“I think I’ll sit here, but I would like the tray, thank you.” David’s blue eyes seemed melancholy today.
“Perhaps some willow bark tea would ease the pain, though it’s not nearly so strong as laudanum. I’m sure Mrs. Simmons keeps some in the pantry.”
“All right.” He looked up at her suddenly. “Mildred, there’s something else.”
Something about his tone softened her heart, and she stepped closer. “What is it?”
“I think I’d like to travel with you as far as Philadelphia. I can surely get a ship from there for England.”
This unexpected news set her pulse off in a jagged path. “I expect you could, but why?”
He shrugged and looked out the window. “I should worry about you if you went off alone.”
She wanted to laugh. She’d been fending for herself for years, and she didn’t need an escort. But the simple fact that someone cared about her welfare touched her heart. And this wasn’t just anyone. It was David.
She closed the distance between them and bent to touch his hand. “Thank you. You don’t need to, but that—that means a good deal to me. I’ll see about the tickets.”
“All right. Take the money from my wallet.” He turned his hand and clutched her fingers for a moment, then let them slide from his grasp. “I shall see you later, then.”
“Yes, I’ll be back before dinnertime.”
She’d gone to his room prepared to take breakfast with him and then set out for the train station, so after she got the money for the tickets, she went right down to the dining room. This morning she would eat alone, as she had for many weeks.
Last night she’d given Mr. Simmons her notice, so she’d have to pay for the rest of the meals she ate here, but that was all right. She needed the next couple of days to tie up the loose ends for their travel. She’d saved enough to purchase her own fare to Philadelphia, with several dollars besides. With care, she could keep herself until she found work in the city.
In the dining room, she ordered David’s tray, but only coffee and biscuits for herself—the cheapest thing she could get and still fill her stomach. She was eating a bit later than her normal hour, and only a few guests were still in the room. In the far corner sat a gentleman she didn’t remember seeing before. A new guest, no doubt. He looked to be about her own age, and handsome in an ornate sort of way. She decided it was his well-cut coat and the necktie at breakfast that gave her this impression—that and the way he’d combed his hair. She doubted most men in Independence had more than a nodding acquaintance with a looking glass. This one had obviously spent some time gazing into one. He seemed more intent on his newspaper than his meal, however.
As she ate, she mulled over what David had said. Her heart was tearing in two. On the one hand, she was glad he wanted to stay with her a little longer. But he showed no regrets about their imminent parting. In fact, from what he’d said this morning, it appeared he wanted to see her safely to her destination, and then be rid of her once and for all. These last few days, he’d seemed to truly enjoy her company, but that was coming to an end. It still seemed to Millie that he couldn’t wait to be rid of her, although his conscience bade him to make sure she was safe.
A steady ache formed in her chest, and she feared she might begin to weep. That would never do! Just because she’d developed feelings for a man was no reason to fall to pieces. She wouldn’t call David an uncaring man. Indeed, lately he’d shown himself quite compassionate. But he didn’t love her, and in spite of her efforts to resist the longing, that was what she truly desired.
What would he say if she bought her ticket for a different day than his and refused to travel with him? That seemed a bit crass, in light of his past kindnesses. Furthermore, she knew she could never bring herself to do it.
Millie finished her coffee and resolved to make the most of her limited time with David. Inside, she might be mourning as they rode the rails eastward, but she would show him her charming, lighthearted demeanor. Once she’d fancied marrying him—for his fortune, nothing else. Now she couldn’t care less about that. She loved him with all her heart. But she would never let him know.
Peregrin watched the auburn-haired woman over the top of his newspaper. This was the mysterious Mrs. Evans who was traveling with Randolph Stone’s cousin. She was pretty enough, even in the stark morning light of the dining room. She wasn’t wearing an apron today, but a practical, coarse calico dress. She wore a hat as well, and that looked to be of better quality than the dress. So…she was going out.
