The mayor eyed him. “She has too many opinions and dabbles in it far more than any woman legally should. Why?”
God love Bernadette. For he sure as hell did. “I’m glad someone is holding you over the fire. Perhaps we ought to invite Lady Mayor in on our conversation? I’d love to hear her opinion on this.”
The mayor blinked and then slowly shook his head from side to side. “Damn you, Milton, don’t you be doing this to me. Don’t you be declaring war by throwing my own wife at me. Who the hell have you been talking to anyway?”
Matthew couldn’t help but chide, “Someone who knows your wife incredibly well apparently.”
“Yes, well, damn you both. It’s already a mess without including her in it. Because the council would rather tear down the entire sixth ward and never speak of it again. They aren’t going to be happy about me investing what little funds the city has toward what they believe are misbegotten delinquents in need of termination.”
Matthew patted him on the back. “And this is where you prove yourself as a leader to your faithful constituents. Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll deliver close to four thousand letters into your hands, which you can give to the council. Tell them they were all sent to my office just this past month, demanding the city do something.”
“Four thousand?” The mayor muttered a curse and brushed past with a breath. “There is strength in numbers.”
“Yes. I know.”
“Yes, yes, you know everything, Milton.” The man sighed and then sighed again. “Go walk yourself right quick to the door and call it a win.”
Matthew grinned.
“I’ll send you a whole new box of cigars. Just know that I’m here if you need me to print anything on your behalf.”
“Good. You’ll be hearing from me about all of this by the end of next week.”
“I prefer tomorrow.”
The mayor grunted. “If only the government could blink that fast. Now, get the hell out of here. I’ll have you know my wife is waiting. Don’t you have a woman of your own to harass?”
“I’m working on it.”
The mayor paused, those bushy brows darting upward. “Oh, are you now? This is news.” The man eyed him. “Do I know her?”
Matthew adjusted his coat. “Apparently you met her through the Astors. Lady Burton. She also went for a bit of time under the alias of Mrs. Shelton due to an overdramatized robbery in New Orleans.”
The mayor paused. “Ah, yes. ‘The Petticoat Incident’ as they called it.” He lowered his voice. “By God, isn’t she worth more than a factory of cigars lined with gold?”
Matthew pointed at the man. “That isn’t why I plan on marrying her. So don’t you be getting me into trouble by gossiping otherwise.”
“No, no. Of course not. Well, congratulations on that.”
“Thank you.”
“And did you ask for her hand already?”
“No. I’m waiting.”
“Waiting? For what?”
“For her to ask. Which, sadly, may take a while. Attachments aren’t really her forte.”
A boisterous laugh escaped the mayor. “Milton, Milton, Milton. You’re a sop in the guise of a panther. You know that? God bless you, for no one else will.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Let your countenance be cheerful.
At the very least.
—The Truth Teller, a New York Newspaper for Gentlemen
BUNDLING HER THICK FUR coat against her chin, Bernadette wandered out toward the expanse of the snowy road before her house and lingered. Though the air was cold enough to nip her nose and cheeks, the sun brightened the wintery white world around her like magic.
In the distance, the thudding of hooves drew closer. She turned toward it.
A two-horse open sleigh with Matthew seated casually behind its reins, dressed in a black great coat and top hat made her stomach flip.
He tugged on the leather reins, slowing the horses to a subdued walk and brought the black lacquered, two-seat sleigh to a perfect sliding halt before her. Draping the reins on a hook attached to the latticed snow shield, he gathered the oversized wool blanket draping his lap, bundling it aside and rose.
Jumping down from the sleigh into the thick snow before her, he snapped out a black-leather-gloved hand. “Are you ready to ice skate? I’ve got skates for both of us.”
“You are taking us ice skating?” She slowly placed her hand into his. “I will warn you, Matthew, I have never skated before. London isn’t particularly known for its winters or its ice.”
