The Rancher's Temporary Engagement. Stacy HenrieЧитать онлайн книгу.
locked away. It had been at a masquerade ball, several months after his father’s death, when he’d discovered the woman he’d loved in intimate conversation with his oldest brother. He’d confronted them, only to learn Beatrice had thrown him over.
A mutual friend confided to Edward later on that Beatrice had cared for him, but a sudden and tragic misfortune with her family’s finances had made her anxious to marry someone with the money to rescue her relations from ruin. Edward still felt the sting of rejection, though. Especially when his brother and Beatrice were married six months later. Two weeks following the wedding, he’d climbed aboard a ship bound for America.
“Are you always this obstinate, Mr. Kent?” Maggy asked, jerking his thoughts back to the unpleasant scene unfolding on his porch.
She was accusing him of obstinacy? He climbed the steps in an effort to keep her from barging her way inside. An action he wouldn’t put past her. “Are you always this persistent?”
Her eyes brightened with amusement. “I wouldn’t be one of McParland’s best detectives if I weren’t.”
Running a hand over his face, Edward blew out an exasperated sigh. Clearly he wasn’t going to convince this woman that he was done employing Pinkerton detectives. But if she were to prove her own inabilities...
“I will make a deal with you. You find some clue your predecessor did not, and I will hire you as my new detective.”
Instead of looking defeated, a thrum of energy seemed to radiate from her. “How long do I have?”
“Until this evening.” Then he’d kindly provide her with supper and a room for the night before sending her back to Colorado.
Undeterred, she stuck out her hand. “Agreed.”
Edward eyed her hand, feeling a bit foolish at the idea of shaking it as if she were a gentleman. Then again, she’d been insisting since he stumbled onto her in the drive that he take her seriously. He wondered what had caused her to appear so upset earlier. Her expression no longer held any of the vulnerability it had upon first glance. In contrast, she raised her eyebrows again, challenging him.
“Very well. Welcome to the Running W,” he said, shaking her hand. He even managed a polite smile. After all, he felt quite confident she wouldn’t be unpacking. This would be her first and final day on the ranch.
* * *
“Should I bring my trunk inside?” Maggy gestured to her luggage. The sooner she started on her investigation, the better. She could tell by the determined gleam in Edward’s gray eyes that he thought he’d given her a test she couldn’t pass. And she couldn’t wait to prove him wrong.
He frowned but moved to heft her luggage anyway. “I suppose we shouldn’t leave it out here unattended.”
Maggy opened the door for him, then followed him inside. The marble-inlaid hall tree where he hung his cowboy hat didn’t surprise her in its tasteful opulence, nor did the polished wood paneling of the entryway where he set her trunk. The ranch wouldn’t be the target of sabotage if it weren’t doing well.
“May I ask you some questions about the ranch?” Or would he see that as a violation of the conditions of his test? Was she supposed to figure everything out unaided? She wouldn’t interview the staff or hired hands yet, since she wasn’t sure which role she’d be playing for the duration of her stay here.
And she would be staying.
Stepping to the open doorway on the right, which appeared to be a parlor, Edward motioned her inside. “You may ask questions but only of me. If you’ll take a seat, I’ll see that my housekeeper prepares some tea for us.”
Maggy suppressed a grimace at the promised tea as she entered the parlor. Tea was a drink for timid, rich women. Not a female detective in the throes of an investigation.
The parlor was as tastefully and richly furnished as the hallway. A sofa and low table sat in front of the window, while a pair of armchairs stood before the fireplace. A large painting ruled over the mantel. Maggy went to stand before it. The green countryside might have resembled the one beyond the house, except there were no mountains and a man with a cart in the foreground didn’t look like a rancher. Perhaps it was an image of Edward’s native England.
Turning to view the other side of the room, her eyes widened when she saw the crowded bookshelves that stood on either side of the doorway. Maggy hurried over to inspect them up close. She’d never seen so many books in a private home before. She ran her fingers along the smooth surfaces of the spines, wishing for a moment that she could select a pile and curl up with them in one of the chairs.
“Do you like to read?”
She startled, as much at being caught staring as at not having heard Edward reenter the room. Spinning to face him, she knocked a notebook off one of the side tables. “Sorry about that.” She picked it up from where the book had fallen open on the carpet. A list of names covered half the page, which Maggy couldn’t help perusing. She’d learned long ago that anything might provide clues. “What’s this?”
“It’s a list of those who’ve borrowed a book from me this year.” Edward took the notebook from her, shut it decisively, and returned it to its place on the table. “Please, have a seat.”
Maggy sat in one of the armchairs, while Edward took the other. “Tell me what’s been happening at the ranch the last few months,” she said in a no-nonsense tone.
He rested his boot on his knee as he settled back in his seat. “Didn’t the other detective give you a report?”
“Yes, but I would like to hear it directly from you. Maybe there’s something he missed.”
His earlier frown made another appearance. “Of course there’s something he missed—he didn’t find who’s trying to destroy my ranch.”
She waited, knowing the importance of silence and patience. After another moment, Edward pushed out a sign of resignation.
“Very well. It began with a note...”
For the next while, Maggy listened carefully as Edward described the anonymous notes he’d received and the various acts of damage to the ranch. Fences had been broken, tack had mysteriously gone missing, and several feed orders never arrived. Four horses had gotten out several days earlier after another breach in a pasture fence, and the wranglers hadn’t been able to find them this time. Edward’s men rotated serving as guards at night and one patrolled the property during the day, but the new responsibilities meant less help around the ranch during daylight hours.
“Do you trust your employees?” she asked when he’d finished.
He nodded, but it didn’t radiate as much confidence as his demeanor earlier. “I do... I did. At this point, other than my housekeeper, who came here from England with me, I’m not certain who to trust.”
A tug of compassion pulled at her. “You can trust me, Mr. Kent.”
“I can, can I?” The briefest of smiles touched his lips. “I suppose we shall see.”
“Your tea, sir.” The housekeeper appeared to be in her late forties or early fifties. She had gray hair and carried a tray in hand, but she stopped inside the doorway when her gaze fell on Maggy. “Oh, dear,” she admitted, her British accent as strong as Edward’s. “Had I known you had a female visitor, I would’ve used the good china.”
Edward lowered his foot to the floor. “This is not a female visitor, Mrs. Harvey.”
“Then what would she be, sir?” The older woman bustled forward and set the tray on the low table. “She’s female and a visitor, is she not?”
Maggy swallowed a laugh at the woman’s clever retort.
“This is Mrs. Harvey, my housekeeper.” He waved at the older woman, then at Maggy. “Mrs. Harvey, this is Maggy. She’s here to...to possibly help with the trouble around the ranch.”
“What