“Yes. I think so.”
“You’ll have to have a bit more conviction than that if we’re to succeed,” he chided and stepped closer until Prim had to tilt back her head to look at him.
The warmth of his body radiated outward, entreating her to move closer still. A slight shiver went through her that had nothing to do with the cold. With the excitement flowing, a measure of confidence accompanied it.
“Are you prepared to take back your life, Mrs. Eames?”
“Yes.” Then, more forcefully, “Yes, I am.”
“Good.” He nodded with satisfaction. “Then we’ll begin. I thought we’d start with the usual things. Ice skating in the park, a sleigh ride or two, perhaps? I assume you’re attending the Harkness Yule Ball Sunday evening?”
She was...with Shane, who was full of talk about how Leachman was looking forward to seeing her and dancing with her, despite the recent misguided association with James. Regardless of what Shane believed, Leachman never looked forward to dancing, not with his two left feet.
No, she needed to stop prioritizing what others demanded of her or even caring about what they thought. A shudder raked her at the thought. How terrifying but wonderfully liberating as well. The words of the NSWSA’s current president, Mrs. Anthony, filled her mind:
‘Forget conventionalisms; forget what the world thinks of you stepping out of your place; think your best thoughts, speak your best words, work your best works, looking to your own conscience for approval.’
Though invigorating at the time when she’d applied them to nothing more than the suffrage movement, they were positively inspirational now. She would step out of her “place.” And she’d be glad for it.
“That sounds lovely.” It did.
James nodded. “Good. Tomorrow afternoon then?”
“Oh, no. Not tomorrow.”
“Mrs. Eames,” he began to scold.
She bit her lip. “No, I’m not trying to put you off. I have a previous engagement.” Leaning toward him, she added in a whisper, “A meeting of the NAWSA. The National American Woman Suffrage Association,” she added when he appeared confused.”
“Ah.”
“We’re planning a rally for the governor’s visit next month, you see. We intend to picket his hotel.”
“You mean to storm the building?”
“If we must.”
James chuckled.
“Laugh as you might, Mr. MacKintosh,” she said with a frown. “But we must make our demands as publicly as possible if they continue to ignore us behind closed doors.”
James raised his hands defensively, though he appeared more amused than not. “You’ll get no chastisement from me. Do your brothers know?”
Prim gnawed at her lip, shaking her head.
“You should tell them,” he suggested. As if she didn’t already know that she should. “And why don’t you ask Mrs. Preston to join you?”
Margaret Preston? Surely not. Prim couldn’t have been more shocked by the idea.
“Surely this isn’t something she’d be interested in?”
“You’d be surprised.” James said. “The day after, then? I’ll call for you and begin to woo you publicly. I will hover with all the outward signs of helpless devotion.”
He tapped a finger against her chin, his eyes filled with pleasure. Once again, she was afraid of what she had gotten herself into.
Not with their plan but with him.
Chapter 12
I shall not change my course because those who assume to be better than I desire it.
~ Victoria Claflin Woodhull
The Pond at Central Park
Three Days Later
“But what if I fall down?”
“Then you get back up and try again,” Prim told Luella as she lifted her from the carriage with a smile of encouragement. “It’ll not do to give up on something simply because we fail at first.”
Excellent advice, she thought. She should take it herself.
“I’m not going to fall down,” Ellis exclaimed, leaping out behind his sister without assistance. “I’ll be fast as the wind. And soar like an eagle.”
“Hold on there, young man,” Prim scolded, restraining her son before he could race off. “You must have skates before you can soar.”
“Aw, Mama!” He pouted but stayed close while Prim hauled Hazel out of the carriage and onto her hip.
She couldn’t imagine what James had been thinking by inviting her children to join them today. Perhaps an afternoon in her company alone hadn’t been interesting enough for him?
Yesterday, he’d hired a sleigh for a long ride down the winding lanes of the park. Compactly built, the two of them had been pressed together from shoulder to hip the entire time. She’d been so acutely aware of him. His solid muscular body. His scent. His heat. She’d initially sat in mute silence. But again, he’d made it fun for her, eliciting laughter as the sleigh bells jangled merrily along the way.
They’d talked for so long, she’d been afraid she might be boring him and had apologized for it. Nonsense, he’d said. He was glad to find someone to converse with about something more material than the weather. It’d been the same for her.
But perhaps he hadn’t enjoyed it as much as she.
On the other hand, the children had heard the sleigh return and poured from the house to exclaim over the bells and lively chestnut mares that’d pulled them along. It could be that he sincerely wanted them to have a spot of fun as well.
They neared the crowded pond, and Prim spotted him standing alongside of it, leaning back against a tree and staring out over the skaters.
He was holding something in his hand. His thumb absently rubbing across the dull gold surface. She’d seen it before, knew he always carried it with him.
He seemed sad...no, that wasn’t right. He seemed lonely. She’d caught a hint of the same air more than once over the past couple of days. That forlorn look when he thought she wasn’t looking. Though one might not imagine it possible amid the crush of a hundred bodies, Prim sensed the same countless times before. She recognized it in him now.
