The Heart of Thornton Creek Page 2

  “A pleasure,” Daniel said. He smiled, and a dimple creased his left cheek while his sky blue eyes crinkled at the corners.

  Rebecca felt a slight flush. He was very handsome. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Thornton. I’m sorry I interrupted your meeting. I’ll wait until you’ve finished your business.”

  “No. It’s no problem, not a bit. We’ve finished, wouldn’t you say, Mr. Williams?” He grinned and patted Charles on the back, then looked at Rebecca. “It’s nice to meet one of the local ladies. I’ve had little opportunity.” He glanced at Rebecca’s father. “I mean . . .”

  Charles chuckled. “I know how it can be while away from home.” He turned to Rebecca. “Mr. Thornton is from Australia. And he’s been here only a few weeks.”

  “Oh, I wondered,” Rebecca said. “I mean . . . I noticed the accent. I suppose you must miss your home.”

  “Yes, some, but it’s all right. I’ve never been to the States before, so it’s an adventure.”

  Charles cleared his throat. “I’ll excuse the intrusion this time,” he said with a grin. “But you, young lady, must check with Miss Kinney first or at least remember to knock rather than barging in.”

  “I apologize, Father. I just feel so at home here, I forgot. It won’t happen again.” She turned to Daniel. “I am sorry. I’ve worked alongside my father for so many years, this feels like my office.”

  Her eyes fell upon a bookcase crowded with weighty, academic-looking books. “In fact, I’ve spent so many hours in this room, I’ve probably read every book on the shelves.”

  “All those?” Daniel raised an eyebrow. “I’d say any woman who can wade through all that has a bit of brass to her. And a good mind. More brains than any bloke on our place.” He grinned at Charles. “I’d say you’re right smart to put her to work for you.”

  “If only he would,” Rebecca said, folding her arms over her bodice and settling challenging eyes on her father.

  “Now’s not the time,” Charles warned.

  “No. Of course it’s not. My apologies.”

  “I’m starved. Anyone else ready for a go at lunch?” Daniel asked.

  “I am a little hungry,” Charles said. “Rebecca?”

  “I’d love to. I had a vigorous ride this morning, and I am hungry.”

  “A rider are you, then?”

  “Yes. You?”

  “Where I come from we live on horseback.” Daniel moved toward the door. “There’s a fine eatery just down the street. There’s usually quite a mob there. S’pose that means it’s good, eh?” He offered Rebecca an enticing smile.

  Rebecca liked this Australian. She returned the gesture. “Australia’s an awfully big country. Just where are you from exactly?”

  “Queensland, actually. We’ve a cattle station out on the flats northwest of Brisbane.” Daniel offered Rebecca his arm.

  Rebecca rested her hand on Daniel’s sleeve and glanced at Charles. “You ready, Father?”

  2

  Studying her reflection in the mirror, Rebecca fingered a bow on the bodice of her evening gown. “I abhor bows,” she said with disgust, stripping off the dress, then flinging it on her bed. She glanced at the mantel clock. Daniel would be here any time, and she still hadn’t decided what to wear. Nothing seemed quite right for this fascinating man from the other side of the world.

  With a sigh she returned to her closet and scanned the remaining dresses. She touched a rose-colored silk gown. It was lovely, but the bodice was cut deeply. “Too daring,” she said. Her eyes moved to a dark blue princess polonaise with a tall, tightly cinched collar lined with pearl buttons. Her eyes rested on the collar. “Too virtuous.”

  Folding her arms over her bodice, she stared at the gowns without actually seeing them. Why do I care what he thinks? He’s nothing more than a temporary distraction. I’ll see him this once; then I’m sure he’ll be off to his ranch in Queensland. It makes little difference what I wear.

  But it did matter. And Rebecca hated that it did. Daniel had unsettled her, and she’d found herself wishing he’d remain in Boston.

  With a heavy sigh she picked a pale blue gown with soft white faille trim. Its squared neckline and silk bodice was feminine but not vulgar. It was the latest from Paris. She stepped into the dress, slipped on its overskirt, and smoothed the waist.

  A knock sounded at the door. “It’s nearly time,” Aunt Mildred called softly. “May I come in?”

  “Yes.”