He leaned toward her. “I look forward to catching you at every turn.”
She smiled. “I will ensure I keep you busy.”
Helping her up and into the sleigh, he waited until she was seated before pulling himself up and in. He settled his large frame beside her, his arm pressing against her own, due to the small size of the seat. Methodically draping their laps with the blanket, he pulled his top hat down harder onto his head and grabbed up the leather reins from the hook.
He glanced toward her. “You may want to hold on, luv. I drive fast.” He snapped the reins, sending them jerking full speed ahead and through the snow.
“Oh dear God!” Her heart nearly flew out of her chest as she grabbed hold of his arm and the snow shield before her to keep herself steady against the unexpected thrust. The cold wind whistled and whipped at her face as they slid faster.
Matthew grinned and yelled above the wind, “This is my idea of winter!”
She tightened her hold on his arm and the snow shield, feeling as if she was about to get whipped off the sleigh. “Or a quick death!” she yelled back.
Still grinning, he snapped the reins again, sending them even faster. The horses galloped at full speed, thudding and spraying snow. “I used to do this with
my father back when we had money,” he called out. “Every first snow, he’d take us out and sprint us
through all of New York. God, did he ever know how to drive!”
Bernadette leaned farther back against the seat, without letting go of him or the shield. It was like sailing a ship across an ocean of endless snow. An unexpected bubble of joy overwhelmed her. She’d never known anything so glorious.
Peering over at Matthew, she noted the flush staining his cheekbones and the excitement that brightened his handsome face. She’d never seen him so full of life. It was...breathtaking. Absolutely breathtaking.
He leaned toward her, veering them down another wide road that took them out toward the fields spread beyond. “Hold on.”
She gripped his arm and the shield harder. They rode on and on and on, the sun glinting off the snow with a brightness that was almost blinding.
A small frozen lake appeared in the glittering distance, surrounded by flocks of parked sleighs and horses. Women and children bundled in colorful cloaks, hats and mitts skated across the ice. Various men used canes to balance themselves, whilst others darted effortlessly through those scrambling to stay upright on the ice.
As the sleigh drew closer, Matthew leaned his large frame back, tugging on the leather reins. The horses slowed from a full, snow-flinging gallop to a mere trot, their nostrils and mouths puffing out clouding breaths. Matthew tugged on the reins once again, bringing them to a peaceful sliding halt that settled them all but a few feet from the frozen lake beyond.
The calls and shouts of children made her smile.
Gathering the wool blanket from their laps, Matthew bundled it into the corner of the seat and grabbed up a tied sack from the attached space behind the sleigh. He jumped down and held out a hand. “Come on.”
She stood, grabbed his hand and jumped down beside him.
He leaned in and drawled, “Whoever gets to the lake first drives the sleigh back. Are you in? Or are you in? Because you don’t want this devil of an Irishman driving.”
Bernadette set her chin, casually gathering her skirts from around her booted feet and waded politely through the snow. “Don’t be silly. As if I’m
going to—” She sprinted toward the lake, thudding through the snow as fast as her huffing breath would allow. “That sleigh is mine!”
“Cheat!” he shouted, crunching through the snow after her in a dash.
She gargled out a laugh, pushing as fast she could. “It takes a cheat to know a cheat!”
“I’ll make you swallow that.” Matthew darted past, his great coat billowing around his frame as he ran faster, moving far beyond her within moments. He disappeared down the hill and skidded to a halt at the edge of the ice beside a half-cut log. He swung back and triumphantly held up the sack with the skates. “Ireland scores one and Britain scores none. As it damn well should be.”
Bernadette laughed, finishing her run down the hill, and stumbled to a halt beside him, pushing out breaths. “You try running in a corset.”
“Excuses, excuses.” He pried open the sack with a smug grin. Pulling out their skates by their leather straps, he tossed the bag onto the log beside them. “Sit. I’ll get your skates on.”
