Stacy Henrie - The Rancher's Temporary Engagement

“Suitable for supper?” She did a spin, giving him a full view of her dress.

While it appeared well made, the pale yellow gown looked a few years outdated as Maggy had said, and the dull color of it washed the pink from her cheeks. Surely this wasn’t what a vivacious, engaged young woman ought to wear. Worse still, the carefree, open demeanor she’d displayed during their tour of the ranch had disappeared. She resembled a dressed goose awaiting execution.

“It does suit for supper.”

“But?” She pinned him with a penetrating glance.

Edward shifted his weight as uneasiness coursed through him. “Are all of your dresses similar to this?”

“Yes, I suppose they’re all the same style. Neither noticeably fashionable nor unfashionable. Light colors that don’t catch the eye. No ribbons or trim to come loose and betray that I’ve been poking around where I’m not supposed to be. Simple. Practical.”

Needing a moment to think, he led her by the elbow into the dining room where he pulled out a chair for her.

“What’s wrong with my dress, Edward?” She gave him an arched look as she took a seat.

He helped push her chair in, then sat beside her at the head of the table. “There’s nothing inherently wrong with it,” he hedged. He placed his napkin across his lap and felt relief when Maggy artfully did the same. Apparently, dinner etiquette would not be something they had to master, as well.

Mrs. Harvey’s fortuitous entrance into the dining room kept him from having to think up a polite reply to Maggy’s question. “Evening, sir,” his housekeeper announced as she placed full plates in front of them. “You, too, miss.” She beamed at Maggy.

“There’s been a new wrinkle to the detective plans, Mrs. Harvey.” He hadn’t taken the opportunity to let her know yet. “Maggy will be...” He glanced at the door, then lowered his voice. “I’ve asked her to be my fiancée for the duration of her time here.”

The older woman’s eyes widened. “Your fiancée, sir? Was that your idea to become engaged like that?”

“No,” Maggy interjected as she picked up her fork. “It was mine, Mrs. Harvey. I’m hoping it will allow me to become part of the ranchers’ wives’ club and gather critical information.”

Edward was grateful she didn’t disclose that they already had two suspects among the ranchers. As much as he trusted Mrs. Harvey, he sensed the less he discussed his case with anyone other than Maggy, the better.

Mrs. Harvey trained a shocked gaze at him. “You agreed to this plan, sir? Even after...” She let her words trail out, to Edward’s relief. The woman knew of Beatrice’s deceit, but it wasn’t something he wished to share with Maggy, now or possibly ever.

“Of course. It’s a brilliant one.” He felt Maggy watching him shrewdly.

His housekeeper eyed them in turn once more. “I’ll leave you to your meal then.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Harvey.” When the older woman left the room, Edward turned to Maggy. “I’ll offer the blessing.”

Her brows shot upward as she set her fork back down. She looked slightly startled—even a bit chagrined—at his suggestion, but she didn’t appear annoyed. Wordlessly, she lowered her chin. Edward shut his eyes and began to pray. He thanked the Lord for the meal and asked His blessings upon his staff and the investigation, as well.

Maggy’s disconcerted look remained as they began eating. Edward wondered what she thought of faith and religion. If she were truly his fiancée, he would hope to share a similar belief and love of God with her. Beatrice hadn’t. She’d attended church, of course, like the other wealthy families in their social circle, but her faith hadn’t been the anchor that it became for Edward and his sister.

He sampled a bite of food, pushing aside thoughts of Beatrice and the past. “I think you’ll find Mrs. Harvey’s fare quite above any boardinghouse or restaurant.” He shot Maggy a smile. “That’s partly the reason I asked her to accompany me to America.”

“The food is delicious,” Maggy agreed. “So you’ve known Mrs. Harvey a long time.”

It was more a statement than a question, but he nodded anyway.

“What did she mean about you agreeing to our plan ‘even after?’”

Edward stifled a groan, though he wasn’t surprised Maggy had not only caught his housekeeper’s slip but remembered it, too. “Nothing of consequence.” He took another bite, though he tasted little this time.

“Have you been engaged before?” Maggy inquired, her expression one of innocence. But Edward knew better. Her blue eyes were glowing with that same determination and tenacity he’d seen several times already.

He shook his head. “No, I haven’t. Not officially anyway. Though I did believe there was an understanding between myself and a young lady.”

There, he’d told her all he wished to reveal. Even his vague description of his and Beatrice’s time together had resurrected the long-buried sting of her rejection. He didn’t wish to dwell on it anymore.

“What you need is a new wardrobe,” he declared, only too happy to return to the earlier topic. Maggy’s irritation over what he thought of her dresses was far safer and less painful than reopening the past.

She studied him a moment and Edward had a sudden urge to ask what she observed. Did she see the often neglected, thrown-over third son of Lord and Lady Healey? Or did she see the successful rancher?

“A new wardrobe?” she repeated at last. “Is that really necessary?” She made a face as if he’d asked her to roll around in a stable stall.

Edward couldn’t help the upward tilt of his mouth—both at her entertaining grimace and in relief that she hadn’t hounded him for information about Beatrice. “Some women are actually thrilled by the thought of new clothes. Especially when they are at the expense of someone else’s pocketbook.”

“You’re going to pay for new clothes...for me?” Her astonishment both amused and confused him. Had no one ever bought her anything before?

He picked up his water goblet. “I don’t think it entirely fair to ask Pinkerton to foot the bill. Not when you need to be outfitted with an entire new wardrobe.”

“Entire?” Her eyes narrowed. “What exactly does that mean, Edward?”

Taking a sip, he set down his glass. “You know—day dresses, evening dresses, hats, gloves, possibly even a ball gown. The wives’ club will host their annual summer ball in another month.”

“Why would I need a new hat and gloves?” Maggy retorted, her expression darkening. “It all sounds rather excessive. Not to mention a great waste of money.”

He had the impression she lumped herself in with the clothes as something—someone—unworthy to spend money on. Why would that be? She’d shown such confidence in herself as a detective. Did she not see herself as valuable outside of her profession?

“I agree it may be excessive.” She looked as if she could breathe again, until he continued. “But a waste or not, that is what you’ll need in order to convince these women you are one of them.”

“Fine. If asked, I’ll say my luggage was misplaced and I needed to replace what I lost.” She jutted out her chin as she forked another bite, the tongs tapping the plate with force. “And when am I to be subjected to the joys of obtaining a new wardrobe?”

He chuckled—he was coming to like her cheeky humor. “Tomorrow. That way we can square things up with the livery stable to have transportation at your disposal during your stay.”

“We’re keeping the nag and the buggy then?”

Edward scoffed, shooting her a teasing look. “The buggy, yes. But not that nag. Something tells me you’d appreciate a more spirited horse to convey you to and from club meetings.”