by Nerys Leigh
“Nothing has made me happier than seeing you free of him,” he went on. “My only regret is that it didn’t happen sooner. And now, barely a month after your divorce, you expect me to welcome another man into your life?”
“But this time it’s different. You don’t know George. If you did, you’d like him.”
“I seem to recall you saying more or less the same thing to me about Franklin when you first brought him to meet me.”
Sighing, she sat on a corner of the desk. “I know, and you were right about him. But George is nothing like Franklin. I’ve learned my lesson. I know it seems sudden, but the time I spent with George in California reminded me what it’s like to be with a good man. Like it was with Charles.”
Her first love, when she was twenty-four, had been a wonderful man. Charles had made her feel as if she was the luckiest woman in the world. After he died in a carriage accident, she didn’t think she’d ever love that way again, and she hadn’t, not even her husband. But with George, she’d begun to think it might be possible. The feeling had taken her completely by surprise.
“But this is so sudden,” her father said. “Your marriage is only just over. Why not give yourself some time?”
“I’m forty-six, Daddy. If I take much more time, I’ll be dead before I marry again.”
His eyebrows rose. “I’m sixty-eight. What does that say about me?”
Despite still being annoyed with him, she smiled. “It says you’re blessed to have been married to the woman you love for more than two thirds of your life.”
He returned her smile. “True enough.”
She forced her expression back to severity. “So please stop trying to intimidate George into leaving.”
“If he’s intimidated that easily then he isn’t worth your attention. Although I’m of the opinion that he isn’t worth your attention anyway.”
Huffing out a sigh, she stood. “You’re impossible. Mother is a saint.”
“Yes, she is. But as your father, it’s my job to protect you in any way I can. And if that includes intimidating any man I don’t think will be good enough for you, so be it.”
Sometimes, her father could be so infuriating. “I’m not a child. I can look after myself.”
“To me you’ll always be the little girl who used to sit on my knee and giggle when I tickled her tummy.”
“I know, and I love you too, Daddy.” She walked to the door and then glanced back. “But if you ever say that about my tummy in front of George, I will never speak to you again.”
She left his study to the sound of his chuckles.
She knew her father was only trying to protect her, and she was glad he was, but she wished he’d go about it less like he was still in his courtroom.
George was the only man in more than twenty years who had made her feel hopeful for the future. The last thing she needed was for him to be placed on trial.
~ ~ ~
Millie’s parents’ garden was laid out in a series of ‘rooms’, divided by hedges and lattices covered with climbing plants. It was impossible to tell how big it was, but George was fairly certain his livery and most of the land he owned could have fit into it. Comparing his own property to anything to do with Millie probably wasn’t the best way to improve his mood, but he didn’t seem to be able to stop himself.
The neatly trimmed lawns and stuffed flowerbeds must have taken an army of gardeners to maintain. It all seemed like a lot of unnecessary work to him. He preferred the beauty of God’s creation in the vistas around Green Hill Creek, the forests and river leading to mountains that reached into the endless blue sky. And it all looked after itself, more or less.
However, the colorful flowers surrounding him now were pretty, and the hum of insects and twittering of birds, not to mention having Millie with him, calmed him a little after the meeting with her father.
Under normal circumstances, there was very little that could rile him, but then he’d never been in a position where his future could be so deeply affected by one man’s opinion of him. A man who quite clearly disliked him very much.
“Are you all right?”
He glanced at Millie walking beside him. In the time he’d taken to unpack his few belongings, she’d changed from the pale blue dress into a cream and dark red outfit. He didn’t know why, but she looked beautiful either way so he didn’t figure it mattered.
“I reckon so.”
“You neither sound nor look very convinced of that.”
He tried to think of a way to explain diplomatically, gave up, and simply came out with it. “I think your pa hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you.” He raised his eyebrows and she smiled. “All right, maybe he hates you a little bit, but he’s just being protective of me. I just ended an extremely bad marriage and already I have a suitor. He was going to hate you whoever you were. It’s nothing personal.”
He didn’t feel reassured. “Good to know I never stood a chance.”
She moved closer and slipped her arm around his. “You stand a chance with me.”
There weren’t many people who could make him smile when he was in a dark mood, but Millie was quite definitely one of them. “I’m glad to hear it.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Dumpling.”
She slapped his arm with her free hand. “Stop it.”
Chuckling, he tugged her closer to let her know he didn’t want her to let go. His mood improved even further when she smiled up at him.
“What did your father think of Courtney when he first met him?”
“Oh, he loathed him, far more than he loathes you. Couldn’t abide him. He begged me to leave him, but I was too foolish to listen. I didn’t see what he saw in Franklin, not until it was too late.”
At least he got less hatred than her former husband. That was something, wasn’t it? “So I guess he was glad when you divorced?”
“He was thrilled. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile so much. Mother told me he did a jig when he read the letter I sent them from Green Hill Creek telling them all about what happened. An actual jig! He was even happier when he found out about Franklin’s terrible behavior towards women. Not that he’d done it, but that Daddy finally had proof of his wrongdoing. He’d just been waiting for an opportunity to get him on trial, for anything at all. One benefit of having a retired judge for a father is that he has a lot of influence in the prosecutor’s office still.” Her joyful smile lit up her face. “Franklin never stood a chance. He was always going to go to prison for a very long time.”
