The Rocky Mountain Heiress Collection (105 page)

“You
are
cranky this morning.” Charlotte tugged at her nightgown and then yawned.

“It isn’t morning,” Alex said. “It’s half past two.”

Charlotte sat up. “What? But then we’ve missed our boat! Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”

“I thought you didn’t want to go to Venice.”

“I don’t,” Charlotte said stiffly, “but if we’re not going to Venice, what’s the hurry?”

“Well,” Alex said slowly, “I spoke with your father at length this morning over breakfast. He understands how homesick you are for Denver, and he’s completely amenable to our postponing our Italian honeymoon in order to return with your family to Denver.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Alex said, “but only if you don’t make us late. The
Teutonic
will sail with or without us, I’m afraid.”

She bounded from the bed, then gave Alex a look. “Out,” she demanded. “Lest you make us late. And call back that maid, would you? I’ll never get my hair to look decent if left to my own devices.”

Dressing in record time, Charlotte stepped out of her bedchamber just as the last of their trunks disappeared with the porters. She slid the cords of her reticule over her wrist, reached for a handful of grapes, and followed Alex into the hallway.

“Wait,” she said. “I’ve forgotten Uncle Edwin’s gift.”

Alex continued walking, his broad back disappearing around the corner. “It’s packed in one of the trunks,” he called. “And so your concern doesn’t keep you awake tonight, the Hambly tiara is on its way back to the bank vault in the capable hands of my solicitor.”

“That thing I hadn’t worried about,” she said as she caught up to her husband.

The viscount spared her a swift glance. “That
thing
is a valuable heirloom, Charlotte. Handed down and prized by the Hamblys.”

“Prized by the Hambly men, perhaps.” She rubbed her still-sore temple. “Likely the Hambly women who’ve worn it would have a different opinion.”

Alex sighed. “Apparently it is the curse of Hambly men to marry women who have no trouble voicing their ‘different opinions.’ Wives in this generation and the previous one certainly bear out the theory.”

“Yes, well, I won’t be your wife long enough to remember,” Charlotte snapped. “So rest assured whatever opinions I hold, I shall keep them to myself in the future.”

“Oh, that’s rich,” he said, his tone sarcastic and his expression dour. “I doubt you’ve ever held an opinion that you haven’t shared.”

Charlotte adjusted the strings on her reticule, as much to loosen the tight knot as to have something to do other than look at the man beside her.

Thankfully, Alex did not comment further. He seemed to have lost interest in any conversation at all, leaving Charlotte to her own thoughts. As much as she’d almost enjoyed sparring with the viscount in the past, being wed to him was another thing altogether. Hopefully the situation would be remedied soon. A man like Alex Hambly should be married to a woman who wanted to be his wife.

As their carriage rumbled toward the docks, Charlotte slid her groom a covert glance and found him studying her. “What?” she asked.

“I believe your father is on to us.”

She shook her head. “What do you mean?”

Alex toyed with his cuff. “I think he suspects our plan to have the marriage annulled.”

“Because we’re not going to Italy as planned?” Charlotte shrugged. “I can remedy that. I’ll just tell Papa I wanted to get whatever Gennie’s
planning over with before I considered any further travel. That’s certainly the truth.”

The last thing Charlotte wished was to stand among her Denver friends as the fraud she knew herself to be. Better to get it behind her rather than languish away on an Italian honeymoon, dreading it.

“We should have anticipated that my father would be suspicious. We did agree to this ridiculous plan of his far too easily.”

“Perhaps,” Alex said. Silence once again fell between them.

“So, Alex,” Charlotte finally said, “how did you come to have breakfast with my father this morning? Wouldn’t he expect you and I to be …”

An image of the two of them entwined beneath the silken bed linens she’d recently vacated rose unbidden. She pushed it away but not before heat flushed her cheeks. Alex’s grin did nothing to help her embarrassment.

“Actually,” he said, “he sent a note.”

