The Emperor's New Clothes (11 page)

Tye narrowed his eyes. “‘They laugh that win.'
Othello
.”

“Hell, Tye.” Big Jack chuckled. “I'm impressed. Did you pick up that Shakespeare lingo in school?”

“Some of it.” Tye shrugged. “I liked what I learned then. But”—his gaze never left hers—” I've found a new interest in it lately. I actually sat down with a book last night and did a bit of catching up.”

“How nice,” she muttered to herself. Just what she needed. A cowboy who quoted Shakespeare.

“Personally, I have no idea what some old English writer might have said,” the sheriff said, tossing down his cards. “But I say a game of poker without something on the line is like watered-down whiskey. It looks
good, but it just ain't the same.”

“It is a shame we can't play for some kind of stakes.” Ophelia's manner was casual, but hope surged within her.

“Absolutely not.” Big Jack shook his head firmly. “Why, Lorelie would—wait a minute.” He cast her a speculative look. “I have an idea for a little wager.”

“What kind of wager?” the banker asked.

“Well, now's as good a time as any to announce it, I guess.” Big Jack leaned back in his chair and surveyed the room. “Lorelie, come over here for a minute.”

The little blonde bustled to his side. “Jack?”

“Lorelie, darlin', you and the rest of this here town are so dad-burned determined to become civilized and respectable that the countess and I came up with a way, a relatively painless way, to do just that.”

“Oh?” Lorelie's glanced flitted from Jack to Ophelia and back.

“It seems the countess is having a few money problems—”

Ophelia smiled sadly in her best down-on-her-luck manner.

“—and she's agreed to sell me her estate and her title.” Big Jack's grin could have stretched across the entire territory of Wyoming. “I'm going to be the Count of Bridgewater.”

Behind her, Montgomery emitted something that sounded like a cross between a choke and a laugh.

“And you, darlin' Lorelie, are going to be a countess.” Could Jack's grin get any bigger?

“Oh, my.” Lorelie's eyes widened with delight. “A countess?”

“Yep.”

“My goodness.” Lorelie stared with astonishment. “A countess? Me?”

“Hard to believe, isn't it?” Tye said through gritted teeth.

“You'll make a lovely countess,” Ophelia said, hoping Tye would resist from putting his two cents in. Gad, the man could ruin the whole deal if he didn't keep his obvious reservations to himself. The thought of simply shooting him and taking care of the problem of his vexing presence once and for all again flittered through her mind.

“Do you really think so?” Lorelie turned excited eyes toward Ophelia. “But, oh, my dear, what will you do?”

Ophelia shrugged in a gesture of noble resignation. “I shall carry on with my life as best I can. As much as I hate to admit it publicly, my financial straits are such right now that if I do not my sell my beloved home, I shall surely lose it to creditors in the near future anyway.”

“If you're certain of your decision…” Doubt colored Lorelie's words.

“Oh, I'm certain. I'm very certain,” Ophelia said quickly. Goodness, between Lorelie's sympathy and Tye's suspicions, this deal could turn sour if she didn't move fast. Her words came out in a rush. “You will love it. The countryside is beautiful.”

“We won't be going over there but once a year,” Big Jack said with a quelling glance at his wife. She nodded absently, intent on Ophelia's description.

“Rolling hills, lush green grass…” What did England look like anyway? Surely, it must be lovely, but never having been there…Still, in her mind's eye she could see. “Fields of spring flowers that seem to go on forever. And the castle—”

“Castle?” Big Jack's eyes widened with surprise.

“You didn't tell me there was a castle,” Lorelie said, enthralled.

Big Jack shrugged. “I didn't know.”

“Oh, didn't I mention the castle?” Ophelia said. “How could that have slipped my mind?”

“One wonders,” Tye said dryly.

“Yes, the castle.” A dreamy note came into Ophelia's voice. She could practically see it, and she could make these people see it too. “It was built, oh, three hundred or so years ago. Blackwater Castle—”

“I thought it was Bridgewater,” Montgomery said.

“It is,” A grim note rang in Tye's voice.

