And yet his prior thought on marriage, based on years’ worth of unsubstantiated assumptions, had not only blamed Kate for her birth, but shrank from considering her a suitable partner for marriage with him. Because he was wealthy and she was poor. A convenient wad of paper blew his way, and Alex kicked it hard. Dash it, he didn’t like learning the imperfect truth about himself. That it was the truth, he couldn’t deny, dash it.
Blast Gil MacIntosh, anyhow. And Kate Finney. She’d waltzed into his life like an opera dancer from a bad musical and managed to turn it upside down and inside out without even trying. Alex had the unpleasant notion that Kate would be happy if she’d never met him.
As for Alex, he’d be happy not to have met her, too, but he had met her, and now he was stuck. Not only had he taken over the medical care of Kate’s mother, but he was interested in helping Bill Finney prosper in his investment experiments, and he also intended to take the entire family out to the English family farm as soon as he could possibly arrange to do so.
And then there was the problem of Kate herself. Alex didn’t know how he felt about Kate, but he feared the worst. The worst wasn’t his sexual interest in her, either. Dash it, he was a man, after all. Any man would lust for Kate once he saw her. Alex feared his interest in the feisty Miss Finney ran deeper than mere carnal attraction.
“Aw, nuts,” he grumbled, unconsciously borrowing a slang expression from Kate. He’d talk to his mother about his state of befuddlement. Ma was a wise woman, and Alex never felt shy about asking her personal questions.
Besides, Ma had been poor once. She’d told him so. Surely, she’d have some good advice.
He didn’t even notice his approach to the Congress Hotel until the doorman said, “Uh, Mr. English, are you feeling quite the thing?”
Caught by surprise, Alex stopped and stared at the man. “Beg pardon?”
“I beg your pardon, sir.” The doorman looked uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I—uh—well—you didn’t look quite well.”
“Oh.” Alex understood at last that the doorman’s question had been meant kindly. Until quite recently—say, the past twenty minutes or so—Alex had believed himself to be a rather more kindly specimen of humankind than most. He was ashamed when he couldn’t recall the last time he’d actually paid attention to this man, this— Bother. What was his name? Ah, yes. Kaufman. “I’m fine, thanks. Ah, thank you for your concern.”
Alex saw relief descend upon the doorman, and he felt like a rat. Did people actually treat the Kaufmans of the world so badly that this particular Kaufman worried about keeping his job when he asked about a man’s health? The notion, which Alex feared was true, bothered him a lot.
What really bothered him, however, was his reaction to the thought of marrying Kate Finney. Was he honestly so arrogant that he would refuse to marry a woman just because she’d been born poor? He’d come to like Kate. A lot. He certainly desired her. While he’d originally believed her to be a woman of low moral tone, he knew better now.
Bother. He needed to get Kate and her mother to the farm; he needed to see how they acted around his mother and his sister. The thought of Mary Jo made his insides give a twinge. Would Mary Jo behave herself with the two Finney ladies? Would she believe herself to be better than they because they were from the bad side of the city?
If she did, Alex would speak to her. By hand, by Gad, if he had to. Mary Jo wasn’t too dashed old to be spanked. He wouldn’t allow anyone, not even his own sister, to behave less than impeccably to Mrs. Finney and Kate.
Good Gad, there he went again. He was so confused. Thank the good Lord for his mother. Ma would know what to do. Alex could hardly wait to hear what she had to say on the matter, because solving the Kate Finney problem was totally beyond him without help.
It was a glum and exceedingly frustrated Alex English who entered his expensive, luxurious, brand-new hotel room that night.
Chapter Ten
Madame looked hard at Kate. “He’s taking you where?”
Striving for a nonchalance she was far from feeling, Kate said, “He’s taking Ma and me to his farm tomorrow morning. He thinks the country air will be good for her, and the doctors agree.”
“Ah. He’s concerned for your mother’s health. Of course.”
