Page 13 of Crying Wolfe
The unpleasant woman scoffed. “If you expect me to believe that accosting a young bride-to-be in herbedchamberis some kind of godforsaken American tradition, you’ll have to work harder to convince me, Sir Carlton.”
Morley had donned a vest and shoes, appearing the casual gentleman, though the hour approached three in the morning. “I vow, Lady Brackenfeld, when I visited the American West, I was often privy to such strange and savage practices from our uncivilized cousins.” He kept his tone light, unaffected, and thoroughly straightforward. Though Rosaline couldn’t help but notice the vein pulsing in his temple. “Indeed, once I visited a town along the Colorado River where it was customary for a betrothed couple to be sewn into bedclothes by their families and left in the bed together. I’ll save you the particulars of what was allowed to happen should one or both find their way free.”
“Ghastly!” Lady Brackenfeld exclaimed.
“It’s a backward place, in so many respects.” Morley effortlessly played to her snobbery, smoothing the fine, fair hair he’d tamed with pomade before holding court with his adversary. “I’ve heard tell there’s a footrace somewhere in Kentucky where women chase the town bachelors and if they catch them and tie them up, they get to haul them to the altar.”
Putting a waspy hand to her chest, she gasped. “Good Lord, that’s barbaric.”
“That’s America.” Morley shrugged in a perfect display of helpless, good-natured bafflement.
Lady Brackenfeld didn’t seem thoroughly convinced of his presentation. “Then why accept him into your family?” was her shrewd inquiry.
At that, Morley’s ice blue eyes shone with a mysterious mischief. “Do you know what they call Elijah Wolfe in the States, my lady?”
“I can’t begin to imagine.” She rolled her eyes, touching a handkerchief to her mouth to cover an exaggerated yawn.
“They call him Midas. Because everything he touches turns to gold.”
Snapping her lips shut mid-yawn, she speared Morley with an arrested stare. “Go on.”
Morley slid a glance toward Rosaline, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. “I am not so gauche as to speak of money in the presence of gentleladies.”
“What is one more indiscretion on a night like this?” She waved her handkerchief at him, insisting he continue.
“Wellllll,” Morley drew out the word, stretching the anticipation to maximum effect. “I invested in some iron mines in Nevada with him a little more than a decade ago. And the iron mines became defunct in a matter of months; however, they struck a vein of gold, which became a veritable river of the stuff.”
The woman’s jaw went slack. “You’re saying that loutish Neanderthal owns a working gold mine?”
Morley’s laugh was rich and genuine. “I’m saying his one gold mine made me a fortune.Andfinanced Wolfe’s acquisition of copper mines in Utah, silver mines in New Mexico, not to mention both iron and gold mines dotting the whole of the North American continent, including the Yukon and Alaska. Believe me when I say, Lady Brackenfeld, Miss Rosaline is about to become the wealthiest woman you’ve ever met.”
The woman blinked several times before stammering. “But I—I’ve met the Queen.”
“Indeed.” Morley winked.
Rosaline barely felt Emmett’s hand close over hers in a tight squeeze. It was as cold and clammy as her own. She sat, paralyzed, her unblinking eyes searching Morley’s features for a lie. She’d been able to tell that he was spinning a yarn for Lady Brackenfeld at first, but once he’d mentioned the mines, he’d seemed to be in earnest.
Prudence had mentioned Morley’s money came from his investments in overseas mines rather than his career in civil service, but could he be stretching the truth in regard to the American to smooth over the catastrophe she’d caused?
The Countess’s fingers trembled just as violently as Rosaline’s when the old woman clutched the lace at her throat. “And…this Mr. Wolfe is to be married intoyourfamily, which means he’ll be connected to our family?”
“If you are still amenable to the match between Emmett and Lucy,” Morley prompted.
“Well then.” Lady Brackenfeld turned on unsteady legs toward where Rosaline clung to her brother. “Lord Cresthaven, you neglected to share the happy news of your sister’s engagement with us.”
“Forgive me, my lady.” Emmett bowed his head in deference. “As it is not a society match, per se, Rosaline and Mr. Wolfe were going to keep the occasion rather quiet so as to not eclipse any of our own happy plans.”
“That was well done of you.” For the first time since the woman had darkened their door, she looked upon Emmett with true approval before turning back to Morley. “Let’s do try to keep this American contained until the wedding…”
Morley nodded.
“It would be best for both our families to avoid a scandal.”
“Categorically.” Motioning for Emmett and Rosaline to rise, Morley herded them toward the door. “We’ll leave you to turn in again, my lady, with our apologies for the eventful night.”
Emmett bowed to his future wife and mother-in-law, and Rosaline dipped a curtsy before escaping into the hall.
Nothing was said as the somber procession climbed the stairs to the fourth floor as if they led to the gallows.
