Miss Pence’s instructions well heeded will result in a husband well-heeled.

—MISS PENCE

“I’m glad you’re here,” Alex said to the sheriff. “I wonder if you’d do me a favor and see if you can find Miss Beck. She’s run off in that direction and I cannot get her to return. Or I can go, and you can see that the horses don’t spook. With the weather such as it is, I’m afraid to leave them untended while I go after my missing companion.”

The sheriff shoved his hat back a notch. “Is that right?”

“Yes, it is.” Alex gestured to the path Charlotte had taken. “She’s a stubborn woman and refuses to listen to me at all. I should have used that hat ribbon of hers to tie her to the wagon instead of allowing her to wander free.”

The older man’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I reckon I’ve heard enough.”

The sheriff reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Before he could form a decent protest, Alex found himself cuffed to the wagon and on his way to the Leadville jail.

“Aren’t you going to wait for Charlotte?” he asked.

“Charlotte?”

Alex struggled to remain upright as the buggy lurched around a hole in the road. “Yes, Charlotte Beck.”

The sheriff chuckled as the rain splattered off the brim of his hat. “Mr. Beck promised a reward for whoever brought back his buggy. Didn’t say anything about bringing back his daughter.”

But when the buggy rolled up in front of the jail, Daniel Beck burst out the door and demanded to know where his daughter was. While Charlotte’s father argued with the sheriff, Alex sat in the pouring rain and marveled at the fact that once again, associating with Charlotte Beck had caused him nothing but trouble.

Finally, the sheriff tossed Daniel Beck the key to the handcuffs and unhitched his horse from the buggy. With a scowl, the lawman set out back in the direction they’d come, where he’d likely find a mad, wet Charlotte waiting for him.

Once released from his imprisonment, Alex climbed out of the buggy and regarded Charlotte’s father with an even stare. Several responses came to mind. Thank you was not one of them.

“Alex Hambly,” Beck said. A statement, not a question.

Alex shook off the rain. “I am, sir.”

“You and I are long overdue for a talk. Let’s get out of this weather, shall we?” Beck gestured to the building across the street. “My office.”

“Gladly,” Alex said as he bit back on his temper.

Mr. Beck adjusted his hat and gave him a sideways look. “Spoken like a man who has something on his mind.”

Alex let out a long breath. “Other than false imprisonment? Yes.”

“About that.” Mr. Beck paused. “There was some confusion when I sent for the buggy. I was told a man had driven off in it. Only after I sent the sheriff looking for it—and you—was I informed that Charlotte went along for the ride. So I owe you an apology.”

“Apology accepted.” Alex lifted the collar on his coat against the rain pelting his back.

“This way.” Mr. Beck paused to allow a wagon to pass then stepped into the street. “I don’t understand why Charlotte wasn’t in the wagon when the sheriff found you.”

“I don’t understand that either, sir. We were having a relatively calm conversation, given the limitations your daughter puts on my sanity, and then she took off. Said she had to freshen up. In the rain?” Alex sidestepped a puddle of muddy water and stepped up onto the sidewalk. “I did my best to talk her out of it.”

“With no luck, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

Beck held the building’s door open for Alex, then gestured down the hall. “My office is at the end on the left,” he said, nodding to the man behind the front desk. “Go on in and make yourself at home. I’ll be right there.”

Alex did, though nothing in the rustic space felt the least bit like home. From the hand-hewn walls to the animal hide covering the lone settee in the corner, the room belonged in some hunter’s cabin rather than as the center of Beck Mining’s operations. Only the desk, of regal proportions and provenance, gave hint of the room’s purpose. Then there was the oddly elegant white marble fireplace. Strange in such a setting. Above it hung something even more odd: a painting of a meteor shower in the spring sky.

“The Lyrids,” Alex said under his breath.

“I believe so. Comes in the spring, around Charlotte’s birthday.” Daniel Beck closed the door behind him. “I understand you’ve an affinity for the stars and planets. So does my daughter, though she would not admit it.”

Alex’s heart lurched at the thought that Charlotte Beck might also enjoy stargazing. “Until recently,” he said when his thoughts untangled, “I was employed by the Royal Observatory at Greenwich. I hope to return to that position once my business here is completed.”

“And this business,” Beck said as he settled behind the oversized desk, then gestured for Alex to join him, “it is of what nature?”

Alex took the seat across from Beck. “Forgive me, sir, but my business is none of yours.”

“Well done, Viscount Hambly. I like a man who stands up to me. There’s one problem with your statement, however. Your business here is none of mine, except for the property on Summit Hill.” Beck steepled his hands. “That piece of land is of great interest to you, isn’t it?”

“Only as it applies to my goal of settling debts and ridding the family of unprofitable property.”

“Your Summit Hill property isn’t worth the paper the deed is printed on.” Beck shrugged. “Neither is the plot I own, for that matter. So you can imagine my interest when I’m confronted with a group of investors keen on taking this worthless property off my hands for what they term a good price.”