Rounding the log, she sat, lifting her skirts above her ankles and jerked up both booted feet, dangling them out. “Will they even fit?”
Matthew knelt, setting aside his skates. Grasping one of her booted feet, he set it against the wooden shoe with the slim curving blade pointing upward and tightened the leather straps. He did the same for the other and patted them both into place. “There.”
Bernadette clopped the ice skates into one another in astonishment. “They fit perfectly. How did you...?”
Matthew grabbed up his skates and seated himself beside her with a smile and strapped on each skate to his leather boots. Glancing toward her he said, “I had your chambermaid give me your measurements early this morning so I could buy them.”
She blinked. “You did?”
“You were still sleeping when I came by.” He stood, skates in place, and held out a hand. “Are you ready?”
“To fall? Yes.” She grabbed his hand and wobbled toward the edge of the frozen ice leading toward the crowds of skaters.
Matthew released her hand, stepped out onto the ice and turned with the scraping of ice against blades. “Don’t try to skate when you first come out. Lift your feet as if you’re walking.” He held out his hand.
She grabbed his outstretched hand and, holding on to it tight, she set each skate on the ice. She awkwardly tried to push herself forward. Her blades darted forward as she fell back with a screech.
Matthew seized her waist, jerking her upward. Still holding her hand, he set her against his side. “Slide one foot at a time, balancing yourself.”
Gripping his hand hard, she did just that.
Though it took time, and they never wandered far, Bernadette eventually mastered staying upright. Then she mastered sliding, and that was about all she mastered in the two hours they spent on the ice. Though it was exhausting, she enjoyed it very much and cherished each moment against Matthew’s side, his large hands holding her waist.
The brightness of the sun soon disappeared behind thick, graying clouds that now draped the expanse of the sky, threatening snow.
Releasing her waist, he gestured toward himself. “This is where I impress my girl.” He caught the tip of his tongue between his teeth and with the turn of his great coat, skated across the lake. He darted past other men, using his body and the turn of his blades to veer left and then right, carving paths into the smooth ice.
Bernadette lingered, dreamily admiring the way he moved so effortlessly. It reminded her of how her hands moved across the keys of a piano, so fluidly.
Matthew skated back toward her and skidded to an angled halt beside her, lifting a brow that demanded applause.
She grinned and enthusiastically clapped, turning her skates toward him. “That was—” Her skates slid and skidded. Her eyes widened as she toppled forward and against him with a gasp. She seized the wool of his great coat to keep herself from falling, her blades skimming the ice.
His hands jumped around her, those muscled arms yanking her back up and against him. His hold tightened.
She lifted her gaze to his, still clinging to his coat.
He stared down at her.
A gusting wind blew in around them as snow drifted down from above, quietly falling in large flakes that slowly, slowly gathered against the satin rim of Matthew’s top hat. His full lips parted as if he meant to say something. The air between them frosted against the heat of that mouth.
Being tightly held in his arms and looking up at him like this whispered of unending happiness. She had never known anything like it.
Is this what real love felt like?
Breaking their gaze, he drew away, dragging his arms out of hers. “We should get back.” He lapsed into silence, then added, “I have an appointment at five.”
She nodded, pushing away her disappointment in knowing this moment and their day was over. “Of course.”
When their skates were removed from their boots and back in the sack, he grabbed her hand, squeezing it and, together, they made their way back up the hill toward their waiting sleigh, where the horses restlessly shifted.
He assisted her up and into the sleigh and settled into the seat beside her, taking up the leather reins from the hook. “Looks like we’re going to get more snow. I suggest we make a dash for it. Are you ready?”
Bernadette leaned over him. He paused. She shyly dragged the bundled wool blanket buried at his hip and pulled it over his lap and then her own. “There.”
He smiled. “Are you ready now, luv?”
She tucked her arm beneath the solid warmth of his and also smiled. “Yes.”
