Page 24 of Cloaked in Beauty

Turning to regard the stranger in their midst, Letty folded her hands in her lap and offered a polite smile. “Why don’t you join us for breakfast tomorrow, Mr. Carmichael? We can leave immediately following. I’ll be packed and ready.”

“Excellent.” He clapped his hands to his thighs and leaned back a bit in his seat, the tension draining from his face. “I’ll return in the morning with a packhorse and a couple weeks’ worth of supplies.” He glanced around the room as if cataloging the meager contents. “Pack light,” he said. “Your grandmother can bring the majority of your belongings later by train.”

How many belongings did he imagine she had? Did her heiress status lead him to believe she was hiding a secret stash of valuables in the cellar? Trunks stacked three high on every wall, filled with keepsakes, jewelry, and fancy gowns? How disappointed he’d be to learn she owned a grand total of two skirts (one of them split for riding), three blouses, a cape, and five pairs of stockings—two of which she’d already decided to leave behind.

A touch of mischief stirred.

She batted her lashes at him in manufactured innocence. “I’ll only bring the essentials, Mr. Carmichael. I promise. I’m sure I can make do with a mere dozen books and six pairs of shoes. I’ll need my chair, of course,” she said, tapping the arms of her rocker, “but it’s small. Easy to strap over the packhorse’s back. Hats are another matter. A lady can’t scrimp there.” At least that’s what fashion articles in Peterson’s Magazine proclaimed. “Bandboxes aren’t the easiest thing to transport on horseback, but I’m sure we’ll find a way.”

She scrunched her eyebrows as if in deep contemplation, an expression that proved hard to maintain when her escort suddenly started coughing like a man whose insides had seized up on him all at once.

“I know!” Letty proclaimed. “I’ll string the boxes together so your horse can wear them like a garland around his neck. None of my hats weigh very much. He’ll hardly notice they’re there.” She preened like Rusty did whenever he thought he deserved a pat. “You’ll find I can be quite resourceful when it comes to packing.”

Grandmother chuckled. “Quite resourceful when it comes to teasing unsuspecting Pinkertons as well, it seems.” Her eyes danced, and Letty rejoiced at the evidence that her heart condition hadn’t depleted her spirit. “Goodness, child. A garland of hatboxes? Where do you come up with such outlandish notions?”

Letty grinned. “You’re the one who insists I keep up with the latest fashion trends by reading your ladies’ magazines. The editors of those publications make it quite clear that a well-trimmed bonnet is an essential piece of any lady’s wardrobe.”

Mr. Carmichael’s bootheels scraped the floor as he sat forward, his complexion a tad paler than it’d been when he’d first arrived. “Please tell me you were teasing about the chair, too.”

Letty laughed. “Yes.” She met his gaze, relieved to see reluctant humor spark in his stormy eyes. “I shouldn’t have teased you so. I apologize. When you looked about the room as you gave your instructions to pack light, I couldn’t help thinking you expected me to try to bring some of the furnishings.”

Her amusement gradually faded. “You need to know something about me, Mr. Carmichael. You’ve been hunting the Radcliffe heiress, but that’s not who I am. I’m Letty Hood, a simple girl who’s spent most of her life running free in a forest. I have no interest in fortunes or claiming a place in society. I want only to reunite with my family and protect my father’s legacy.” Her throat clogged a bit at the thought of her daddy, but she stiffened her spine and swallowed the grief before it could bruise her heart. “I’m not a helpless damsel looking for a man to slay my dragons,” she said, her gaze locked on the man before her. “I’m a woman heading into battle who needs an experienced warrior at my side. One I can trust to guard my back. One who will discuss his plans with me and treat me like an equal. Is that arrangement acceptable to you?”

She watched his eyes carefully for any sign of dismissal or placation, but she found only honor as he nodded and gave her his vow.

“It is.”

“Then I expect we’ll get along just fine.” She stood and held out her hand to him. “Shall we shake on it?”

He rose to his feet, the width of his shoulders nearly blocking the entire mantel from view. Yes, it was a small mantel, but that didn’t take anything away from the size of the man she’d be spending a significant amount of time with in the very near future. He was a head taller than her without an ounce of softness anywhere on his person. Except, perhaps, in his eyes as he grasped her hand.

The oddest sensation coursed through her when his fingers touched hers. Tiny flutters shot up her arm, then dipped down into her belly. Giving his arm a quick pump, she yanked her hand back and turned away from him as an unwelcome warmth crept into her cheeks.

Gracious. She pressed her hand against her belly, trying to dispel the quivery feeling before turning to face the group again. Unable to banish the sensation completely, she settled for moving behind her rocker and grasping the back of the chair tightly enough to mask the trembling of her fingers. The flutters had just started to settle when he smiled and stirred them all up again.

“I’ll bid you good day, then, ladies.” He nodded to her, then turned his attention toward Grandmother. “You mentioned a letter you wished me to deliver?”

“Yes, to Mr. Stewart Darby. I set it on the table there.” She turned in her chair and pointed in the general vicinity of the kitchen. “You’ll find him working at the depot.”

“I’ll take it to him straightaway.” Mr. Carmichael covered his short-cropped blond hair with his hat, then reached for his coat and tucked the letter inside.

Letty was so consumed with watching the Pinkerton that she nearly missed Grandmother’s head-tilt signal, reminding her of her rusty etiquette training.

Abandoning the steadying influence of her chair, she hurried to the door and opened it for him. “Until tomorrow.”

He tugged on the brim of his hat and dipped his chin. “Miss Hood.”

He sauntered over to his horse, patted the animal’s neck, and murmured something in a low voice. The gray tossed his head as if agreeing to whatever his master had said. Letty smiled, recalling many such conversations she’d had with Shadow over the years. When Mr. Carmichael swung into the saddle, she lifted a hand in farewell.

Rusty didn’t bark, but he did offer their visitor an escort to the edge of the yard.

“You planning to take that wolf of yours with you?” Grandmother asked after Letty finally closed the door and returned to her chair.

“Yes. I thought we could use the extra protection. Plus, he’ll guard the camp well at night.” And she really couldn’t bear to be parted from everyone she loved.

“Good,” Grandmother said. “I think I’ll have a word with the furry fellow regarding chaperone duties as well.”

The wink that followed that statement only set Letty more on edge.