A lady’s behavior must be exemplary at all times. At least in public.

—MISS PENCE

You would have done the same thing.

The Beck girl was right. The admission chewed at his conscience. Under the same circumstances with the same information, he would have taken the same steps to secure his family’s stake in what could be a lucrative business deal.

As the trail leveled out, so did Alex’s temper. After maneuvering around a deep rut, he slowed the horses and stopped the buggy.

“Miss Beck,” he said when he had her full attention.

“So it’s Miss Beck now,” she said with sarcasm.

“Charlotte,” he amended wearily. “You and I have been at cross purposes since we met.”

“I suppose.” Charlotte studied her hands. “Though I never asked you to catch me in the garden. I could have landed quite nicely without your help. And had you not, likely the rest of the things that have transpired would never have happened. Thus it all begins with you.” She lifted her gaze to settle on him. “But I forgive you, Alex.”

“You forgive me?” Was she mad or merely baiting him? In either case, Alex bit back the rest of his response. “That’s quite magnanimous of you.”

“I try,” she said. “Now, perhaps we should hurry back.” She gestured at the gathering clouds. “It appears we’re about to be inundated.”

“Wouldn’t want that.” Alex raised the reins, preparing to send the horses hurrying forward, then thought better of it. “Charlotte,” he said, “now that you’ve forgiven me, perhaps we might discuss a little business proposition.”

“Business?” She shook her head, and the feather on her hat bobbed in time. “I’m a lady who should not meddle in business affairs, remember?”

“Save it for someone who will believe you. It seems you’ve a better head for business than I do, though I’d never admit to anyone I’ve said that aloud.” The horses startled at a rumble of thunder, and it took him a moment to quiet them. When he returned his attention to Charlotte, he found her watching him openly. “You’re smart, Charlotte Beck. Much smarter than I’ve given you credit for. And you’re more mature than you appear, an image I warrant you both enjoy and cultivate.”

Green eyes widened slightly before her mask of indifference returned. A brisk wind caught her silly hat and she yanked it back into place.

“And you,” she said, “strike bargains you do not keep.”

“I do not.”

One hand still on the hat, she pointed at him. Her eyes narrowed. “You do. Remind me of the agreement we made in London.”

He shrugged. “I arranged to have your ridiculous behavior become all the rage, and you promised to leave me alone.”

“That’s not exactly as I would have stated it,” she said, “but the fact remains that you and I were to go our separate ways. You, sir, have not allowed this to happen.”

“Me?” Again the horses startled, and this time Alex gave them their way and allowed the buggy to jerk into motion.

“Yes, you,” she said. “You continually insinuate yourself into my life, Alex Hambly, and then you somehow decide it’s all my fault.”

“I insinuate myself? How do you explain our current situation?”

The buggy tilted dangerously as the horses took a hairpin turn too fast. Alex pulled back on the reins and made sure his passenger still sat beside him. She did, but her hat hung askance and the blue feather bent with the rising breeze.

“We have no situation beyond that which you caused by purloining my father’s buggy,” she said. She sat straight as a schoolteacher, her fingers toying with the ribbons he had just tied. “Nor should we attempt to continue this conversation.”

She had a point, at least in the claim he’d stolen the buggy. Though technically a buggy could not be stolen if the daughter of the owner willingly joined in the journey. Charlotte Beck had made no move to leave once he slid into the driver’s seat. For all her bluster, perhaps she was more interested in him than she let on.

After all, she had let him kiss her.

Twice.

Alex gave her a sideways glance. “Leave the ribbons alone or you’ll lose your hat.”

“Mind your driving,” she snapped in response.

The buggy negotiated another turn, this time with much greater success. However, while the road was becoming smoother, the weather was not. A quick calculation gave them less than even odds of returning the buggy to the livery before the clouds burst.

“Hold on, Charlotte,” he said, slapping the reins and urging the horses to pick up their pace. “I’m getting us off the mountain before the rain has us sliding.”

“But how will you—oh! There went my hat.”

The curls that had once been tamed by the silly hat were now free to form a damp halo cascading past Charlotte Beck’s shoulders. Despite it all, she looked even lovelier, which only served to irritate Alex further.

“We must go back for my hat,” she insisted. “The milliner made it especially for me, and I’ve no immediate plans to return to Paris.”

Lightning darted across the western sky, increasing the need for their quick return. “I told you to stop playing with the ribbons,” Alex said.

The light rain made the reins slick, but the road beneath them remained passable. Up ahead, however, darker clouds loomed over Leadville.

“Hold on,” he warned. Raindrops continued to pelt them.

She braced herself as the horses responded, remaining blessedly silent until the buggy reached the edge of the city.

“Perhaps a less direct route to the livery might be in order,” Charlotte suggested. “I look a fright.”

“You’re beautiful,” Alex said without thinking.

