Last Chance Beauty Queen (Last Chance #3)(25)
Author: Hope Ramsay

Reverend Ellis began to read the Gospel passage for the day from Mark 12:38–44, where Jesus tells his disciples to beware of the scribes who dress up in long robes and make a pretense of long prayers. Reverend Ellis got to the punch line of the story, where Jesus points out that the poor widow’s small gift was larger than the rich man’s, and Caroline’s empty stomach decided to make a comment. It emitted the deepest, most ferocious, and hugely embarrassing growl ever heard from the back pew at Christ Church. Heads turned. Lillian Bray glowered. Eugene Hanks cleared his throat.

Hugh came to her rescue. Darn him.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a partially consumed packet of cheese crackers. He handed her one and took another for himself.

Lillian’s glare morphed into something more predatory. As if she had just nosed out a juicy bit of gossip—or perhaps some blasphemous activity—right there in the back pew of Christ Church.

Caroline downed the cracker and then tried to move away from Hugh a little bit. But the edge of the pew gave her limited space, and he kind of inched over in her direction.

She folded her hands in her lap and concentrated on Reverend Ellis, which was no mean feat. The minister was droning on in his aw-shucks manner when suddenly his words crept up on Caroline and bopped her one on the forehead.

“We are all a little bit like those scribes that Jesus warned us about,” he said. “We all work hard to keep up appearances. We dress up for church. We exercise for our health but we want to look good, too. We buy the best brands and work hard to make sure our houses show our best sides. Most of us, down deep, are fearful, uncertain, and imperfect.”

Uh-oh.

Caroline clasped her hands together and tried to breathe deeply as a strange sensation crept through her. She was fearful and uncertain and imperfect. That’s why she wore demure suits and designer shoes and made sure she never made stupid mistakes.

The walls closed in and a strange sense of panic made her shiver. And then, out of the blue, Hugh reached over and took her hand. The touch of his warm and rough fingers settled her right down in a strange and sexy way. Hugh kept hold of her hand and ran his thumb over her skin, making heat out of the subzero temperature in the church.

She ought to pull away from him before anyone noticed that they were holding hands in church. She was supposed to be pretending to be in love with Dash. And besides, holding hands with him was not exactly in her job description.

Boy, she was in morally ambiguous territory all the way around. She squeezed Hugh’s hand. He squeezed back. And the sermon finally ended.

Everyone got up to say the Nicene Creed, and after that everyone had to kneel and pray for a while.

Caroline had a whole lot of things to pray about, most especially the future of Last Chance. She tried, very hard, to ignore the man kneeling next to her.

It was impossible. Her prayers had to include helping him find a source of cash so he could build his factory in some nonswampy location near Last Chance. In fact, Hugh deBracy was the centerpiece of her prayers that morning.

Before she knew it, she and Hugh were standing again, facing each other during the time where everyone greets everyone else. Hugh wished her God’s Peace.

She looked up at him, and it almost seemed as if she were seeing him for the first time. He said he came from a small town. He said he understood what it was like to live up to expectations. The gentle and kind gleam in his eye was nothing like the arrogant man he sometimes appeared to be.

He looked deep into her eyes. Not anywhere else, just her eyes, and Caroline knew he saw her. Not just the size of her bust, or the fact that she was a country girl, or anything else. He really saw her.

Boy, that was refreshing.

But it was also a little bit frightening.

Her concentration was completely destroyed after that encounter. She went through communion  , the prayer of thanksgiving, and the recessional hymn in a completely dazed and confused state.

Caroline managed to lose Dash about halfway through the fellowship hour. They’d had coffee, and he’d even given her a kiss on the cheek, right there in front of the entire congregation.

His kiss did not put a charge into any of her girl parts, though. It did make her blush, but only because the congregation was eating it up and she hated to think what was going to happen when she let them know it was all an act.

When she disappointed them again.

Dash finally headed off to the men’s room, giving her the opportunity to seek out Lord Woolham, who stood across the room, charming Thelma Hanks and Millie Polk. The man really did have a way of disarming people, didn’t he?

“Excuse me, I need his Lordship a moment,” Caroline said, breaking into his conversation with Thelma and Millie. “Do ya’ll mind? I know it’s the Lord’s day, but I still need to talk a little business.”

The two ladies made a quick exit, but not before telling Caroline they expected to see her at the kissing booth later in the day. Caroline promised that she’d stop by. The two ladies tittered as they left.

“You’re going to sell kisses?” Hugh said, his eyebrow waggling.

“I didn’t say that. I said I was going to go by the booth.”

“So I see you and Dash are getting pretty cozy.” His eyes sparked, and the electricity flowed right to the tips of her toes. Obviously he knew she was faking it with Dash; after all, she’d kissed him last night.

Idiot.

