The Bad Luck Wedding Night, Bad Luck Wedding series #5 (Bad Luck Abroad trilogy) (35 page)

"A jubilee bustle!" Melanie exclaimed. "I've heard a shop is selling them, but I didn't believe any lady would have nerve enough to wear one."

Aurora nodded. "Especially to this, the grandest event of the Season. What made you do such a thing?"

Melanie wrinkled her nose as if in defense of a displeasing odor. "I think it's rather tacky, myself. I know the jubilee is all the talk this spring, but one would think if you had to wear a musical bustle, you could have found a song in keeping with tonight's good luck theme. 'His Lucky Love Charm' would have been a perfect choice."

Maribeth McBride lifted her voice and called to her friends at the other table. "I thought that was an American song. You know, 'Land of the pilgrim's pride.' "

Her sister Katrina said, "For some reason, when I first heard the musical notes rising from her seat, I expected to hear the fanfare announcing a horse race."

"Really?" Maribeth asked. "Thoroughbreds or nags?"

A couple of gentlemen offered up, "Thoroughbreds."

Simultaneously, the majority of the ladies joined Maribeth in declaring, "Nags."

Lady Steele, stiff as an ice carving, glared at the Ladies Ross. As she drew in a breath, then exhaled it in a rush, Sarah could almost see the cracks forming in the woman's composure.
My oh my. This will certainly cause talk.

"How dare you... you... menaces. I wish to speak with you in private, Lord Weston. Please, follow me."

"Menaces!" protested Emma McBride. "Hey, that's our nickname."

The amusement on Nick's face quickly transformed to annoyance at Lady Steele's summons, and seeing it lifted Sarah's spirits, as did witnessing the glare he shot his sisters. It told her he, too, suspected they were behind this quite entertaining prank. The quick grins and winks the Ross sisters shared with the McBride Menaces as their uncle followed his paramour out into the garden confirmed it.

Sarah wanted to lift her glass in a toast. Before she could, Trace McBride narrowed his eyes at his second oldest daughter and scolded, "You gave me your word."

"It wasn't us. I promise."

Katrina McBride agreed. "I know it's hard to believe, but we are totally innocent, Papa."

"You knew nothing about this?"

Maribeth winced. "Well, in the strictest interpretation of the question, Papa, we might have learned a detail or two beforehand. But we had no active role in the plan's conception or implementation."

Trace McBride's gaze swept around the nearby tables, pausing to light upon the sparkling countenances of Aurora and Melanie Ross. Addressing his daughters, he said, "You girls have made friends, haven't you?"

"We like Sarah's sisters-in-law very much."

The maligned father sighed and said, "We'll discuss this later."

Tye met Sarah's gaze. "You should have warned us, Sarah. Despite the fact they've passed on their mischief-making mantle to their younger brothers, the Menaces still know how to cause trouble. It looks as if they've found more of their kind in your husband's sisters. You must feel as if you've never left home."

"That's not true," Sarah protested as a wave of homesickness washed through her once more. "You know I love your Menaces and your Monsters and Claire and Tye's children, too. I've missed them desperately while I've been away. Why, look how much Katie has grown just in the months I've been gone."

Trace's mouth lifted in a wry grin. "You should see the changes that have happened in town during the last few months. You'd be shocked at the amount of construction going on. Three buildings I designed should reach completion this month."

"I can't wait to see them," Sarah said truthfully. Then, catching the two-fingered wave Aurora sent toward Charlotte, she felt a pang in her heart and once again felt torn in two. "Have you ever considered moving to England, Trace?"

"What?"

"Never mind. Here comes Lord Endicott with our supper."

Trace nodded. "Looks like he loaded up on the black-eyed peas. I wonder what he's needing to feel lucky about?"

"Maybe he simply likes black-eyed peas."

He shuddered and muttered, "Pig feed. Should never have made it to the supper table, if you ask me. And by the way, I know a person is supposed to eat black-eyed peas on New Year's to bring good luck in the coming year, but I didn't know the lucky aspect extended beyond the New Year."

"Don't be picky, McBride." She beamed a smile up at her supper partner and said, "Thank you, my lord. I suddenly find myself famished."

"Entertainment often does that, I understand," the man said, casting a wry glance toward the empty chairs recently occupied by Nick and Lady Steele.

Sarah smiled and took a bite of cold chicken. Trace McBride sent her a knowing look, then said, "Lady Weston and I were just talking about all the building taking place back home. Didn't I hear that you are involved in some of that?"

Lord Endicott hesitated slightly, then set down his fork. "I work for Daniel Waggoner at the Bar C Ranch. I'm in England to do a bit of horse trading on his behalf."

At that the conversation turned to horses, and while Sarah did share a Texan's natural interest in good horseflesh, her attention continued to wander to the french doors leading out into the garden. What was keeping Nick?

She picked at her food and exchanged small talk with the McBride girls until they excused themselves to join Nick's sisters in the ladies' retiring room. A few minutes later, Trace also left the table, stating a desire to check on Jenny and make certain she was eating right.

"Another child?" Sarah asked, delighted at the prospect.

Though Trace grinned sheepishly, nothing could hide the sparkle of pride in his eyes. "Yes. After three boys in a row, we're all hoping for another girl to spoil."

"You do such a fine job at that," she teased, but inside her heart was aching. She wasn't certain exactly why it was aching, either. She was happy for Jenny and Trace. Thrilled for them. But at the same time, she couldn't help but feel a yearning for her own child.

The child Nick had offered to give her.

If she was brave enough to give up her home and the dearest friends on earth for a man who had left her once before.

She swallowed a groan.