  Mildred stepped inside.

  “You’re just in time. I need help with my buttons.”

  “It’s taken you an awfully long time to get ready. Daniel will be here any moment.”

  “I couldn’t decide what to wear,” Rebecca said, embarrassed at her indecision.

  “Hmm. And since when did you care whether or not you were wearing just the right gown?” Mildred offered a small smile, then quickly looped the buttons at the back of the dress.

  “I’m out of sorts,” Rebecca said, stepping in front of the bureau mirror. “Actually, I’ve been considering not going at all. I may be coming down with something.”

  “Perhaps . . . if you’re not feeling well.”

  Rebecca sighed, remembering Daniel’s handsome face and sky blue eyes, which turned down slightly at the outer corners. She thought they looked a bit sad. “He’s a foreigner and probably lonely. It doesn’t seem proper to cancel.” Rebecca picked up her hairbrush and pulled it through her dark curls. “I really ought to go.” She expertly twisted and pinned up her hair, allowing a few soft tendrils to fall loose. “I think the floral wreath would be best, don’t you?” She picked up the decorative comb and pinned it. “The blue matches the dress perfectly, don’t you think?”

  “A hat is proper.” Mildred studied Rebecca. Her eyes turned tender. “However, you do look lovely just as you are.”

  Rebecca studied her reflection. Her dark brown eyes were vibrant. It must be the blue in my gown, she thought and gently pinched her cheeks.

  The bell rang downstairs. “That must be him,” she said, feeling a surge of anticipation.

  “You wait here. You don’t want to look too eager.”

  “Well, and I’m not. In fact, I really couldn’t care less if I see him or not.”

  “Is that so?” Mildred asked rather smugly.

  Daniel swept off his hat and stared at the Williamses’ front door. Why was he here? As beautiful and charming as Rebecca was, she could be nothing more than a diversion. His purpose for being in the States was a wretched one—to settle his brother’s estate; that was all. And although he needed an amusement, he felt a bit like a gadabout. His brother was barely in the grave, and he was making merry.

  His mind captured Rebecca’s essence. She seemed more than a diversion. She was exceptional—not just beautiful but . . . more. He was setting himself up for disappointment. There could be no future for the two of them. She was too fine a woman to follow a bloke like him across the world to a piece of dry ground in the middle of the flats. I barely know her, he told himself. I’m being carried away by a pretty face—empty passions can carry no long-term assurances.

  Daniel considered retreating. The doorknob turned. It was too late to change his mind. He straightened and tugged on the front of his waistcoat.

  The door opened. “Good day. May I help you?” asked a buxom middle-aged woman wearing a frilled apron.

  “I’m ’ere to see Miss Rebecca Williams.”

  “She’s expecting you,” the woman said with a smile, opening the door to reveal a spacious tiled entry. “Please, come in.” She held out her hand. “May I take your hat?”

  Daniel handed her the hat. “It’s a fair night, eh?”

  “Yes. Very.” She set the hat on an ornate hall tree. “Right this way.”

  Daniel followed the woman to a heavy mahogany door.

  She stopped and turned to Daniel. Her ruddy cheeks rounding with a smile, she asked, “Would you like a cup of tea while you wait?”

  “A cuppa would sui
t me fine.”

  Her eyes momentarily held a question, then seemed to comprehend. “Fine, then. I’ll be right back with it.” Pushing the door open, she said, “Mr. Williams, Miss Rebecca’s guest has arrived.”

  “Ah, Daniel.” Charles sat behind a heavy mahogany desk. He pushed himself out of his chair and strode across the room to shake the young man’s hand. “Good to see you.”

  “My pleasure, sir.”

  The maid quietly left.

  “So it’s the Boston Symphony tonight?”

  “Yes. I heard it’s grand. Does Rebecca like music?”

  “The music, yes, but she considers the socializing that goes along with it balderdash.” A heavy ornamental carpet cushioned Charles’s steps as he returned to the chair behind his desk. He sat down and reclaimed a pipe smoldering in an ashtray. “Do you smoke?”

  “No, sir. Never took a liking to it. Not that I mind . . .”

  Charles chuckled. “My name’s Charles. Relax. No inquisition tonight. I think I know you well enough. Have a seat.”