“My father invited you and I to breakfast the morning after our wedding?” She leaned back against the cushions to absorb the news. “You’re right. He’s on to us.” Charlotte let out a long breath. “Did he say anything that hinted at what he’s planning?”

Alex grinned. “I didn’t give him time. I arrived at the appointed time looking, shall we say, a bit worse for wear and excused myself after a few minutes, pleading extreme angst at being separated from you.”

“You did not,” she said with a chuckle.

“I did.” When she glanced his way, Alex lifted one dark brow. “Whether he’s on to us or not, I did at least throw him off track.”

“And you got us passage home on the
Teutonic
. As I recall, it’s a lovely ship.”

“Charlotte, he already had passage booked for us when I arrived at the breakfast table.”

“My father bought our tickets home?” She shook her head. “Why?”

Alex’s look was answer enough.

“All right, then,” she said. “I shall thank him when I next see him.”

“That won’t be long,” Alex responded. “Remember that he and the rest of your family are on the same ship.”

Charlotte thought a minute. She touched Alex’s sleeve. “Don’t you see what an excellent opportunity this is?”

Her groom looked down at Charlotte’s hand until she pulled away. “No, I don’t,” he said.

“Papa will expect us to behave as two strangers forced to wed.”

“Which we basically are,” Alex interjected.

“We are not. I do not kiss strangers, Alex.” Again the heat rose in her cheeks. She hid it by looking away until the feeling passed. “So,” she continued when she could manage it, “if Papa hopes to catch us trying to escape the marriage, then we shall do the opposite and behave as if we wish to be married.”

Alex shook his head. “That doesn’t make a bit of sense. How can we then claim grounds for annulment?”

“This way Papa won’t expect it, and thus he will have no plan against it.” She grinned. “Isn’t that brilliant?”

“Brilliant,” he echoed, though Charlotte couldn’t tell whether she heard sarcasm or enthusiasm in his tone.

“First lesson in business, Alex,” she said as she spied the entrance to the docks and the twin smokestacks of the
Teutonic
ahead. “I learned at Wellesley that a good plan takes the competition by surprise.”

“But this is your father,” Alex said. “And we’re not planning some business transaction.”

“Actually,” she said sweetly, “we are.” Charlotte paused. “It’s a contract between companies. Just signatures on paper.”

But as she said the words, Charlotte felt the slightest twinge of conscience. It was true, wasn’t it? Paperwork didn’t make a marriage. Only the Lord could make a marriage. And surely a sovereign God would never join her in marriage to Alex Hambly.

Surely.

Diamonds were everywhere: circling his wife’s throat and wrist, dangling from her ears, and even woven into her hair in the form of a crescent-shaped comb. More stones of a lesser quality decorated the front of her gown and, to Alex’s amusement, dangled from her sleeves like the adornments on his mother’s favorite lampshade.

Charlotte reached for her perfume bottle, and the resulting collision of sun with jewels sparked a galaxy of lights that danced around her. The scent of Violette de Parme filled the air, and Alex’s heart seized. Were she not his unwanted wife, his forced companion, Alex might have allowed himself to lose his heart to her.

Instead, he held his heart in close check, just as he held his feelings in these close quarters. Though Charlotte pretended not to notice upon their arrival, Alex was keenly aware that this suite contained only one bed.

No place to seek solace from the woman who dogged his musings even as he slept. There was no claim of love in his addled thoughts, and no wish to find any such emotion. Rather, his American bride rose unbidden in Alex’s musings to taunt him not only with what he had, but also with what he would never possess.

And he wanted neither. At least that was what he told himself.

A life spent with Charlotte Beck would be a life spent in perpetual turmoil. It would most certainly be the exact opposite of the sedate life of research he desired, with only the occasional trip to present his findings at conferences before others who valued the study of the stars to interrupt his solitude.

Yet when he saw her profile—the upturned nose, the lashes that dusted high cheekbones, the lips he’d kissed—he was powerless to forget how very much she both irritated and interested him.