Kate, who’d been staring in the mirror and applying greasepaint to her pallid cheeks in her daily effort to make herself look more like a Gypsy, frowned at Madame’s reflection. “Yeah. You have a problem with that? I think it’s nice of him.”
Madame’s eyebrows waggled. Kate hoped to heaven the woman couldn’t really read people’s thoughts, because her own mind seemed determined to dwell on last night’s kiss. “Darn it, Madame, there’s nothing wrong with this trip!”
“I said nothing.” Madame popped a chunk of cheese into her mouth and chewed.
Her grin irritated Kate. “You didn’t have to say anything. You look like a darned house cat who’s just caught a big, fat mouse.”
Madame chuckled and swallowed. “No, no, Kate. I’m only concerned for your heart.”
“My heart’s just fine, thanks.”
“Hmmm.” A hot pepper followed the piece of cheese.
Kate knew she’d uttered a huge lie, and she feared that Madame knew it, too. Her heart was a mess, thanks to Alex English. Why had he interfered in her life, anyhow? First he’d threatened her livelihood, then he’d usurped her mother and brother, and now he was threatening her virtue. Oh, it wasn’t fair! If she’d been alone, she might have banged her head against the table a few times in an effort to drive out the confusion dwelling therein.
“Darn it,” she muttered. “He’s being nice to my mother. That’s the only thing that matters.”
“Ah.”
Squinting into the mirror, Kate saw Madame nod. No grin this time. Still, Kate sensed amusement from that quarter. Nuts. Deciding there wasn’t anything she could do about Madame, Kate quit trying and resumed applying dark greasepaint to her cheeks. She was really on edge this morning, longing to see Alex, yet afraid of seeing him, too.
He hadn’t been at the hospital when she’d visited her mother this morning, probably because he was at the police station, filing charges against her father. The back of Kate’s neck burned when she remembered last night’s awful scene. She hadn’t told her mother about it, because Ma would only have felt bad and worried, and she didn’t need more worry. She’d had more than her share of worries in her life already.
Ma had looked better this morning, though, which was the important thing. She’d mentioned the proposed trip to the country three times in ten minutes, and Kate had tried hard to be happy with her. She’d failed. She should be happy. It was a good thing that Ma was going to get out of the city and breathe some fresh country air for a couple of days.
Drat it, why couldn’t she keep her priorities straight anymore? Kate thought grimly that she knew the answer to that one, no matter how little she wanted to admit it. She was beginning to care a great deal for Alex English, and she didn’t want to. The fact that she seemed to have no control over her emotions when it came to him bothered her a lot. Kate had made it a policy never to allow her emotions to interfere with her goals. It troubled her that her policy didn’t seem to be working any longer.
Lifting her chin to observe her fading bruises and to determine if she still needed that black band around her neck, she thought bitterly that, until Alex English waltzed into her life, she’d been just fine. Oh, sure, she’d been poor, but she’d been working like the very devil to better herself and her family. It was also true that before she met Alex her father had been a constant threat, both to her and to her mother. But Kate was used to those problems. She knew how to deal with them. She’d armed herself long since to do battle with the life she understood.
She didn’t understand Alex or his life one iota, yet he seemed determined to drag her into it, whether she wanted him to or not. It was all so confusing.
“It’ll be all right, Katie,” Madame s
aid after Kate decided she no longer needed makeup or the black band. Her words startled Kate, who glanced at the spiritualist’s reflection in the mirror.
Madame was looking particularly mysterious at the moment, even though she was chewing. “Will it?”
“Yes. No worries. Everything be fine.”
“Good. I’m glad.” She’d be even gladder if she had a modicum of confidence in Madame’s predictions.
# # #
Alex was still reeling from the battle he and Kate had waged on Friday night when he set out with Frank on Saturday morning to pick her up at her lodgings. She’d put up a nonsensical fuss about this part of the weekend’s agenda. He’d only prevailed by telling her that if she dragged her suitcase to her mother’s hospital room, he wouldn’t take her to the country with them. He was certain she hadn’t believed him, but she’d given in when he then told her he didn’t intend to make a scene on the sidewalk, and if she wanted to continue arguing about it, she’d have to talk to herself because he was leaving.
