The Emperor's New Clothes (3 page)

Tye held out his hands in a gesture of surrender. “When do I start?”

Randolph grinned triumphantly. “She arrives on the afternoon train. It's just the beginning of a new way of life for us, my boy, just the beginning.”

Tye rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “And the finish of Dead End.”

The group chorused together. “Empire City.”

 

“What do we do now?” Jenny said with a weary sigh.

“I'm not certain yet.” Ophelia forced a brightness she didn't feel to her voice. “But let's sit here and think for a minute.”

What were they going to do? Ophelia adjusted her parasol and sank onto the huge pile of trunks and traveling cases stacked on the train siding. The heap of obviously expensive luggage had been unloaded from their train, but she and Jenny were the only passengers to disembark. Jenny settled in beside her.

Ophelia glanced around the tiny station, and her gaze fell on a weathered sign propped up against the wall. It proclaimed this wide spot in the road to be Dead End, Wyoming. She wondered if the sign had fallen and no one had bothered to put it back where it belonged. She wouldn't be at all surprised. Anyone who lived in a place called Dead End no doubt had
little ambition or civic pride.

Her gaze wandered upward, and she stared in surprise. The sign apparently hadn't fallen after all. It had been replaced. A newly painted plaque announced a new name.

“Empire City,” she said under her breath. For some odd reason, the new name lifted her spirits. Surely a community called Empire City had far more to offer an enterprising young woman such as herself than anything called Dead End. Why, if there was a decent gambling parlor here, she could probably make enough to get them back on their feet and headed once again toward the distant goal of settling down.

“Oh, dear! We thought you weren't coming.” A short, balding man came out of the office and scurried toward them. “What I mean to say is, we got your telegram and canceled everything.”

Ophelia and Jenny traded glances. Ophelia eyed the clerk cautiously. “You canceled…everything?”

“Yes indeed.” The bald head bobbed up and down. “Although I am delighted to see your plans have changed.”

“Yes, well,” Ophelia said vaguely. What on earth was this man talking about? “Plans do tend to do that now and then.”

“Everyone will be so thrilled.” The little man fairly beamed with excitement.

“They will?” Confusion colored Jenny's words. Ophelia threw her a warning glance. Best not to say too much until they figured out what was going on here.

“Of course. Why, the whole town has been planning this since we first heard you were coming.” The clerk stopped abruptly and gasped. “Dear Lord, I'm sure I'm not doing this right.” He swept low in an odd imitation of a bow or a curtsy or possibly something never before
seen. What kind of strange town had they stumbled into? “Your majesty.”

“Your majesty?” Apparently, the man had mistaken Ophelia for someone else.

“That's not right, is it?” He shook his head in a worried manner. “None of us was quite sure how to address a countess.”

“A countess,” she repeated slowly. Jenny nudged her and glanced toward one of the trunks. Ophelia followed her gaze, and for the first time noted that a crest marked each piece of baggage. Below the crest was the name Bridgewater. Ophelia extended her hand in a gracious manner. “My lady is acceptable.”

Jenny threw her a sharp glance, and Ophelia smiled a silent admonition for her to keep still. The clerk grasped her hand and babbled incoherently, apparently caught up in the thrill of being the only one in Dead End or Empire City or wherever they were to greet the arriving countess.

Eventually, sanity seemed to return to the little man, and he glanced curiously around the station. “Where is the rest of your party?”

Ophelia shrugged and sighed. “They were delayed.” Jenny raised a brow at Ophelia's newly acquired English accent. “I daresay we will meet up with them at a later date. For now”—she rose with as majestic a manner as she could muster and gave the man a beneficent smile—“I assume our accommodations are still available?”

“Yes, of course. You were going to stay at Big Jack's place, just a short drive out of town.” He cast a questioning glance at Jenny.

“This is my…lady's maid,” Ophelia said quickly. “I assume arrangements can be made for her to be lodged as close to my own quarters as possible?”

