If she answered Lydia with anything even remotely sounding like she didn’t think well of Mr. Kingsman, her friend would know something was wrong. And it wasn’t that she thought ill of him, but she didn’t want Lydia thinking she thought too well of him either, lest she get the wrong idea. “I don’t know him well enough to have reached any conclusions, but the fact that he’s your guest speaks well for him.”
Lydia shook her head at her. “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed what he looks like.”
“Well, he has a mesmerizing smile.” Which he evidently flashed at every living, breathing woman. “And his eyes are striking, but I thought Sebastian Little’s eyes were striking too, and you know what a snake he was.”
Lydia winced and closed her eyes, despite taking another step down.
Oh, why had she brought up his name? Making her friend feel badly about her former suitor to discourage her from matchmaking was a rotten thing to do. And it wasn’t as if Sebastian had completely duped her, for Lydia and Nicholas had both gone through a lot to expose the shady lawyer and his corrupt mayor father. Yet despite saving the town from the Littles’ crookedness by getting them convicted and behind bars, Lydia still questioned her discernment when it came to others.
Evelyn shrugged when she reached the bottom of the staircase. “But I’m sure there’s a reason besides his features for your entertaining Mr. Kingsman.”
“Yes, well.” Lydia blew out a breath as if abandoning the idea of stirring up a romance between her guest and her friend.
Good.
Lydia headed across the foyer. “Nicholas met with him earlier about some lumber deal and sent him here for lunch. He’s evidently new in town and was wondering where to get something good to eat.”
They stepped into the dining room, and Lydia called to her guest with a lilt in her voice as well as a pretty grin lighting her face.
Evidently this man’s smile could charm away all vestiges of pregnancy sickness too.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d already met Miss Wisely?” Lydia walked toward Mr. Kingsman with her hand trailing behind her, gesturing toward Evelyn.
They’d been talking about her?
“I assure you, Mrs. Lowe, she is not a woman I’d forget. But I didn’t know her Christian name, which is how you referred to her.”
Before Evelyn realized it, Mr. Kingsman had taken her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. What kind of man did that anymore? And why on earth did the gesture make her feel like melted butter?
He dropped her hand and gave her that smile. And, boy, did it work—despite her now knowing how he plied it on everyone. Heaven help her, she needed a fan. Was a pair of beautiful eyes and a cheeky smile all that was needed to keep her discombobulated? Surely not. She’d never had trouble directing men’s attention away from her before.
What she needed was to put some space between her and his distracting charm. She walked over to the sideboard. “I see Sadie made candy.”
“Try that white stuff there.” Mr. Kingsman pointed to the divinity. “It’s fit for an angel.”
Surely he hadn’t just called her an angel, for she hadn’t acted much like one in his presence. If only new men never came to Teaville—then she’d never have to get through those initial months where she had to make certain to do nothing that might encourage them to pursue her.
Even if Caroline was right about her overdoing the iciness, it saved everyone trouble.
She filled two plates, then handed one to Lydia.
Her friend held up a hand. “I can’t.” She appeared ill just looking at the treats.
“I’m sorry.” How could she have forgotten about Lydia’s sickness in the space of a minute?
Lydia cringed as she turned to look at Mr. Kingsman. “I believe I need to apologize.”
“No need to be sorry, Mrs. Lowe. If I’d known what was wrong, I would have tried to help keep . . . things from getting so . . . messy.”
“Oh.” Lydia clamped a hand onto her mouth. “I’m mortified. I’m very sorry—”
“Again, don’t apologize. Your maid took care of things.”
Lydia sank into a chair and covered her eyes while pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Here, let me get you something to drink.” He turned for the sideboard but then pivoted sharply. “Unless that’s not a good idea.”
“Probably not.”
“Is it all right if I have something to drink? I don’t want to drink or eat in front of you if that will make you suffer in any way.”
Evelyn looked at the piece of candy she’d just crunched into and stopped chewing.