Peregrin had hoped David would come down to breakfast so he could get a look at him. But it seemed he was keeping to his room this morning. Just how ill was he?
Should he wait for this Mrs. Evans to leave and then run up to David’s room? Peregrin decided against that. He wasn’t ready to carry out Merrileigh’s ultimate wishes yet—not here, in the hotel. And it might be best if David remained unaware of his presence a little longer.
Mrs. Evans rose, and Peregrin made a quick decision. He cast aside his newspaper, laid a few coins on the table, and followed her out. She was already striding rapidly up the street. He’d have to dash to keep up, and Peregrin wasn’t the sort of man who liked to hurry. But if he hired a hack, he’d have to instruct the driver to hover behind her—a distasteful position. Besides, there didn’t seem to be any hackneys lingering about the hotel this morning.
Shank’s mare it was. He set out briskly, telling himself she wouldn’t go far. What woman would set out on foot to walk more than a few blocks?
The streets were crowded with wagons, saddle horses, and pedestrians. The emigrant trains going west this year had all left, his poker-playing friends had told him. For the next couple of months, people headed the other way would come through. The town was growing ever larger, and thousands more would pass through next spring, headed west.
Peregrin couldn’t see what the attraction was. More land like this to break with a plow and till? He supposed that for the lower classes, the prospect of a few acres was alluring. Personally, he’d rather have stayed in the more settled and civilized East.
Mrs. Evans turned out to be a difficult person to follow. She moved quickly through the morning crowds, apparently focused on her destination. Peregrin dashed after her, trying to keep an eye on her bonnet.
About twenty minutes later, he pulled up, wheezing and clutching his chest, before the railroad station. She must have gone in here. He hadn’t actually seen her enter, but she’d headed up this street with a purposeful stride, and the station was the largest building in the vicinity. He stood on the corner, catching his breath and waiting. Surely she’d come out again. Unless she took a train. But no—she hadn’t carried any luggage.
He congratulated himself on this keen deduction. He was really getting rather good at this cloak-and-dagger business. Mrs. Evans must have come to buy tickets. That meant she and David planned to leave Independence soon, perhaps today or tomorrow. He’d come just in time.
He pulled in several steadying breaths. His pulse began to slack off. At that moment, the woman in question emerged from the station. She didn’t dawdle but headed immediately back the way she had come. As she reached the corner where Peregrin stood observing her, she glanced at him.
“Good morning,” he said cheerfully, lifting his hat.
She nodded and started to pass, then stopped dead in her tracks. She whirled around. “Didn’t I see you at the Frontier Hotel this morning?”
CHAPTER 28
David lay on his bed, rubbing his thigh and wishing the pain away. He ought to have listened to Millie and taken the laudanum this morning. At this rate, he wouldn’t be fit to take dinner with her, let alone travel tomorrow.
He glanced about the room. Where were those crutches? Millie must have put them away in the wardrobe, since he hadn’t used them for a day or two. Oh well, he could reach the cane. Perhaps if he hobbled out into the hallway, he could summon Wilfred to come and give him some laudanum.
W
hat was he thinking? That boy couldn’t mix the dose. Millie always did it. He supposed he could mix it himself. He seemed to recall that half a teaspoon made the usual dose, in a glass of water. Maybe he’d use only half that. He truly didn’t want to lose consciousness for hours, just to stop feeling as though his leg were being crushed under a boulder—or a stagecoach. The willow bark tea probably helped some—everyone swore by its curative powers—but a strong cup of it hadn’t seemed to take more than the sharpest edge off his pain.
Perhaps he could lessen the discomfort if he put his mind to something else. Or someone else?
Millie.
There, he might as well face the facts and stop trying to trick himself. He wanted Millie for his bride. How sharply would his friends in England cut him if he arrived with Mildred as his legal wife? Of even more concern, how badly would they treat Millie? Could she stand up to disdain and scorn? He wasn’t sure he could abide with that. If people were going to treat her abominably—or just ignore her, which in London was even worse—he might lose his good nature. But so much in English society depended on having the good will of the upper crust.