“Of course, my lady.” The clerk executed his quirky
bow once more, turned to leave, then turned back. “If you'll pardon me for just a minute, my lady, I'll arrange for your ride.” He bobbed again and took off, his enthusiastic mutterings trailing behind him. “Imagine, she's actually here. And I met her first. Who's going to believe…”

“Your maid!” Sparks of outrage shot from Jenny's eyes. “You get to be the countess and I get to be the maid?”

“Well, you couldn't be the count, dear,” Ophelia said absently, her gaze following the flustered clerk.

“But the maid,” Jenny moaned.

“This may well be the opportunity I've been waiting for,” Ophelia murmured.

“What opportunity?” Jenny's eyes narrowed. “You're not really going to pretend to be this woman, are you?”

“Jenny, one can't turn up one's nose when fate thrusts one into the chance of a lifetime.”

“You're not serious.” Disbelief washed over Jenny's face. “You'll never carry it off.”

“Of course I will.” Ophelia smiled serenely. “Didn't Papa always say I was a born actress?”

“But you hate acting,” Jenny wailed.

“No, darling,” Ophelia corrected. “I hate actors. But I adore acting. There is a distinct difference.”

“But…” A glimmer of panic shone in the younger girl's eyes. “What if the real countess shows up?”

Ophelia shrugged. “She won't. You heard the gentleman say she sent a telegram canceling her visit.”

“What about her luggage?” Jenny waved at the pile of bags.

“A happy coincidence, no more.” Ophelia considered the stacked trunks. “I suspect this is just a small portion of what she travels with anyway. I doubt if she'll even miss these for quite some time. And then tracking them down will be next to impossible in this part of
the country.” She gazed thoughtfully at the luggage. “I do hope we're of a similar size.”

“You'll get caught. We'll get caught.” Jenny shook her head. “You can't fool a whole town.”

Ophelia cast her a condescending smile. The girl was such an innocent. “Jenny, dear, look around you. We are literally in the middle of nowhere. It's not the ends of the earth, but I imagine you can see them from here. The creatures who inhabit such a community, while no doubt honest, hardworking folk, are simply not terribly sophisticated. You heard that little man. They have no idea what to expect from a countess.”

“Can you act like a countess?” Doubt underlay her words.

Ophelia laughed. “I was raised on the kings and queens and various and sundry nobility inhabiting the works of Shakespeare himself. I daresay impersonating a countess will be child's play.”

“All right.” Jenny sighed in resignation. “How long do you plan on this little farce of yours running?”

“As long as it takes to make a decent amount of money. I suspect the good people of”—she glanced upward—“Empire City enjoy an occasional evening of cards. One or two substantial games and the Countess of Baywater can be on the next train out of town.”

“Bridgewater,” Jenny groaned.

“I will make it a point to study my lines,” Ophelia murmured. “At any rate, if nothing else, our stay here, with room and board at no expense, will provide me with some time to determine our next move and, hopefully, make some definitive plans for the future.”

“Plans about settling down somewhere?” A wistful note sounded in Jenny's voice.

Determination speared through Ophelia. She had to find them a permanent home. “Yes, darling. But for now…” Ophelia squared her shoulders and smiled
graciously at the clerk hurrying back down the dusty street toward them. “For now, I am the Countess of Backwater.”

“Bridgewater,” Jenny said in a furious whisper.

Ophelia nodded, and favored the approaching man with her most charming expression. It scarcely mattered if she called herself the Countess of Bridgewater or the Queen of Sheba. Instinct honed in the years of trying to protect her sister and keep body and soul together told her, even though she wasn't sure how right now, that this time she just might have hit the jackpot.

And Dead End could be just the beginning.

“…and I'm the damned mayor.” Tye shook his head in disgust.

“That's a bloody inconvenience,” Sedge said solemnly, but the irritating twinkle in his eye belied his agreement with his friend.

“It's not funny,” Tye muttered.

Sedge laughed. “Actually, old man, it's quite amusing.”

Tye glared sullenly. Usually he appreciated Sedge's uniquely British way of looking at life, but today he saw nothing whatsoever humorous in his predicament.

