The Rocky Mountain Heiress Collection (115 page)

“I thought so.” Abruptly, he rose. “Charlotte, I don’t feel comfortable going any further with this.” He moved toward the door. “Suffice it to say your mother loved you and never wished to cause you any harm. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be going and so should you. Our guests will be wondering where the bride and groom are.”

Charlotte stumbled to her feet and blocked his path. “With all due respect,” she said. “I deserve more than the crumbs you’ve just offered.”

“Crumbs?” Papa gave her a look of great offense. “Have you any idea what you’re asking of me?”

“I think I do,” she answered though she truly did not.

“All right, then. If you wish me to admit it, I shall.” His gaze fell to the desk and he retrieved the letter from her uncle. “Oh, perfect. You’ve correspondence from Edwin.” He held it up. “Why haven’t you opened it?”

“I only just found it,” she said. Papa thrust it toward her. “I assume you’d like me to do that now?”

“Why not?”

She tore open the envelope and allowed the page to spill out into her hand. But instead of a letter, what landed in her palm was some sort of legal document. She tossed the envelope aside and unfolded the page to read it. “It’s a birth record.” She handed it to Papa. “Mine.”

He took the document. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way, Buttercup. I’ve loved you as any father would. You’re my world. My very life.”

Charlotte shook her head. “Of course you have, Papa. But why would Uncle Edwin give this to me? Don’t you find it odd?”

He looked away from her, down at the birth certificate. Slowly, a smile lifted his lips. “You’re mine,” he said softly. “Right here it says I am your father.”

“Of course it does,” she said. “What else would it say?” Her father didn’t answer, and a sick feeling bloomed in Charlotte’s stomach. “Papa?” she whispered.

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Buttercup. It doesn’t matter at all.” He gazed again at the birth certificate. “Where did you find this?”

“It—it was in the book Uncle Edwin gave me at the church on the day of our wedding,” Charlotte said. “Somehow I never noticed it before now.”

“Yes, well, fortunate you found it, isn’t it?” Papa said the words with cheer, but Charlotte knew her father, and something was gravely wrong.

He retrieved the envelope and turned it over. “This isn’t from Edwin. It’s from your grandfather.”

“Papa?” She ran her hand along his arm, then entwined her fingers with his. “If you loved Mama so much, why did you leave her?”

Her father seemed not to hear the question. Or perhaps he merely wished to avoid the answer.

“You wished to open this discussion,” she reminded him. “I find it quite unfair to close it before it’s done.”

“Unfair.” He nodded and tore his eyes from the certificate. “All right. You said you fear what happened to your mother might happen to you. Exactly what happened to her? When I left, she appeared quite happy to see me go.”

This she hadn’t expected. “She missed you terribly.”

“And this you knew as a child of what, three? Four?” He shook his head. “Keep in mind that Georgiana did not bother to mention the existence of a daughter until she arrived on my doorstep in Denver.”

“I—I had no idea.” Charlotte wrapped her arms around her waist and willed away the awful thoughts swirling around her. “But she spoke of you so often, and I always assumed …”

“Never assume.” Papa clenched his fist around the certificate. “I loved her. What in all the years of growing up in my home has told you otherwise?” He paused only to take a breath. “And what in my behavior toward you has ever led you to believe you were not a child who was well loved and cherished?”

“Nothing,” she whispered.

“Then listen carefully, Charlotte,” he said in a tone that only vaguely resembled the man she knew and loved. “What happened to your mother was due to her own actions. Had she wished to come with me to America, she could have. She
chose
to remain behind, promising to follow when I sent for her.”

“Then why didn’t you send for her?”

“I did,” he snapped. “I sent multiple letters to …” His eyes widened, and his face fell. “Because I assumed she was still living at Beck Manor in Northumberland, I sent the letters in care of”—Papa shook his
head—“of my father.” He turned away. “Could it be that Georgiana never received my letters? That she loved me and not …”

He appeared to ask this more of himself than of Charlotte.

“Papa,” she said gently, “my mother loved you until her dying breath. Why else would she seek you out even when she felt you didn’t want to see her?”

Her father’s eyes grew moist. “I asked her about the letters. Demanded that she explain why she’d waited so long. She claimed no knowledge of them, but by then I was certain that she and Edwin …” He looked away. “I dismissed the truth and believed a lie.”

Charlotte looked at the birth certificate crumpled in his hand. “Oh, Papa.”

She reached for her father and tumbled into his embrace. The years fell away, and she felt five years old again, newly arrived in a strange land. Then she was ten trying to be twenty, proving that while Papa was putty in her hands, he still loved her enough to say no to her schemes. And now, today, she was a grown woman, not newly married but about to be truly married.

A knock sounded, and the maid slid the door open just a crack. “Begging your pardon, but Mrs. Beck is looking for you and your pa.”

“Coming,” Papa called. “Tell my wife we’ve been slightly detained, but all is well.” When the maid closed the door, Daniel looked down at Charlotte’s tear-stained face through tears of his own. “All
is
well, isn’t it, Buttercup?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “All is very well.”

Despite her complete disinterest in the celebration, Charlotte couldn’t help but notice that workmen had been busy building bunkhouses, refitting wagons, and generally doing Gennie’s bidding ever since her return from London. Now the bunkhouses were filled to capacity with party guests, as was every spare bedchamber in the main house and the caretaker’s quarters. In addition, Papa had claimed every room in the best hotel in Fort Collins. While Charlotte hadn’t seen the official guest list, she’d heard the servants whispering that there would be several hundred in attendance.

The massive old barn and attached stables had been completely refitted for the occasion. From the outside, no evidence of the opulence of the interior could be seen. The rough wooden exterior had been left exactly as if it was still one of the many abandoned buildings on Papa’s property.