But why? James wasn’t like her. He gave the impression of having been born with the confidence she lacked. Neither shy nor reserved, men and women alike sought his company. Adored him for his gregarious wit and humor. She’d never seen him alone.
But she also knew all too well, one didn’t need to be alone to be lonely.
Hazel squirmed in her arms and Prim released her, watching her toddler streak toward James, with Luella and Ellis following behind. A part of her longed to do the same.
For mercy’s sake, she liked him. Her children liked him. The past few days had prompted all sorts of impractical thoughts in her head, until she was as giddy as she’d been at that first ball all those years ago when Fletcher Eames had bowed over her hand.
Spending more time in his company would only make matters worse for her. Yet somehow, here she was. And just as excited as the children.
* * *
“Mr. Kin-tish!”
James started as a slight weight slammed into the side of his leg. He looked down to find an adorable blond with curly hair and bright hyacinth eyes latched on to his leg with both arms wound tight. She grinned up at him in delight and he experienced a dose of his own.
“Well, if isn’t Miss Hazel Eames,” he exclaimed with mock surprise and swung the toddler into his arms. “How are you today, wee lass?”
“Good!” She smacked a hand on each side of his face and smooshed her nose against his.
“Mr. MacKintosh!” the two other children chorused, crowding close around him now. He fancied his ready acceptance of the youngest Eames made him more approachable.
James greeted Luella softly, having discovered she was painfully shy, and complimented her fur muff. He nodded along as Ellis launched into a rapid description of what must have been everything he’d done over the past day. James hardly heard a word of it, his attention all for Prim as she followed along behind th
em.
She wore a different coat today, other than the wool one he’d seen her in before. Of black velvet, it was trimmed with rich bands of gray fur down the long front, at the elbow below the huge puff of the upper sleeve, and around the skirt as well. She carried muff of the same in one hand but was hatless. The day was a clear one, the sun reflecting off the snow. Her smooth, dark hair gleamed in the brilliance. Under her dark brows, her wide eyes did as well. She was unexpectedly lovely.
“I’m sorry,” she said, indicating the children mobbing him. “They’re simply excited. The girls have never been skating before.”
“Never?” James exaggerated the question, looking around at the children, grateful to have a reason to look away before he partook of inappropriately lustful thoughts in public.
The query brought forth another spat of chatter from all three fronts that continued unabated while they sorted out the skates and fastened them to five pairs of feet.
* * *
“No, no more.”
James peeled the clinging arms away from him and set one child after another onto one of the benches surrounding the rink with a solid plop, plop, plop.
“I want you all to sit here, eat your chestnuts, and not move a muscle. Aye?”
“Aww!”
“Ellis,” he said sharply, giving the lad a firm stare Prim knew her son hadn’t been privy to in at least a year. Perhaps his entire life. “You’ve had more than your share of fun all afternoon. Don’t you think your mother should have some as well?”
The boy cocked his head, looking from James to Prim and back again. “Mama never has fun.”
“All the more reason, don’t you think?”
Ellis considered that for a moment before he nodded.
“Good. I’m trusting you to watch out for your sisters for a few moments,” James said.
“Me?”
“You’re the man of the house, are you not? I can trust you in this? Aye?”
“Aye.”
Prim watched her son straighten, his shoulders squared. He liked the idea of taking charge, of being seen as responsible as much as she. Prim never considered it before but knew she should put more faith into her growing offspring if she wanted to see them develop in self-assuredness.
“Thank you,” Prim said when James took her hand and pulled her back toward the pond.
She glanced back at her trio of children. Ellis was between the two girls now, keeping them close as they tucked into the bags of roasted nuts James had purchased from one of the vendors.
“Children need to be children, but a boy also has to learn how to be a man,” he said. “Even if you have no wish to remarry, he’ll need a father figure one day.”
“I do have three brothers,” she reminded. “But I’d like to see them all grow up to be self-sufficient. Even the girls. Especially them.”
“And why not?”
He continued to amaze her with his open-mindedness.
James held her hand firmly as they stepped onto the ice. He’d proven himself to be beyond graceful on skates though he’d claimed to have only been a handful of times. Thankfully, he’d been skilled enough to steady her at the start as she’d been as shaky as a newborn fawn on the thin blades. Rather than ridicule her, he’d teased her mercilessly about her poor skills, but all the while set about reeducating her on the talents she’d forgotten over the years.
Now, he slipped one arm around her waist and held her hand with his free one, guiding her motions until they skated as one.
“That reminds me, I never asked. How was your meeting? Did the police drag you away again?”
“You know they did not,” Prim chided. “I saw you when you came to collect Mrs. Preston. I know you were there watching for quite some time before then.”
It had surprised her to see him there, leaning against the wall at the back of their meeting room with his arms crossed over his broad chest. He’d watched and listened for a long while without scorn or verbal abuse.
“Mrs. Preston enjoyed herself immensely. Thank you for inviting her,” he added. “She got more than a wee bit fired up, lecturing me over dinner though I never voiced a single protest. I believe she’s writing a letter to your congressional representative today.”