God almighty, the woman drove him crazy. He couldn’t understand why he cared so much about her.
As soon as Frank drove the team around the corner and the carriage approached the butcher shop, Alex glanced out the window and felt his lips tighten. Kate stood on the trash-strewn, unpaved sidewalk, a shabby carpetbag beside her. Both the bag and the girl were waiting for him.
Dashed woman hadn’t even stayed in her room long enough for him to carry her bag down those dismal stairs. The memory of her flat caused a shudder to pass through him. He hated the thought of Kate living over that cursed butcher shop.
Alex was frowning out the window when he saw Kate reach down to lift up the bag. In defiance of a lifetime’s worth of lessons in manners and deportment imparted by his parents, he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Leave it there!”
She jerked upright as if she’d been pinched and frowned back at him. Furious with her, with himself, and with the forces that had shaped Kate Finney’s life, Alex didn’t even lower the steps of the carriage when Frank pulled up in front of her. He jumped down, still shouting. “Dash it, let me pick up your dashed bag!”
“It’s not that heavy,” she said sullenly.
“I don’t care how heavy it is. I’ll put it on the baggage rack.”
“Fine.” She heaved a huge sigh to let him know how silly she thought he was being.
Alex gritted his teeth, lifted the bag, glanced up to see Frank staring down at him with a good deal of surprise, and wondered what was wrong with him—Alex, not Frank. Frank was the one who should be handling the luggage. It was his job. Yet Alex had leapt out of the carriage like a man possessed and grabbed Kate’s carpetbag as if it contained pieces of gold. Frank was right: He must be losing his mind.
Consoling himself with the certain knowledge that no man could survive a long acquaintanceship with Kate Finney with his sanity intact, he set the bag in the luggage compartment and tied down the canvas flap. He stopped being surprised to find Kate waiting for him to help her into the carriage as soon as he remembered he hadn’t let the steps down. He flipped them down now, and took Kate’s arm before she could scramble inside without his assistance. She didn’t pull away from him, which he couldn’t help but consider some sort of victory on his part, although he didn’t expect it to last.
Banging on the carriage ceiling, he said, “Hospital, Frank.” Then he sat back and studied Kate, who occupied the bench seat across from him.
Pale face. Pretty brown hair drawn back into a severe bun. Ridiculously small hat with a pink flower attached to it. Well-tailored pink traveling suit that Alex suspected she’d made herself. Old boots, patched and polished and laced with new shoestrings. White gloves.
White gloves?
Yes, by Gad. White gloves. Glory be, the woman was actually wearing gloves for once. Small handbag that she’d made and embroidered herself unless Alex was much mistaken. She looked perfectly respectable and trim. She was, in fact, a living, breathing miracle sitting there across from him.
“Quit staring at me.”
Startled, Alex realized he had actually been staring. He tore his gaze away from her and directed it out the window. “Sorry.”
“Hmph.”
Frustrated and impatient, he snapped, “Listen, Kate, will you please climb down from your high horse for a minute?”
As he might have expected—actually, as he had expected—she bridled. “My high horse? What about your high horse? Darn it, I wasn’t being silly when I suggested meeting you at the hospital! It made perfect sense, and it would have saved a lot of time.”
“It made no sense at all, you mean, and the amount of time it would have saved would have been minuscule at best. At worst, you would have strained something, carrying such a load so far, and spoiled the weekend for everyone. How did you expect to get a bag containing clothes for you and your mother to the hospital without help, pray tell?”
“Who said I’d be doing it without help?”
“You did!”
“I did not!”
“Dash it, you—” Realizing he’d started shouting again, Alex cleared his throat and forced himself to moderate his sound level. “At all odds, you didn’t let on to me that you had someone would could help you.”
