by Jane Goodger
“She’s too little. She won’t be able to.”
“Then you can show her how good you are at it. The adults need to be alone.”
The boy scooped up the jacks and small ball and moved into the house.
“I think he’s grown two inches since we left,” Mitch said.
Mollie led the pair to a small sitting room that was hotter than Hades. He wondered, briefly, if Mollie had led them to the sun-filled room on purpose rather than the library, which he knew was far cooler.
“How is Will?” she asked, seemingly composed.
“Just fine, fine. Listen, I’m sorry for giving you a scare. I guess I should have sent you a telegram letting you know I was coming. With Miss Hayes.”
Mollie’s gaze shifted to Genny and she gave the younger woman a curiously cold look. Genny sat on a small settee, much like the one they’d shared on the train, and Mitch made sure to sit across the room from her. Genny didn’t understand that even a casual touch between a man and a woman could seem like something entirely different under the watchful eyes of a woman like Mollie.
Mitch gave Mollie the abbreviated story of how they’d come to be sitting in her stiflingly hot parlor. Genny was uncustomarily quiet, letting Mitch do all the talking. “So after we stop in New York for a short visit with my mother, we’re off to England to meet Miss Hayes’s grandparents.” He smiled, knowing even as he did that Mollie realized he wasn’t telling the entire truth. He never had been very good at lying.
Mollie gave him a level look and said, “That’s wonderful, seeing your grandparents for the first time. And you, Mitch, taking the time to escort her.”
“I figure I owed her after breaking her leg.” He smiled, and even he knew how desperate that smile must seem.
“You didn’t break my leg, Mr. Campbell,” Genny said. “I did that quite on my own. Though I must say I wouldn’t have broken it if you hadn’t startled me so.”
“And I wouldn’t have startled you if you hadn’t been sneaking around following me.”
Genny turned to Mollie to explain. “I was trying to determine whether Mr. Campbell was someone I could trust to escort me to Sacramento. I hadn’t any idea how to get there on my own, you see.”
“How could you determine his trustworthiness based on observation?” Mollie asked, sounding as if she didn’t entirely believe Genny. And to be honest, Mitch had been wondering the same thing.
“The way he treated his mule.”
Mollie smiled. “Of course.”
“The way I treated my mule? You were going to make a decision based on that?” Mitch’s blood ran cold to think of how many terrible men treated their animals far more kindly than they treated humans.
“It seemed like a valid way,” Genny said, looking to Mollie for agreement. To his shock, Mollie nodded.
Mitch took a deep breath to calm his temper, but he just couldn’t keep the image of Genny going up to some ne’er do well and being molested or killed because the man wiped down his horse after a hard ride. Her heroics on the train were still fresh in his mind and though he tried to school his expression, he had a feeling his thoughts were too apparent.
“Miss Hayes, why don’t you go freshen up. I’ll keep Mitch company. There’s a washroom just off the kitchen. I’ll show you the way and get you settled.”
Mitch knew what was coming. Mollie was getting rid of Genny so that she could give him a piece of her mind. He couldn’t say that he didn’t deserve it. If he stepped back and looked at his actions—and the reasons for them—he knew he was not going to come out in a very good light in Mollie’s eyes. Five minutes after leaving him sweating in the parlor, Mollie returned, shut the door behind her, and stood, glaring at him, arms folded, foot tapping.
“I know what you’re going to say, Mollie, and I really am in no mood to hear it.”
She stalked toward him and pointed an accusing finger at him. “You have no idea what I’m going to say to you, Mr. Campbell. What are you thinking bringing your lady friend into my house? I have small children to care for. And neighbors.” Mitch opened his mouth to explain, but she just kept on talking. “And it’s clear that girl trusts you. She looks at you as if the sun rises and sets on your shoulders. And I don’t really care much for the way you look at her. You tell me, right now, sir, what is really going on here. Grandparents in England. Honestly, Mitch, how gullible do you think I am?”
“It’s the truth, Mollie, I swear. She got hurt, needed an escort, and since I wanted to get home, I agreed to take her to New York.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Miss Hayes said you’re taking her all the way to England. Are you?”
Mitch couldn’t quite meet her sparking blue gaze. “Yes. I am.”
“You’re a good man, Mitch. But you’re no saint. There’s only one reason I can think of why you would volunteer to escort a stranger all the way across an ocean.”
He tried to appear shocked by her accusation, he truly did, but he ended up chuckling instead. “Her grandfather’s a duke, Mollie. A duke. I’ve been saving for my studio for five years and I’ve got a few more dollars to go before I have enough money to open it. I want to do things right. It’s got to be fancy and I have to have the latest equipment. New York is a mite more expensive than Omaha. So, yes, I thought I’d stumbled upon a little treasure.”
“Oh, Mitch.” The way she said it made him feel like he could crawl beneath an ant—and it was clear she still didn’t believe him. “I know you’re a skinflint, but a duke in England? You couldn’t come up with a better tale than that?”
