by Diane Darcy
A reaction he was no doubt used to.
The man must be married—he was simply too attractive to have remained unclaimed by an industrious woman—and she relaxed further and inwardly laughed at herself. What would it matter to her if he was or wasn’t?
“I don’t believe we have been introduced, sir.”
“Let me correct the matter. I am Mayor Luke Carrington. Might I escort you to your destination?”
Mayor. That did change things a bit. As this was essentially his town, no doubt he felt obligated to help anyone; even silly young women in need. “I’m obliged by the offer. But my trunk and baggage are here with me, and I’d hate to leave them unattended. I thank you, but I’ll continue to amuse myself by enjoying the wonderful view your town offers. It’s a beautiful place.”
“Thank you. I like to think so.” Mayor Carrington whistled and beckoned to a young boy. “Elijah, watch these bags, while Miss …”
His gaze focused on her once more and she realized she’d not given her name. She felt her cheeks warming again. “Miss Grace …”
Oh dear, she’d given him the wrong name!
She swallowed. “Um, well, that is to say, Penny Carmichael. Age eighteen.” Ugh. Why she included that last bit of information, she did not know. She’d barely met the man, but he certainly had a way of rattling her.
“Well, Miss Grace Penny Carmichael, will you walk with me? Perhaps I can show you a bit more of the town until your errant hostess arrives?”
She considered correcting her name, but decided that would only add to the confusion. “Thank you. That would be nice,” she replied as she stood.
They started to walk and Grace found herself somewhat nervous. Usually men looked right through her to her younger charges as if she were invisible. His frankly admiring gaze left her feeling addled.
“It is Miss, isn’t it?” the mayor asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“It is Miss and not Mrs.?”
She laughed self-consciously and tucked an errant curl behind her ear. “Yes, it is.” She wished she could ask the equivalent, to determine whether or not he had a wife and a passel of children waiting at home. Somehow, knowing seemed crucial.
“So you’re from New York City?” He glanced at the people who stared at her as they strolled. “As you no doubt realize by now, a new person hereabouts is worth remarking on.”
“Yes. New York City.” A wave of shyness had her throat clenching once again.
“You’ve come a long way. I’ve traveled a bit, but have never been back east. What’s it like?”
She breathed a sigh of relief, glad for the introduction of a subject guaranteed to take her mind off the attractiveness of man walking beside her. At least she hoped for that result. “New York City is a very large place. There’s always a lot going on. So many businesses, so many people, everybody rushing to and fro. It’s loud, boisterous, and busy.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Oh, it is. There are several wonderful libraries and museums, as well.”
“We don’t have a library here about. Or a museum.”
At that she glanced up. “No library?”
“I can see that upsets you and I’m sorry for it. If you’d like, I can round up a few books for you to read while you’re in town.”
Her hat dipped again. “I assure you that won’t be necessary. I brought my own.”
He laughed. “I’ll add building a library to my to-do list. Right now I’m looking forward to getting a new school up and running. I don’t suppose you’re a schoolteacher?”
Just in time, she stopped herself from admitting she was a governess with training in basic subjects. “No. I am not a teacher.” Not in the conventional sense, anyway.
“Will you be staying long?”
“I’ve really no idea,” she replied as a group of children rushed past them.
“Well, in any case, I hope you’ll enjoy your stay here, for however long it is. And that you won’t run out of books.”
“Thank you.”
Luke inclined his head. “We may not be New York City, but we do have our good points. You’ve arrived at a nice time of year. This month alone, we’ll be having our annual fair, and we have some other events planned that should liven up your stay.”
“As much as I will miss New York, I have to admit your town is charming.”
“Not too small for your tastes?”
“I’m sure small towns have many of the same amenities as large cities,” Grace replied, glancing into the window of the mercantile.
“Do you think so?”
“Well, I see there’s a saloon. We have our share.”
“Ladies frequent saloons in New York, do they? Would you like a tour? Could I buy you a drink?”
