suppose I ought to pay for the dentist’s bill, and once the dentist fixes you up, I’m sure Rachel will be happy to go out with you some evening. You should ask her.”

“Right. I’ll get my teeth fixed first.”

“I’ll help. Is there anything else I can do for you? I feel very bad about what happened.”

“Well, I need a good mechanic, but I don’t guess you fit that bill. Dash was going to help me with my demolition derby car, but I told him I didn’t want his help. I told him I was really pissed at him. He took it surprisingly well.” Bubba sounded confused and demoralized.

“I can help. I’ve mended my share of cars and tractors over the years.”

“No shit? Really? A guy like you with a fancy title and all?”

“I’m an engineer. And to be honest, I much prefer cocking about in the workroom than spending time being a businessman behind a desk.”

“I hope what you just said don’t mean what it sounds like.”

Hugh’s cheeks got redder. “Uh, um, I think you yanks would say
fooling around
instead.”

“Well, hell, if you know how to weld, I could sure use your help. C’mon, I’ll give you a ride back to town. You can change your clothes and meet me at the Grease Pit.”

Hugh stood in one of the bays at Bill’s Grease Pit staring down at the dilapidated 1977 Dodge Aspen that was to become Bubba’s chariot for Monday night’s demolition derby. The car didn’t look in very good nick, but then it was about to be smashed to bits, so its appearance didn’t matter, did it?

The headlamps and passenger seats had already been removed, and a spray can paint job consisting of neon pink and green watermelons had been applied. The bonnet was up, exposing a very dirty, large block V-8 motor.

“You know, you don’t really have to help me. I was just trying to make you feel guilty about my teeth,” Bubba said as he strode across the garage bay toward the MIG welder and reached for a welder’s mask. “Besides, when it comes to cars, I’ll bet you’re about as useful as tits on a bull.”

“You’d be surprised what I know about motorcars.”

Bubba turned. “I’ll be surprised if you know your backside from a hole in the ground. And for the record, all that reverse psychology crap is a load of bull, too.”

“Might I ask a question?”

“I’m sure you will have many.”

“Caroline told me about the stunt you pulled twelve years ago.”

“Stunt?”

“You know, the time you asked for her hand in front of the entire town, and she said no. Did you think before
you did that? Because, Bubba, if you want to succeed in wooing a woman, embarrassing her is not the way to go about doing it. Have you ever apologized to her for that blunder?”

“Apologize? To Rocky? Hey, look, she called me a stupid hillbilly. She had nerve doing that, seeing as her folks are not so high and mighty, you know?”

Hugh frowned. “Well, you were stupid if you asked her in front of the whole town.”

“Yeah, I guess that wasn’t my swiftest moment.”

“Well, I’m sorry she spoke her mind to you, but you probably deserved it. After all, you surprised her. I found her crying about the episode this evening.”

Bubba’s eyes got wide. “You did? Boy, I didn’t want her to cry. I love her.” He leaned against the wall. “But I guess I’m going to have to let her go. She’s in love with Dash.” He gave Hugh an assessing look. “And I heard all about how you were dancing with her last night.”

“Yes, I was. She’s a pretty good dancer.”

“Yeah, I know, but see, you’re not the one for her. So you shouldn’t be flirting and buying her drinks, you know?”

“What makes you so sure I’m not the one for her?”

“Because Miriam told her she should be looking for a regular guy, and you’re not a regular guy. That’s the only reason I’m being nice to you. I mean, you and Rocky together is about as silly as me and Rachel Polk.” He pushed off the wall. “So, you wanna help or what?”

“Sure, what can I do?”

“Take a look at the engine and tell me why it’s misfiring on one cylinder. I’m going to concentrate on the safety cage.”

Bubba headed to the steel tubing already laid out for the roll cage. He donned the mask, made a few adjustments to the MIG, and pulled the trigger, igniting a bright blue arc that forced Hugh to look away.

Well, Bubba certainly had a very good point about Caroline, didn’t he? Not that Hugh believed any of that rubbish about Miriam Randall, but Hugh couldn’t escape the fact that he was Lord Woolham, and he had duties and obligations.

Dallying with Caroline was not the same as doing his duty to his aunts or Woolham House. It was exciting to think about kissing her, dancing with her, and maybe doing more—but it was impossible, even if he and Caroline were more alike than they were different.

They came from two different worlds. And he had so many obligations. Letting go of the fantasy was rather depressing, really. But he had to let it go.

Hugh strolled over to the car’s bonnet and started taking off the air filter. He soon lost himself in the job at hand, checking sparkplugs, compression, and carburetion. Nothing cured a lonely heart better than messing about with bits and pieces of machinery.

Hugh’s mobile phone vibrated as he was shucking out of his trousers. It was after two in the morning, local time, and he stank of motor oil and grease.

He checked the caller ID: Aunt Petunia. He weighed whether to answer and decided that avoiding her would be futile. She would likely ring again in a few hours, completely oblivious to the time difference between America and the UK.

He pressed the talk button. “Hello, Aunt Petunia.”

“Hugh, darling.” Petunia’s voice came through over Hugh’s mobile phone so clearly she might have been just down the street, instead of five thousand miles away. He could imagine her sitting at the breakfast table at Woolham House, wearing one of her colorful and slightly ratty hand-knit sweaters and passing bits of bacon off to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, her much-loved Yorkies.

He relaxed back into the feather pillows on the slightly squeaky bed. “Aunt Petunia, have you any idea what time it is over here?”

“Oh, dear, I forgot about that. Did I wake you?”

“No.”

“Good heavens, Hugh, you aren’t suffering from insomnia, are you? An infusion of valerian in chamomile tea is just what you need. I don’t suppose there is anyone there who—”

“I’m not suffering from insomnia, Aunt Petunia. I’m just up late. I was helping a bloke with his car.”

“Oh, that explains it. Hugh, you can’t really expect to impress people if you’re constantly getting yourself all greasy playing with motorcars. Really, dear, you should remember what your grandfather used to say about things like that.”

Hugh didn’t want to be reminded about Granddad. “It’s my own business,” he said in rather a surly voice. “And besides, I owed this fellow some help.”

A little beat of silence on the line told Hugh that Petunia had noted his foul mood. “Well,” she said. “I think someone needs to get some rest.”

“Yes, and I would be in bed were it not for your phone call.”

“I’m sorry, Hugh, dear. But really, we have a problem.”

As if Hugh needed more problems. “What is it?”

“Bascomb has lost the engagement diary for the house.” Bascomb, the steward at Woolham House, was nearly eighty-five and had a bad hip and a wandering mind. Petunia kept him on even though he was entirely useless in keeping the place up. Granddad would have fired him years ago.

Hugh should have fired him years ago, but he hadn’t.

“And why is this a problem?” he asked.

“Well, we’re all in a dither because we’re not sure if we have a wedding here next weekend or not.”

“You don’t. There aren’t any weddings scheduled until September.”

“Oh, good, how did you remember?”

He didn’t want to be unkind, but they only booked three or four weddings a year at Woolham House. Unfortunately, Woolham House’s dated kitchen precluded them from booking any more than that. Weddings were a source of much-needed income for the estate. He would have booked one every weekend, if he could have afforded to fix up the kitchen and hire a staff.

“Well,” Petunia said, nattering on as she often did, “now that worry has been laid to rest. How is your business trip, dear? Have you bought the land you needed?”

“There are complications.”

“Oh, goody, I do like complications. They are so much fun.”

He gripped the phone a little tighter. “I beg to differ. These complications are not fun. And this is not like one of those murder mysteries you love so much.”