the
obvious."
One
more thing to overcome. Filed up there with Women have a tendency to talk
too much, consequently their point is lost; women have a tendency to dress too
warmly in the winter, consequently they become overheated indoors; women have a
tendency to ask for the impossible, consequently they are disappointed.
"Well,
no doubt we'll find out who she is if we offer a big enough reward to come
forward. Of course, I can't guarantee my mother will like it. Nor will you, for
that matter. We might as well start with who rowed them out and back."
"Wouldn't
that be enough?" she asked.
"Not
if I was the DA," Cabot said, and folded his arms across his chest.
"Now you tell me why not."
Charlotte
didn't have to think long. She rose and looked down her nose at Cabot.
"And can you swear, Mr. Witness, that he didn't leave the boat and come
back between the time that you ferried him in and out yourself?"
"Good
girl," Cabot said. "Unfortunately I don't think it will take Brent
any longer to see that than it did you."
"But
your brother would certainly remember the woman, wouldn't he? I mean, he'd know
her name, would recognize her, she'd know him...."
She
could see from the look on Cabot's face that not only wasn't it a surety, it
didn't even appear likely. "I'm sorry, Charlotte, but my brother doesn't
take women very seriously. He'd probably be stoned in Wyoming."
Not
even remember who he was with. She tried to hide the shock that must have been
written all over her face by busying herself with the library ladder that was
resting by the window. Outside a large black man was lumbering up the front
walk. On his shoulder was the biggest, most colorful bird Charlotte had ever
seen. Had it not been flapping its spectacular wings, she'd have supposed that
it wasn't even real. Even Argus, the peacock, was too surprised to make a move.
"Moss
Johnson is here with an enormous red-and-yellow-and-blue—"
"That's
Liberty," Ashford said, coming up behind her to peer over her shoulder.
"He's a scarlet macaw. From Peru. I'll let them in."
"Go
easy on him, Ash," Cabot warned as his brother headed for the door.
"He was only telling the truth."
Ashford
turned to stare at his brother, his eyebrows lowered in question. "Oh, the
statement in court. He must feel bad as"—he paused and looked at
Charlotte—"all get out."
"Mmm,"
she agreed. "Damned shame."
"I
think I've some cigars in my luggage," he teased. "Should I pull out
one for you?"
"Haven't
taken to them," she said, pulling at her lapels and standing straighten
"Yet."
He
shook his head at her. "From the looks of my room, it doesn't appear
that's imminent." Then, before hurrying out, he had the audacity to wink
at her.
"Charlotte?"
Cabot had apparently stopped his work to study her, and was staring hard.
"Why, Charlotte... are you blushing?"
Whipping
around so quickly that her skirts tumbled a book off the table, she faced the
window and fought with the lock. "Some fresh air might be nice," she
said, flipping the catch and throwing up the window sash to invite in the cold
wind.
"I
haven't been up in that room in nearly twenty years," Cabot said, his
voice soft and distant behind her. "I suppose it's still too messy for him
to find anything as small as a cigar."
"I'm
sure that's what he meant," she said, willing the flame in her cheeks to
pass. Had they only had some warning, she could have removed her things from
the high room before Ashford discovered her... her what? Treason to her
calling? Her weakness for frills and lace? Her affinity for...
"Oh,
my word!" Kathryn gasped from out in the hallway. "Have you ever seen
anything so lovely?"
"If
you two could come out here for a moment," Ashford asked, tipping his head
into the office and beckoning them with a crooked finger. "It isn't quite
the way I'd planned my homecoming, but I've a few gifts and such...."
Charlotte
tamped down the excitement that bubbled in her chest. Ashford had brought her
presents before. Her
obvious."
One
more thing to overcome. Filed up there with Women have a tendency to talk
too much, consequently their point is lost; women have a tendency to dress too
warmly in the winter, consequently they become overheated indoors; women have a
tendency to ask for the impossible, consequently they are disappointed.
"Well,
no doubt we'll find out who she is if we offer a big enough reward to come
forward. Of course, I can't guarantee my mother will like it. Nor will you, for
that matter. We might as well start with who rowed them out and back."
"Wouldn't
that be enough?" she asked.
"Not
if I was the DA," Cabot said, and folded his arms across his chest.
"Now you tell me why not."
Charlotte
didn't have to think long. She rose and looked down her nose at Cabot.
"And can you swear, Mr. Witness, that he didn't leave the boat and come
back between the time that you ferried him in and out yourself?"
"Good
girl," Cabot said. "Unfortunately I don't think it will take Brent
any longer to see that than it did you."
"But
your brother would certainly remember the woman, wouldn't he? I mean, he'd know
her name, would recognize her, she'd know him...."
She
could see from the look on Cabot's face that not only wasn't it a surety, it
didn't even appear likely. "I'm sorry, Charlotte, but my brother doesn't
take women very seriously. He'd probably be stoned in Wyoming."
Not
even remember who he was with. She tried to hide the shock that must have been
written all over her face by busying herself with the library ladder that was
resting by the window. Outside a large black man was lumbering up the front
walk. On his shoulder was the biggest, most colorful bird Charlotte had ever
seen. Had it not been flapping its spectacular wings, she'd have supposed that
it wasn't even real. Even Argus, the peacock, was too surprised to make a move.
"Moss
Johnson is here with an enormous red-and-yellow-and-blue—"
"That's
Liberty," Ashford said, coming up behind her to peer over her shoulder.
"He's a scarlet macaw. From Peru. I'll let them in."
"Go
easy on him, Ash," Cabot warned as his brother headed for the door.
"He was only telling the truth."
Ashford
turned to stare at his brother, his eyebrows lowered in question. "Oh, the
statement in court. He must feel bad as"—he paused and looked at
Charlotte—"all get out."
"Mmm,"
she agreed. "Damned shame."
"I
think I've some cigars in my luggage," he teased. "Should I pull out
one for you?"
"Haven't
taken to them," she said, pulling at her lapels and standing straighten
"Yet."
He
shook his head at her. "From the looks of my room, it doesn't appear
that's imminent." Then, before hurrying out, he had the audacity to wink
at her.
"Charlotte?"
Cabot had apparently stopped his work to study her, and was staring hard.
"Why, Charlotte... are you blushing?"
Whipping
around so quickly that her skirts tumbled a book off the table, she faced the
window and fought with the lock. "Some fresh air might be nice," she
said, flipping the catch and throwing up the window sash to invite in the cold
wind.
"I
haven't been up in that room in nearly twenty years," Cabot said, his
voice soft and distant behind her. "I suppose it's still too messy for him
to find anything as small as a cigar."
"I'm
sure that's what he meant," she said, willing the flame in her cheeks to
pass. Had they only had some warning, she could have removed her things from
the high room before Ashford discovered her... her what? Treason to her
calling? Her weakness for frills and lace? Her affinity for...
"Oh,
my word!" Kathryn gasped from out in the hallway. "Have you ever seen
anything so lovely?"
"If
you two could come out here for a moment," Ashford asked, tipping his head
into the office and beckoning them with a crooked finger. "It isn't quite
the way I'd planned my homecoming, but I've a few gifts and such...."
Charlotte
tamped down the excitement that bubbled in her chest. Ashford had brought her
presents before. Her
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