Jerking her head, she met his gaze again, only to see him grinning. She couldn’t help returning his smile or smother the response that flew from her lips. “And if I said yes?”
His gaze sharpened and he chuckled. “Who am I to deny a lady a beverage?”
“A scoundrel, from the sounds of things.” No longer a servant, she loved the freedom she felt to banter with him. Apparently, when fleeing out west, she’d acquired a few indecorous habits along the way. No more hiding in the shadows for her. In Orchard Grove, she’d act and speak how she liked. “How on earth did you get elected Mayor? No one else wanted the job?”
He placed a hand to his heart. “You wound me. The town drunk was willing; he just didn’t get the votes.”
She chuckled. “As I was saying, your town appears to have many of the same conveniences we Easterners are used to. I see a bakery, in addition to the saloon and mercantile. I assure you, New Yorkers are known for their sweet tooths.”
His gaze raked her body. “You do an admirable job of hiding past sins.”
“Mr. Mayor!” She choked back a laugh as she glanced around to see if anyone stood nearby. Was she giving the wrong impression of herself?
“My apologies. Too familiar?”
“Unless you’re a long-lost brother, then yes.”
He chuckled and the sound warmed her, making her wish to continue their inappropriate conversation. Getting hold of herself, she glanced around for a more innocuous subject. “I also notice that there is a park down the road. We have those too. I’m sure yours is quite nice.”
“That’s generous of you to say so.”
“What is that there?” She pointed to a shop as they passed by. “A dressmaker’s shop?”
Luke nodded. “The only one in town.”
“Only one dress maker?” She sounded shocked, even to her own ears.
“Afraid so.”
When she thought of the time she’d spent over the years squiring the Carmichaels around to different dressmakers, she decided it was a good thing that Penny had gone to London. She’d have thought this town quite provincial indeed. “It truly is charming.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
She found herself smiling up at him and realized she’d assumed a flirtations demeanor. She admitted it to herself. She felt attraction for the man. Surprise and embarrassment vied for the upper hand.
She’d had minor crushes before, of course. She might be a servant, but she wasn’t dead. Most of the men she socialized with came from wealthy families. Some had let her know they wouldn’t mind a dalliance, but a commitment was out of the question.
If she’d agreed to such an arrangement, she’d have lost her job. It was easier, and much more prudent, to ignore any feelings that cropped up when a handsome gentleman looked her way.
Now, wearing a beautiful traveling skirt, hair curled in an attempt to appear five years younger, she couldn’t seem to help herself. Wouldn’t the Carmichael girls laugh if they could see her now, after all the lectures she’d given them against mooning over men.
She gazed around the town so unlike her own. The air seemed clearer, the sky brighter, and the trees greener. Even the people, with their simple clothes and easy attitude, appealed to her. Y
es, it was different. But that fact gave her sudden hope.
Maybe, for just a little while, she could be different too.
Luke looked down into the pretty face of the young woman beside him. Her lush pink lips, high cheekbones, and sparkling hazel eyes charmed him. A frame of lush, ebony lashes gave her gaze specular impact. He cursed her hat every time it dipped to hide her expression. Sable curls every bit as dark as his own framed her luminescent face.
Grace. He even liked her name and it matched her perfectly. She was a beauty, both elegant and pretty. She was also a fibber. Eighteen years old? Ha! He knew women didn’t like to admit their age, but why she’d bother lying was a mystery to him. Vanity? Maybe. His mother lied about her age when it suited her, so who knew with women?
Regardless, she appeared as sweet and fresh as summertime and, as far as he was concerned, there was nothing wrong with enjoying the presence of a beautiful woman on a warm sunny afternoon. Not that he usually did so—though most of the unattached ladies in town would be glad to walk out with him, this was the first time he’d been interested enough to do so.
They’d almost reached the edge of town when he smiled. “I just realized that I forgot to ask who you’re staying with.”