“What am I thinking?” he said aloud. “Millie can pull it off. Why, with two weeks in New York, I can outfit her like the countess she’ll be and teach her how to address the nobility.” She could probably dance already, and he had no doubt she could handle the staff at Stoneford. She had a commanding manner when she needed it and could give orders that other people sprang to obey.
And she was lovely. Not a sugary-sweet debutante, but a handsome young widow who knew her way around the lamppost. She picked up on nuances quickly. Yes, he could give her sufficient training in the time it would take to cross the Atlantic. Millie would be accepted—and loved—as his treasured bride. As Lady Stoneford.
“Oh…well…uh…yes, I believe you might have.” Peregrin whipped off his hat and bowed at the waist. “I did take my breakfast there. Came out for a constitutional afterward.”
“Indeed?” Millie surveyed the man in the smartly tailored suit with some misgiving. It seemed very odd that a man had set out for a stroll and gone in the same direction as she had and kept pace with her as well. “It’s not been thirty minutes since I left the hotel.”
The man didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Oh yes. I like a brisk walk after breakfast, don’t you know.”
“You’re English, aren’t you?” He was about thirty years old and had a pleasant face, but what had really caught her attention was his accent. In those few words, she knew he was not only British but also of gentle birth. And how did she know this, she asked herself. Because he talked like David of course.
“Why yes. I’ve only been in this half of the world a few weeks. Liking it, rather, though it’s a bit rustic.”
“I suppose so,” she said, though to Millie, Independence was as big as any town she’d seen in the last twenty years. Philadelphia would probably shock her when she saw it again. “Excuse me, I must be going.” She turned away.
“Might I not accompany you back to the hotel?” He hopped along to catch up and fell into stride with her.
She shot him a sideways glance. He was a bit forward and overeager, but really, he behaved no worse than scores of other men she’d encountered. And the poor fellow probably knew no one in the area. He looked like a gentleman. Could she assume he would behave like one? And his presence would keep other men from accosting her. Really, what was the harm?
“I suppose you might,” she said demurely.
“Oh, thank you, madam. I shall be honored.”
He didn’t offer his arm, and Millie was glad. That would be spooning it on a bit thick.
“I do hope your visit to the depot doesn’t foreshadow a journey in the near future,” he said.
“Why yes. I shall be traveling soon.”
“What? Not leaving us? But I’ve only just made your acquaintance.” He touched her sleeve and stopped walking, peering down at her in consternation.
“Really, sir,” Millie said, a bit more severely, “you haven’t made my acquaintance at all.”
For a moment he gazed at her in assessment, and Millie fancied his eyes took on a bit of a gleam, as though he was accepting a challenge. He bowed slightly.
“You’re absolutely right. Since we have no one to perform the ceremonies, allow me to introduce myself. The name is Peregrin Walmore.”
She wanted to repeat the strange name, just to hear the cadence on her tongue, but she managed to get by with only a slight twitch of the lip as she thought about it.
“That’s a very odd name, sir. I’ve never heard one like it.”
“Oh, it was quite the fashion in England some years back, which I suppose is why my mother chose it.”
“I see.”
“And your name, if I may be so bold?”
She hesitated but could see no reason not to divulge it. All of the hotel staff knew her and would probably not scruple to give another guest her name.
“Mrs. Evans.”
“Ah.”
Millie began walking again, and Walmore hurried to keep up.
“May I inquire how Mr. Evans is doing? Is he traveling with you?”
“No, Mr. Evans has left this mortal life.”
“My condolences.” His smile belied his words. “So you might say your husband has journeyed on before you.”
Millie said nothing. She strongly doubted James had passed through the pearly gates, and she certainly didn’t want to follow him in his otherworldly travels.
