A Love So True

by Melissa Jagears

  “She’ll give her back in about half an hour. As I said, I can’t nap.”

  “You can. I’ll just have to figure out what to do with the baby.” Hopefully he could dazzle a maid into taking the screamer.

  “Maybe you could send one of the girls to get me when Mrs. Dewitt is finished with Hope?”

  Good, she was actually contemplating sleep. “I could do that.” But he wouldn’t.

  He’d stay until she woke on her own. The older children could help him figure out the after-dinner and bedtime procedures. And even if Evelyn slept until tomorrow, surely he could bunk in with the boys, even if that meant he was on the floor. And then before he headed to work, he’d talk to Nicholas about getting Evelyn help. She should not have been left unassisted for three full days in her emotional state.

  Once they were out of the basement, the exuberant sounds of children in the dining area echoed down the hallway. Hopefully their voices wouldn’t drift all the way to the upstairs bedrooms.

  At the bottom of the grand spiraling staircase, Evelyn put a hand on the banister, as if to ascend, but turned to him. “Thank you, David.”

  “My pleasure.”

  She smiled at him, and if he didn’t already know her eyes were weighted with fatigue, he might have let her slow perusal of him warm him with hope. Though she had just sought his embrace and stayed in his arms beyond all propriety.

  Perhaps this slow courting thing wouldn’t be all that slow after all.

  27

  The Lowes’ young butler answered David’s knock. “Come in, sir.”

  David pulled off his hat. “Is Mr. Lowe here?”

  “He is. I’ll let him know you’ve come.” He gestured to a room to the left. “Why don’t you take a seat in the parlor.”

  David nodded and went in to wait. The first time he’d visited the Lowes, he’d been surprised that none of their furniture was for show. Though all the furnishings were of good quality, it didn’t feel like the room of the richest man in town, and it was certainly nothing like the mansion’s decor.

  He glanced at the comfortable-looking sofa but chose to pace. Though he tended to handle confrontation well, that didn’t mean he wasn’t jittery beforehand.

  A giggle in the hallway stopped him.

  The giggle sounded again, that of a woman, not a child.

  “Oh, Franklin, stop,” the voice said without much conviction.

  He peeped out the door and saw the butler circling behind the young housekeeper who’d made the divinity.

  Franklin let his fingers trail along the back of her arm until he had a hold of her hand. He pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Until after work, mon chéri.”

  The boy’s French was pathetic, and yet her blush proved bad French might be better than nothing.

  If only getting Evelyn to respond to him was that easy. David returned to the room and closed his eyes. Though outright flirting with her would likely earn him whatever was the opposite of a giggle, when things mattered, when she’d been in utter despair, she’d sought his arms. Much more significant than a giggle anyway.

  “Ah, David.” Lowe came into the room, dressed in black trousers, a green shirt with rolled sleeves, no tie, and was that dust in his hair? “How are you?”

  “I’m doing well, but I’m worried about Miss Wisely.”

  “We’re definitely praying for that whole family.” Nicholas’s expression turned solemn. “The doctor expects Walter to recover, though he’s adamant he shouldn’t return to the orphanage. He’s afraid another collapse could prove fatal.”

  Precisely. He’d been told Nicholas was the most fastidious businessman there ever was, almost to the point of insisting on overseeing every little detail, so why hadn’t he done better by Evelyn? “Then why has Evelyn been left to run the orphanage alone?”

  Nicholas raised his eyebrows. “The staff is supposed to help her until we arrive.” He crossed his arms. “Right now, we’re packing what we need to return.”

  “Evelyn knows you’re coming?”

  Nicholas nodded.

  “I don’t understand.” David sat in the chair across from him. “Then why is Evelyn acting as if she has to run the whole place on her own? Saying she’ll have to abandon the women’s home idea.”

  “Because I’ll be advertising for a couple to take over the running of the orphanage.” He sat on the sofa’s arm. “Lydia is due to have our next child in about three months. She’d prefer to deal with the sleepless nights here and isn’t ready to return to the orphanage full time.”