Turning the horses toward the main path leading back toward the city, he snapped the reins, sending them through the snow that whirled above and below them.
She clung to him the whole while, and he in turn glanced down at her every now and then, his gaze meeting hers only long enough to silently assure her that a genuine adoration lingered there.
When he finally pulled the sleigh to a halt before her townhome, and the snow now fell in heavy drifts that chilled her through the fur coat she wore, he jumped down and assisted her out. Releasing her hand, he leaned toward the sleigh and retrieved the sack, pulling out her skates. He dangled them out by their leather straps. “These are yours. That way, you’re ready do this again.”
Grasping the leather straps, she cradled the skates and glanced up at him. “Thank you, Matthew. For the skates and for the most glorious day I have ever known.”
He inclined his head, slowly walking backward. “We’ll have to do it again.” Turning, he hopped into the sleigh and gathered the reins. He glanced toward her. “I’d love to introduce you to Ronan. Would you be able to call on us this Thursday afternoon at four? Afterward, you and I can head over to the opening of Ireland Redeemed. ’Tis a new drama over at the Park Theatre. I’ve got box seats. Are you interested?”
Realizing she was going to finally meet Ronan and go to the theater, she gushed, “Yes and yes.”
“I will see you then.” Still holding her gaze, he snapped the reins. As he pulled forward, he called out, “Melt all of this snow for us, will you? Think about me well into the night.”
She grinned, pressing her skates tighter against her chest and called back, “Only if you think about me.”
“Oh, I will, luv. I will.” With that, he and his sleigh disappeared out into the falling snow and the road beyond.
Bernadette took a long steadying breath and, knowing she was alone, threw back her head and arms and whirled twice, her heart spinning right along with her. The metal blades of the skates he’d given her chimed against each other as they swayed from the leather straps she swung around with her. This had to be what real love felt like. It had to be. And if it wasn’t, may she never know anything else as glorious as this.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Manners. They are something this city does not own.
—The Truth Teller, a New York Newspaper for Gentlemen
; Thursday, late afternoon
MATTHEW SHIFTED IN HIS chair and eyed Bernadette. So far, she appeared to genuinely like Ronan. Thank bloody God. Though, he wondered how much longer it would last. The boy was still a bit rough when it came to addressing and associating with women.
Ronan rounded the parlor with a leather-bound book perched on his head. “According to my tutor,” Ronan tossed out, “this’ll make me walk with less of a swagger. But the swagger, in my opinion, defines a man. So I’m torn between the swagger and the book. See?”
Bernadette lifted a brow. “I suggest you learn to master both, Mr. Sullivan.”
“Oh, you’re no fun. That’s more work.”
One of the young servants, Miss Greene, appeared in the doorway, adjusting her white mop cap against her dark, bundled hair. “Mr. Milton?”
Matthew leaned forward in his chair. “Yes, Miss Greene?”
Ronan flipped off the book from his head, sending strands of brown hair across his forehead, and tossed it, also glancing toward the servant.
Miss Greene offered a quick, polite bob. “My apologies for the interruption, but the cook needs to know if another setting should be placed for supper, giving you have a guest.”
Matthew stood. “Tell Mrs. Langley that Lady Burton and I are heading out to the theater shortly, and therefore it will only be Mr. Sullivan tonight.”
“Yes, Mr. Milton.” She turned to leave.
Ronan rounded the parlor. “Miss Greene.”
The servant paused and turned back. “Yes, Mr. Sullivan?”
Ronan strode toward her and upon reaching her, draped his backside on the door frame. “Do you and the footman plan on using the pantry again? Because I’m rather concerned you and he are contaminating the food with bodily fluids that shouldn’t be there.”
The young woman swiveled toward Ronan, her round cheeks now a deep red.
Matthew sucked in a breath. “Ronan.” And he thought he was blunt. He stalked over, chanting that he wouldn’t hit the boy upside the head. “Go upstairs.”
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