A Texan's Honour. Kate WelshЧитать онлайн книгу.
strode out but Patience couldn’t move. All she could do was stare after him as he moved out of sight.
“What is it, dearie?” Heddie asked.
“He is serious? He finds this amusing?”
“Oh, I doubt that, ma’am,” Winston said and stood. “I believe he’s trained himself to hide his true feelings. Imagine he had to, considering that father of his. Now, we should get at it. Perhaps, my dear,” he said, taking Heddie’s hand and assisting her to her feet, “perhaps you could see to the dust covers and Mrs. Gorham could pack your things.”
“I have a better idea,” Patience said. “Heddie, suppose we unite to do your packing, then we’ll work on the dust covers together, as well.”
“Oh, dearie, I can’t have you doing a servant’s work.”
Patience shook her head, so many feelings bombarding her she couldn’t separate the strands of relief, fear, excitement and sadness from each other. She had allies now. But even they were at risk from her father and Howard Bedlow. She was off on the adventure of her life—about to meld into the vastness of the western frontier. But it was such an unknown. “I have a feeling if I am to become a teacher, I had better get used to doing all sorts of housework. Oh, I cannot wait to be just plain Patience Wex—” She frowned. “I think a new name may be in order, as well, if I am to disappear completely.”
“If I might be so bold, ma’am. You could travel as our daughter. As a member of a family, you would cease to be a lone woman to be singled out in the minds of others. You would be the daughter of the butler and maid at the Rocking R.”
Patience was touched at the chance he’d taken with his pride. She could easily rebuff his offer because, to society’s eyes, his suggestion overreached his station. But she felt only gratitude. She smiled, truly understanding Alexander’s mischievous grin. Her father would never imagine she would trade her place in society to become the daughter of a butler and housemaid. “Winston, you’re a genius. Patience Winston.
I like the sound of it. My monogram handkerchiefs will even make sense. Thank you. What then should I begin to call you both?”
Winston gave her a small smile. “My father was called Papa by my sisters.”
“Papa it is, then. I don’t call my father that nor do I wish to be reminded of him. Thank you, Papa.” She looked at Heddie. “I called my mother Momma. And dear as you are to me for all your help last night and today, I couldn’t call you that.”
“I understand,” Heddie said, laying a hand on Patience’s shoulder. “Mr. Alex told me your mother is gone. Hmm … Mother sounds too formal for the child of a housekeeper.” Her brow furrowed in thought then seemed to blink back tears. “Would you be comfortable with Mum, dearie?”
“I would be honored as long as you don’t feel put upon.”
“Put upon? I am more than happy to hear that name. I was blessed with a girl child but she didn’t live long. It is the greatest sorrow of my life.” Heddie blinked again and sniffed as Winston patted his wife on the back, comforting her.
Seeing the sweet affection the stern butler showed toward his wife, reminded Patience of how empty of tenderness her life had been these past years. She lived with an ache inside her that went so deep she didn’t know how there was room left for anything else.
“We haven’t another moment to waste if we are to be on time for the train. Let’s get ready for our adventure,” Winston said, then tugged on his vest and straightened his spine. He was back to his formal self.
She and Heddie followed without complaint but Patience had to stifle a grin. The old phony wouldn’t fool her again with his cold, stiff demeanor. He was as good and kind a husband to Heddie as any woman could hope for.
Children and a good and kind husband had been Patience’s girlhood dream but they were beyond her now. Her new dream was to live her life in peace—mistress of her own future. If the West could give her that, she would ask no more.
Chapter Three
The train station in New Jersey was awash with activity so Alex hung back watching for anyone who might take note of Patience. Apparently, busy men were blind to beauty. No one but him seemed to see her as she walked up ahead of him, between Heddie and Winston.
Alex couldn’t help but watch the enticing sway of her hips. This trip was going to be torture. He couldn’t help but want her, though he knew full well nothing could ever come of it. He took comfort in the knowledge that once the trip was over she would reside in town and he could avoid her for the most part. Knowing the temptation of her would be removed once they reached Tierra del Verde was his saving grace.
Shamed at the need she created in him, Alex dragged his eyes away. How could he lust after someone so wounded and damaged? Was he no better than his father? He would never forget the pitiful sounds of a young maid his father had cornered in the study before they moved to Adair. He’d been only nine years old and hadn’t believed his father when he’d claimed what he was doing was play, but he’d run when ordered. He’d never seen the girl again.
But he had heard that awful sound many times over the years. The move to Adair had changed nothing. By the time Jamie had banished the bastard from his estate, the only maids still working at Adair had been in their sixties.
Alex forced his mind away from the horrors of the past and onto the mission at hand—to save Patience from a man much like Oswald Reynolds. He watched her and analyzed how she must appear to the people milling about the station. Though he supposed she seemed a bit shy it helped her seem much younger than her twenty-six years. And still no one turned a hair as she passed.
It appeared her disguise was a success. Alex had easily found Patience’s portmanteau in the park but the contents had been of little help to her masquerade because all of her dresses were too elegant to belong to a servant’s daughter. Luckily, Mrs. Winston had remembered that the countess had left some dresses behind in New York. They were from her life as a schoolteacher in Pennsylvania’s coal country before her marriage to Jamie.
According to Mrs. Winston, Patience had donned the faded, homemade garments without the slightest hesitation. Determined to become a new person, for anyone within earshot to hear, she’d even begun calling the Winstons “Mum” and “Papa.” It was actually a brilliant plan for her to adopt their surname.
The last of her disguise hadn’t been as easily achieved as letting out the hem of Amber’s old dresses. Patience’s hair was too unique to be allowed to show. But a little boot polish carefully combed into her hairline had altered the coppery strands to drab brown. With the rest of those glorious tresses tucked up into her straw bonnet, she passed muster.
Still staying alert to any notice Patience drew, Alex continued to scan the crowd. No one paid her any particular attention. She was just a pretty girl traveling with her parents, but he did see someone take note of him. His blood began to pound in his head. As casually as he could, he let his gaze slide back past the man intently studying him. It was the oaf who’d appeared at Jamie’s door earlier in the day.
A few moments later, Alex stopped and purchased a New York Times from a newsboy, allowing the newly formed Winston family to enter the passenger car well ahead of him. He was rather sure no one would think he was a member of their party but the Pinkerton oaf might recognize Winston.
As Alex turned away from the newsboy, the Pinkerton stepped in front of him. “You didn’t say nothing about traveling.” It was an accusation pure and simple. But since Alex had caught the agent’s attention, Patience and Winston had slipped by unnoticed.
Alex blinked then narrowed his eyes in haughty annoyance. “Do I know you?”
“I was at your door just this morning,” the man said. His tone hinted that Alex either wasn’t particularly bright or was hiding something.
Allowing distant recognition to show in his expression,