“Might I invite you to take dinner with me this noon?” Walmore asked.
He did have a charming smile, and that delightful accent that was so like David’s. It occurred to Millie that having another English gentleman approach her in the frontier town amounted to a coincidence so large as to be unwieldy.
“May I inquire what you do for a living, sir?”
“What I do?” Mr. Walmore blinked down at her. “Well, I’ve a couple of thousand a year, if you must know, but that’s a bit brash, isn’t it?”
“I don’t understand you.” Millie stopped walking again. “I didn’t ask your income, sir. I asked your profession.”
“Ah, I see. As a matter of fact, I am of the class that has a living but does not need to make one.”
“Oh. A gentleman, as they say.”
“Well yes.”
She nodded and walked on. She decided to ask David if he knew anything about the Walmore family. “And where in England do you reside, if I may ask?”
“You may. My father’s house is in Reading, and I myself am lately of London. And where are you from?”
“I was born in Pennsylvania, but my mother married a man with a restless foot.” A wandering eye, too, but that was none of his business. “We eventually moved to San Francisco, and later to Oregon Territory. I have recently come from there.”
“I see. A westerner.”
“Yes.” She doubted he knew where the places she’d mentioned were located, or had any idea of the vast distance she’d covered in the last few months. She opened her mouth to ask if he knew the Stone family in England, but something held her back. Perhaps it was the memory of Peterson in Scottsburg—the man who had persuaded her to deliver an innocent man into his hands. It might be wiser to ask David first whether he knew a family in England named Walmore.
This man would have been only a boy when David left his homeland, but he spoke as though his father still lived. She walked onward, mulling this over.
“So, will you dine with me?”
She glanced at him and shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”
“Oh, you wound me.” He put on a smile that was winsome indeed. Under other circumstances, Millie would have gladly accepted this handsome young man’s invitation. “Dare I hope I might prevail upon you to join me at supper?”
“I…I don’t think so, Mr. Walmore. I am assisting a person who has been ill, you see, and I may be needed. I’m often required to help at mealtimes.”
“Ah.” He eyed her thoughtfully.
“Watch out.” Millie thrust out a hand to stop him. Walmore was so engrossed in the conversation, he’d almost stepped off the walk at a corner, into the path of a mule team.
“Oh. Quite.” He pulled back and waited with her until the big freight wagon had passed. “Allow me.” He seized her hand, tucked it through his arm, and hurried her across the street.
“Thank you.” Millie removed her hand from his elbow as soon as they were safely on the boardwalk beyond the intersection.
“So…no supper either?” he asked genially.
“I do thank you for your offer, sir, but I shall be otherwise occupied.” They were within sight of the hotel, and she gave him an impersonal smile. “Excuse me, won’t you? I’ll go around to the back and speak to Mrs. Simmons about my friend’s meal.”
She bustled away before he could say anything about her friend or dinner or any other topic. She’d skip through the kitchen and up the back stairs. There was no point in forming a new acquaintance, since she and David would leave tomorrow. The young man was probably all right—but she’d grown wary. And she wasn’t looking about to replace James.
Peregrin stood on the sidewalk in front of the hotel, gazing after Mrs. Evans. From behind, she looked like an ordinary woman dressed in attire suitable for the working class. Only the carriage of her shoulders and her more elegant hat, with a faint glint of reddish hair peeping from under it at the nape of her neck, bespoke her quality. Their short acquaintance had convinced him that she was a woman of substance. Not wealth, perhaps, but she had an innate savoir faire he hadn’t expected. Perhaps that was what attracted David to her.
Now that he thought about it, most women in her situation would have remarked on the other Englishman she knew. Mrs. Evans was cautious, which was not to say secretive, but she was protecting David. Or perhaps it was more a matter of safeguarding her own reputation. That was probably it—she didn’t want other people to know she was traveling with a man. He should have guessed it at once.
THE Prairie DREAMS Trilogy Page 87