Prim relished the thought. Though she’d known Margaret for years, having come out into society just after her daughters, she’d never had intimate conversations with her. They’d enjoyed a long lunch together the other day and had found much in common. Not only would she be a fine asset to the cause, but maybe a good friend as well.
James rotated skating backward in front of her. He slid an arm around her waist, drawing her close as if they were waltzing along the ice. The close contact ground her thoughts to a halt and she gaped up at him. Of course, he grinned down at her. The man was ridiculously jovial most of the time, but Prim thought he was enjoying her disconcertment.
“What are you doing?”
“We can hardly be seen as a courting couple if all I do is tow small children around the ice,” he pointed out. “What suitor worth his salt wouldn’t take the chance to hold a lovely woman so close? As she clings to him helplessly, of course.”
Prim frowned, though her outrage was largely feigned. “But of course. It’s what men expect, isn’t it? Helplessness? Dependency?”
“Don’t rain recriminations down upon me, Mrs. Eames,” he teased. “You know I don’t believe that.”
Did she? Whatever tales he told of a headstrong sister, however attentively he listened to speeches, he was still a man.
“Och, you’re looking angry again,” he said with a chuckle that belied his mock fear. “Your lips are pursing...the frown is forming—look at the lovely snowflakes.”
Unable to help herself, Prim burst out laughing at his foolishness. The release drew all the tension she’d hadn’t even been aware she was holding onto out of her. She was happy, free as she hadn’t in years.
“You’re an impossible man.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet. Hold on.”
James hugged her close. His cheek bent close to hers. He glided them across the ice, turning tight circles that left her dizzy. Euphoria such as she’d never known welled up inside of her.
Ellis had been right, she never had fun anymore. She’d almost forgotten how...well, fun it could be.
Chapter 13
...be content to labour for independence until you have proved,
by winning that prize, your right to look higher.
~ Charlotte Brontë from Villette
“I know it’s late, but could you have Nanny put them down for a short nap?” Prim handed Hazel over to one of the maids before turning to take Luella from James. Her daughter was draped heavily over his shoulder, exhausted from the long afternoon.
“I can take her up if you like,” James offered. “She’s dead weight at this point.”
Prim nodded and led him up the stairs. Two flights up, they deposited the girls into their beds. Ellis shuffled along behind them, grumbling that he didn’t need a nap, but didn’t protest at the suggestion of a book before the fireplace. James wagered he’d be asleep the moment they closed the door.
“I must apologize for Ellis,” she said as they headed back down to the main floor. “He talks your ear off.”
“I don’t mind,” he assured her. “I managed to tune him out about the time he got to his third recounting of his ‘amazing’ spin.”
Prim chuckled at that. “I’m just glad he didn’t break an arm when he fell.”
“Even if he did—”
“I know, boys must be boys.”
She let out a burdened sigh, but then smiled as though inwardly laughing with him.
Banks waited for them at the foot of the stairs. Prim shed her coat and handed it off to the butler, who in turn passed it to one of the footmen lingering nearby.
“Could we have some coffee in the drawing room, please?”
“Of course, madam.” The butler paused a beat then added, “M
ight I remind you of the time, Mrs. Eames?”
“Oh goodness,” she moaned. “What is it?”
“Half past five.”
James puzzled over her expression, wondering why she suddenly seemed so troubled.
“Very well. Thank you, Banks.”
“And the coffee?”
Prim looked up at him. “Would you like to join me for some coffee, Mr. MacKintosh?” she asked. “I’d understand if you have somewhere else to be.”
“I can take a few minutes more.”
She nodded at Banks. “Yes, coffee, please.”
“Right away, Mrs. Eames.” The butler turned to James. “May I take your coat, sir?
James shed his coat and hat and followed Prim across the foyer, taking in the lavish décor. The wide marble tiles of gold and black lining the floor, the walls covered in ivory taffeta, and all the rich wooden trim work highlighted with gold leaf.
It looked like her, he decided. Or looked like the Prim she presented to the world. Rich and elegant yet subdued. The drawing room was more of the same with a fire roaring in welcome. They both went to it to warm their hands.
“I had forgotten the time,” she said. “I guess we shouldn’t have gone out for tea and cakes after all. Though the children loved it.”
“Who are you expecting?” he asked curiously.
“My father-in-law. He comes to dinner at least once a week to see his grandchildren.” Her pursed lips were joined by the wrinkle of her nose. “Personally, I believe he enjoys having the opportunity to lecture me on everything I’m doing wrong in life. You aren’t the first one to point out that my children are in wont of a father figure. Declan has preached exhaustively on the subject for several months now.”
“Have you told him where he can put his opinions?” James teased, though he wasn’t really jesting. More and more he could see Prim needed to stand up for herself. Woman or not, no one needed to live under constant criticism or invite it into her home.
“It’s all so simple to you, isn’t it, James? You think everything can change with a snap of my fingers.” Prim looked up at him, her eyes wide and bleak. “You expect me to be able to change things overnight, but you don’t have to deal with the consequences. When I push, they push back. And might I remind you, this is not at all what I asked of you?”
A Question Worth Asking Page 9