When she took a breath and opened her mouth to respond, he quickly held up a hand. “Wait. How about if I guess? If you tell me too quickly, I’ll be obliged to escort you there, and I’m not quite ready to let you go.”
What had gotten into him? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d flirted, let alone made that sort of declaration. And he’d only just met the girl.
Her hat dipped again and he noticed her neck turning pink. He liked that too—knowing he affected her, as well. “Are you staying with the Millers?”
She shook her head, smiling but still not looking at him. “No, not the Millers.”
“What about the Petersons, then?” Her skin was light enough that he could actually see her blush recede.
“I’ve never heard of the Petersons,” she replied, playing along.
“All right, the Ivys have a daughter about your age. Are you staying with them?”
She finally peeked up, her shy gaze charming. “I don’t know the Ivys.”
As they walked along, he realized he was smiling. “You’re going to make me think, aren’t you? How about the Hardisons?” As soon as he said it, he realized the family had a son in his mid-twenties, no doubt ready to marry.
Much to his relief, she shook her head. “I’ve never heard of them, either.”
“Maybe if I knew how long you were staying, I could make a better guess.”
She shrugged. “To tell the truth, I don’t really know. Until my … my mother sends for me, I suppose.”
He liked the sound of that way too much. “The Dawkins have some little ones. Are you here to help out?”
“Nope.”
“Are you staying with the Joneses? You have the look of that family. They have very pretty girls.”
Her head dipped again. “No, sir, but thank you.”
“What about the Willobys? They have a son about twenty-five. Maybe you’re his mail order bride?” He wasn’t sure why he said that. Again, thoughts of her belonging to someone else didn’t sit well with him.
Before she had a chance to answer, Margaret Stewart and Elizabeth Roland strode from the direction of the park, their smiles bright.
“Hello, ladies.” Luke tipped his hat, hoping they’d walk on.
No such luck. They stopped as though glued to the street, took one look at Grace, and then ignored her in favor of flirting with him. “Hello, Mayor.” Elizabeth glanced coyly through her lashes, the blonde hair around her bonnet fluttering in the breeze. “It’s nice to see you today.”
“Yes, Mayor Carrington.” Margaret fluttered her lashes. “What are you doing on such a fine afternoon?”
Why were they ignoring Grace? They were usually nice enough girls, so he forced the introduction. “Miss Stewart, Miss Roland, this is Miss Carmichael from New York City.”
“How do you do?” They all three murmured.
“I was attempting to discover if Miss Carmichael is a mail order bride.” Pursing his lips, he tried to rein in a smile. He really needed to stop teasing the girl, but for some reason couldn’t seem to resist.
Eyes wide, the two ladies gaped at Grace, now giving her their full attention.
“Mr. Mayor!” Grace’s eyes fired with irritation.
“Yes?”
“I must protest. I’ve just met these ladies. You’ll leave them with the wrong impression of me.”
“How so?”
Her lips parted. “They will think me desperate for a husband. I assure you, I am not.”
“Who’s to say you’re not Sawyer Willoby’s mail order bride? You didn’t deny it earlier.”
Brows drawn tight, she threw up her hands. “Because I’m your mail order bride, of course. Thank you so much for sending for me. Now, let’s find the preacher and we can be married before dinner.”
Luke threw back his head and laughed out loud, the first time he could remember doing so in a very long time. As his chuckle subsided, he grinned at Grace. She was a character and a charmer. He was half-smitten and couldn’t remember feeling this way in a long, long while.
She smiled sweetly at him. “What? Too soon?”
Still chuckling, he shook his head. “I give in. Ladies, this is Miss Grace Carmichael of New York City, and not a mail order bride, after all.”
The girls glanced between the two of them with identical sour expressions. “If you’re not a mail order bride, why are you here?” Margaret asked.
“Yes,” Elizabeth’s lips tightened. “Where, exactly, are you staying?”
