Athena had used their shared memories against him—he was too skilled a negotiator not to recognize that. Without directly calling upon the great debt he owed her, she had forced him to acknowledge the necessity of keeping Caitlin from the fate she had suffered.
It will not happen to Caitlin. He had made sure of that. He had behaved correctly, honorably. Athena was grateful.
But none of these truths comforted him. The closer the train drew to Denver, the more certain he was that he must see for himself how matters went at the ranch. He could speak to Mr. Durant and the foreman, make certain that the circus people were not taking too much advantage of their free accommodations. And while he was there, he would look in on Caitlin and carry a report back to his sister.
Yes. I will go to Long Park. Only a brief stop in Denver, and then I will be on my way.
The moment he made the decision, the tightness in his chest eased and his mind was clear again. He closed his eyes. The train’s rocking became a soothing motion, and he no longer noticed the smoke or the discomfort of the long journey. For the first time in a month, he slept through the night.
For three whole days, Cecily kept her fingers crossed and prayed for just a little bit of luck. Athena had left Denver early yesterday morning; a mere day and a half later, Cecily had achieved more than she had any right to expect.
At first she had resented the position Athena had put her in. After all, the last thing she wanted to do was lie to Niall should he ask how his sister was faring—though, thank goodness, he had done so only once during his sojourn to Chicago. But Cecily had found it impossible to turn down the opportunity Athena unwittingly offered: that of making the Winter Ball her own.
True, there were relatively few details left to attend in the week and a half remaining before the event, but those could be made quite important with the right emphasis. The usual guests had already been invited, and the catering arranged, but Cecily had been doing her own investigating while she helped Athena. She knew that the grand ballroom at the Windsor was available the night of the ball. And she had decided, immediately upon Athena’s departure, to change the venue from the Munroes’ private ballroom to the public setting.
That, of course, meant more decorations, more hothouse flowers, and many other alterations. Cecily knew that Athena preferred intimacy and the same familiar circle of acquaintances to crowds and public display. With a complete lack of imagination, she chose guests who were generous with donations, not those who made fascinating company or offered new social or business opportunities.
Cecily had no interest in charity beyond what it could do for her social progress. She knew of several dignitaries and businessmen from other states or cities, and even outside the country—including a prince of some small European nation and at least one English earl—who were currently in town; she sent invitations to them and a number of other useful personages who had been left off the guest list for want of space.
After that, it was necessary to order additional foodstuffs, suitable for such elegant attendees. By the time the day of the ball arrived, the affair would bear little resemblance to the one Athena had planned.
And Athena, bless her naïveté, would remember that she had given Cecily carte blanche to do as she saw fit. She would seem both foolish and selfish if she protested the changes. Indeed, if the girl were gone only the few days she had proposed, Cecily would be most surprised. By the time she came back, it would be too late to return to the previous arrangements.
Cecily sighed with airy regret and stepped down from her carriage, glad to be home after a long day of shopping. The price of this deception might very well be the loss of Athena’s trust and friendship. But Cecily had grown more and more confident of Niall’s attachment to her; in fact, she had prepared several stories to explain Athena’s absence should he return to Denver before his sister. Every one of them would reflect badly on Athena and leave Cecily the injured party.