by Nerys Leigh
He stood quickly, earning an irritated huff from Mini as her head was dislodged from his leg. “It was a real pleasure talking with you, ma’am.”
“It was a pleasure talking with you too, George.”
Mini jumped down from the bench and trotted after her from the room.
George picked up his cup and carried it to the sink, placing it beside hers. Across the room, the cook was watching him with an amused smirk. Probably laughing at him for his emotional speech.
He nodded to her. “Thank you for the coffee, ma’am.”
She nodded back and returned to the bacon she was now frying.
George left in search of something to do before breakfast, which would include finding the breakfast room.
~ ~ ~
George made his way to the breakfast room at ten minutes to nine.
A room just for eating breakfast in. It was as if he’d stumbled into a whole different world.
Millie arrived at the same time he did and he came to a halt, his eyes drifting down to the pale green, lacy dress that seemed to float around her as she walked.
“Good morning,” she said as she walked up to him. “Did you sleep well?”
He couldn’t help smiling as he thought of the wonderful bed. “I slept real well. My pa used to say that a soft mattress made a man soft. My ma disagreed. I reckon I’m with her.”
Laughing, she slipped her arm around his. “I think I am too. Shall we go in? My mother came home late last night so you’ll get to meet her.”
His smile faded. “Oh. Good.” Now both of her parents could despise him together.
She squeezed his arm as they headed for the breakfast room door. “Don’t worry, she’ll adore you. Daddy just needs time to get to know you, that’s all.”
Or maybe he just needed time to formulate a plan to remove George from Millie’s life in as permanent a way as possible.
“I hope you’re right.” He knew she wasn’t.
She walked ahead of him through the door. “Oh, Mother, you’re here already.” Slipping her arm back around George’s, she led him across the room towards Judge Ravensworth and a woman with her back to them. “George, may I present my mother, Ann Ravensworth.”
Mrs. Ravensworth turned around and he winced. The housekeeper. How stupid was he?
“Good morning again, George,” Ann said, a smile twitching at her lips.
Mini appeared from beneath the table and bounded up to him with an excited woof, tail wagging.
“I… what… um… good morning, Ann.”
At his use of her mother’s first name, Millie’s eyes widened. Judge Ravensworth’s scowl, seemingly a permanent fixture when George was around, grew even deeper.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” George said.
Ann looked as though she might burst into laughter. “When it was clear you didn’t know who I was I thought I’d take the opportunity to find out how you truly feel about my daughter.”
He glanced between Millie and her mother. Now he knew, there was a definite resemblance. It would have been nice if he’d noticed that before he made a fool of himself.
“May I inquire as to why you are being so familiar with my wife?” Ravensworth demanded, stepping in front of her.
Ann walked around him, laying a hand on his arm as she passed. “Oh Leonard, there’s no need to overreact. I told him to call me Ann when we met earlier, in the kitchen. George and I had a lovely talk about Millie.” She lowered her voice as she reached them, although they could all still hear her say to her daughter, “I think you made a fine choice this time.”
She patted her arm, smiled at George, and carried on past to take a seat at the table. Ravensworth looked at his wife as if she’d lost her mind, scowled some more at George, and took a seat beside her.
Since George had yet to acknowledge her presence, Mini stood up on her hind legs with another woof and rested her front paws against his knee. He leaned down to ruffle her ears.
When he straightened, the smile Millie gave him looked in danger of splitting her face in half. Taking his arm again, she guided him to the table and they sat side by side.
Across the table from them, Ann appeared amused. Ravensworth simply grunted his disapproval.
This was going to be possibly the longest breakfast of George’s life.
Chapter 4
Following a breakfast that could have been worse but also most certainly could have been much, much better, Millie suggested they go riding. George was more than ready to get out for a while.
He met her half an hour later at the stable block set to one side of the house. It was only then that he understood why she’d needed the time to prepare. She’d changed her clothing, replacing the green lacey wonder with a blue riding dress. How many different outfits did she wear in a typical day? He truly didn’t understand women.
Although she did look beautiful, so he wasn’t in any way complaining.
They were met by a young man leading two saddled geldings, one chestnut and one dun.
Millie took the reins of the dun. “Thank you, James.”
He nodded and held out the reins of the chestnut to George. “This is Jordan. He’s a good horse.” There was a very slight slur to his speech and his words came slowly, as if his brain wasn’t working quite as fast as it should have been.
George took the reins from him. “Thanks, James.”
There was a stone mounting block across the yard and Millie walked her horse over to it with James following.
George held out his hand to Jordan. The horse sniffed him and perked his ears forward. George sometimes imagined he must have a permanent equine odor about him, even when he was clean. Maybe he was right.
He gently stroked Jordan’s shoulder until he leaned into his touch.
“Good boy,” he murmured, smiling.
Now seated demurely on her sidesaddle, Millie guided her horse back to him.
“How about we go for a ride?” he said to Jordan, walking him to the block.