“Oh? So, do you think I should tell you everything that goes on in my life?”
Unable to refrain from rolling his eyes, Alex said, “For heaven’s sake, no, I don’t think you should tell me everything. However, when it comes to excursions in which I’m involved, then yes, I not only think you should have explained your mode of transport to me, but I also believe that you were remiss in not doing so.”
“Nuts.”
“It’s not nuts.”
“Hmph. Either one of my brothers would have been happy to help me help Ma. You know darned well that I have two brothers.”
Alex strained to keep his temper from flaring again. “I thought both of your brothers held jobs. Aren’t they busy during the morning on Saturdays? I’m sure I saw Bill behind the counter in Schneiders.”
He felt a surge of triumph when her lips pursed in frustration. “Yeah, well, I could have found someone to help me.”
“You did,” Alex said more smugly than he’d intended. “Me.”
“Hmph.”
“Face it, Kate, I’m concerned about your mother. Being concerned about your mother includes concern for you, whether you want to admit it or not. If anything happened to you, your mother would be devastated.”
“I know that. What does that have to do with you picking me up at my flat?” Her expression took on even more defiance, which Alex would have believed impossible until it happened. “For your information, I’m not proud of where I live, Alex English. I don’t like having you see where I live. It’s ugly, it’s poor, it’s dangerous, and— well, it just is, is all.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Kate. I know what your circumstances are. Do you think I care about that?”
“Darn it, I care about it!”
“Oh, for . . .” Alex swallowed another hot rejoinder, and reminded himself that she had a point. Not a good point, in his considered opinion, but he could almost understand her sentiments on the subject. He’d most likely have felt the same, if he were in her shoes. God forbid.
She went on. “Do you think I like having some rich swell barge into my life and turn up his nose at me?”
This time Alex considered his outrage more than justified. “I do not turn up my nose at you!”
“Maybe not now, but you did.”
“That’s not fair, Kate.” He felt as if she’d punched him in the heart, as a matter of fact. He was the good guy here, dash it.
“The heck it isn’t. Your nose was stuck so high in the air that first day when you wanted to toss me out of the Exposition, I’m surprised you could see where you were going.”
“That’s ancient history! You’re surely not going to drag that incident into the conversation again, are you?”
Fire fl
ared in her eyes. “Darn it, that incident, as you call it, almost cost me my livelihood! And if you’d succeeded in getting me kicked out of the fair, what do you think would have happened to Ma then?”
“But I didn’t get you kicked out, if you’ll recall. As a matter of fact, since that first meeting, I’ve been trying to help your mother.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t want to at first.”
He sucked in air and held onto it for long enough to suppress his bellow of outrage. After he calmed down a trifle, he muttered, “You’re not a proponent of forgiving and forgetting, in other words.”
“I can’t forget! You scared me to death! You threatened my mother and me!”
“That wasn’t my intention, as even you must understand by this time.”
“Huh.”
“My intention was to protect the integrity of the greatest exposition of American invention and creative expression ever presented to the world. The World’s Columbian Exposition is—is—well, it’s like my baby. I didn’t want your father and you to cast inappropriate shadows over what was intended to be a showplace of all things wonderful in our country.”
She glowered at him. She had a great face for glowering: small, vivid, and glowing at the moment with bright flags of fury. “My father isn’t—”
“Your fault. I know. I admit, and have admitted before, that your father isn’t your fault. You’re doing everything in your power to overcome your father’s influence in your life, and to remove your mother from the brute’s clutches.”
“Yeah, well, it took you a while to admit it.”
“Oh, for . . .” Gritting his teeth and feeling persecuted—he didn’t enjoy remembering his first antagonistic meeting with Kate, since he believed it portrayed him in a less-than-stellar light—Alex said, “I’m sorry that I didn’t understand your situation before we met, Kate. But how could I? And how many times must I apologize for that one mistake? Besides, you must admit that as soon as I learned about your problems, I’ve been trying to help.”
Bicycle Built for Two Page 16