  Wondering just what he was doing there, Daniel lowered himself into a heavy brocade parlor chair.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” Charles said.

  The buxom woman who had met Daniel at the door stepped into the study, carrying a tray with tea and two cups with saucers. Setting the tray on the desk, she said, “Tea, sir.”

  “Fine. Thank you, Flora.”

  With a smile, Flora walked out and closed the door softly.

  “I don’t care for tea,” Charles said. “Coffee’s more to my liking. But help yourself.”

  Daniel filled a cup.

  Charles leaned back in his chair and crossed his right leg over the left. “Actually, I’m surprised my daughter accepted your invitation.”

  “Why is that, sir . . . er, Charles?”

  “She’s never taken much to Boston society. She’s more interested in my next ‘big’ case.”

  Charles picked up a newspaper lying on his desk. Shaking his head, he said, “Bad fire in Chicago.”

  “Too right, sir. A lot of good blokes were killed. Families and businesses overcome. Sorry to hear ’bout that one,” he said. His mind was still on Rebecca’s uncommon acceptance of his invitation.

  Charles folded the paper. “I hear you get some fierce fires in Australia.”

  “We do. Sometimes things get right dry, and then the wind comes up and it can get bad, especially if it makes a run—then we’ve a mess on our hands. At Douloo we’ve been spared, but there’ve been fellas in the district who were hard done by fire.” He sipped the tea.

  Charles relit his pipe and sucked on it until the coals reddened and smoke drifted toward the ceiling. “Around here we get regular spells of rain. I doubt we’ll ever see a fire like the one in Chicago.”

  Daniel nodded and glanced toward the door. In spite of his misgivings, he was anxious to see Rebecca.

  “You can’t rush her. She has a mind of her own.”

  Daniel felt his cheeks redden. “Yes, sir. I’m sure she does.”

  “So.” Charles puffed and gazed through a haze of smoke. “Is the cattle business a profitable one?”

  “We’ve done all right. It’s hard work, a hard life. I’d say it’s a fair day when none of the mob dies from heat or snakebite and you get in before dark.” He grinned.

  The rustle of skirts preceded Rebecca. Daniel set down his cup and stood as she stepped into the room. Unfamiliar emotions charged through him as her brown eyes held his gaze.

  Rebecca casually crossed to Daniel. “How nice to see you again, Mr. Thornton.”

  He offered a slight bow. “It’s an honor. You look grand, Miss Williams.” He smiled. “I’ll be the envy of every gent at the theater.”

  “Why, thank you.” Rebecca pulled on her gloves. “We won’t be late, Father.” Glancing at Daniel, she said, “We should hurry. The orchestra will begin soon.”

  “Right.” With a short bow toward Charles, Daniel said, “It was good to see you, sir.”

  “Nice to see you as well, Mr. Thornton.”

  Daniel offered Rebecca his arm and escorted her to the entrance, where the maid he’d met earlier slipped a cape over Rebecca’s shoulders.

  “The night air is chilly, miss.”

  Mildred joined them. “Good evening, Daniel.”

  “Evening, Miss Williams.”

  “I’ll be escorting you, of course.” Mildred moved toward the door.

  “Of course,” Daniel said, taken by surprise. He hadn’t realized they’d have a chaperone. He quickly stepped up and opened the door, then followed Mildred and Rebecca out.

  After helping both women into the carriage, Daniel took a seat opposite them. He’d expected an evening alone with Rebecca and felt disappointment and relief as the horses took off at a brisk gait. For several moments no one spoke.

  Finally Mildred asked, “So, Daniel, how do you like Boston?”

  “It’s a beautiful city. I haven’t had enough time to see much of her, though. Been settling my brother’s estate,” he added, again feeling guilt over his merry making.

  “Yes. I heard about your brother. I’m very sorry.”

  “It shook up my mum pretty badly.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Rebecca said.

  Daniel nodded. Silence settled over the threesome. Gazing out the window at a large, round moon, Daniel finally said, “It’s a right lovely evening.”

  Rebecca leaned forward and stared at the moon. “Winter will be upon us soon. I’m looking forward to it, actually. I’m weary of summer heat and ready for cold weather and snow.”