“I think I’ll be all right.”
Evelyn set down her plate and scurried to Lydia’s chair. What kind of friend was she that a stranger was being more sensitive than she was?
His smile hadn’t just mesmerized her, it had confounded her brain. “Can I get you something from the medicine cabinet? Sugared ginger, perhaps?”
“No, I’m fine. No need to worry about me.” She looked up at Evelyn for a second and actually winked. “But why don’t you tell us more about yourself, Mr. Kingsman?”
Unless Mr. Kingsman was dense, he would likely catch on to what Lydia was trying to do.
And why would Lydia think a man like him would want to be paired with a woman like her anyway? Evidently, he only need look at a woman and she turned into a pile of ridiculousness.
She shook her head a little. She was twenty-seven, not eighteen. She could wind herself up tight enough to prevent his smile from befuddling her thinking, to keep from reliving how the brush of his lips against her hand had made her want to melt into the carpet.
“Nothing much to tell.” Mr. Kingsman swept a chair out from under the dining table and slid into it as if it were a lounge chair. “I work with my father, who sent me here to deal with the A. K. Glass Factory. He obtained it three years ago and now wants me to . . . make sure we’re getting our money’s worth from the investment. I’ll head back to Kansas City afterward.”
There, he wasn’t a permanent resident. Lydia’s matchmaking hopes would be dashed.
“I bet Evelyn hasn’t told you much about herself, has she? She’s a dear and too modest by half.”
Evelyn held in a groan. If only Lydia knew that Caroline accusing her of vanity was closer to the mark. But truly, she wasn’t modest or vain, just . . . cautious.
Why did you have to give him those eyes and that smile? Quite unfair, actually. Maybe I should take up matchmaking myself. Maybe he’d do for Caroline. She seemed quite defensive of him.
“My friend here is an important part of our moral society.” Lydia patted Evelyn’s hand, then turned to see Mr. Kingsman better. “She helps us women see true needs and meet them with humbleness and sincerity. Has no qualms about getting her hands dirty or working with hard cases, and she has single-handedly turned some of our hardest orphans into the sweetest cuddlers. She’s—”
“Please.” Evelyn placed her hand against the heat in her cheek. “You’ll make him think I’m a saint.”
Lydia chuckled. “Because you are.”
Oh, how she was not. As he’d likely already divined after how she’d treated him at Saturday’s lunch gathering. The fire in her cheeks quickly fled as if doused by a thousand waterfalls, and she wished for something to fiddle with. She turned to stare out the window, focusing on a peach rose smashed against the pane.
“I can see compliments confuse the lady.” Mr. Kingsman’s voice even sounded as if it contained a smile. “At one point she blushes, another she pales.”
Was she always this easy to read, or was Mr. Kingsman watching her that intently? The thought that he could see something so subtle made her cheeks heat again.
She needed to stop with this blushing nonsense and get his focus off of her. “Actually, if you want to get to know a saint, that would be Miss O’Conner, whom you met on Saturday. She has selflessly given up her life for others. I think you’d like her.”
Lydia tur
ned to her with a quizzical look.
She shrugged. Why must she be the only one pushed toward eligible men?
A child’s cry quickly escalated from somewhere in the house.
“Excuse me, that’s a hurt cry.” Lydia pushed herself out of her chair, skimming Evelyn’s shoulder as she passed. “I’ll be back.”
Mr. Kingsman tried to stand but didn’t make it an inch out of his seat before Lydia disappeared through the doorway. He resettled himself in his chair with a content expression.
Evelyn folded her hands in her lap. “Did you hear when Mr. Lowe was—”
“I’ve been wondering about you,” he said at the same time.
“Why?” She hadn’t exactly been congenial. Her behavior around single men was likely as awkward as Caroline considered it. But after having to explain to several bachelors that her only goal in life was to help orphans, saving any future men the discomfort that discussion caused seemed to be the right thing to do.
