was smiling.
She was going to enjoy this—very, very much.
Chapter Three
“S o, you see, Mr. Hughes, I want to make sure that my messages are sent back to my father on a regular basis.” Constance stopped pacing.
“Yes, Miss.” Peter stifled a grin. He was seeing more excitement than he’d had since he fled New York City with Tweed’s stolen money and the Tammany thugs on his heels. Miss Cadwallender had a conniving streak beneath all those proper manners. He couldn’t help but like her. He had been mighty surprised when the bartender had sent a message for him to come back to the saloon—that Miss Cadwallender had to speak to him. For a bit he had half expected her to tell him she was packing up and heading back to New York, but she set him straight about that notion quicker than he could skin a cat.
“Mr. Parish has been known to be—well—unorthodox,” She twisted her fingers together and tried to explain why she was making these preparations. After she had goaded Temple into accepting the challenge, it had occurred to her that she needed a tiny edge— just in case.
“Yes, miss, I can see he might have that inclination,” Peter agreed solemnly.
“Not that I’m asking you to do anything unethical—I would never ask you to do that, Mr. Hughes.”
“No, miss.”
“I just want to make very sure that I don’t fail my father or Dandridge University,”
“Yes, miss, I understand. I can see a lady like yourself would never suggest anything that wasn’t on the level.”
“I’m so glad you understand, Mr. Hughes.”
“Yes, miss, I do—I do understand.” Mr. Hughes nodded his head rhythmically while he spoke.
“In the past there have been rumors that Temple, I mean Mr. Parish, has been known to employ methods that were considered—uh—corrupt.” Constance wrung her hands and paced up and down the bare floor of the room. The solitary kerosene lamp managed to illuminate the small room quite well. Her pulse was still beating unevenly and she admitted to herself that she had never before been quite so excited. All her preparations and precautions were necessary and completely legitimate since she was dealing with Temple Parish. Any sensible individual could see he was a man without principles. She really had no choice, Constance told herself.
“Securing this endowment is very important to my father’s reputation and it is vital to the university. It is extremely consequential to me as well,” she admitted while she stared at the moon hanging in the Montana sky.
“Yes, miss, I see that you are real serious.” Peter kept his eyes on her while she paced up and down. The heavy black material rustled with each tense step.
“I am so pleased that we have come to this understanding, Mr. Hughes. It does take a burden from my shoulders. When we leave tomorrow I shall rest easy in my mind now.” She walked to her carpetbag and dug down deep inside it. “And I insist that you take something extra, for your trouble.”
“Miss, that really isn’t necessary,” Peter began.
“No—I insist This is not part of the original agreement you made with Mr. Montague and his agents. I wouldn’t feel right about you doing these things for me, unless you allow me to compensate you for your inconvenience.”
Peter stared at Miss Cadwallender. Behind the thick spectacles she had soft brown eyes fringed with thick curved lashes. They reminded him of a fawn’s eyes, innocent and trusting. A light dusting of freckles was sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. He felt a strange and unexpected protectiveness toward her, as if she were a favorite niece.
“Please, Mr. Hughes.” Constance extended the handful of money. “Please take it, I would feel much better if you did.”
“If you insist, Miss Cadwallender, but I’d do it for nothing—for you.” Peter felt heat in his cheeks when the words tumbled out, but it was true. He liked this young woman. And, he realized, he was going to have a jolly
She was going to enjoy this—very, very much.
Chapter Three
“S o, you see, Mr. Hughes, I want to make sure that my messages are sent back to my father on a regular basis.” Constance stopped pacing.
“Yes, Miss.” Peter stifled a grin. He was seeing more excitement than he’d had since he fled New York City with Tweed’s stolen money and the Tammany thugs on his heels. Miss Cadwallender had a conniving streak beneath all those proper manners. He couldn’t help but like her. He had been mighty surprised when the bartender had sent a message for him to come back to the saloon—that Miss Cadwallender had to speak to him. For a bit he had half expected her to tell him she was packing up and heading back to New York, but she set him straight about that notion quicker than he could skin a cat.
“Mr. Parish has been known to be—well—unorthodox,” She twisted her fingers together and tried to explain why she was making these preparations. After she had goaded Temple into accepting the challenge, it had occurred to her that she needed a tiny edge— just in case.
“Yes, miss, I can see he might have that inclination,” Peter agreed solemnly.
“Not that I’m asking you to do anything unethical—I would never ask you to do that, Mr. Hughes.”
“No, miss.”
“I just want to make very sure that I don’t fail my father or Dandridge University,”
“Yes, miss, I understand. I can see a lady like yourself would never suggest anything that wasn’t on the level.”
“I’m so glad you understand, Mr. Hughes.”
“Yes, miss, I do—I do understand.” Mr. Hughes nodded his head rhythmically while he spoke.
“In the past there have been rumors that Temple, I mean Mr. Parish, has been known to employ methods that were considered—uh—corrupt.” Constance wrung her hands and paced up and down the bare floor of the room. The solitary kerosene lamp managed to illuminate the small room quite well. Her pulse was still beating unevenly and she admitted to herself that she had never before been quite so excited. All her preparations and precautions were necessary and completely legitimate since she was dealing with Temple Parish. Any sensible individual could see he was a man without principles. She really had no choice, Constance told herself.
“Securing this endowment is very important to my father’s reputation and it is vital to the university. It is extremely consequential to me as well,” she admitted while she stared at the moon hanging in the Montana sky.
“Yes, miss, I see that you are real serious.” Peter kept his eyes on her while she paced up and down. The heavy black material rustled with each tense step.
“I am so pleased that we have come to this understanding, Mr. Hughes. It does take a burden from my shoulders. When we leave tomorrow I shall rest easy in my mind now.” She walked to her carpetbag and dug down deep inside it. “And I insist that you take something extra, for your trouble.”
“Miss, that really isn’t necessary,” Peter began.
“No—I insist This is not part of the original agreement you made with Mr. Montague and his agents. I wouldn’t feel right about you doing these things for me, unless you allow me to compensate you for your inconvenience.”
Peter stared at Miss Cadwallender. Behind the thick spectacles she had soft brown eyes fringed with thick curved lashes. They reminded him of a fawn’s eyes, innocent and trusting. A light dusting of freckles was sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. He felt a strange and unexpected protectiveness toward her, as if she were a favorite niece.
“Please, Mr. Hughes.” Constance extended the handful of money. “Please take it, I would feel much better if you did.”
“If you insist, Miss Cadwallender, but I’d do it for nothing—for you.” Peter felt heat in his cheeks when the words tumbled out, but it was true. He liked this young woman. And, he realized, he was going to have a jolly
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