“Grief, boys.” Big Jack tossed them a pointed look. “It does terrible things to the mind. Now, Countess, darlin', go on.”

“Thank you.” Ophelia released a heartfelt sigh. “Bridgewater Castle has been the ancestral home of my husband's family for generation after generation….” The remaining guests had all gathered around Ophelia. Her audience listened, spellbound to each detail about the mythical castle on the make-believe estate. She held them mesmerized, in the palm of her hand. Even Tye seemed interested in spite of his evident doubts. Maybe she should have gone on the stage. Why, if she could command attention like this with so little effort, think what she could do with a bit of rehearsal and a theater packed with an eager audience. Perhaps she could even overcome that disagreeable memory flaw of hers. “…and dear, dear, dead Alphonse always said—”

“Alphonse?” Montgomery said.

Tye sighed. “The count.”

Montgomery cast him a puzzled look. “The husband?”

Tye nodded. “The dead husband.”

Montgomery raised a brow. “Grief?”

Tye narrowed his eyes. “What else?”

Why couldn't she remember that blasted man's name? This make-believe dead man was causing her
just as many problems as the living, breathing ones gathered around the table. Thankfully, Big Jack seemed to attribute all her memory lapses to a continuing mourning for her dead husband, whatever his name was.

“At any rate”—she sighed dramatically—“my late husband felt the castle, his home, our home, was the heart and soul of the family. Now that he's gone and I have no family of my own, this is perhaps all for the best.” She directed a brave smile at Lorelie. “It will do me a world of good to know that people like you and Jack will now be the custodians of…”

“Bridgewater Castle?” Montgomery supplied helpfully.

“I was going to say that,” she said under her breath. She gazed at Lorelie. “Bridgewater Castle and the accompanying title.”

“So you're going to be a count,” the sheriff said, and chuckled. “Count Big Jack Matthews. It has an interesting ring to it. Lord knows, you can certainly afford it. What's this little slice of respectability setting you back anyway, Jack?”

“We haven't decided yet.” Big Jack toyed with the cards on the table. “That's what I was getting around to. Everyone here seems to think playing for mere chips isn't much fun, so I propose we wind up our negotiations on the price of my new holdings right here and now.” He nodded at Ophelia. “If that's to your liking, Countess?”

His gaze meshed with hers, and abruptly she realized Big Jack Matthews was by no means an ignorant cowboy. In spite of his relaxed, casual attitude and ready laugh, this was obviously an astute businessman.

She studied him for a long moment. In affairs like this he was no doubt more than a match for her. Ophelia hadn't the faintest idea what an English estate, com
plete with title and castle, was worth, but she'd bet Big Jack did. At least, he'd have a definite idea of how much he was willing to pay. In this case, his business savvy coupled with his obvious honesty and apparent sense of honor and fair play could well work to her advantage. This was one bet she simply couldn't pass up.

“What did you have in mind, Jack?” Her words were calm, but her heart thudded in her chest. She drew a deep breath.

Jack's eyes gleamed with enjoyment, the look of a man with a quarry in sight or a goal within reach. Uncertainty flashed through her. Perhaps this was not the kind of man to swindle after all. “I thought you could give me your asking price and I could give you my offer and we could play a hand for it.”

“I'm far too much of a beginner for that.” She laughed softly. “Why don't we just cut cards for it?”

Jack nodded. “Fine by me.”

“This is ridiculous.” Tye leapt to his feet and stared as if he couldn't believe his ears. “You have no idea what this property is worth or even what it looks like.”

“I don't need to know, Tye.” Jack studied her thoughtfully. “I have Ophelia's description and her word's as good as gold in my book. She is, after all, a countess.”

Ophelia's smile belied an annoying twinge of guilt.

“But shouldn't you talk to a lawyer before you go making any deals? Shouldn't she?” Tye glared at his uncle.

“I shall write to my solicitor immediately,” Ophelia said.

“Randolph.” Jack turned to the banker. “What do you think?”

“It's not how I'd do business, Jack.” The banker shrugged. “But Lord knows, you've been a lot more successful than I have. I suppose, even if you end up
losing money on the deal, say the title's tainted and the castle in ruins…”

“It is not!” Ophelia glared with indignation. Imagine anyone thinking her castle would be less than wonderful.