But didn’t Mr. Kingsman say he was returning to Kansas City? If so, there was no danger of him wanting to get involved with her.
“After how we first met?” He sat back a little. “How could I not be intrigued?”
“I suppose it’s not every day you see someone like me traipsing about a red-light district.”
“Honestly, I wouldn’t know. That’s the first time I’d ever found myself in one. However, you definitely aren’t the kind of woman I’d envision in such a place.”
“I suppose not.” How could she bring up Kansas City again to be certain he wasn’t staying? “So you never went to a similar place in Kansas City?”
He frowned. “I do hope, Miss Wisely, that you don’t think every man frequents such places.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate you do, but you would be surprised and perhaps saddened by the men I’ve seen there. I just imagined Kansas City’s red-light district would be huge.”
“I know where it is, but I’ve never gone. I have plenty enough trouble at home. I don’t need to add more to myself.”
“I’m sorry your home life isn’t what you’d like it to be. Are you married? Do you have many children?” If he was married and flirting with Sadie, it’d be all she could do to sit and talk with him any longer.
He only smiled and shook his head. “No. Just me and my father.”
“Oh.” Well, at least he wasn’t a married flirt. “How long until you return?”
“I hope to return home in two months, but realistically three.”
Three months? She took a deep breath and settled back against her seat. No one’s heart would be in danger whatsoever. “I hope things go well enough at A. K. Glass that you can return in two. I actually didn’t know it had changed owners.”
“The owner owed my father, and since the man had no cash, it was all he had to settle the debt. The former management has run it ever since.”
The front door opened and shut, and a man’s purposeful stride sounded on the wooden planks. Nicholas appeared in the doorway soon after. He was taller and leaner compared with Mr. Kingsman’s stocky build, and she’d always considered Nicholas’s hazel eyes to be uncommonly attention-getting—until Mr. Kingsman’s dark blues showed up, anyway.
Nicholas put a hand through his wavy dark hair. “Ah, Mr. Kingsman. Ev—Miss Wisely, I didn’t know you’d be here. Did Lydia invite you to lunch?” He flipped open his pocket watch, then looked at Mr. Kingsman. “I did inform you lunch wasn’t until noon, yes?”
“You did, but I didn’t want to be late.”
If there was a man who could lose his heart through his stomach, it seemed Mr. Kingsman was such a man. She’d make sure never to cook for him.
“I’m not here for lunch.” Evelyn stood. “I have to return to the orphanage, but I wanted to ask you something.”
“Certainly.” He backstepped out into the hallway, glanced toward the stairs, and then came back in. “Is Lydia not here?”
“She went to check on Isabelle and hasn’t yet returned.”
“All right.” Nicholas went to the sideboard and grabbed some divinity. “What did you want to ask?”
She glanced at Mr. Kingsman. He shouldn’t be too surprised about what she was going to ask after seeing her in the red-light district. Hopefully he’d not add a negative voice to the conversation. “I wanted to discuss the possibility of you trying to help prostitutes escape the district again.”
He stopped chewing for a second, then swallowed. “You know how disastrously that went for me.”
He turned to Mr. Kingsman. “I tried to help some women out of the district by allowing them to work at my mansion until we found them a safe place to go, but when the town discovered them, I was accused of running a brothel. That’s why we’re focusing on the children now.”
It had been quite the mess three years ago, but they couldn’t let one failure keep them from trying again. “But because of those children, maybe we should start thinking of ways to help the women they’re connected to.”
“I think she’s right.” Lydia came in with one-year-old Isabelle on her hip, the little girl’s riotous dark curls framing her chubby face. “People have not opposed our work with the children as much as we thought, and none of the disasters the townsfolk predicted have befallen us, so maybe it’s time to try again.”
Nicholas swiped his hands on a napkin, shaking his head a bit. “I know your moral-society ladies and many in our congregation are coming around—and I’m glad of that—but I’m not sure we’d have a lot of the townsmen on board. Many are entrenched in the district’s darkness or have friends who are. They’ll not be happy with us messing with their vices, and there’s no way I could do so in secret again. And secrecy is vital to getting the women into some kind of normal life.”