She gulped down a breath. She really needed to put a stop to this. “Look, Lord Woolham, you can quit flirting now. I know the truth.”

He blinked. “The truth? About what?”

She leaned in, speaking in a low whisper. “Cissy told me all about how you’re strapped for cash. How you’re cruising for a wealthy wife and all that.”

He paled. “She told you that?”

“Yes, and you should know that Cissy’s private investigators are the best money can buy. I have no doubt she got it right.”

His whole body stiffened. “I am strapped for financing. But it’s not true that I’m, how did you put it, cruising for a wealthy wife.”

“No? What about Lady Ashton?”

He blushed. “You know about Victoria?”

“Well, I don’t know much about her, just that she’s loaded and Cissy said you were practically engaged to marry her.”

“Look, Caroline, the truth is that for years everyone has expected me to marry Lady Ashton. And she’s quite amenable to the arrangement. But I’ve always wanted to make a go of it on my own. I want to see my loom revolutionize textiles manufacturing.”

He looked away. “But of course, that’s a rather selfish goal. And I do know my duty. But still, I don’t really want Victoria to swoop in and rescue me with her checkbook, although, God knows, that’s what your Miriam Randall predicted for me.”

Surprise jolted through Caroline. “Miriam gave you a matrimonial prediction? Really?”

“Yes, she did. I can’t remember it exactly. Something about a woman giving me a fortune. It sounded precisely like Lady Ashton, and believe me, it didn’t make my heart go pity-pat.”

“So you don’t love Lady Ashton?”

He turned his gaze on her. “How should I know? I’m fond of her. But I’ve never really been in love. Have you?”

“No. Can’t help you in that department.”

“But you have one of Miriam’s predictions, too, don’t you?”

“Yes, he’s going to be the salt of the earth and a regular Joe.”

“So I heard. Everyone was thinking Bubba on Saturday morning. But since Dash lassoed you, everyone has changed their minds. Is it always like this in Last Chance?”

“Yup. You should have seen the mayhem that ensued that time all of Clay’s ex-girlfriends showed up on the nine-thirty bus from Atlanta after Miriam said they would.”

“Her prediction was that specific? Because, quite honestly, it seems to me that a prediction that you will settle down with an average sort of man, and I will settle down with an heiress, is not particularly startling.”

A vague sense of disappointment stabbed at her chest. What had she been thinking in church earlier? She and Hugh were not similar at all. They were worlds apart.

“You know,” she said, “the fact that you and I come from different worlds is a good reason that we should avoid any repeats of what happened yesterday on the pier. I’m not an heiress, and besides that slip was very unprofessional on my part.”

He frowned. “You really do believe Miriam Randall’s predictions are ironclad, don’t you? How completely remarkable. You know, I’m rather a skeptic about fortunetellers.”

“And not angels?”

His eyebrow arched. “Just because I asked to speak with your father’s angels does not mean I actually believe they are out there. I was humoring him.”

“Right. I figured that out. But you should know that Miriam’s predictions always come true.” She straightened her shoulders in irritation. Maybe he was the arrogant snob that he’d first appeared to be.

“Well, your problems would be solved if I went home and married Victoria, wouldn’t they? That would certainly keep your father’s land safe.”

“No, please don’t misunderstand. The fact is, Lord Woolham, that I need to find a way to get that factory built, right here in Allenberg County.”

“Oh, that’s rather a change, isn’t it? I thought you wanted me to build elsewhere.”

“I did, but that was before I discovered that Last Chance’s main employer may be in trouble.”

“I see. Well, the truth is, unless I can build on your father’s land, or Jimmy Marshall buys back his swampland, I will have to return to England and marry Victoria.”

“Is it that bad?”

“I’m afraid it’s worse than bad. You see, my business partner was dishonest with me. He had fewer resources than I believed. And then he made this spectacularly bad investment here in the States and promptly disappeared in a small plane somewhere near Rio.”

“Holy smokes. Are you saying he stole the money?”

“Well, no. There is, after all, a record of the land sale where the price is listed, and the plane officially disappeared. But it’s all rather dodgy, isn’t it?”

“Wow. Jimmy could have given him a kickback.”

He shrugged. “You have no proof of that. However, I do believe that someone swindled me. I just cannot believe that George was the kind of trainspotter who would unwittingly buy swampland for a factory.”

“Train what?”

“Trainspotter. It means crazy. And George wasn’t crazy, or stupid. He was rather smooth. He could well have been a con man.”

“This keeps getting worse by the minute. Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” She turned around and sank into a hard metal folding chair. Hugh sat down beside her.

“Because I didn’t realize the dimensions of the problem until the last few days. You, dear Caroline, have been the bearer of much discouraging news, I’m afraid.”

“I wonder if Hettie knows her husband is a crook?” Caroline looked across the room to where Hettie was talking with the minister.