A smile stole onto his face as he mounted. He hadn’t been on a horse in over a week and it felt unspeakably good to be back in the saddle, even if said saddle was English rather than the Western style he was used to. He wasn’t sure he’d gone so long without riding since he could walk.
James watched him intently, only returning to the stable block when he seemed sure George knew what he was doing.
George guided Jordan to Millie’s side and lowered his voice. “Is he James Sutton, who Courtney claimed saw Amy steal from him?”
She frowned at the mention of her former husband. “Yes, and James did no such thing. I was worried the new owners wouldn’t want him when I sold the house, and that he wouldn’t be able to find another job, so I persuaded my father to hire him here. He may not be so good with some things, but he’s wonderful with the horses.”
George had noticed how both horses trusted him. If he’d come to George for a job at his livery, he’d have hired him the moment he saw the way he cared for the animals. “I can tell.”
Millie led the way out of the stable yard and into the drive where George moved to ride at her side.
He glanced at her legs. “You never used a sidesaddle when we went riding back in Green Hill Creek.”
She wrinkled her nose. “To tell the truth, I much prefer riding astride. But if you do anything different here it will be gossip for weeks, even something as small as not riding sidesaddle.”
“I didn’t figure you for a woman who cared much about gossip.”
“I try not to, but sometimes it’s difficult. With the divorce and Franklin going to prison, I’m New York society’s favorite topic right now.” She sighed as they rode through the gate and onto the road, gazing at the houses of her neighbors. “I don’t want to give them any more to talk about.”
The idea that she was being gossiped about behind her back brought out George’s frown. “What about inviting a man to come all the way from California to stay with you?”
“Oh
, I don’t mind them talking about that. All the women will be jealous they don’t have a rugged, handsome cowboy of their own.” Flashing him an impish smile, she nudged her horse into a trot.
He stared after her for several seconds before recovering enough to urge Jordan into a canter to catch up with her. “I’m glad to be of service in that respect then,” he said, when he was once more by her side.
Her laughter shivered through his chest, making him feel lighter. As long as Millie wanted him there, he wasn’t worried about anyone else, including her father.
They passed from the elegant residences of Millie’s neighborhood into the bustling streets of the less wealthy, surrounded by stories-high brick buildings of homes and businesses. Eventually they reached a stone-pillared gate and rode into a lush, green landscape of grassy lawns, trees, and lakes.
George drew in a deep breath. Not that the air was all that much fresher in the park, but he much preferred the open space to the crowded, claustrophobic streets. He wasn’t used to being hemmed in on every side.
The sound of laughter caught his attention and he watched two young children, a girl and boy, chase after each other across the grass, their mother watching them from a nearby bench. His thoughts immediately went to the children he’d met at the station the previous day. They’d been on his mind a lot.
“Are there any places round here that help the poor?” he asked Millie.
“There are some charitable organizations, but they can’t help everyone. There are a lot of poor people in New York. There are the poor houses, but no one wants to go into those. Why do you ask?”
“Yesterday at the station, before you arrived, I met two young kids. They seemed like they might need help.”
“What were they doing there?”
“Trying to pick my pocket.”
She gasped, looking horrified. “They were what?”
He watched the playing children as they rode past. “They didn’t succeed.”
Unsure how she’d react, he related his brief interaction with the two urchins. To his relief, she didn’t seem unduly concerned that his first experience of New York had been the young thieves.
“It’s a sad fact that there are very many people in the city in the same difficult situation,” she said. “Wages are low, prices are high.”
He sighed and looked up at the branches crisscrossing the drive they followed. “I know.”
She reached out to touch his hand where it rested on his thigh. “Maybe you could find them again. Perhaps there’d be some way we could help.”
He’d told her simply to share something that had been on his mind, not with any expectation of doing anything. But then again, maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised at her suggestion. She had, after all, crossed the entire country to help Amy. Millie was a woman of action. It was one of the things he liked so much about her.
He turned his hand over to link their fingers. “That’s real kind of you. I’d like to do that.”
Her cheeks colored as he held her gaze and if they hadn’t been in the middle of a public park, surrounded by people, he would have leaned over and kissed her.
He was starting to dislike the city. You couldn’t be alone anywhere.
“Millicent! Darling!”
Millie’s hand slipped from his as she looked around at a buggy approaching along the wide avenue. The driver came to a halt close to her and pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket, whipping it through the air before using it to dab at his forehead.
At the flash of movement, her horse danced back nervously, lifting his head and eyeing the newcomers with a wary snort.
Beneath George, Jordan tensed in response. George rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, speaking softly. “It’s all right, boy. Nothing to be afraid of.”
He frowned at the driver of the buggy, a ridiculous dandy with too many frills and apparently too little sense. You never waved anything white around a horse. Any fool knew that.
“Do you mind?” he said. “You’re scaring Millie’s horse.”
The man looked at him as if he was something he’d found on the sole of his shoe. “Millicent, is this… person bothering you?”