The two men stood on the porch of Tye's modest home on the ranch his parents had run until their death. Uncle Jack had kept the place up more or less through the years, but a house left too long unoccupied required a fair amount of work to bring it back to decent living conditions. That was just one of a long list of chores demanding Tye's attention. He didn't have
time for this mayor nonsense.

“When do your official duties begin?” Sedge's manner was casual, but Tye read a smirk behind the words.

“Tonight.” He sighed in surrender. “It's not much, but it's kind of a reprieve. I was supposed to appear this afternoon until we got word the countess wouldn't be coming. Then the blasted woman showed up anyway, so all the festivities are back on.”

“Countess?” Sedge raised a curious brow. “We have a countess in Dead End?”

“Empire City.”

“Empire City?” Sedge laughed again. “Apparently, Tye, you've failed to give me all the fascinating details of your trip to town.”

“It's the details that muddy the water,” Tye said grudgingly. In retrospect, everything did seem a bit preposterous, and even he could see the humor. “Let me lay it all out for you. If you want to be a civilized town, you need a mayor.”

“And that, naturally, is you.”

“That's me, all right. Next you need a respectable name.”

“I gather Dead End did not come up to the standards of respectability?” Amusement colored Sedge's tone.

Tye snorted. “No, but I suppose they could have come up with something even more ridiculous. To put the icing on the cake, some damned countess is stopping by on her tour of the West.”

“I see,” Sedge said slowly. “And I gather you as mayor, of course, are the official host for the town.”

“Something like that,” Tye grumbled. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaned against the porch and eyed his friend.

He'd first met Sedgewick Montgomery at school. The two were a bit older than the other students, owing to their individual reluctance to submit to higher learn
ing, and both were far from home. It was only natural that they'd become fast friends in spite of the vast difference in their backgrounds: Tye, fresh from the wide-open spaces of Wyoming, and Sedge, the black sheep second son of an English lord. The men had backed each other up more than once, and each knew the other could be counted on.

Tye had to count on him now. “I need a little favor.”

Sedge narrowed his eyes. “What kind of favor?”

“I need you to come with me to Big Jack's party tonight for the countess.”

Sedge grinned. “I daresay I can use a bit of amusement. I've been working far too hard as it is.” He aimed an accusing finger. “You didn't warn me how bloody difficult this ranching business would be when you talked me into abandoning home and country and purchasing property here.”

It was Tye's turn to grin. “You didn't ask me. Anyway”—he shrugged—“if I remember right, it wasn't so much a case of you abandoning England as England abandoning you.”

“It really quite depends on your point of view.” Sedge spread his hands out before him in a gesture of resignation. “I prefer to think of my unfortunate departure as simply an opportune twist of fate.” He waved at the land around him. “I have the chance here to create a life of my own making. There's something to be said for that.”

He smiled wryly. “At this moment I'm not sure exactly what, but something, no doubt.”

“No doubt.” Tye laughed.

“Who is this countess?”

“Name's Bridgewater. Ever heard of her?”

Sedge shook his head. “No, but I have been out of British social circles for some time.” He cast Tye a wicked grin. “I only pop in, you know, to create a cer
tain amount of chaos and scandal.”

Tye slanted him a stern glance. “Let's try and avoid that for the time being. I was hoping you'd help me out with this woman. I haven't had a lot of experience with countesses.”

“And I have had a great deal of experience, in every sense of the word, with women of noble blood.” Sedge swept low in a mocking bow. “I shall be by your side every minute tonight, my lord.”

“Great. But that's not all.” Tye drew a deep breath. “She's going to be here for at least a week, maybe more. Folks in town are planning all kinds of festivities. I know you're as busy as I am, but there's no way I want to be stuck with this woman all by myself. If you could see your way clear to…well…share the escorting duties…”

The British brow rose again. “You want me to share this woman with you?”

Tye threw him a lopsided grin. “When you say it that way it sounds so…”

“Crass? Crude? Callous?” Sedge said brightly.

