Liberty Hill (Western Tide Series) Read Free Page A

choked.
    Penelope stared at him blankly.
    Married. The date was set for Evelyn’s eighteenth birthday. And that date was tomorrow.
    Lucius waited for some sort of hysterical response from Penelope, but nothing came.
    This was not going well. Penelope was supposed to comprehend that he belonged to another woman, become terribly offended, and leave him with time enough to pursue the blonde. As it was, the poor girl seemed to take an awfully long time digesting the news. He wondered if she was normally dense or if it was just the brandy. Perhaps he should repeat it in Spanish?
    “I’m not sure you heard me, Penelope. I’ve told you my grand secret. I expected a little more of a reaction after so much persuasion.”
    To Lucius’ surprise, Penelope burst into laughter.
    “Bah!” she blurted, spittle flying from her lips. “You’re not getting married! Men like you don’t settle down, Lucius Flynn. And if they do, they wait until they’re old and disgusting. Give it another thirty years! You are far from old and disgusting. Don’t play with me, love. You are not getting married.”
    Lucius wiped his face, then patted her hand. The simple truth was that Penelope did not believe him. This was remedied easily enough.
    “No, darling,” he replied, “I’m afraid it’s only too true. Tonight I am celebrating my own fall from this beloved world of debauchery.” He sighed tragically. “Now give me a kiss. I have some more flirting to do before tomorrow, when I sign my neck over to the noose of matrimony.”
    She chuckled once more, twice more, and then her mood suddenly shifted as Lucius’ meaning sunk in. Consequently, she slapped him and departed in a huff.
    Lucius watched after her, rubbing his cheek and straightening his jacket. She was gone, which was celebratory, but she could have left him without the sting.
    He had underestimated her. Perhaps she possessed a shred of dignity after all.
    “Trouble with women?” someone asked.
    Lucius spun to see the blonde woman from the bar, and he nearly laughed with delight. Praise be to his patron saint! He didn’t even have to chase her down.
    “Ah, yes,” he replied, taking her hand in his own. “I’m afraid Spaniards are too spicy for me.”
    She tilted her head, humoring him. God, she was gorgeous.
    “Then perhaps a German might do?” she asked.
    He smirked and kissed the hand he had taken.
    Oh, yes. A German would do quite well.
    “My dear,” Lucius said, “my mouth is watering already.”
     
    Hours later, night was receding as Lucius picked his way along the streets. He had decided to walk, had needed the time to think, to get his head on straight. He needed to talk to her. Not the German woman, or Penelope. They had served other purposes. But Evelyn was his betrothed, and there was something she should know about him.
    Lucius Flynn was going to run away.
    He was wasting away, dying, suffocating in this kind of life. Had been since he was a boy. Work all day, play all night to forget about working all day. He took pleasure in the things that came easy to him, but he and God knew those things were certainly not the best. They were tonics against the great evil of diminishing dreams, and Lucius had all but succumbed to this aimless existence until last summer, when a gleam of hope had stretched forth from behind his veil of despair.
    Gold.
    Gold was discovered in the West.
    A tide was rising, and it was full of dreamers, adventurers, inventors, and entrepreneurs. In the past months, they had flooded into California from across the sea, across the continent, across the world, and with every one of their exhilarating newspaper accounts, Lucius felt the yearning within him grow. His restlessness stirred; the fire that had died within him was rekindled. He did not have to be a slave to his father, or to this life, anymore.
    In the beginning, he had tried to talk some sense into Banning, had begged his father to send him west to start a new division of the company.