Alex felt his rain-soaked shirt drying against his skin and tugged at his collar. By degrees, he realized he sat before the father of the woman whose kisses still haunted him. His traitorous mind immediately wandered to smoldering ribbons and the kisses they’d shared. When he realized Daniel Beck was staring at him, Alex cleared his throat and collected his thoughts.

“Yes, well, if there’s nothing further you require of me, I’ll be going.” Alex turned to leave but stopped when Beck called his name.

“Tell me about my daughter, Viscount Hambly.”

Alex froze. “What of her, sir?”

“What do you think of her?”

Alex swallowed hard and worked to keep his expression neutral. “I think she’s a fine young lady.”

“Go on,” Beck said slowly and with no small measure of menace.

“A woman of excellent reputation and—”

“Honesty,” Mr. Beck said, “is more highly valued in this office than flattery. I am well aware of my daughter’s good qualities. However, I also know of a few that are not so good.”

What to say?

“She’s a beautiful woman, Mr. Beck,” Alex said before he could stop himself.

Charlotte’s father leaned forward. “But?”

“But …” His thoughts jumbled and the words disappeared faster than Jacob’s Comet. Alex let the silence fall between them as he plotted his escape.

“Has she picked your pocket yet?” Beck asked.

Alex hadn’t expected that. “Actually, yes. But she returned the watch,” he hastened to add. “She said she was merely trying to get my attention.”

“And it worked?”

He nodded. “It did.”

Mr. Beck’s laughter filled the expansive office. “That’s my girl. She can be frustrating.” He gave Alex a sideways look. “Listens about as well as a doorpost unless she’s of a mind to.”

Again Alex adjusted his collar. “Indeed. A walking disaster.” He glanced quickly at her father, who merely nodded in agreement.

“Break some of your things, did she?”

Alex thought of that afternoon in the observatory. “I’ve a telescope that’s a bit worse for wear because of her. And there was a project I spent all night recreating thanks to her decision to …” He shook his head. “Never mind. What she takes in patience she makes up for in entertainment value.”

“Keep going,” Mr. Beck said. “I rarely come across another man who understands my daughter as well as I do. And tolerates her.”

“I can’t say I tolerate her,” Alex protested. “It appears fate continues to put us together, though I’ve no sane reason as to why.”

“Perhaps it’s not fate at all.” Beck paused. “Perhaps it’s the Lord who directed your paths to meet.”

“If that’s true,” Alex said, “then the Lord has a greater sense of humor than I do.”

“I’m curious,” Mr. Beck said. “Those newspaper stories. The Times and those others. Were they exaggerated?”

“Exaggerated?”

“Was she truly the star of Bill Cody’s show? I just wonder if she’s as wayward as the press makes her out to be. I’ve heard Gennie’s opinion. I’d like to hear yours.”

“I don’t think wayward is quite the term. She’s …” Alex shrugged. “I’m sorry, sir, but your daughter defies description.”

“But she did ride across the arena behind one of the braves and shoot a hole in Bill’s hat?”

“That is something she did confirm. And I heard the story too many times from eyewitnesses who described how spectacular she looked while …” The impropriety of the image in Alex’s head hit him full force when he looked at Charlotte’s father. “In any case, rest assured your daughter can handle her own with a horse and a weapon.”

“And the fact that my brother gave you a black eye for getting too familiar with her.” Beck crossed his arms over his chest, revealing the pistol at his waist. “Tell me more about this.”

Again, Alex needed a moment to process the change of topic. “Yes, well, I was standing in my garden, looking for Jacob’s Comet.”

“Jacob’s Comet?”

“As I said, I am an astronomer by trade,” Alex explained, “and I recently wrote a paper on the comet, which until now has defied calculations on its orbital …” He shook his head. “Anyway, I was standing in my back garden, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive comet, when I heard an odd sound, not unlike the protest of a small child.”

“I see,” Beck said. “And this was my daughter?”

“It was, actually, though I did not know this until I caught her.”

“Caught her?” Beck shook his head. “I don’t follow.”

“Best I can tell, she must have climbed out the window and managed to fall over the balcony.”

“During a formal event?” Mr. Beck’s eyes narrowed. “Were we speaking of anyone but my Charlotte, I would dispute your claim. In this case, however, please proceed.”

“That’s it. I was looking up at Orion, which was partially obscured by clouds, when I heard the aforementioned cry. And then your daughter landed in my arms.”

“I see.”

Alex waited while Charlotte’s father sat quietly, either disputing the tale or merely imagining it as it played out.

“So,” Mr. Beck finally said, “if you were innocently studying the heavens and Charlotte was merely doing what Charlotte generally does and disobeying all the rules of good and proper behavior, what was it that made my brother angry enough to hit you? Especially right there in your father’s ballroom?”

“That I cannot say.”

Beck lifted a brow. “Cannot or will not?”

“Cannot,” Alex stated with assurance. “I only sought to bring your daughter’s missing fan back to her before it was found and an explanation required of her. I did not intend to besmirch anyone’s reputation. In fact, I thought I was protecting hers.”

Again silence fell between them, punctuated only by the rain tapping against the window. Alex felt the water in his boots as he shifted positions.

“So,” Daniel Beck finally said, “how long have you been in love with my daughter?”