Lady Be Good Part 10

"Or give up the charge card that's been paying off my feed bill, not to mention a few other minor necessities like decent clothes and gas money. My daddy and Dexter's father have me trapped. They can't come up with any other way to arrange a merger than for Dexter and me to ... merge."

"Merger?"

Kenny came out of his closet, still bare-chested, zipping up a pair of chinos. "Our father owns TCS, Traveler Computer Systems. It's located in Wynette. Dexter's father owns Com National, his fiercest compet.i.tor. Their main plant's in Austin, but he built a smaller research and development facility in Wynette just to get under my father's skin. The two companies have been duking it out since the seventies, pretty much using whatever slimeball trick either man could come up with to stay on top of the other. Unfortunately, they got so preoccupied hating each other's guts that they stopped paying attention to all the young companies nipping at their heels. Now both TCS and Com National are in trouble, and the only way they can survive is to merge. If that happens, they'll be pretty much invincible."

Emma shook her head. "I still don't understand what this has to do with Torie. Companies merge all the time without people getting married to accomplish it, especially when their fathers hate each other."

"Not these two companies," he said, bringing a light blue denim shirt from the closet. "The men have pulled too many shady deals on each other-not just business stuff, personal as well. Now neither of them trusts the other, but they both want the merger."

"So they're making me the sacrificial lamb to hold the whole thing together." Torie extracted a pack of cigarettes from her purse, only to have Kenny s.n.a.t.c.h them away and pitch them in the wastebasket.

Emma felt disoriented. Was there an epidemic of marriage-by-blackmail going on in the Western world? How had it happened that she'd managed to meet another woman in a similar situation? It seemed too bizarre to be coincidental, and the image of Francesca Serritella Day Beaudine came into her mind. But that made no sense. Francesca might know about Torie's dilemma, but she didn't know about Emma's own.

She needed to be alone so she could think, and she rose from the side of the bed. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to shower, and then I need to get back to the hotel."

Half an hour later she emerged from the bedroom and headed downstairs dressed in the short dress she'd worn last night, with Kenny's T-shirt pulled on top to hide the awful tattoo. The thought of living the rest of her life with a Lone Star flag on her arm was bad enough, but having the word Kenny Kenny permanently etched into her skin was unbearable. permanently etched into her skin was unbearable.

Kenny and Torie sat at the kitchen counter sipping coffee and eating donuts. Torie pointed a blue-green fingernail toward the open carton. "You want a donut, Emma? There's a cream-filled here that your lover boy hasn't gotten his mitts on yet."

"He's not my lover boy, and I think coffee is all I can handle at the moment."

"If he's not your lover boy, why were you naked in his bedroom?"

"That was an accident. We're not sleeping together. He's my driver."

"Your driver? Kenny, what's goin' on?"

He explained, although, in Emma's opinion, he placed unnecessarily negative emphasis on her leadership skills.

When he was done, Torie said, "So you're really a lady?"

"Yes, but I don't use my t.i.tle."

"I sure as h.e.l.l'd use my my t.i.tle if I had one." t.i.tle if I had one."

"That's what I I said." Kenny shot Emma an I-told-you-so look. said." Kenny shot Emma an I-told-you-so look.

Emma gave up.

"Wynette's not that far from Austin, Lady Emma." Torie uncoiled from the stool as gracefully as a lynx and headed to the sink to rinse off her sticky fingers. "And it's a real nice town. As long as you're in Texas, why not see how the natives live instead of just hitting the tourist spots? Kenny can take you back and forth to the UT library whenever you want, and San Antonio's not that far either. What do you say? As a gesture of feminist solidarity, will you help me get him back to his home-town?"

"She doesn't have any say in this," Kenny responded, clearly irritated.

Emma thought about it. Despite what she was telling everyone, her primary purpose in coming to Texas wasn't to do research. As long as she had access to the libraries she needed, she could finish that up in a few days. Far more important was the task of casting a shadow over her character, and she could do that just as easily in Wynette as anywhere else. Besides, being in the presence of a woman as outrageous as Torie Traveler was bound to upset Hugh. And it might be easier for Beddington's detective force to keep track of her in a small town. She had to admit the idea of having her base in Wynette was more appealing than moving from one impersonal big city hotel to another. "All right. Yes, I suppose that would work."

"No," Kenny said. "Absolutely not."

"Just think about our stepmama," Torie said to him. "She'll wet her pants having a real, live member of the British aristocracy in town."

"The best reason of all to stay away," he retorted.