There was a possibility her father wasn’t quite so bad as George was thinking. “So… you have no regrets about it all? I know it hasn’t been easy for you.”
Her smile faded. “My only regret is marrying him in the first place. I can’t believe how foolish I was, first to not see him for the philandering money-grabber he was, and then when I did, to not leave him right then. I wasted too many years as Franklin’s wife.”
“He was the fool,” George said firmly, “to not see how lucky he was.” He didn’t know what her reaction would be to his words, but it was true. He didn’t like the idea that she thought herself less than the near-perfection he knew her to be.
She glanced up at him briefly, a hint of pink staining her cheeks, before looking away. “There’s a gazebo just around this corner. How about we sit for a while?”
Was it his imagination, or did she sound a little breathless?
“I’m happy with whatever you want to do.”
She led him to a white-painted gazebo, its wooden lattice sides intertwined with honeysuckle. The sweet fragrance drifted over them as they sat side by side on a bench beneath the branches, facing an avenue of topiary clipped into tall, narrow cones.
They didn’t speak for a while, but it was the silence of two people who were used to each other’s presence. They’d spent so much time together in the two weeks Millie had stayed in Green Hill Creek that awkward silences didn’t exist between them. Not that George was e
ver uncomfortable with silence. He was of the opinion that quiet was a good thing, and filling every second of it with talking wasn’t necessary. He was aware that other people didn’t always feel the same, but with Millie it was easy.
So they simply sat in comfortable silence.
Mostly comfortable.
Well, not entirely comfortable, at least as far as he was concerned. It was the first time they’d been truly alone since he arrived, the first time they’d been alone since her divorce, and her proximity had George’s mind on things other than the warm, late summer day or the smell of honeysuckle or the sound of birdsong.
He glanced at Millie out of the corner of his eye. She was looking ahead of her, seemingly relaxed. He looked away again.
After a few seconds, he glanced at her again, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it.
He shifted on the bench, turning a little towards her, and cleared his throat. There were another few seconds of not uncomfortable silence.
“So are you going to kiss me or do I need to take matters into my own hands?”
George almost fell off the bench. “I, uh… what?”
Millie swiveled to face him. “Because if you wait much longer, I’m going to have to do something most unladylike.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Oh? And what might that be?”
“Well, I might, for instance, move closer to you.” She slid along the wooden bench until their knees brushed against each other. “And then I might, if I were to give an example, be so forward as to lay my hand on your arm.” She rested her palm on the bare skin of his forearm where he’d rolled up his sleeve. “And then, if the mood took me, I could slide that hand up to your face.” The hand accordingly moved up his arm, over his shoulder, and up to his jaw. “And then I might…”
He didn’t wait to hear what else she might do. Leaning forward, he swallowed the rest of her words with a kiss.
He started with a mere brushing of his lips against hers, until she made a tiny, breathless sound that destroyed his restraint. Wrapping his arms around her, he gave in and pulled her close, deepening the union. She slipped her arms around his neck, returning his passion with her own, and his world exploded in sensation.
He hadn’t kissed a woman like this in a long, long time and he’d forgotten how good it could feel. Emotions he hadn’t experienced in over two decades came rushing back, twining around his head and his heart and claiming him once more. And he was powerless to do anything to stop them.
Not that stopping anything was at all on his mind.
When they finally parted, after what seemed like hours of bliss, he had to gasp for air.
Millie touched her fingertips to her mouth. “Um…” She drew in a deep breath. “That was… I, um…”
He would have laughed as he watched her flounder, if he hadn’t felt as flustered as she was. The bench they sat on seemed to have been replaced by a cloud.
She drew her lower lip between her teeth and his eyes followed the movement. “You… you are….” She puffed out a breath. “Oh, for goodness’ sake.”
Throwing herself back into his arms, she crushed her lips to his.
He had no objections. Air was overrated anyway.
Chapter 3
The first thing George thought when he awoke the next morning was that the birds sounded wrong. It took him a moment to remember where he was.
There were plenty of birds singing outside, but the chorus wasn’t quite the same as he was used to. It was also quieter. Back home, with only wooden walls to separate him from the outside world instead of the bricks surrounding him now, the song of nature was far louder. Birds could be irritatingly vociferous sometimes.
He drew in a deep breath and let it out in a sigh of bliss. The bed was the most comfortable he’d ever lain in, with fluffy pillows and thick blankets. His own bed, which up until now had seemed perfectly adequate, felt like a wooden board in comparison. If this was what Millie was used to, he’d need to buy a new mattress if they got…
He blinked up at the ceiling. Was he really considering getting married again? Millie’s face came into his mind, the sound of her laughter, the way she felt in his arms, and he knew that he was.
It had been so long since he’d felt like this that he’d forgotten how intoxicating holding a woman could be, how his heart could soar at the sight of her smile and the touch of her lips.