  “So Evelyn is upset because it will take a while to get permanent help?” What would be her objection to that?

  “No, I think she’s more worried that whoever takes over the orphanage might not want her to stay.” Nicholas sighed. “I’ll definitely try to hire a couple willing to have her stay on, but if the best people for the job aren’t comfortable with a single young woman living with them, her position and hours might change significantly. However, none of this should affect her ability to help with the women’s home.”

  “And if she couldn’t work at the orphanage anymore, will she be paid to run the women’s home?”

  Nicholas blinked, then looked away, rubbing his chin. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “And what about her idea of having reformed soiled doves help run the mansion?”

  “I believe a man of good character being involved with the orphans is critical. There may be a soiled dove who could help during the day, but until she’s proven herself . . . Right now, the only one I could confidently hire is Queenie, and she’s needed where she is. I can’t think of any who are still around that I could trust. And once there is a man in the house, a former prostitute couldn’t live there without causing the same problems I had with the townspeople the last time I attempted it.”

  So everything revolved around whatever man the Lowes hired. “Well then . . .” David shifted in his seat. “How long would you be willing to hold off on advertising, if perhaps . . . some man from around here might be willing to help at the orphanage?”

  Nicholas only stared at him, making David squirm all the more. Had he just said that?

  “A single man and a single woman won’t work.”

  “I understand that. But maybe . . .” David cleared his throat. “Um, how long would you wait to give Evelyn a chance to find a husband, assuming you wouldn’t push her into a marriage she doesn’t want?”

  Nicholas steepled his hands in front of him. “I’d be willing to hold off a handful of months if there was promising movement in that direction.” One of his eyebrows raised. “Is there?”

  Was there movement in that direction? Yes. Was it promising? David sucked in air through his teeth and forced himself not to squirm under Nicholas’s scrutiny. “Some. Could we wait to see how promising things get?”

  Nicholas gave him a half smile, half frown. “My wife has mentioned how very closed Evelyn is to that discussion.”

  If that wasn’t the truth, he’d start believing in Santa Claus again.

  “She is indeed.” Lydia’s voice startled him, and his skin turned hot. How long had she been listening?

  She slid the rest of the way into the parlor, no child in her arms. “Did I hear what I thought I heard?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I thought people only had to worry about staff eavesdropping behind doors.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “So are you interested in taking over the orphanage by marrying Evelyn or not?”

  He wasn’t interested in running an orphanage at all, but if he wanted to win Evelyn, it might be necessary. “She’s put a lot of heart and effort into the orphanage, and I don’t want to see her forced to give it up—whether I’m personally involved or not.” He shrugged, hopefully looking like a controlled businessman and not a lovestruck buffoon.

  Lydia came over to stand by Nicholas. “Do you have a personal reason for wanting to help the children?”

  Besides it being what Evelyn wanted
and how he wished he could give her the world? “Nothing beyond knowing they need help. Evelyn’s so focused and dedicated and right for the orphanage that I want to support her. I wish someone had supported me in my dreams, as insignificant as they were. But her goals are more worthwhile than anything I’ve ever chased after. So if my attempt to help her stay at the orphanage ends up failing, maybe we could think up something to attract a lot of people to listen to her message and fund both her and the women’s home. We’ve gotten a few men to commit, but if we don’t get more, if we can’t financially support her through this, I’m afraid she’ll give up.”

  Nicholas just watched him while rubbing the stubble on his chin.

  “We can think about it.” Lydia gave David an assessing look. “But I’m hoping that won’t be necessary. I can’t think of anyone better suited for Evelyn than you.”

  His face heated again. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “Well, I am. But don’t go too fast—you’ll have to ease her into the idea.”

  How he wished someone had some different advice for winning Evelyn. He’d like some actual direction besides “go slow,” because that wouldn’t get him anywhere fast enough to save her orphanage job. He was beginning to think he’d stumbled into a really bad retelling of the tortoise and the hare.