In her presence, at least when he could forget the ire she drew when she spoke, Alex felt like a bee drawn to honey, stars to constellations, galaxies to—

“You’re staring again.”

Alex snapped to attention and realized Charlotte was looking at him. “What? Oh, sorry,” he muttered. “I wasn’t staring. I was … I was contemplating galaxies and constellations.”

“I see.”

She swept into a standing position and smoothed the front of her dress, leaving the bow decorating the back askance. He didn’t dare adjust it. While his eye preferred symmetry and balance, his hands knew to keep their distance from Charlotte, especially given the burning bustle debacle.

Charlotte slid the jeweled ties of her reticule over her gloves and into the crook of her arm. “Show time,” she said with an impertinent grin.

“Show time?” Alex echoed.

“Yes, of course.” Charlotte leaned down to look once more into the mirror, and her bow tilted even further. Ignoring it was impossible.

“You’re crooked.” Alex gestured to the general vicinity of the bow. “Though thankfully not on fire.”

“Funny.” She righted the bow. “Show time,” she explained, “is what Colonel Cody says when presented with a room of people he doesn’t know.” She tossed her head. “Or even when he does, actually.”

“I see.” Alex had almost forgotten his bride’s connection to the Wild West star, at least until the fellow showed up at their wedding. It appeared the man was practically family, which impressed Alex’s mother immensely.

Charlotte walked toward the door then turned to face him. Alex barely managed to halt his steps in time.

“Remember, we need to make Papa and Gennie believe we’re in love. It’s the only way.” Impossibly green eyes peered up at him and, for a second, Alex thought he saw a tiny spark of fear. “If Papa thinks we’re acting, he will know something’s up. And if he knows something’s up, he will move to stop us.”

“I still fail to see—”

She silenced him by pressing her finger to his lips. He looked down at the ruby he’d placed on her left hand just yesterday, which now glittered atop her gloves.

“Show time,” she said again. “Say it with me.”

“Show time,” he echoed just a beat behind her.

“That’s better.” Charlotte studied him for a moment as her golden brows wrinkled. She reached up on tiptoe to straighten his collar, bringing her far too close for comfort. “There, now you’re ready.”

Though he was far from ready, Alex followed two steps behind his wife as she led the way.

“Have you sailed the
Teutonic
before?” she asked over her shoulder. “It’s positively lovely, isn’t it?”

“No.” He watched the bow bob its way back into crookedness. “And yes, lovely.”

The trip to the dining room proved thankfully brief, and Alex was able to keep his mind occupied with things other than his wife. Ahead, he heard the low hum of voices and the scrape of a bow against violin strings as the orchestra struck up the first notes of a Vivaldi concerto.

Charlotte slowed her brisk pace to primp in front of an oversized mirror framed with ebony likenesses of Zeus and Apollo. Alex stood back, not to watch, but to pray for the strength to get through the evening. Daniel Beck would be a hard man to fool.

Alex patted his pocket. The wedding gift he’d brought was a joke meant to make a point. A bauble plucked from the treasure trove of his mother’s jewels, which Alex had bought back piece-by-piece over the past four years. When the duchess offered up anything in her vault as a gift for his bride, Alex easily settled on the pearl and diamond piece. Under the circumstances, however, he’d have to be much more clever—and more public—in its presentation.

Charlotte motioned for him to join her, and Alex complied. Ahead, the double staircase leading to the dining room beckoned.

“Just as a reminder,” she said, toying with the walnut-sized diamond at the center of her necklace, “anything said or done aboard ship is completely in the interest of—”

A well-dressed couple approached. Charlotte turned a radiant smile toward them.

“Good evening, darling,” the fur-bedecked matron said, enveloping Charlotte in a polite embrace. “I heard all about your wedding. What a wonderful event it must have been. Are your parents here?” Her portly companion stood a few feet away and seemed to be studying Charlotte’s bow, though from his expression he found no flaw in its lack of symmetry or poor position.