“You've certainly got the money to sustain a loss,” Randolph said. “Even a big one. What the hell, Jack.” He grinned. “It's your bet.”

“Jack, listen to me for a minute.” Tye stepped around the table and leaned toward his uncle, close enough to Ophelia that she could barely catch the words. “I have a lot of reservations about this deal and that woman. I don't think she's who she says she is. I think you should hold off until—”

“Nonsense, Tye.” Jack shook his head. “Even with all that education of yours, you've had no experience with wheeling and dealing in the business world. I'm afraid, son, you're just not, well, sophisticated enough to grasp the little intricacies of this venture.”

Anger flushed Tye's face and he stared speechless. Ophelia almost pitied him. Almost.

“If, however, you insist on negotiating over a cut of the cards,” Randolph said, “I would advise not announcing your bids out loud. Rather, each of you should write down a figure on a piece of paper.”

“Good enough.” Jack grinned. “And whoever wins the cut wins the deal.”

Jack stretched his hand out to hers, and she grasped it with a firm grip. “Agreed.”

Within minutes someone handed her a slip of paper and a pencil. She stared at the blank page for a long moment. What did she know about the worth of real estate in England? Or the going price for a title? Or the cost of a castle? The white of the paper glared ominously. This was her big chance. The opportunity of a lifetime. She and Jenny could live for the rest of their
lives on the money from this deal. The only question was: Just how much could she get?

She searched her mind for an answer. There was only one thing to do. She had no idea what to ask for in terms of her non-existent property, but she did know how much would provide a comfortable life for herself and her sister. Ten thousand dollars perhaps? No, no, way too little. Twenty thousand? No. Twenty-five thousand had a much better ring to it. She and Jenny could live quite well on twenty-five thousand dollars. Still, if twenty-five thousand was good, twice that was better. With a decisive stroke of the pencil, she wrote out the sum that would ensure her future: fifty thousand dollars.

She folded the slip of paper, placed it in the center of the table and met Big Jack's gaze. He slapped down his own offer beside hers.

“Well, now.” Randolph laughed nervously. “Who goes first?”

Jack nodded at Ophelia. “It's always ladies first. Countess?”

“I can't believe you're doing this,” Tye muttered.

Montgomery grinned. “Although you've got to admit, old man, it does liven up the game.”

Ophelia swallowed hard and stared at the deck of cards. There was no skill in cutting a deck. It was luck plain and simple. Chance and nothing more. The fortunes of fate. She drew a deep breath and noted the slight tremble of her hands. With a deliberate, methodical movement she cut the cards near the center of the deck and pulled up the top card slowly, for her sight alone.

The queen of hearts.

She glanced up, straight into Tye's velvet eyes, and a current of electricity arched between them. Her breath caught, and she wrenched her gaze away to
mesh with Jack's. It was a good pick. Would it be good enough? Years of bluffing had taught her well and she kept her face expressionless. His turn.

He cut the deck and a rueful smile grew on his face. Gently he placed the top card face up on the table.

The ace of clubs.

Her heart fell. She knew she should have gone last. She always did better when she went last.

Ophelia placed her card beside his and shrugged. “You win, Jack. The bid, please?”

Randolph picked up Jack's offer and handed it to her. She opened the folded paper and sucked in a sharp breath, stifling the need to gasp aloud.

She'd never seen so many zeros in her life! The amount was far beyond what she'd ever dreamed of asking or hoped of getting. Goodness, she was rich! Fabulously, wonderfully wealthy! She and Jenny could go anywhere they wanted, live any way they wanted. Now, all she needed to do was get her money and get out of town, and just like the tailors who swindled the Emperor, she'd live happily ever after.

“Randolph,” Jack said. “I'll come into town tomorrow and stop by the bank. You can probably just set up a new account for the countess and transfer the funds—”

“Actually,” Ophelia said quickly, “I'd much prefer a simple bank draft for the bulk of the money and rest in cash. I really won't be taking advantage of your generous hospitality much longer. I do need to be on my way as soon as possible.”