  Lydia walked over to sit on the sofa, lowering herself down gingerly with a hand to her back. “Though we’ve been friends for years, she’s hard to get to know. Generous to a fault, except when it comes to sharing about herself. There’s a hurt in her buried so deep that anytime a man gets close, she retreats.”

  Help me figure out some way to get closer to her. I’ve asked you if she’s the woman I ought to pursue, but I feel like I have no confirmation. I know how I feel, but what is your plan for us?

  Why is all the advice I’m getting telling me to wait when she’s only got months before Nicholas looks for someone else?

  “Thank you for your advice. It seems I . . . uh . . . have some planning to do.” Lydia’s large grin made him squirm like a schoolboy caught passing a note to a girl in front of the entire class. “I’ll be going now.”

  After shaking Nicholas’s hand, he left them behind, seeking the cooler outside air that would hopefully steal the heat from his face and neck.

  Had he really just told the Lowes he’d take over an orphanage? If anything could be further from what Father desired of him, he wouldn’t know what it could be.

  And yet, he didn’t want to turn around and tell them to go ahead and post the advertisement.

  But how could he be certain marrying Evelyn and taking over an orphanage was what he ought to do with his life?

  She’d let him hold her hand a few times, hugged him twice, but as Lydia said, she was still closed off, despite neither he nor Lydia doing anything to betray her trust.

  Which meant someone had likely hurt Evelyn so badly she believed anyone could turn on her in a moment. Just the thought of someone doing her wrong made him want to punch the next man who dared to look at her funny.

  28

  David rapped the huge brass knocker on the mansion’s front door. Though he heard children playing in the backyard, he couldn’t skirt around to the back this time, since he’d been formally invited to dinner. Lydia had evidently come up with an idea to gain support for the women’s home and wanted his opinion.

  Though she probably didn’t need his opinion at all. Lydia was likely only trying to give him more time with Evelyn. Which of course was fine with him, so why was he so sweaty? He rubbed his hands on his slacks.

  Well, he knew why he was jittery, but this was beyond ridiculous. When the thought of marriage had been confined to his own head he hadn’t been so nervous.

  But now the Lowes were holding off advertising for orphanage directors because he told them he’d be willing to marry Evelyn. If she refused him, they would know.

  He startled when the door creaked open.

  “Come in, Mr. Kingsman.” The young butler from the Lowes’ house stood straight and tall, as if he’d been promoted to overseeing a castle. “Mrs. Lowe said to send you to the music room upon arrival.” The young man did such a self-important flourish of his hand to gesture to the music room that David couldn’t help but silently chuckle. At least the boy was enjoying his job.

  He forced himself forward, ignoring the uptick of his heartbeat.

  Lydia stood when he entered and put a finger to her lips. “So good of you to come, Mr. Kingsman,” she said quietly. “The baby just fell asleep.”

  By the window, Evelyn was keeping the rocker moving in slow motion. The baby’s head was snuggled into her neck.

  She acknowledged him with a small nod right before a chorus of excited children hollered outside.

  Nicholas’s driver had led a pony onto the back lawn, and Nicholas was hoisting a small girl up into the saddle.

  Evelyn seemed quite interested in the goings-on outside. The dark circles under her eyes were lighter, and the wistful smile on her lips made him want—

  “How was the walk over?” Lydia asked from behind him.

  “Huh?” His voice cracked for some foolish reason. He turned around and gave his head a good shake. “Oh, fine. I drove, actually.”

  “And the glass factory? How goes work there?”

  “All right.” He looked for a chair that didn’t look dainty and chose what looked like a captain’s chair. The seat was unbearably hard, but he didn’t want to bounce around like Goldilocks looking for something that was just right. He had a feeling no chair in the room would be comfortable anyway.

  Evelyn looked at him with raised brows.