Guests dressed in the required buckskins and baubles—mostly diamonds or pearls—were greeted at the bunkhouses assigned to them and taken to the barn on horseback or by wagon. Stalls where Papa’s prize horses once languished still contained straw, but on top of the fresh layer of straw lay rugs imported from the finest shops in Istanbul and Persia. And rather than horses in residence, the walls between the stalls had
been removed to allow for a chuck wagon and tables laden with the finest cuisine Gennie’s favorite French chef could prepare.

The walls in the stable had been covered in tapestries more fit for a British castle than a Colorado outbuilding, and crystal chandeliers hung from ceilings where bridles and tack were once stored.

All of this Charlotte had heard about but not seen, though she would soon make her entrance and view the extravaganza for herself. Papa escorted her down the hall and into the main foyer where the rustic décor had been bedecked in elegant finery and scented with the fragrance of huge arrangements of white roses and orange blossoms.

“Isn’t it lovely?” Gennie hurried toward them. Dressed in an outfit that could best be described as a cross between Annie Oakley and House of Worth, and wearing a tiara on top of her Stetson, she appeared to be taking the theme of the party seriously.

“Yes, lovely,” Charlotte replied.

Her stepmother gave Charlotte a sweeping glance then turned to Papa. “Didn’t you explain the theme? I know I certainly tried.”

Charlotte looked down at her gown and then back at Gennie. While she hadn’t intended to go along with the silliness of the theme, the fun of it began to appeal to her. “Perhaps I could find something else.”

“Along with you, then,” Gennie said. “Your father and I will wait.”

“No need,” Charlotte tossed over her shoulder, already hurrying up the stairs. “I won’t keep you from the guests any longer. Just please send Alex up if you see him.”

She hurried up to her bedchamber and found the desired additions to her outfit. By the time she’d donned the boots and slipped the fringed jacket over her gown, Charlotte heard a knock.

“Alex?” She hurried to open the door.

Her husband greeted her with a bemused smile. Impeccably dressed
in formal attire, her British groom wore boots and, instead of a top hat, a black Stetson. In his hands he carried a large, beautifully wrapped gift.

“Well now,” he said as his gaze swept across her. “Don’t you look … interesting?”

“Do you like it?” She twirled on her toes, and the pearls clattered. “Perhaps you remember the jacket?”

“I do.” He set the gift aside to admire her. “As I recall, the last time I saw it, I was taking it off of you.”

Charlotte paused to take a deep breath. “Alex.” She touched his sleeve. “I’m counting on that happening again.”

“Are you?”

Was it her imagination, or did her husband’s voice contain a slight, hopeful tone?

Her fingers moved from his sleeve to the back of his arm, then slid up to find the nape of his neck. “I am.”

Alex cleared his throat. “Charlotte, what are you up to?” He held her at arm’s length. “I won’t fall for your scheming.”

“This is no scheme, Alex. I’ve just realized that …” Charlotte paused to consider her words. “I know now that I was wrong.” Her eyes never left his as she slid from his grasp to move closer. “
We
were wrong.” She heard him sigh and tried not to smile. “Marriage is a sacred promise,” Charlotte continued as she once again found the nape of his neck with her hand. She carefully removed his hat and cast it aside.

“It is,” he managed.

“And until today, we had grounds for ending this marriage.” Her eyes locked with his as her fingers traced the line of his jaw.

“Until today?”

“That’s right, husband.” She stepped back and let the fringed jacket fall, leaving only the Parisian gown and the cowboy boots she’d
borrowed from Gennie. And then, with trembling hands, she touched the first button on her gown. “Until today.”

Alex placed his hand over hers. “This is no game, Charlotte, and I’m no one to be toyed with.”

“I do not wish to toy with you,” she said evenly. “I wish to amend my part of the bargain and be the wife I promised before God in the chapel. Is that agreeable to you?”

“Y-yes.” His fingers tightened over hers and he pressed his palm against the small of her back. “Are you certain?” The question drifted across her ear on a warm breath.

She looked up at her husband and, with complete assurance, nodded.

“You’re a menace,” he said as he hauled her against him. “You’ve gone and broken something again.”

Charlotte tilted her head to better see his expression and found him smiling. “And what is that?”

“My will,” he said in a rough voice. “You’ve completely taken me by surprise. Though it is quite the pleasant surprise.”

His kiss was soft, sweet, and ever so welcome. Charlotte’s lips sought his, and the kiss deepened. She rose up on her toes to press closer.

“Wife,” Alex said, “we’ve a ranch full of guests and we’re in danger of missing our celebration.” He held her at arm’s length.

Charlotte offered a pout that seemed to have no effect on her husband. “All right, then,” she said, “but might we make our escape as soon as possible?”

“We might,” he teased in response.

This time there would be no interruption. No rescue by a concerned father or his famous friend. Alex saw to this when he stationed
guards outside the door with instructions to allow no one in under any circumstances.

This time, he wasn’t worried about the trunks he’d seen leaving the house this morning with her name on them, for they were headed far from Colorado and any lingering concerns Charlotte might have about their marriage. First, her trunks would join his aboard ship, and together they would take that long overdue wedding trip to Italy, France, and whatever other locations struck their fancies.

And then they would return to England, but not to the Hambly home at the Heath. Though his mother might complain, Alex intended to begin his life with this woman in a home of their own. A proper palace in which to install his princess. And while he’d continue his work at the Observatory, and not at the University of Colorado as he’d been tempted to do, Charlotte could pursue whatever captured her fancy in the business world.

Once the babies began to arrive, things would likely change. But together they would figure it all out.

Together.