The woman seated beside him slapped his arm with the back of her gloved hand, tittering through her nose. “Horace, don’t be rude.”
It was all George could do to prevent his eyes from rolling so hard he’d be staring at the back of his head.
“Good morning, Sophronia, Horace,” Millie said. “May I introduce Mr. Parsons? He’s visiting from California. George, this is Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell.”
As if it would mean something to him, Mrs. Mitchell added, “Of the Brooklyn Mitchells.”
George tipped his hat to her. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” He merely nodded to Mr. Mitchell. His politeness only went so far.
“Oh, your accent is simply adorable,” Mrs. Mitchell gushed. “Isn’t his accent adorable, Horace?”
Mr. Mitchell regarded George’s plaid shirt and sturdy trousers as if they offended him personally and didn’t reply.
“How long will you be staying in New York?” Mrs. Mitchell asked, seemingly oblivious to her husband’s borderline animosity. “We’d simply love to introduce you around. Our friends will adore you.”
George shot a look at Millie, desperately attempting to convey in that brief glance that he’d rather be mauled by a grizzly than be shown around like some fairground attraction.
Thankfully, Millie was an observant woman. “I’m sorry, Sophronia, but our calendar is entirely full. Although it’s so kind of you to offer.”
Mrs. Mitchell’s face fell, then almost immediately lit up again in a way that made George nervous. “But you absolutely must bring Mr. Parsons to Electa and Frederick’s soirée on Saturday. I absolutely refuse to take no for an answer. You know it’s the event of the season.”
George carefully kept his expression neutral as his internal organs folded in on themselves.
“Soph, I doubt Mr. Parsons has anything suitable to wear,” Mr. Mitchell said, his lip curling in a way that would have got him shot in some areas of the west.
“Nonsense. The Judge could lend him something, couldn’t he, Millicent?”
Millie glanced at George. “I, um, suppose so.”
Mrs. Mitchell’s squeal startled a nearby pigeon into flight. “Marvelous! I’ll tell everyone you’re coming. I’m so glad we ran into each other today.”
“We should be going,” Mr. Mitchell said, clearly as unhappy as his wife was thrilled.
He and George agreed on that, at least.
“Millicent.” He nodded to Millie, barely glanced at George, and started their buggy moving.
“It was lovely to meet you, Mr. Parsons,” Sophronia called as they left.
George tipped his hat out of sheer habit, although he wasn’t sure either of them saw.
There were a few seconds of silence after they’d left before Millie murmured, “Sorry.”
“I’m guessing a soirée is a mite fancier than a barn dance.”
“Actually, this one is more of a ball.” She smiled at his groan. “I know Sophronia can be overly excitable and Horace is a stuck up snob, but back when I was married they let me stay with them in their country house frequently when I couldn’t stand being around Franklin any more. And after the divorce finalized, they were the only ones who would speak to me at first.”
He knew it hadn’t been easy for her, bucking social convention to divorce Franklin, and then making sure he went to prison. George could hardly begrudge her their friendship.
“I reckon I can survive a ball.”
Her smile was enough to make it all worth it. “I’ll try to make the experience as painless for you as possible.”
“If I have to borrow something of your father’s to wear, though, you’ll need to do the asking.” And then an uncomfortable thought came to him. “Will I have to dance?”
~ ~ ~
They spent a pleasant couple of hours in the park before
Millie took George to a small restaurant for lunch.
“How about we go home via the station?” she said as they waited for their order. “We could see if we can find your two young pickpockets.”
“You want to come with me?” Somehow, he’d thought she would rather he did it by himself.
“Of course. I know you’re worried about them. I want to help.”
He reached across the table to take her hand. “Thank you.”
The smile glowing in her eyes had him wondering if there was any possible way he could kiss her without causing a scene.
He was just about to settle for kissing her hand when a voice said from behind him, “Your order, sir and madam.”
The waiter gave their intimately entwined fingers a pointed look as he set their plates on the table. Just to annoy him further, George didn’t release her hand.
“You’re so wicked,” she said once the waiter had gone.
“Do you mind?”
Giving him a demure smile, she replied, “Not at all.”
He leaned forward to press a slow kiss to the back of her hand, vowing to find somewhere private as soon as he possibly could.
~ ~ ~
The area around the station was just as busy as it had been when George arrived the day before.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” he muttered as he and Millie walked slowly through the throng of constantly moving people, searching for the brother and sister.
She withdrew a watch from a pocket in her skirt and opened it up. “I think the two o’clock train from Boston must have just arrived. There should be fewer people about if we wait for a while.”
“Although,” he said, as a thought occurred to him, “they may be more likely to be here when there’s a crowd they can hide in.”
There was also the possibility they’d taken his suggestion to give the pick-pocketing a rest for a few days, but he somehow doubted that.
“Well then,” Millie said with a bright smile, “let’s go find ourselves some little thieves.”