Torie's expression grew cagey. "Do I have to remind you about a certain Christmas morning during our childhood when our mother showered you with a couple thousand dollars' worth of presents, but never got around to buying me anything?"

Emma straightened. What was this?

Kenny shot his sister an exasperated look. "I've spent the last seventeen years trying to make up for our dysfunctional childhood, and you're not putting me through any more guilt trips."

"Or maybe I should bring up the time I bought that great big Minnie Mouse cookie with my allowance money. It had those cute little sticky-up ears and a bow across the top. Remember the fit you kicked up because you wanted it, and how she slapped me across the face when I refused to give it to you? You stood right in front of me and ate the whole thing while I watched."

He winced. "Torie, everybody in the world knows that she was crazy and I was a spoiled brat!"

"I remember there were a couple bites of that hair bow left over-"

"Torie ..." His voice sounded a warning note.

"But instead of giving them to me, you threw them in the-"

"All right! You win, d.a.m.n it! But this is against my better judgment."

For a moment Torie appeared almost fragile. Then she curled one arm around his neck and pressed her lips to his cheek. "Thanks, bubba. I owe you one."

"You owe me more than one," he sighed. "But I'll still never catch up."

Chapter 7

"Surely your sister exaggerated," Emma said. "Your mother couldn't really have permitted such a thing." mother couldn't really have permitted such a thing."

Kenny pointed toward the pa.s.sing landscape through the Cadillac's window. "Look at those bluebonnets over there. And that red's Indian paintbrush. Isn't this just about the prettiest view you've ever seen?"

He obviously didn't want to talk about his childhood, and, once again, Emma let herself be distracted by the beauty of the Texas Hill Country. They were west of Austin now, not far from Wynette, on a two-lane highway that offered breathtaking vistas of rugged hills slashed with limestone and expansive valleys carpeted with fields of wildflowers, some stretching nearly as far as the eye could see. Since they'd left, she'd spotted her first Texas longhorn cattle, glimpsed several deer, and watched a bird Kenny identified as a red-tailed hawk circle a ribbon of crystal-clear river that sparkled in the sun. Now, however, she forced her attention away from the view to once again concentrate on piecing together the story behind what she'd heard this morning. Even though it was none of her business, she couldn't seem to help herself. She simply had to know more about him.

"Tell me about your childhood, Kenny. I'm only inquiring as an educator, you understand. I'm fascinated by the effect upbringing has on adult behavior."

"Believe me, if I'd let my upbringing affect me, I'd be locked up in a penitentiary somewhere."

"Was it really that bad?"

"Unfortunately, yes. You know those old teen movies where there's always this nasty rich kid who tortures the poor but valiant hero?"

"Yes."

"Well, I was that nasty rich kid."

"I don't believe it. You're immature and annoying, but you're not cruel."

He raised one eyebrow at her.

"Please tell me." She unwrapped a package of cheese and crackers she'd hurriedly purchased when he'd stopped for petrol and it became apparent that he had no interest in lunch.

He shrugged. "Everybody in Wynette knows how I was raised, so I guess you'll hear about it as soon as you hit town." He slipped into the left lane, pa.s.sing a pickup. "My mother was beautiful, born rich, and not exactly known for her brains."

Emma immediately thought of Torie, then decided that wasn't fair. She suspected that Torie Traveler was extremely intelligent, but hid it just as her brother did.

"My father grew up poor," Kenny said, "but he was smart and hardworking. I guess it was a case of opposites attracting. They married quick, then found out they basically hated each other's guts. Neither of them would consider a divorce. My father won't ever admit he's failed at anything, and Mother said she couldn't live through the disgrace."

"Rather old-fashioned."

"My mother spent her life on that thin edge between neurosis and psychosis, with psychosis winning out as she got older. She was a cla.s.sic narcissist married to a man who ignored her, so, as soon as I was born, she made me the center of her life. Whatever I wanted, she gave me, even if I shouldn't have had it. She never said no, not about anything. And because of that, I was supposed to worship her."

"Did you?"

"Of course not. I paid her back with bad behavior, and the more she indulged me, the more I pushed her. Then, whenever something did go wrong in my life, I blamed her for it. I was just about the most unpleasant child you can imagine."

No wonder, she thought, feeling a stab of pity for the boy he'd been, as well as reluctant admiration for his honesty. "Where was your father while all this was going on?"

"Building his company. I guess he did his best when he was around. He made sure he pointed out all my faults and practiced some harsh discipline, but he wasn't at home enough to be effective. I was such a repulsive little cuss I can't blame him for not hanging around more."