Was he in love? He wasn’t sure. But if he wasn’t, he was close. If anyone had suggested to him even a few months ago that he’d feel this way again, he’d have thought them deranged.
“You really do know how to surprise a man, God,” he said, sitting up and pressing a hand to his gut when it rumbled.
He had more immediate concerns right now, namely his empty stomach. He could ponder the complications of his personal life when he’d eaten. And even more importantly, found some coffee.
Twenty minutes later he was washed and dressed and off in search of the kitchen. It wasn’t too hard to find at the back of the house. As with everything else there it was bigger than George thought necessary, with ranges and tables and shelving and cupboards everywhere.
He walked in and almost collided with a young woman. She gasped, stumbling backwards, and he reached out to steady the stack of plates in her arms before they fell.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” she said quickly, her eyes wide.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” he replied, releasing the plates when he was sure they were stable. “My fault for not looking where I was going.”
Looking relieved, she bobbed a small curtsy and carried on past him. He glanced after her in mild surprise. He didn’t usually get curtsied to.
There were two other women in the kitchen. One was stirring something heating in a pot on one of the ranges. The other, an older woman, stood beside the cook, sipping from a teacup. Probably the housekeeper.
A small, impractical-looking dog with long white hair trotted up to him and gave a sharp bark. The attempt at ferocity was mitigated not only by its size but also by the pink ribbon holding its hair out of its eyes in a topknot.
“Mini, hush,” the older women said. She smiled at George. “Good morning. Please forgive Mini, she’s always a little suspicious of strangers. May I help you with anything?”
“Morning, ma’am. Name’s George Parsons. I’m a guest of Millie… I mean, Miss Ravensworth.”
“I know who you are, Mr. Parsons.” She raised her cup. “Would you like some tea?”
“I’d prefer coffee, but if tea’s all you have, that’s just fine. Don’t go to any extra trouble on my account.”
She placed her cup onto the table in the center of the room. “You’re in luck, Mr. Parsons, Mr. Ravensworth is also partial to coffee so we have both. Please, have a seat.”
While she poured him a cup of coffee from a pot warming on the range, he eyed the ridiculous dog. “You in the habit of biting strangers, Mini?”
“Not usually,” the housekeeper said over her shoulder.
“All right then.” He leaned down to offer the little dog his hand to sniff.
After a moment’s consideration, she wagged her stubby tail. He rubbed her ears and the tail wagged even harder.
Having obtained Mini’s blessing, he slid onto the bench that ran the length of the long table. She jumped up beside him and attempted to climb onto his lap. He held out a hand to stop her.
“Would you like milk and sugar with your coffee, Mr. Parsons?” the housekeeper asked.
“No, ma’am, thank you. In the west we like it as strong as possible. Gets us up in the mornings. And please, call me George. Everyone does.”
She set the full cup on the table in front of him and took a seat opposite. Mini lay down on the bench beside him and rested her head on his thigh while he took a sip of the hot liquid.
He sighed in contentment. “Ma’am, that’s real good coffee. I’m not awake until I get my first cup in the morning.”
She smiled and raised her own cup to her lips. “I�
�m exactly the same with tea. And please, call me Ann.”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I mean, Ann.”
They drank in companionable silence for a while. George wondered that the housekeeper wouldn’t be busy at this time of the morning, but he figured servants got their time to eat and drink too.
“So, George,” Ann said, placing her empty cup on its saucer, “how are you finding New York?”
“I haven’t seen much of it so far, but it’s bigger than I’m used to.” He looked around the kitchen. “And grander, this house at least. I’m from Charlotte originally, but that’s nothing like here.”
“This is quite a city.”
“That it is.” He drained the last of his coffee, absently stroking Mini’s head.
Ann appeared to study him. “It’s a long way from California. You must have thought it very important that you come here.”
“Yup.” He placed his empty cup onto the table and stared at it. “My wife died twenty-four years ago, after giving birth to our son. I didn’t think I’d ever find another woman who made me feel the way she did. But then I met Millie and there it was again.” He moved his gaze to the wedding band on Ann’s finger. “I reckon you must know what I mean, you being married and all. That feeling you get, deep in your chest, when you’re with that person.”
She smiled. “I know that feeling, yes.”
He could tell from the look on her face she knew exactly what he was talking about. “That’s why I had to come when Millie invited me. Truth is, I don’t exactly know why I’m here. Compared to all this, I have nothing to offer her. All I own is a livery in a tiny town at the back end of nowhere. But when she asked, I couldn’t do anything else but come. I’d do just about anything she asked me to.”
Ann looked away and he was almost sure he caught her eyes misting. She’d probably been working for the Ravensworths a long time and was fond of Millie. He was mildly embarrassed at his little speech. He didn’t usually air his feelings like that. The coffee had obviously yet to kick in.
“I disagree with you, George,” she said. “I think you have everything to offer Millicent.” She rose and carried her cup to one of a pair of sinks set against the wall behind her. “Breakfast will be served at nine in the breakfast room. Please excuse me.”