Grace glanced at Luke and shrugged as if to say, there goes our game. “With Mrs. Henry Braxton.”
Luke felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Of all the people in town for her to live with, she’d chosen the widow Braxton who was, at the moment—and frankly, most of the time—his least favorite person in town. Some of the fun drained from the afternoon.
He blew out a slow breath. “All right. Come on. I’ll take you to her and have some boys collect your trunk and deliver it to the widow’s place. Let’s get you to your new home.”
“Ladies.” He tipped his hat to the girls, gestured Grace in the direction of Braxton House, and fell into step beside her. As much as he liked her, he might just have to stay well away from Miss Grace Carmichael, at least until his tournament took place.
Too bad that was the last thing he wanted to do.
Chapter 3
Mayor Carrington, walking beside her, turned off the main street and started up a dirt road. Grace wondered at his change of mood. He answered her questions about the town, but not quite in the same jovial manner as before he’d introduced her to the two young women. Had she been too forward? She raised her chin. If so, he had only himself to blame.
Despite the change in his demeanor, she was a bit disappointed when he stopped in front of a house and declared, “Well, this is it.”
Grace, caught in her thoughts, took a few more steps before turning her gaze toward the house. Her eyes widened and her mouth went slack. “My goodness,” she whispered. “It’s enormous.” And so extraordinary, though she didn’t say the words aloud. The place had several obvious additions, built in a hodgepodge fashion that disregarded any sense of style.
It might have originally been a Colonial, but as it had expanded, parts of it appeared Greek revival in style, and the turrets were Victorian. Huge windows, hung with lace and velvet drapes, dominated the front of the house. An expansive porch ran all the way around the structure, turning at odd angles where the residence had been expanded. “It’s … it’s … enormous.”
Mayor Carrington chuckled. “Henry Braxton made his fortune in gold in San Francisco thirty years ago. He founded this town, and he liked to do things big. The bigger the better, as far as he was concerned. Rumor had it his wife tried to rein him
in at one time, until she finally relented. Now she won’t hear a word against the place.”
“It is interesting.”
“And it’s home sweet home, for you.”
As his teasing tone returned, her lips curved. “It’s growing on me by the minute.”
“I’m glad. It’s Widow Braxton’s pride and joy.”
“In that case, I’m very happy you’re the one who showed it to me. I’d hate to think that any surprise on my part would dampen her enjoyment of the place.”
“Surprise, was it? It seemed more like horror to me.”
“I’ll deny that with my dying breath if need be.”
Luke chuckled.
“I believe, while we might not have anything quite like it in New York City, that’s obviously because the city lacks imagination.”
Mayor Carrington nodded. “I like it. Complimentary, yet vague. I’d stick with that if she asks your opinion of the place.”
“I intend to. Thank you.”
They stood grinning at each other when the front door swung open and a buxom lady, her fading red hair upswept into a soft bun, stepped onto the porch with narrowed eyes. Well-kept rather than pretty, the woman appeared to be in her fifties or so. “Mayor.” Her tone chilled the air, and Grace’s smile melted. She hoped the good widow hadn’t overheard their conversation.
The mayor nodded. “Mrs. Braxton.”
“Have you come to apologize for your outrageous idea? Will you send notices canceling the tournament?”
“Not on your life.”
“Then what do you want?” she snapped.
“You misplaced something. I’m simply returning it.”
“And what might that be?”
“May I present Miss Grace Carmichael.” He stepped aside and gestured to Grace, who was confused by the animosity of the entire exchange.
Mrs. Braxton glanced at Grace, her expression uncomprehending.
Grace could feel a heat warming her cheeks. “Grace Penny Carmichael. From New York City.”
Astonishment bloomed on Mrs. Braxton’s features and her hand went to her chest. “Oh my good lord! I forgot all about you.”
The mayor smirked and Grace wanted to shove him. The man brought out feelings in her, but certainly not all of them were positive.