“I’m telling you the truth, Mollie. On the souls of your children.”
Mollie’s mouth gaped open and she was silent for so long, Mitch said, “Trying to catch flies, Mollie?”
“You’re not fooling me? Are you telling me that she actually is the granddaughter of a duke? And you really did meet her in Yosemite? And that this is all about money?”
Mitch shook his head in confusion. “What were you talking about?”
She put her hands on her hips and stalked around the room a bit before finally settling down in a chair opposite him. “You’re telling the truth? This whole thing is not just some tall tale to make me be nice to your . . . your . . .”
“God, no. Mollie. Hell, what kind of man do you think I am? Besides, Miss Hayes is just about the most innocent woman I’ve ever met in my life.”
She threw her arms out to her sides. Mollie had a way of talking that involved her entire body. “I wasn’t sure for a while there. Wait. How was it that you have been traveling? A man traveling with a woman is sure to draw some attention.”
Mitch felt his cheeks flush. Again. “We’ve been traveling as husband and wife.” He threw his hand up to stop her tirade. “And before you go getting on your high horse, it’s just a ruse so that people are nice to her. Nothing has happened, Mollie. I’m just thinking about the money, that’s all.”
“Does Miss Hayes know that?”
Mitch shifted in his chair. “No. She doesn’t. I’d probably take her anyway, even if I didn’t think I’d be getting a reward for my troubles. She has a way of getting under a man’s skin.”
Mollie looked amused. “Falling for her, are you, Mitch?”
“Her grandfather’s a duke, Mollie. I don’t even know who my father is. And my mother . . .” He let out a short, humorless laugh. “She’s no one’s idea of a respectable woman.”
Mitch didn’t like the expression on Mollie’s face right then. If he wasn’t mistaken, he’d say it was pity. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Mitch swiped a hand threw his hair, making the dark strands stand on end. “What do you want me to say, Mollie, that I adore her? That just the thought of leaving her behind makes me crazy? I’m not that man.”
“I’m sorry, Mitch.”
“Don’t be. I made this mess all by myself. And to answer your question, no, I’m not falling for her.” Even as he said the words, he could feel a heat come to his cheeks. When the hell had he started blu
shing?
“Does she know how you feel?”
“Sure she does. We’re just friends.” Lies and more lies. He rested his forearms against his thighs and hung his head. “And that’s the way it’s going to stay, Moll.”
“If you say so. Just please don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
A tap on the door made them both start. “Come in.”
Genny peeked her head into the room. “I’m all freshened up,” she said. “I was hoping to get some shopping done while we’re here and Mitch mentioned there’s a dress shop nearby?”
Mollie practically leaped out of her chair. “Mitch, you stay here and watch the children. I’m going shopping with Miss Hayes.”
That night, Genny, obviously feeling more comfortable in Mollie’s company, regaled them with story after story, making even the horrifying seem like a grand adventure. She recounted breaking her leg and Mitch tripping with her in his arms as if it were the grandest time she’d ever had.
Mollie wiped her eyes, stilling chuckling, and asked, “When are you taking that god-awful thing off her leg?”
It had been more than a month since he’d set her leg and wrapped it in the deerskin, so it was probably fine to remove it. Mitch was afraid of what they’d find underneath. What if her leg was crooked? What if it hadn’t healed all the way? Genny had been walking without crutches for weeks now, but that didn’t mean something horrible wouldn’t happen when they removed the hide.
“Can we take it off, Mitch? My leg feels fine and the deerskin’s quite pliable.” She lifted up her leg to show how she could move her ankle back and forth. “It would be so lovely to wear the new pair of boots we purchased today. They won’t fit around the skin.”
“I suppose we could. But if it doesn’t look right, I’m wrapping it back up again.” He turned to Mollie. “I need the sharpest knife you have.”
Mitch could feel a cold sweat breaking out, even though the evening was still warm. “Let’s go out to the back porch. Bring a lamp, will you, Moll?”
Mollie stood back and watched as Mitch carefully cut through the leather, but her eyes weren’t on the knife slicing through the thick hide. She was looking at the two of them, the way Miss Hayes laid her hand on Mitch’s shoulder, as if comforting him, as if she knew how afraid he was that he was taking the cast off too soon. She watched the way Mitch would look up at Miss Hayes, to check to see if she was all right, the way he forced a smile to comfort her.
Mitch looked up and saw the expression in Mollie’s eyes and he felt a small bit of anger. She was feeling sorry for him because he’d let his heart slip down to his sleeve again. He was going to have to get better at hiding his feelings. Turning back to Genny’s leg, he slowly peeled the deerskin away, revealing a straight, if somewhat thin, leg.
“It looks as if it had never broken,” Genny said. “You missed your calling, Mr. Campbell, you should have been a surgeon.”
“It’s a fine job, Mitch,” Mollie said.
“You’ll get your muscle back in no time,” Mitch said, frowning at how thin her leg was. The muscle of her calf was like jelly.