“But we could try to think of something, couldn’t we? At least for the women who are interested?” Lydia turned to Evelyn. “Who’s interested?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Actually, none I know of, but one of my Saturday boys’ mother came to lunch for a little bit. I talked to her this morning, but she wasn’t willing to return for lunch again. Said she didn’t want to do anything that made her feel guilty about her life since she has no way of escape.”
“And she wants to escape?”
“She didn’t say so exactly, but if she knew there was a way . . .”
Nicholas’s jaw was clamped so tightly, he had to be forcing himself not to say no.
What could she ask him to do that he hadn’t already tried years ago? “Maybe we could, um . . . create some kind of women’s home inside the district? No one would complain about former prostitutes living inside the district.”
Nicholas ran a hand through his hair. “Queenie already takes in women.”
“They need more than a place to bandage their wounds and leave as soon as they’re healed. Besides, Queenie only has two beds. No one can stay long. Maybe we could set up a building where they could stay until they felt confident enough to go out in the world.”
“And where will they go where they’ll be accepted?” Nicholas put a hand against his chin and rubbed against the dark stubble. “That’s been the crux of the problem all along.”
“I don’t know. Perhaps we need to teach them a vocation. Then they could go anywhere with their new skills.”
Mr. Kingsman cleared his throat. “There are housemaid positions available in innumerable towns. Cleaning doesn’t require an education of any sort.”
The fact that he hadn’t scoffed at them this entire conversation had been surprising enough, but he was actually attempting to offer ideas?
She shook her head. “Housemaids are paid so little. I’m not sure we could convince them to give up their way of life—which is lucrative for many of them, even if it is terrible—to know nothing but the drudgery of housework when they will have no family or friends to support them, and no one to help with their children. But if they could run a bakery, millinery, or seamstress shop—those positions might convi
nce them they could be free and happy, even if they made less. And of course, they’d live longer, happier lives.”
Isabelle toddled to Nicholas, and he swooped her up. “I’m afraid I’m not willing to do anything by myself again. Having no community support was hard enough when I was single, but now . . .” He stopped, closed his eyes, and sighed. “If you could gain the support of two other large business owners—with more than just a promise not to talk badly about our efforts, but to support with actual assets. If you could do that . . . I’ll consider it.”
She tried not to deflate. If Nicholas wasn’t one-hundred-percent behind her idea, how was she going to convince anyone else in this town to help?
6
“Come on in, Mr. Black. I’m happy to see you.” David got up from his seat and gestured for Mr. Lowe’s secretary to take a chair. The manila envelope the man carried was a good sign things might be looking up for A. K. Glass. “Is that the contract?”
“Indeed it is, sir.” Mr. Black handed him the envelope but didn’t take a seat.
Since the thin man with a nose too big for his face sported a smile, that should mean the contract inside held good news. “Thank you for delivering this to me personally.” David broke the seal and pulled out several pages. “May I ask you something before you leave?”
“Of course.”
“Do you do the hiring for Mr. Lowe?”
The man leaned on the back of the chair nearest him. “Mr. Lowe personally hires everyone, from his managers to his housemaids, but I often winnow the applicants for him.”
“I’m needing someone to take over the management of this place. Have there been any men looking to hire on as management that Mr. Lowe thought qualified but passed over for some reason?”
“I might be biased, but I’m not sure I’d hire Mr. Lowe’s rejects. He’s quite fastidious.”
“I’m afraid I can’t afford to be as picky.” Not if he wanted to leave Teaville any time soon. “What about someone he debated over but lacked experience or education?”
Mr. Black looked off into space somewhere behind David’s desk for a moment before shaking his head. “I can’t think of anyone. I’ll let you know if I do, but why not ask Mr. Lowe?”
A Love So True Page 4
