The Texan's Courtship Lessons. Noelle Marchand
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on a rooftop last night? The same man, by the way, who was now occupying her father’s study? Absolutely, they would want to know that. What would it get them once they knew? A bunch of worry and anger, that was all. Rhett would end up on the street. Isabelle would end up in Virginia.
“Isabelle?”
Her gaze refocused on Beatrice’s. Thankfully, her father provided a timely distraction by entering the kitchen without his spectacles and with his vest unbuttoned. “I was getting dressed when I thought I heard Violet crying in her room. I asked her what was wrong through the door. She said something about her hair looking horrid and her dress being dumb. All I know is she’s going to be late for her book-club party, and I’m going to be late for my meeting at the hotel if she doesn’t come out of her room soon.”
Isabelle frowned then glanced at her mother. “Ma, you know I’m no good with hair. Amy always did mine for special occasions. Violet’s been so excited about wearing it up for the first time. I’d hate to bungle it.”
“Oh, dear.” Beatrice wiped her hands on her apron then removed it entirely and placed it on the hook beside the door. “I’d better go see what I can do. Thomas, you need to finish getting dressed so you’ll be ready to go when she is. Isabelle...”
Isabelle followed her mother’s gaze toward the breakfast they’d prepared. “I can handle this.”
Her mother gave her a grateful smile on the way out the door. Already buttoning his vest, her father followed Beatrice out. Isabelle was left to pull in a deep breath and figure out what was left to be done to get breakfast on the buffet for the boarders who should be wandering downstairs within the next few minutes. She’d just placed the last biscuit in a serving bowl when a knock sounded on the kitchen door that led to the dining room. She turned in time to see two of the boarders enter. “What are y’all doing in here?”
Hank Abernathy, a clerk at the hotel, grinned unashamedly. “We saw Mrs. Bradley go into the family wing of the house and thought you might need help carrying food into the dining room.”
“I’m surprised at you boys.” She crossed her arms and lifted a brow. “Y’all know the rules. Absolutely no boarders allowed in my ma’s kitchen.”
Peter Engel, who worked in the telegraph office, blushed bright red. He lowered his gaze to the floor as though wishing it would swallow him whole. Unable to let him suffer for long, Isabelle allowed a smile to warm her voice. “Now, take this food and get out.”
Peter’s head shot up. Hank chuckled as he stepped forward to take the serving plate filled with eggs and bacon along with a bowl of fruit. She gave Peter the pancakes and biscuits before following behind the men with the steaming carafe of coffee. Wesley Brice entered the room from the hallway as they placed the food on the large oak sideboard buffet. “What’s all this?”
She gave him a cheery smile but the Texas and Pacific Railway worker was too busy frowning at the other boarders to notice. “It’s breakfast.”
“I meant the rule breaking.”
Hank rolled his eyes. “Good morning to you, too, Wes.”
“Mrs. Bradley was busy,” Peter said, standing frozen with a serving spoon of fruit hovering above his plate. “Isabelle needed help.”
“She kicked us out of the kitchen right quick, too. She just sent the food with us on our way out.”
“Yes, but I forgot a few things. I’ll be right back.” Isabelle returned to the dining room a few moments later with butter, syrup, cream and sugar.
Wes poured exactly the right amount of cream and sugar into a cup of coffee before giving it to her. He then handed the cream to Hank and the sugar to Peter since they were already sitting down. Returning both items to the sideboard, he met Isabelle’s gaze with concern. “Where did you disappear to last night?”
A sudden vision filled her mind of Rhett’s amber gaze catching hers as they whirled around each other on a rooftop beneath a million stars. She shook it away and glanced back at Wes. Mindful that the other boarders were listening, she stalled to gather her thoughts. “What do you mean?”
“One second you were dancing with Mark Antony. The next, you were gone.”
“Oh. Well, Mark turned out to be Chris.” She paused to blow on the steam from her coffee as Wes grimaced, Peter lifted a brow and Hank shook his head in sympathy. The boarders always seemed to be around when her sister’s suitors decided to try to pay her court. It was downright embarrassing having an audience for those types of things. “Then, John Merriweather decided to cut in. Chris wouldn’t have it. They started arguing, so I left them on the dance floor.”
Hank toasted her with his coffee cup. “Good for you. I see why you would’ve wanted to make yourself scarce after that. You should have come to one of us, though. We would have been glad to dance with you.”
“Too glad, maybe,” Wes muttered as he threw a meaningful glance toward Hank and began to fill a plate with food.
Gabriel Noland must have heard the conversation out in the hall for he sent Isabelle a sympathetic glance as he entered the room. “I’m surprised Isabelle got to dance at all with you three standing around like guard dogs.”
Isabelle seized the opportunity to change the subject to something that might ease the odd tension filling the room. “And what were you doing all evening, Gabe?”
“I thought you might want to see.” He handed her the sketch pad that had been tucked beneath his arm. “The latest ones are near the back. I stayed up almost all night finishing them.”
Sitting in the nearest chair, she set her coffee on the table and wiped her hands on a napkin before flipping to the back of the book. Images from the previous night filled each page in startling detail since each could have only lasted a few moments at most. She was aware of Gabe taking the seat beside her, but didn’t bother to look up. The boarders had moved on to talking about the fire and Rhett coming to stay with them. She figured as long as she looked busy, no one would ask her any more questions that she’d rather not answer.
She froze as she recognized the tableau playing out before her on a page of the sketch pad. It featured her caught in the throes of indecision. Her hand was in the grasp of Mark Antony, who bowed over it with old-world elegance. Meanwhile, her gaze and attention were consumed by the pirate behind him. There was a shared longing on their faces that surely couldn’t have been there last night. Isabelle almost jumped at the sound of her father’s voice. “Are those your sketches from last night, Gabe?”
She casually turned back to a much less incriminating sketch of someone else as her father stepped up behind her. She lifted her gaze to Gabe’s, suddenly aware he’d been watching her reaction. Gabe smiled. “Yes, I think I’ll get several good paintings from my efforts last night.”
Her eyes widened then narrowed into warning slits. “In that case, why don’t I put this somewhere safe for you? We wouldn’t want it to get stained by being around all this food.”
“I’ll sit on it. How’s that?”
She had the distinct urge to pop him over the head with it. Gabe had no idea how blessed he was that her mother entered the room to distract her father with the news that Violet was ready to go. Beatrice decided to take a breakfast tray to Rhett. Isabelle would have volunteered to do it in her stead, but didn’t have the nerve to suggest it in front of Gabe. The boarders lingered over breakfast since none of them had to rush to work on a holiday. However, once the plates were taken to the kitchen, they all slipped away to their various amusements outside the house.
With the dishes washed, Beatrice pulled out her baking supplies. “Poor Rhett must be bored to tears in the study by now. Why don’t you play a game of spades with him or something? Be sure to leave the door open. I’ll join y’all in a little while. I want to whip up some plum pudding and a bit of wassail in case we get any callers.”
“All right, Ma. Let me know if you change your mind about wanting