Cold Gold Read Free Page B

between his lips and quickly lit it, then looked up as Lucy Vanderberg came towards them.
    “I hope you found your meal satisfying, Lady Buxton.” Lucy ignored King completely. Shocked at her lack of manners, Serena slid a sideways glance at King to assess his reaction to this. His lips were pressed together forming a thin, hard line. Animosity radiated from both of them, piquing Serena’s curiosity. What could have happened between them?
    “Most excellent, thank you,” Serena made her voice light. “ Please give my compliments to your chef.”
    “He’ll be pleased. He’s from San Francisco and for the main part thinks we are un-civilized heathens up here. Would you like more coffee?”
    “No, thank you.”
    “In that case, I’ll say good nig ht and see you in the morning.”
    She walked away without speaking one word to King , who appeared not at all discomfited by being so rudely ignored. Serena turned to him again.
    “So how did you come to be in Cold Creek?” she inquired.
    “The gold, sa me as pretty well everyone else.” King sat back in his chair, giving the impression of settling in for an evening of conversation. “Transferring what I knew about coal mining to gold mining came easy. Besides, I didn’t want to go on having to tug my forelock to the landed gentry at home. I’m sure you understand.”
    He cocked an eyebrow at her and a wr y grin twisted his lips. He bordered on being insulting but Serena ignored his inference.
    “Well, standards everywhere are changing,” she said as calmly as she could. “I suppose it goes with these modern times we live in. Now, if you will excuse me, I think I shall retire for the night.”
    King stood and held her chair for her.
    “If you need any assistance, Lady Buxton, just send a message to the mine office. I’ll help you any way I can.”
    Serena said goodnight to him and walked away, her suspicions thoroughly aroused. How had he known of her arrival? Had George Wilding told him? Or had Joe boasted that he’d helped her? And why couldn’t King have waited until tomorrow to talk to her?
    As she reached the stairway she sensed that he watched her. Holding her head high she walked steadily up the stairs but sighed with relief when her fingers gripped the solid brass handle on her door. She quickly let herself into her room, standing for a moment in the dark before fumbling on the wall for the light switch. She flicked it on and the soft glow from beneath the shaded fixtures spilled down the walls and illuminated the room, making it cozy and partially dispelling her fears.
    Thoughts raced around in her head as she unbuttoned the tiny pearl buttons on the cuffs of her blouse. Nothing made sense. Randolph’s sudden disappearance and Lucy Vanderberg’s, as well as her own, antipathy towards King all combined to set her nerves on edge.
    She hung her clothes in the wardrobe then pulled the pins from her hair and let it fall around her shoulders. Min, or someone, had put a warming pan in her bed. She grasped the long handle that protruded from beneath the sheets, pulled the pan out and set it on the hearth in the sitting room.
    Her eyes welled with tears and she blinked hard. She would not cry. She absolutely would not . But, once she settled into the warm, downy softness of the big bed, she could not prevent the tears escaping the barrier of her lashes.
    She should have come straight here, not taken her time sightseeing in San Francisco. But their last argument over Randolph’s leaving again had filled her with dread that he did not love her. But if he didn’t love her, why did he have that photograph in his pocket? When he returned to Cold Creek, what would his reaction be on seeing her? That fear grew into a cold bedfellow.
    Her body ached for him . She wanted the comfort of his arms about her, his soft whispers in her ear, his assurances that, yes, he did love her.
    “Randolph,” she sobbed as she turned her face into the pillow, “Where are