Read Online Scoundrel for Hire (Velvet Lies, Book 1) by Adrienne deWolfe - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Adrienne deWolfe
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share your confidence in me."
Her brow furrowed at his irony. "In truth, Mr. Jones, I daresay you have enough confidence for both of us."
"You flatter me, Silver."
She gave him another withering look. "Perhaps it will also flatter you to know that you inspired my idea, Mr. Jones." She stressed the formality, much to his amusement. "Earlier tonight, when I watched you pretending to be Bartholomew Markham, I thought there might be some sort of dinner show planned. But no one seemed to know of any entertainment, except, of course, for my speech. When your friend arrived, I deduced a hoax was in progress.
"At first, I was indignant on behalf of my colleagues." A hint of eagerness crept into her voice. "Then I was struck by divine inspiration. According to the Rocky Mountain Sun, a British earl, Lord Wilber Stokes of Chumley, has been traveling through the gold-mining west."
She paused, unrolling her newspaper and handing it to him. "You'll find the article there, on page one. The Sun is crying foul, because Chumley isn't likely to bring his august presence—or his British sterling—to Aspen. Apparently Chumley considers hard-rock mining far too expensive, not to mention risky, for speculation. He's been quoted in the San Francisco and Denver newspapers as saying he won't fritter his fortune away."
Rafe raised an eyebrow. Come to think of it, he had heard the gossip surrounding Chumley's travels. Last night, in the gambling hall below his lodging, he'd overheard a one-eyed Texican and his incredibly dumb crony blathering about the earl's "crown jewels" and how they would have lived like kings on such "loot."
With a wry smile, Rafe stepped closer to the gaslights and skimmed Silver's newspaper article. If the Sun could be believed, Chumley was the typical British blue blood with all the personality of a tree stump.
As far as investing went, though, Rafe couldn't blame the Brit. Most silver speculation was perpetuated by confidence men. Mining companies hired these so-called promoters to seek out widows, war veterans, salesclerks, farmers—in short, anyone whose gullibility or greed made them easy marks.
One out of every ten of these mining companies actually paid dividends to their investors, and the dividends never came close to the shareholders' full investment. Even legitimate mines, like the ones owned by Silver's father, sometimes had trouble paying off their capital investors.
Mother Earth didn't let anyone gut her innards without putting up a good fight.
"With careful hinting," Silver continued, her enthusiasm sparking a charming blush, "I can see that rumors of Chumley's arrival reach the appropriate editors. They will spread the news that Chumley has had a change of heart. That he has, indeed, decided to investigate the financial opportunities in hard-rock mining.
"You, of course, will pose as Chumley when you reach Aspen. I am certain a handsome young man such as yourself, perpetuating the illusion of an English title and more wealth than he knows how to spend, will be just the sort of temptation to make Celestia show her true colors."
"And your father?" Rafe asked dryly. "How do you think he'll react if his fiancée proves fickle?"
"He's not likely to shoot you, if that's what you mean."
Rafe started. Actually, the risk of a showdown hadn't entered his mind. "That's certainly comforting."
"My father is a gentle man, Mr. Jones. He's incapable of the violent acts perpetrated by vigilante Miner's Juries that hold sway in the more lawless camps of this region. I daresay the news of Celestia's perfidy will give Papa a dreadful case of the blue devils, so much so, that he will retire to the mountains for a sulk.
"But it cannot be helped," she added briskly, as if to strengthen her own resolve. "Not if I am to save him from a much greater heartache later on. My papa is endowed with a cheerful constitution, and I have every confidence it will be restored to him in time."
Rafe shook his head, bemused again by
Her brow furrowed at his irony. "In truth, Mr. Jones, I daresay you have enough confidence for both of us."
"You flatter me, Silver."
She gave him another withering look. "Perhaps it will also flatter you to know that you inspired my idea, Mr. Jones." She stressed the formality, much to his amusement. "Earlier tonight, when I watched you pretending to be Bartholomew Markham, I thought there might be some sort of dinner show planned. But no one seemed to know of any entertainment, except, of course, for my speech. When your friend arrived, I deduced a hoax was in progress.
"At first, I was indignant on behalf of my colleagues." A hint of eagerness crept into her voice. "Then I was struck by divine inspiration. According to the Rocky Mountain Sun, a British earl, Lord Wilber Stokes of Chumley, has been traveling through the gold-mining west."
She paused, unrolling her newspaper and handing it to him. "You'll find the article there, on page one. The Sun is crying foul, because Chumley isn't likely to bring his august presence—or his British sterling—to Aspen. Apparently Chumley considers hard-rock mining far too expensive, not to mention risky, for speculation. He's been quoted in the San Francisco and Denver newspapers as saying he won't fritter his fortune away."
Rafe raised an eyebrow. Come to think of it, he had heard the gossip surrounding Chumley's travels. Last night, in the gambling hall below his lodging, he'd overheard a one-eyed Texican and his incredibly dumb crony blathering about the earl's "crown jewels" and how they would have lived like kings on such "loot."
With a wry smile, Rafe stepped closer to the gaslights and skimmed Silver's newspaper article. If the Sun could be believed, Chumley was the typical British blue blood with all the personality of a tree stump.
As far as investing went, though, Rafe couldn't blame the Brit. Most silver speculation was perpetuated by confidence men. Mining companies hired these so-called promoters to seek out widows, war veterans, salesclerks, farmers—in short, anyone whose gullibility or greed made them easy marks.
One out of every ten of these mining companies actually paid dividends to their investors, and the dividends never came close to the shareholders' full investment. Even legitimate mines, like the ones owned by Silver's father, sometimes had trouble paying off their capital investors.
Mother Earth didn't let anyone gut her innards without putting up a good fight.
"With careful hinting," Silver continued, her enthusiasm sparking a charming blush, "I can see that rumors of Chumley's arrival reach the appropriate editors. They will spread the news that Chumley has had a change of heart. That he has, indeed, decided to investigate the financial opportunities in hard-rock mining.
"You, of course, will pose as Chumley when you reach Aspen. I am certain a handsome young man such as yourself, perpetuating the illusion of an English title and more wealth than he knows how to spend, will be just the sort of temptation to make Celestia show her true colors."
"And your father?" Rafe asked dryly. "How do you think he'll react if his fiancée proves fickle?"
"He's not likely to shoot you, if that's what you mean."
Rafe started. Actually, the risk of a showdown hadn't entered his mind. "That's certainly comforting."
"My father is a gentle man, Mr. Jones. He's incapable of the violent acts perpetrated by vigilante Miner's Juries that hold sway in the more lawless camps of this region. I daresay the news of Celestia's perfidy will give Papa a dreadful case of the blue devils, so much so, that he will retire to the mountains for a sulk.
"But it cannot be helped," she added briskly, as if to strengthen her own resolve. "Not if I am to save him from a much greater heartache later on. My papa is endowed with a cheerful constitution, and I have every confidence it will be restored to him in time."
Rafe shook his head, bemused again by
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