  “We’ve never had snow at the station. During the winter, though, it cools off some.”

  “You’ve never had snow?” Rebecca asked incredulously.

  “No. And from the sounds of it, I’m right glad of it.” He grinned. “Seems a bother.”

  Rebecca liked the way Daniel’s rounded words spilled casually from his mouth. And though she’d tried, she couldn’t disregard his good looks. When he smiled his left cheek dimpled and warmed his expression. Although his blond hair could do with a cut, she thought its casual style suited his natural ruggedness.

  Daniel pulled out a pocket watch and glanced at it. “We ought to get there just in time.”

  Rebecca searched for something more to say, but her mind was empty. This was something new—no man had ever left her at a loss for words. Finally she asked, “So, Mr. Thornton, how are things in Australia?” What a stupid thing to say, she scolded herself.

  Wearing a soft smile, he said, “No worries. Australia’s getting along quite nicely—no floods, no fires.”

  “That’s good to know. Do those kinds of things happen often?”

  “In Queensland you can expect most anything. During the summer months we sometimes have violent storms. The rivers fill and overflow their banks. When we get into a pattern of rain, you’re liable to find most blokes at the pub, downing their grog and hoping their places stay above water. Nothin’ much more the poor blokes can do. They’ve got no control over the weather.”

  He rested his arm on the window casement. “Usually the summer weather’s hot and dry. The rivers are low, and some have no water at all; the land turns gold and brown. We fight dust. Mum is forever trying to clear it from the house.”

  “Sounds dreadful,” Mildred said.

  Daniel chuckled. “Yeah, maybe, but there’s something about the open spaces that grabs hold of you. Sometimes I almost think I’ve taken a liking to dust.” His grin softened into a smile. “And there’s more—red and gold sunsets all soft like someone painted the sky, and sometimes the hills off in the distance look blue and misty. The night sky holds a massive number of stars—not like ’ere.” He grinned. “When I was a lad I used to try to count them. Never managed though.”

  Rebecca was touched by the wonder she heard in Daniel’s voice. “Tell me more. What’s life like in Australia?”

  “Depends on where you are
. It’s kind of like your United States ’ere. Some places have trees and some don’t. Some have people, some don’t.”

  “And where you live?”

  “Our station is on the flats. Just south is the Downs. There’s good farmland down that way. ’Round our place is grasslands. We mainly stick to raising cattle; some blokes have sheep. There’s plenty of grass a good portion of the year. I quite like it, but I don’t guess you’d see it as being very pretty.”

  Rebecca settled back and folded her hands in her lap. “Any place can be lovely if one’s willing to look for the beauty.”

  “Too right.” Daniel grinned, then turned his eyes outside and studied passing trees. “I miss it. ’Round ’ere you’re all closed in by trees and buildings.” He looked at Rebecca. “I don’t s’pose you’d like it much out on the flats, eh?”

  “I try hard not to set my mind against anything without first seeing it, Mr. Thornton. The Lord created all the earth, and it would seem ungrateful of us not to appreciate his work.”

  Daniel smiled. “Well said, miss.”

  “You may call me Rebecca if you’d like.”

  “Rebecca it is, then.” He offered an appreciative smile. “And why don’t you call me Daniel, then, eh?”

  “Of course, Daniel.” The beat of Rebecca’s heart picked up slightly. She wasn’t certain just why. She found Daniel attractive and very nice but felt no real passion.

  The theater was crowded by the time Daniel, Rebecca, and Mildred found their seats. Daniel stood while Mildred sidestepped to her place and Rebecca followed. Gratefully he sank into a cushioned, pile seat. He felt as if he’d been introduced to half of Boston, or at least the upper crust of Boston. Rebecca and her aunt seemed to know just about everyone. Daniel tugged at his snug collar. He was overly warm and was beginning to think this hadn’t been a good idea.

  Rebecca leaned close, and Daniel caught a whiff of expensive perfume.

  She whispered, “You’ve just met the best of Boston society, you know. And they find you very interesting,” she added with a chuckle. “Personally, I think they’re a bunch of snobs.” She rested a hand on his arm. Then, seeming to notice her indiscretion, she quickly removed it and turned to watch the curtained stage.