Tye laughed. “Yeah.”

“I rather suspect it is.” Sedge raised his shoulders in a casual shrug. “I would, of course, do anything within my power to help you out, but before I make any firm commitments, what do you know about this countess? Is she old or young? Pretty or hideous? And most importantly, does she have money?”

Tye drew his brows together in a considering frown. “I don't know for sure. I know she's a widow, so I imagine she's old. She's traveling the West, so she's probably rich. All I really know is that her whim to visit this part of the world is going to be a real pain in the ass.”

“A royal pain in the ass,” Sedge agreed.

“I'd bet the ranch on that,” Tye said glumly.

“Cheer up, old chap. I'll do it, but on one condition.”

Relief washed through Tye. “Name it.”

“If she's young and pretty and rich, I reserve the right to keep her for myself.” Sedge grinned. “I may not want to share at all.”

“Hey, even if she's young and pretty and rich, you can have her.”

“What?” Sedge gasped in mock surprise. “No competing for the same fair lady? No attempts to seduce a woman I'm attempting to seduce as well? No games, no contests, no wagers?”

“Not this time,” Tye said firmly.

Sedge cast him a suspicious stare. “Are you certain you're feeling well, Tye? All this fresh air hasn't rendered you insane, has it?”

“I'm fine.” Tye tossed him a rueful smile. “But the one thing I don't need in my life these days is a woman. Any woman. They're too damned much trouble. You want her, friend, you can have her.”

“Excellent. I must say, it's something of a relief to know I shall have a clear field with this countess if, of course, she warrants it. Although it might not be as much of a challenge without you in the fray.”

Tye laughed. “I'm sure you'll manage somehow.”

Sedge nodded, and stepped off the porch toward his waiting horse. “I shall see you at Big Jack's tonight then?”

“Oh, I'll definitely be there.” Tye tossed Sedge a sharp salute. “Whether I want to or not.”

Sedge waved in response and rode off. Tye watched his friend thoughtfully. While Tye had met any number of Englishmen in Europe, Sedge was the only one he could claim a friendship with. And even Tye realized that Sedge was not typical of his countrymen.

What would this countess be like? Tye hadn't much cared one way or another until Sedge brought it up.
How would he feel if indeed she did turn out to be young and pretty and rich?

He shook his head and started toward the barn. He didn't much care about money, even though wealth would come in handy right now. These were tough times for cattle ranches. Big Jack had invested heavily in the railroads and built a fortune that kept his cattle empire going. But the money left from Tye's parents was dwindling fast. If he couldn't make a go of the ranch…well, failure was one thing he preferred not to dwell on. And a rich wife would make life a lot easier.

Tye laughed out loud at the notion. There was no way he was ready to get involved with any female, wealthy or otherwise. He had far too many other things demanding his attention. Besides, she was more than likely old and unattractive, and probably an aristocratic snob as well. If not…even then, Sedge was welcome to her.

He strode into the barn and put all thoughts of the countess out of his head. He had dozens of jobs to complete before he could clean up for tonight's party. Still…the thought lingered in the back of his mind.

What if she was pretty?

 

“Well, where is she?” Tye growled.

“I haven't seen her yet,” Sedge said idly, and raised his glass, studying the sparkling wine it held. “My, this is an occasion. Big Jack has broken out the champagne.” He took a sip. “And it's a decent vintage as well.”

“Swell.” Tye drew a long sip from his glass. Champagne. How absurd. Jack and Lorelie had pulled out all stops for this little shindig.

Sedge raised a brow. “Relax, old man. You look like you're going to a hanging instead of a ball. Besides, I
am still willing to assist you in showing your countess our fair community.”

“She's not my countess.” Tye narrowed his eyes in annoyance. How had he let himself be roped into this anyway?

“Tyler, my dear.” Lorelie bustled up to him and enveloped him in a warm hug. “Good evening, Mr. Montgomery.”

Sedge nodded politely. “Mrs. Matthews.”