"The meringues are delicious, aren't they?" Endicott commented, surprising Sarah until she looked down at her fork and saw that she'd taken a bite of the sweet dessert. "And I think baking them into the shape of a four-leaf clover was a clever idea. You do excel at entertaining, Lady Weston. London's ladies will be green with envy."

Something in his voice, some insistent note that had nothing to do with the words he'd said dragged her gaze from the garden door, her thoughts away from Nick and back to Lord Robert Endicott. The light in his eyes was determined, almost desperate, and suddenly she was forcibly reminded of Nick's suspicions about him. "What do you want of me, sir?"

The question took him aback. "Um, what do you mean?"

All the plans for the ball and wedding to follow had pushed concern over the alleged assassination plot to the back of Sarah's mind. She'd never honestly believed any truth to the rumor existed, but faced with Lord Endicott's obvious discomfort, she had to wonder. "Sir, may I speak frankly?"

"Please do."

"What is your interest in me? It's obviously not a romantic one. I'm not so foolish that I would miss that entirely. But I have seen more of you since my arrival in London than in months back home. Why is that?"

He sat back in his chair. She'd caught him unaware. Twice he opened his mouth to speak, then abruptly shut it. Finally, he said, "Would you care to take a walk in the garden, Lady Weston?"

Sarah licked her lips as uneasiness trickled through her. Nick suspected this man of being a killer. "No, I think it best we stay right here for the moment."

Among a crowd.

He nodded, looked away, then visibly gathered his forces. Sarah braced herself. Was he about to give her a clue about the plot to kill the queen? Was he going to ask something of her that would compromise her morals in regard to God and country? Would he tell her something that might threaten her life?

Lord Endicott said, "Lady Weston, I want to buy your house."

"Excuse me?" If he'd asked her to stand on the table and dance a jig she would not have been so surprised.

The Englishman leaned forward, his expression earnest. "Your house. I want to buy it. I'll pay a premium price for it. George Larsen at Fort Worth National Bank has promised financial backing for a project I am working on with Robert Cameron, the immigration agent for the Fort Worth and Denver Railway."

All right. He meant the house in Fort Worth, not one of Nick's properties. He meant the beautiful little house with the big front porch and the prettiest yellow rosebushes in town. It was the house she'd grown up in, the one her mother had given her after she'd remarried, and the only place she'd ever thought of as home. Lord Endicott was a fool to think she'd give it up.

She'd have to give it up if she stayed with Nick.

Sarah's voice betrayed a slight tremble as she asked, "You want to buy my home? Why?"

"For the Texas Spring Palace."

"A saloon!" she croaked.

"No, not at all. The Texas Spring Palace will be a magnificent agricultural exhibition hall displaying all the natural products of Texas under one roof. It will be a grand building, something out of a fantasy world, with wheat, cotton, and other Texas products covering the entire structure. I was excited to see Mr. McBride here tonight, in fact, because we hope to secure his architectural services to design the structure."

"What does this have to do with my house?"

Endicott didn't reply to that, but continued with his sales pitch. "Inside the exhibit hall, we want settlers and investors to be able to study samples of most grains, grasses, fruits, vegetables, and minerals produced in the state. Those interested in aesthetic pursuits will also be encouraged to tour floral, historic, scientific, and art exhibits."

As Endicott spoke, his enthusiasm grew and he reminded Sarah of some of these young Englishmen when they talked about acquiring their first coach and four.

"The Texas Spring Palace we intend to build will surpass the Sioux City Corn Palace and Toronto Ice Palace in both novelty and artistic genius. It will serve as an educational, cultural, and entertainment center for Texas residents and guests. We expect to advertise the fair throughout the nation, and special trains will bring visitors to our fair city from as far away as Boston and Chicago. The plan is for the palace to attract settlers and investors to Texas."

"That sounds like quite an undertaking. What, may I ask again—and I trust you will answer this time—does my house have to do with it?"

"I'll explain just exactly what your home has to do with the project. You see, Lady Weston, I've quietly lined up Fort Worth's civic leaders and newspapers to support the plan. Local railroads have agreed to cosponsor the project. We'll have band concerts, vocal performances, political and religious orators, dances, and sporting events. It will be the grandest event Fort Worth has ever seen. And..."—he paused for effect—"it will enable Fort Worth to put Dallas to shame."

"My house, Lord Endicott. My house!"

He drew a deep breath, then exhaled in a rush. "Your home is on one of our proposed building sites, Lady Weston. I've been able to purchase or arrange to purchase every other piece of land we'll need. Our target for the opening of the Texas Spring Palace is June of 1889."

"You want to tear down my house?"

"If you'd like, we could attempt to move it."

"But I love my house. I love my roses. It's my home."

Endicott sighed. "So I understand. But think of all the good you'll be doing. Think of your civic duty."

"My mother planted those rosebushes."

"I'll transplant them myself."

Sarah sat back in her chair, her arms folded, her head tilted to one side as she studied her supper partner. Better to dwell upon this problem than worry about why Nick had yet to return from the garden with Lady Steele. "You truly care about this project, don't you?"

He nodded. "It's my life's goal."

"Buying that horse was only an excuse for you to follow me to Britain, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

Nick needs to be here to hear this. Where was he? She was having to do his job for him while he was off with another woman. "Do you harbor any deep-seated resentments against the inheritance laws of England and the aristocracy such a system has created?"

"No," he said slowly, frowning as if struggling to follow her train of thought. "Not to any great extent. I will admit to preferring the opportunities afforded a man in the American system, and while I have resented my status as a remittance man over the years, I now consider the day I sailed from England as being the luckiest day of my life."

I thought so. He has nothing to do with any assassination plot. He's too busy trying to build a seed pavilion.

That decided, Sarah still had a question or two. "But if you came all this way to convince me to sell you my property, why didn't you simply come out and ask? Why ah the afternoons in my parlor pretending to court me?"