Scoundrel for Hire (Velvet Lies, Book 1) by Adrienne deWolfe Page B
Authors: Adrienne deWolfe
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Buckholtz's printing press, the whole town was rolling out the red carpet for her hornswoggler. The Aspen Times and the Rocky Mountain Sun were vying to run the biggest banner headline in history to commemorate Rafe's—or rather, Chumley's—arrival. Shopkeepers, restauranteurs, and whores were all hanging signs of welcome, most of which were abysmally spelled.
Even Benson seemed to be getting into the spirit. He'd starting sporting a gold watchfob and cufflinks, extravagances she'd once thought alien to his nature. In fact, when she'd surprised her butler on Galena Street yesterday, emerging from First National Bank with a wad of greenbacks in his hand, he'd seemed immensely embarrassed and had hastened to divert her from his windfall.
Come to think of it, she thought fleetingly, he'd diverted her from entering the bank, too. That meant she'd have to get rid of Rafe, dump these rocks, and ride to the vault before it closed.
Silver pressed her lips together. Why was nothing simple?
"Well," she said in her best businesslike voice, "you're burning daylight, as Papa would say. The commercial district closes in about an hour, so I suggest you hurry back to town for a discreet chat with Signor Marzetti. He's Aspen's most distinguished tailor, and he can help fit you for Papa's engagement party, which, by the way, I expect you to attend Saturday evening. For dinner tonight, you'll no doubt want to put in an appearance at the Chloride Restaurant. Celestia will be most impressed. Everyone who's anyone eats there. It's rather like the 'Delmonico of the West.'"
Rafe looked amused by her haste to dismiss him. "My dear Silver, you wouldn't be trying to get rid of me, would you?"
"Certainly not," she lied, and none too elegantly. "I just assumed you'd want a hot meal after tramping through the mountains."
"Why, how very thoughtful, considering you'll be paying the tab. But in truth, I'm a bit of a sucker for home-cooked meals," he drawled. "So tell me. What's on today's menu? Goose liver pate? Salmon roe with sweet, creamed butter? Lemon crackers and champagne?"
She blinked, momentarily speechless. He wanted her to open the basket? To her consternation, she felt the blood creeping up her neck. "Uh... no. Not exactly. There's nothing edible in this picnic chest."
"There's not?"
Her cheeks were growing warmer by the second. She figured she'd now thoroughly telegraphed her guilt. "No, there's not," she retorted, striving for firmness. "This basket's full of rocks."
"Rocks, huh?"
She fidgeted beneath his mocking gaze. Well, they were rocks. Of the most common variety. He didn't have to know the importance Papa attached to them.
"That's right." She raised her chin. "I put rocks in this basket to... uh, train Jenny. Yes, that's it. She's still learning to be a pack mule. Aren't you, Jen?"
Silver patted the burro's nose. Actually, she had no idea what the mule was called. She'd never seen this animal until she'd forced the poor thing to become a four-footed felon. But since female donkeys were called jennies, she'd figured the name was close enough...
She blew out her breath. Why was Rafesmirkingat her that way?
"You know, Silver." His voice lilted, actually lilted, damn him. "I've heard a thousand lies, and I've made up at least as many. But yours is truly inspired. So tell me. Where is Romeo? Running late for your romantic tryst, is he?"
Her jaw dropped. "T-tryst?" Really. Leave it to Raphael Jones to leap to the most sordid conclusion. "I'll have you know thereis no tryst, romantic or otherwise."
"Is that so?" he taunted softly.
Her face felt hotter than a four-bell fire now. For heaven's sake, what was the matter with her? She should have just confirmed she had a lover. The threat of his arrival would have been the fastest way to get rid of Raphael Jones.
"Must you read artifice and scandal intoeverythingI do? Nothing but rocks is in that stupid basket."
When he arched a tawny brow, she blew out her breath.
"Oh, for
Even Benson seemed to be getting into the spirit. He'd starting sporting a gold watchfob and cufflinks, extravagances she'd once thought alien to his nature. In fact, when she'd surprised her butler on Galena Street yesterday, emerging from First National Bank with a wad of greenbacks in his hand, he'd seemed immensely embarrassed and had hastened to divert her from his windfall.
Come to think of it, she thought fleetingly, he'd diverted her from entering the bank, too. That meant she'd have to get rid of Rafe, dump these rocks, and ride to the vault before it closed.
Silver pressed her lips together. Why was nothing simple?
"Well," she said in her best businesslike voice, "you're burning daylight, as Papa would say. The commercial district closes in about an hour, so I suggest you hurry back to town for a discreet chat with Signor Marzetti. He's Aspen's most distinguished tailor, and he can help fit you for Papa's engagement party, which, by the way, I expect you to attend Saturday evening. For dinner tonight, you'll no doubt want to put in an appearance at the Chloride Restaurant. Celestia will be most impressed. Everyone who's anyone eats there. It's rather like the 'Delmonico of the West.'"
Rafe looked amused by her haste to dismiss him. "My dear Silver, you wouldn't be trying to get rid of me, would you?"
"Certainly not," she lied, and none too elegantly. "I just assumed you'd want a hot meal after tramping through the mountains."
"Why, how very thoughtful, considering you'll be paying the tab. But in truth, I'm a bit of a sucker for home-cooked meals," he drawled. "So tell me. What's on today's menu? Goose liver pate? Salmon roe with sweet, creamed butter? Lemon crackers and champagne?"
She blinked, momentarily speechless. He wanted her to open the basket? To her consternation, she felt the blood creeping up her neck. "Uh... no. Not exactly. There's nothing edible in this picnic chest."
"There's not?"
Her cheeks were growing warmer by the second. She figured she'd now thoroughly telegraphed her guilt. "No, there's not," she retorted, striving for firmness. "This basket's full of rocks."
"Rocks, huh?"
She fidgeted beneath his mocking gaze. Well, they were rocks. Of the most common variety. He didn't have to know the importance Papa attached to them.
"That's right." She raised her chin. "I put rocks in this basket to... uh, train Jenny. Yes, that's it. She's still learning to be a pack mule. Aren't you, Jen?"
Silver patted the burro's nose. Actually, she had no idea what the mule was called. She'd never seen this animal until she'd forced the poor thing to become a four-footed felon. But since female donkeys were called jennies, she'd figured the name was close enough...
She blew out her breath. Why was Rafesmirkingat her that way?
"You know, Silver." His voice lilted, actually lilted, damn him. "I've heard a thousand lies, and I've made up at least as many. But yours is truly inspired. So tell me. Where is Romeo? Running late for your romantic tryst, is he?"
Her jaw dropped. "T-tryst?" Really. Leave it to Raphael Jones to leap to the most sordid conclusion. "I'll have you know thereis no tryst, romantic or otherwise."
"Is that so?" he taunted softly.
Her face felt hotter than a four-bell fire now. For heaven's sake, what was the matter with her? She should have just confirmed she had a lover. The threat of his arrival would have been the fastest way to get rid of Raphael Jones.
"Must you read artifice and scandal intoeverythingI do? Nothing but rocks is in that stupid basket."
When he arched a tawny brow, she blew out her breath.
"Oh, for
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