“And your poor eyesight explains the awful driving.” She grasped the fabric of his sleeve. “Please stop, Alex.”

“Don’t be silly, we’re almost to—”

“Stop!” Charlotte reached over him to yank back on the reins.

The horses stuttered to a sliding halt, and the buggy careened toward the precipice.

A moment later, the slide ended with the buggy thankfully on solid ground. Alex took a deep breath of the thin mountain air and willed his heart to slow its furious clamor.

Holding tight to the reins, he gave Charlotte a stern look. “Never do that again. We could have been … Are you crying?”

“No.” She sniffed. “It’s the rain.”

“It is not the rain.” He reached into his pocket and handed her his handkerchief. “Take it.”

Charlotte shook her head then wiped her already-damp cheeks with her sleeve. “No.”

“This is becoming a habit,” he muttered as he leaned over to dab her cheeks. “I’ve never seen a woman with so many tears to spare.”

“I’m not crying.” She snatched the handkerchief from his hand then lifted it to her nose and blew. “I just know what will happen when my father sees me looking like this, especially now that he trusts me again and is willing to allow me to go to Wellesley and then to …” Charlotte blew her nose again. “Well, anyway, never mind what my father’s allowing me to do.”

“No, let’s talk about that, Charlotte.” He shook his head. “So you’re working for your father?” At her weak nod, Alex continued. “Exactly how long have you worked for Beck Enterprises?”

“I don’t yet. I merely have a promise of a position once my studies are completed.” She tensed. “And this is not a conversation I wish to have with you.”

“And yet we shall have it all the same.” Alex placed his free hand atop hers. “Did you get your ‘promise of a position’ because of the information I gave you or did you get information from me because you were working for your father?”

“Papa loves me,” she said defiantly. “His wish has always been for me to someday take an active part in the business I will inherit. I’m sure of it.”

A not-so-subtle reminder of the disparity in their bank balances. Alex chose to ignore it.

“So why are you crying? The way I see it, you’ve won, no matter which scenario is true.”

She looked up into his eyes. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” he said.

“All my life I’ve tried to make my father take me seriously. Elias says that’s why I was so much trouble as a child. I was trying to get my Papa to really notice me.”

“Elias?”

“Our, well … he’s just Elias.” Shaking her head, Charlotte continued. “That’s why I took up painting. My mother loved it, and I hoped my father would love that I loved it. And I am good at it.” Again her gaze collided with his. “Really good at it. And Papa is proud. Which is why I continue to paint for Colonel Cody even though I prefer the night sky to a stampeding herd.”

“Night sky?”

“Yes.” A raindrop traced down her cheek, or perhaps it was a tear. “The sky at twilight is lovely, but a night sky is so …”

“Beautiful,” he supplied as his knuckle brushed her cheek and swiped away the dampness.

“Yes,” she whispered. “There’s just something about the light and how the stars …”

“Sparkle.” He looked into her eyes.

“Yes,” she repeated, softer.

He became aware of the warmth of her hand under his and the chill of the raindrops as they splattered around them. But most of all, aware of the extreme nearness of the soggy, lilac-scented Charlotte Beck.

Without warning, Charlotte slid her hand from under his and bounded from the buggy.

“Where are you going?” Irritation fought with amazement at the lengths the woman went to ignore his wishes.

She gave him a stricken look. “I should never have told you all of that. I don’t know what it is about you that makes me lose my good sense.” She examined her surroundings. “There’s a stream on the other side of that rock. Give me a moment to wash my face and set my hair to rights, and we can return to Leadville.”

“You want to freshen up?” He lifted his face to the skies, and rain pelted his cheeks. “Wouldn’t that be better done back at your home or your hotel or wherever it is the Becks stay in this town?”

“The Clarendon,” she said as she turned her back on him and walked away. “Papa prefers the Clarendon. He and the management have a long history. Something about Papa and Gennie’s wedding. They joke about it, but neither will offer details beyond the fact that it involves a nightmare I used to have as a child. Oh, there I go talking too much again. I sound like Anna Finch. She never could stop talking when she was around …” And then her voice was drowned out by the sound of the rain hitting the parched ground.

Alex watched her walk across the damp prairie as if she were crossing a ballroom floor. Head held high, back straight, and curls bouncing despite their soggy condition. She glanced over her shoulder to meet his incredulous stare then disappeared behind a boulder.

“Come back here this moment,” he called.

“No!”

“If you don’t return to this wagon this instant, I’m coming after you.”

“No, you won’t,” she called.

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re a gentleman.” The words echoed from some distant place.

He stood and stretched, trying to see her, but found no trace of Charlotte Beck. Returning to his seat, Alex let the rain slide down his neck as he leaned his elbows on his knees and tried not to think of how the moment could be made any worse.

And then he heard the click. He turned his head and looked down the barrel of the sheriff’s rifle.