But he did blame him. Emma heard it in his voice. What a confusing upbringing it must have been to have one overly indulgent parent while the other only criticized. "From what I heard earlier," she said carefully, "I gather your mother didn't feel the same way about Torie that she felt about you."

"That's what I really blame her for. I was four when Torie was born, and, like any four-year-old, I didn't cater to having a stranger in the house. But instead of protecting Torie, Mother abandoned her to baby-sitters. Nothing was going to upset her perfect little Kenny, you understand. Certainly not another female in the household."

"Your poor sister."

He nodded. "Luckily, my father fell in love with Torie the moment he set eyes on her. When he was home, he kept her right by him, gave her all his attention, and made sure the baby-sitters reported directly to him. But he wasn't home enough, and she's still got a lot of scars."

Torie wasn't the only one with scars. His father's favoritism of his daughter must have been just as damaging as his mother's overindulgence. "Where's your mother now?"

"She died from a brain aneurysm just before I turned seventeen."

"And you were left with your father."

"One other person had shown up in my life by then, and, for some reason I can't imagine, he took an interest in me. He taught me everything I know about golf, and, at the same time, he made sure I learned the hard rules of life. Man, was he tough. But he gave me a chance."

Interesting that it was someone other than his father who'd seen his potential. "Who was he?"

Kenny didn't seem to have heard. "One lesson he taught me early on was how to treat my sister." He laughed. "He'd call her up right before we headed out for the golf course, and he wouldn't let me tee off unless she told him I'd been behaving with her. Can you imagine? A seventeen-year-old boy held hostage by his twelve-year-old sister." He laughed again. "Fortunately, Torie doesn't have much bloodl.u.s.t, and after the first few months she lost her appet.i.te for revenge. Not too long after that we discovered we liked each other. We've been just about each other's best friend ever since."

"What about you and your father?"

"Oh, we got ourselves straightened out a long time ago." He spoke too casually. "Once I started to win some golf tournaments, he realized I wasn't completely worthless. Now he sets up his whole schedule so he can watch me play."

So that was how Kenny had earned his father's approval. By winning golf tournaments.

While she was pondering the fact that child abuse came in many forms, the cell phone rang. Kenny answered, gave her a puzzled look, then handed it over. "Some guy who says he's a duke."

Emma set down the cheese and crackers she hadn't gotten around to eating before she pressed the phone to her ear. "Good afternoon, Your Grace."

"It's not afternoon here, my dear," that unpleasantly familiar voice responded. "It's late, and I should be in bed, but I've been too worried about you to sleep. Where have you been? I was told you didn't return to your hotel last night."

So, his watchdogs were in place. "Last night?"

"I know you were there, of course-where else could you have been?-but I wish you would have called."

"But-"

"Why did you check out of the hotel? I thought you were going to stay in Dallas."

She found it unsettling that he didn't even consider that she might have been out carousing all night. It occurred to her that he had an unfortunate habit of believing what he wanted to believe.

"Kenny and I are on our way to Wynette. It's his hometown. As for last night-"

"Wynette? That sounds familiar. Why on earth are you going there?"

"Kenny has some personal business to take care of. I said I'd accompany him."

"I see. And where will you be staying?"

She'd planned to stay at a hotel, but now she realized she couldn't afford that type of conservative behavior. "I'll be staying at Kenny's ranch, of course."

Kenny swerved.

She clutched the dashboard as Hugh began to sputter. "Impossible! He's an unmarried man, and you can't stay there by yourself."

"I'm so sorry to upset you, but it's necessary to my research. It's very important for me to ... fully experience the Wild West." There! she thought. Let him make what he would out of that.

"I'm gonna give you some Wild West," Kenny muttered.

She slipped her hand over the mouthpiece and shushed him.

"Emma, my dear, apparently it hasn't occurred to you that you're being a bit careless in your behavior. Even in a foreign country, you need to be more circ.u.mspect."

She drummed her fingers on her lap as he began to lecture her about propriety, his family name, and her reputation.

"You're staying in a hotel," Kenny said when she was finally able to hang up. "Not at my ranch. Now suppose you tell me who that was and what he wanted."

Even though he'd just shared some painful details of his private life, she wasn't anxious to do the same. "It was Hugh Holroyd, Duke of Beddington. He owns St. Gert's. Do you think you could slow down a bit?"

"How did he get my cell phone number?"

"I have no idea. He's quite an influential man, and he has a way of unearthing things. Look! More wildflowers!"

"I think it's time you tell me exactly what's going on here." He spoke in those deadly, humorless tones she was growing to dread.