“And as for you”—she turned to Tye with a chastising air about her—“why, we've barely seen you since you moved out to your folks' place. How are you doing?”

Tye's irritation melted at the sight of his aunt's loving face. Lorelie Matthews was tiny in stature, her blond head barely hitting the middle of his chest. She tended to be flighty and frivolous and scatterbrained, with a rather vague way of coping with the world around her, to the point that strangers sometimes wondered if she wasn't like a house whose walls didn't quite reach completely to the roof. But beneath it all, she was good and kind and even smart in her own unique manner. Tye loved her with all the protective passion of a son.

He kissed the rosy cheek she presented to him. “Aunt Lorelie.” He gestured around at the huge parlor festooned with flowers and ribbons and tiny British and American flags. Most of the furniture had been moved out to provide space for dancing, and a group of musicians tuned up at the far end of the room. “What's going on? I don't think I've ever seen the house done up like this before.”

“Well, it isn't every day we entertain royalty.” Lorelie dimpled a smile. “It's wonderful, isn't it? Jack wanted the house, I mean the hall—”

Tye choked back a laugh. “The hall?”

“Oh, yes, dear, didn't you know?” Lorelie beamed.
“It's no longer just a house. Now it's a hall. Matthews Hall.” She nodded at Sedge. “You have halls in England, you know.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Sedge's tone was serious, but Tye could see the glint of amusement in his eye. “And manor houses and abbeys and even an occasional castle or two.”

“A castle,” she said with a dreamy smile. “Jack would dearly love a castle.”

“What do you call this?” Tye waved at the immense room. “Your house is probably the biggest place between Chicago and San Francisco.”

“Well, it is nice, dear, and we did want it to be impressive when we built it, but…” Lorelie gestured vaguely. “It doesn't have that…that…”

“Ambience?” Sedge suggested.

“That's it.” Lorelie beamed. “Jack was talking about getting one of those architects from back East, or maybe even Europe, to come out here and see what can be done to add a bit more ambience.”

“Make it more in keeping with its new name?” Sarcasm colored Tye's words.

Lorelie chattered on, the tone of his comments lost on her. “Exactly. Now.” She gazed around the room. It was already crowded with townspeople and local ranchers, all dressed in their Sunday best, the women obviously excited, the men distinctly uncomfortable. “I don't see Jack anywhere and I don't believe the countess has come down yet. Perhaps they're still in her room.”

“Together?” Tye said cautiously.

“My, that is hospitable.” Sedge cast her an innocent smile.

“Oh, we're very hospitable and friendly.” Sincerity rang in her voice. “You'll learn that the longer you live here, Mr. Montgomery.”

“Call me Sedge, please.” He nodded at Tye. “I've rather become used to the congeniality and informality of your country. And I must say I like it.”

“To tell you the truth, so do I.” She leaned toward him confidentially. “I don't mind telling you that's the very reason why I was a little worried about having this countess staying here. You never know what people, especially foreigners, are used to. And I fear our ways can be a bit overwhelming.”

“Which ways are those?” Tye asked. As usual, his head swam with the difficulty of following his aunt's conversation from one thought to the next. “The informality? Hospitality? Friendliness?”

“Everything, of course.” She sighed. “You just never know what royalty is going to expect, and I did so want to avoid disappointing her.”

“By the by, what is she like?” Sedge said as if the answer didn't matter.

“Oh, she's wonderful.” Lorelie fairly gushed with enthusiasm. “Of course, we didn't have much of an opportunity to talk. They arrived very late this afternoon and needed a rest.”

“They?” Tye raised a brow.

“Yes, the countess and her maid.”

“No one else?” Sedge said.

“No, just them.” Lorelie shook her head. “The countess—her name is Ophelia, by the way—is very charming and quite friendly too. I was worried for nothing. At any rate, she said the rest of her party decided to go on to California and she arranged to meet them there.” Lorelie glowed with excitement. “She said she didn't want to miss out on the chance to visit our little neck of the woods. Isn't that delightful?”