  He forced himself not to swipe at his forehead. The words I want to marry you weren’t branded there for her to see. Though the amount of sweat trickling down his temple right now would have made more sense if he had been seared by a hot poker. He fished a handkerchief from his pocket.

  “I’d ring for tea and cookies, but since the babe’s asleep, I’ll go get them.” Lydia winked at him before leaving.

  He wiped at the sweat on his brow as surreptitiously as he could. Though Evelyn might not understand why he was acting so strangely, his hostess knew exactly why he was sweaty and jumpy.

  “Do you know what Lydia’s up to?” Evelyn asked in a whisper.

  Had she noticed Lydia’s wink and singsong voice?

  “She’s been giddy all day,” she continued. “One minute she’s positively dancing around, the next minute she disappears.”

  At least Evelyn seemed to be oblivious to Lydia’s current machinations to leave them alone together. “After you told me you thought you’d be unable to volunteer at the shelter, I asked her to think of something to bring attention to your cause. Nicholas said she wanted to get our opinion on her idea this evening.”

  “Hmm, she hadn’t said anything to me.”

  The clock chimed four, and he held his breath, hoping the baby would sleep through the chest-resonating bongs.

  Hope only stirred slightly, but it was enough that he tensed waiting for the screams. After the clock’s chiming ended, he let out his breath when the babe’s eyes remained closed.

  “Bad news.” Lydia reappeared in the doorway. “The children ate all the cookies. Cook’s making more, but I doubt they’ll be ready before dinner.”

  Good, he’d likely choke on a cookie right now anyway, considering his body had seized up as if he were in a life-and-death situation . . . though marriage was supposed to be until death do you part.

  “Why don’t we go upstairs?” Lydia smiled as if something wonderful awaited them there. “I’d figured on visiting first, then telling you about my idea after dinner, but we could switch things around.”

  He shot up. “Would you like me to get your husband?”

  “No, he already approves and will be more useful watching the children. Though if you two think of something more we could do, we can discuss it over dinner.”

  “But the baby—”

  Seems that
wasn’t a problem since Evelyn had already gotten out of her rocker, Hope’s little face still squashed in deep sleep against her shoulder.

  “Come on, then.” Lydia flitted out of the room as if her stomach weren’t preceding her.

  He let Evelyn go in front of him. Lydia bypassed the wraparound stairs in the entryway and disappeared into a doorway halfway down the hall. Following Evelyn, he stepped into a dark, narrow stairwell and climbed behind her, the plush red carpeting dampening their footsteps.

  The sounds of things being shoved and scooted around somewhere above beckoned them upward as they passed the second-story landing and continued higher.

  He followed the ladies out onto the third floor and stopped. This was not what he’d been expecting at all. The entire floor was a handsome, wood-planked ballroom. An oval ceiling vaulted over the entire expanse and was fitted with fancy gasoliers. Why, it was large enough to be a roller-skating rink—one that could rival Carnival Park’s back in Kansas City.

  David’s own ballroom might be prettier, with the wall of windows looking out to his garden, but it wasn’t nearly this big.

  The gardener and the mansion’s butler were in the far southeast corner pushing a large, dusty crate, while the Lowes’ young housekeeper, Caroline, and a maid he didn’t recognize scrubbed the floor to their north. Another maid was on a ladder, polishing a gasolier.

  “If you had lived very long in Teaville, Mr. Kingsman, you would know that my husband has never used this ballroom. Why he’s never used it is a long story, but one about to end because he’s agreed to let me host a charity ball—just like you read about in books.” Lydia clapped her hands to emphasize half her words as if she were one of the girls outside awaiting a pony ride. “I’m planning a banquet followed by music and dance. Everyone has been dying to see our ballroom, and I’m hoping the speeches from Nicholas, the moral-society members, and some of the older orphans will gain sympathy and aid.” Lydia shrugged and turned to them. “But if not, all proceeds from the evening will go to the red-light-district ministry.”