Free ToLoveaLady by Cynthia Sterling Page A

had helped themselves to sherry from the sideboard, and were waiting patiently, drinks in hand. Charles held Cecily’s chair for her, then took his own place at the head of the table and rang for Mrs. Bridges.
    The cook cast a sour look on their three dinner guests as she marched into the room and set a platter before Charles. “Don’t know what the world’s coming to,” she said, laying out the carving knife. “Time was when folks knew their place.”
    Charles ignored her grumbling. “The ham looks lovely, Mrs. Bridges. Are there potatoes as well?”
    “Course there’s potatoes!   What kind of a table do you think I set?” She stormed out of the room and returned a moment later with a bowl of boiled potatoes and another of turnip greens. Charles detested turnip greens and Mrs. Bridges knew it.
    Madame LeFleur and her ‘girls’ had no objections to the fare, however, and tucked into their plates with an enthusiasm that would have done any cowboy justice. Even Cecily seemed to have more of an appetite than he remembered from the few dinner parties where they’d partnered. He found himself watching her eat, fascinated by the delicate movements of her hands, the moist fullness of her lips.
    Dangerous thoughts. He forced his gaze away from Cecily and turned his attention to the other guests. “Tell me, Madame LeFleur, what are your plans?”
    The older woman looked up from her plate and dabbed daintily at the sides of her mouth with her napkin before answering. “I intend to purchase land in the area, monsieur, to build a house for myself and my girls.”
    “A house to live in? Or a house for business?”
    Fifi giggled at the question, and Madame shot her a quelling look before turning to Charles once more. “Both, monsieur . One must support oneself, no? And I think we will have no shortage of patrons once word circulates about Fifi and Estelle’s beauty and talent.”
    He had to grab his glass of water and drink hastily to avoid choking. He didn’t dare ask what kinds of talents the two younger women possessed. “I say, aren’t you worried about Sheriff Grady?”
    “Fie!” Madame made a shooing motion with one hand. “The sheriff may keep us from the streets of town, but he cannot control the whole county. As long as we break no laws, he is powerless to hurt us.”
    “Where will you settle, then?” Charles cut off a slice of ham and speared it with his fork.
    “I was hoping you could be of assistance to us in this area,” Madame said. “You have lived here some time. Perhaps you know of some land for sale nearby? Or perhaps you would like to sell some of your own property?”
    He shook his head. “I might if I was able, but this land’s not mine to sell. This ranch belongs to a syndicate formed by my father and a group of associates. I merely manage the property.”
    Madame nodded. “Ah, but you are the heir, no? One day, this will all be yours and the effort you make now will be worthwhile.” She sat back, smiling. She had a round, smooth face, and the silver-white hair some women get before their fiftieth birthday. She was a striking woman even now; in her younger years she would have been a diamond.
    “Perhaps I know someone who can help you.” He picked up the bell at his elbow and rang it vigorously.
    Alice appeared in the doorway, apparently sent by Mrs. Bridges. “Yes, m’lord?”
    “Send Gordon in to me, will you?”
    The maid cast a wary look at the three prostitutes, then bobbed a curtsy and vanished again. The valet arrived a moment later. “Yes, m’lord?”
    “Do you know of anyone in the area with land for sale? Nothing too large, I think.” Charles looked to Madame LeFleur for confirmation. She nodded. “Something with a good site for a house,” he added.
    Gordon furrowed his brow in thought. “Abbie Waters has some land for sale. Not the best situated for ranching, but fine for a house.”
    “Abbie Waters?” Charles shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t place