Scoundrel for Hire (Velvet Lies, Book 1) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Adrienne deWolfe
sort of exorcism rite on her bed. Silver could just imagine the snide editorial Brady Buckholtz would pen for the Aspen Times about "the Sterling Spinster," as he'd dubbed her.
Shrugging out of his coat, Papa rolled up his shirtsleeves and rummaged once more through his rocks. "It turned out to be a fine day, eh, daughter? A fine day for hunting treasure. Cellie says I'm on the right trail now. That cache ol' Nahele extorted from the citizens of Cibola ain't but another blast or two away. Say, you want to ride to the mine? I'll show you where Cellie and me are gonna dig next."
Silver's heart cringed. She didn't know what was worse, watching her father's face light up when he mentioned that dreadful woman's name, or imagining what else might "light up" if Celestia got her hands on a stick of dynamite.
"Uh, thanks, Papa. But there really isn't enough time."
"Hmm." He squinted at his pocket watch. "I reckon you're right. Dang, I gotta get me into some dungarees. Can't very well go digging in broadcloth, eh?" He winked cheerfully. "Leastways, that's what you always tell me."
For a moment, Silver was too stunned to do anything but blink. Did Papa mean to imply he wasn't going to Leadville?
"Well, gotta hurry," he said, sweeping his rocks back inside the satchels and slinging the packs over his back. "Burning daylight and all that. Cellie's waiting for me to come back to her hotel room."
"Wait a minute!" Silver grabbed his arm, indignation overcoming her shock. "What do you mean, Cellie's waiting for you to come back?"
He gazed at her as if she'd gone daft. "Didn't you hear me? Cellie says I'm on the right trail. Shoot, if our luck holds out, we might even find a clue that'll lead us to Cibola!"
Silver gaped. She didn't know whether to be outraged by his change of plans or scandalized by the notion that her sainted Papa was wearing last night's suit because that horrible woman had seduced him in a hotel!
"Papa," she sputtered, "surely Cibola can wait. We're scheduled to leave for Leadville in twenty minutes."
His brow furrowed. When he continued to look baffled, she added, "The directors' meeting. At the Mining Exchange, remember?"
"Oh." His ruddy face fell. "That's today?"
"It's tonight. But you know we'll need most of the afternoon just to ride across the pass and get dressed for dinner. It's going to be quite a formal affair."
His good humor returned. "Well, you go ahead then, daughter. I never did care for formal affairs. You know more about stocks and dividends anyway, and you've always been better at hobnobbing with investors. That's why I made you my partner."
"But Papa," she protested, unable to take pleasure in what she would normally have considered high praise. "I was going to give the speech tonight."
"And a splendid speech it will be. I have every confidence in you, daughter."
Wounded to her core, Silver could only stare at the man she'd worshipped for twenty-three years. Her papa had been her knight in shining armor, the only bright spot in a childhood made dreary by "Aunt Hagatha," as Papa was fond of calling her, and a maternal grandfather who didn't know the meaning of affection.
Only after Maximillian Nichols had struck the mother lode that he'd named in her honor had Silver been permanently reunited with her papa. She'd vowed then they would make up for all the time they'd lost. Didn't he understand how much their weekend meant to her?
"But I had other plans for us too," she said, petulance creeping into her voice. "I bought tickets for the new Shakespearean production at that fabulous Tabor Opera House. And I was hoping we could eat dinner at Charley's Restaurant and then take a stroll afterward to look at the constellations just like we used to do before—" her chin jutted, quivering the tiniest bit "—before she came along."
"Now, daughter." Papa's face was growing redder the longer his packs weighed him down. "You know I'm a Grand Anvil Chorus kind of a fella. Give me a mug of beer and a
Shrugging out of his coat, Papa rolled up his shirtsleeves and rummaged once more through his rocks. "It turned out to be a fine day, eh, daughter? A fine day for hunting treasure. Cellie says I'm on the right trail now. That cache ol' Nahele extorted from the citizens of Cibola ain't but another blast or two away. Say, you want to ride to the mine? I'll show you where Cellie and me are gonna dig next."
Silver's heart cringed. She didn't know what was worse, watching her father's face light up when he mentioned that dreadful woman's name, or imagining what else might "light up" if Celestia got her hands on a stick of dynamite.
"Uh, thanks, Papa. But there really isn't enough time."
"Hmm." He squinted at his pocket watch. "I reckon you're right. Dang, I gotta get me into some dungarees. Can't very well go digging in broadcloth, eh?" He winked cheerfully. "Leastways, that's what you always tell me."
For a moment, Silver was too stunned to do anything but blink. Did Papa mean to imply he wasn't going to Leadville?
"Well, gotta hurry," he said, sweeping his rocks back inside the satchels and slinging the packs over his back. "Burning daylight and all that. Cellie's waiting for me to come back to her hotel room."
"Wait a minute!" Silver grabbed his arm, indignation overcoming her shock. "What do you mean, Cellie's waiting for you to come back?"
He gazed at her as if she'd gone daft. "Didn't you hear me? Cellie says I'm on the right trail. Shoot, if our luck holds out, we might even find a clue that'll lead us to Cibola!"
Silver gaped. She didn't know whether to be outraged by his change of plans or scandalized by the notion that her sainted Papa was wearing last night's suit because that horrible woman had seduced him in a hotel!
"Papa," she sputtered, "surely Cibola can wait. We're scheduled to leave for Leadville in twenty minutes."
His brow furrowed. When he continued to look baffled, she added, "The directors' meeting. At the Mining Exchange, remember?"
"Oh." His ruddy face fell. "That's today?"
"It's tonight. But you know we'll need most of the afternoon just to ride across the pass and get dressed for dinner. It's going to be quite a formal affair."
His good humor returned. "Well, you go ahead then, daughter. I never did care for formal affairs. You know more about stocks and dividends anyway, and you've always been better at hobnobbing with investors. That's why I made you my partner."
"But Papa," she protested, unable to take pleasure in what she would normally have considered high praise. "I was going to give the speech tonight."
"And a splendid speech it will be. I have every confidence in you, daughter."
Wounded to her core, Silver could only stare at the man she'd worshipped for twenty-three years. Her papa had been her knight in shining armor, the only bright spot in a childhood made dreary by "Aunt Hagatha," as Papa was fond of calling her, and a maternal grandfather who didn't know the meaning of affection.
Only after Maximillian Nichols had struck the mother lode that he'd named in her honor had Silver been permanently reunited with her papa. She'd vowed then they would make up for all the time they'd lost. Didn't he understand how much their weekend meant to her?
"But I had other plans for us too," she said, petulance creeping into her voice. "I bought tickets for the new Shakespearean production at that fabulous Tabor Opera House. And I was hoping we could eat dinner at Charley's Restaurant and then take a stroll afterward to look at the constellations just like we used to do before—" her chin jutted, quivering the tiniest bit "—before she came along."
"Now, daughter." Papa's face was growing redder the longer his packs weighed him down. "You know I'm a Grand Anvil Chorus kind of a fella. Give me a mug of beer and a
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