Mitch took Genny’s hand and helped her to stand. “How does it feel?”
“A bit weak. Let me take a step or two.” She did, shakily. “My ankle hurts a bit. Guess it’s not used to moving so much.”
“Let me go get my grandfather’s cane,” Mollie said, and when Genny made to protest, the older woman laughed. “He’s six feet under, so he doesn’t need it anymore.”
Once she had the cane in hand, Genny put on her new pair of soft kid boots and practiced walking, back and forth on the porch.
“Why don’t you take a break, Genny?”
“I want to build up my muscle. I must say, its gelatinous state is a bit repulsive.” She wrinkled her nose as she reached down and touched her calf through her dress.
Mitch laughed. “You’re not going to build up that muscle in a day, darlin’, so you might as well rest. We can have William’s brother drive us to the station tomorrow.” Mollie lifted one eyebrow and mouthed the word darlin’ and Mitch gave her a hard look. He’d had enough of Mollie’s opinions to last a while.
“Have you ever been to New York?” Genny asked Mollie.
“The furthest east I’ve been is Chicago. That’s where I grew up until my folks moved out here when I was sixteen. I hear it’s something, though. More people in one block than some entire cities.”
“We’ll only be there for a day or two before heading to England, but you’ll have enough time to see the sights,” Mitch put in.
He just hoped the sights she saw wouldn’t shock her too much.
Chapter 6
Nothing in Genny’s past could have prepared her for New York City. It was a cacophony of horses, carriages, newsboys shouting, hammers and saws, horsecars, and people, people everywhere. It was exciting and frightening—and awful smelling. It seemed there were as many horses as people and the paved roads were matted with manure.
Still, riding in a large car crowded with people and pulled along a rail by a horse was something Genny had never done before. They rode from Grand Central Depot on 42nd Street, which didn’t seem all that grand to Genny, down Park Avenue, getting off at Bleeker Street. Along the way, Mitch would point out interesting sights and tell her stories, but the closer he got to his mother’s home, the quieter he became. Genny did notice that the buildings seemed a bit smaller, the streets more congested with pedestrians and far fewer horses and fine carriages. The shops here had colorful goods spilling out into the street, and many of the people spoke German or had thick Irish brogues.
“My mother lives just outside the Bowery,” Mitch said, though Genny had no idea what that meant. “She used to live closer to Niblo’s Garden.”
“Niblo’s Garden?” Genny asked, struggling to walk as quickly as Mitch. In all her time with him, he’d always been conscious of the fact she could not walk as quickly as he could. But now, it was all she could do to stay close enough to hear him.
“It’s a theater near Broadway. She was in Macbeth there, but that was more than twenty years ago.” He stopped suddenly, and she nearly ran into his back. “My mother is . . .” He let out a gusty sigh. “She’s eccentric. Very eccentric. She hasn’t worked in two years, not since a fire at the theater a couple of years back. I sent money to her for a while until she wrote saying I needn’t continue. I haven’t been home in a few years, so I don’t know what we’re going to find.”
He turned and stared at a door, painted a cheerful red with a lovely lantern hanging above it.
“Too early for zat, young man,” said a woman in a thick German accent. She was sweeping the sidewalk in front of a shop from which emanated the most delicious smell of cooked meat.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’re heading up to Mrs. Campbell’s place? Too early.”
“Is she not in?” Genny asked, confused by the woman’s demeanor. It almost seemed as if she disapproved of them, though she didn’t know how that could be.
The older woman, her head covered by a colorful scarf, peered at her with faded blue eyes as if Genny had said something ridiculous.
“Madam, Mrs. Campbell is my mother. Are you saying she’s not in?”
The woman’s eyes grew wide. Then, without a word, she hurried away.
Mitch swore beneath his breath and didn’t bother to apologize; he almost always apologized when he swore in front of her.
“If we can’t stay here, we’ll find a hotel, though I hate the expense of it.”
“Perhaps your mother didn’t receive your cable,” Genny said, looking doubtfully around the neighborhood.
“Come on,” Mitch said, and pushed open the door. He led her up to the second floor, and Genny noticed how clean and elegant the entrance was. His mother might be eccentric, but she certainly kept a lovely entry. When he reached the top of the stairs, Mitch waited for her with ill-concealed impatience. Clearly he was nervous about seeing his mother and Genny wonder
ed just how “eccentric” she was.
Mitch lifted a heavy, ornate door knocker, carved in the shape of a mermaid. A rather risqué mermaid. He looked at the figure, his brows furrowed, then stepped back to examine the door again. “I don’t think my mother would have moved without telling me,” he said, eying the mermaid. He lifted the lady’s tail and let it drop again, and Genny had to stifle a giggle.
Mitch gave her a dark look before straightening. Someone was coming to the door from inside the apartment. The door opened to reveal a small woman wearing a maid’s uniform. “It’s too early,” she said in a thick Irish brogue, first looking at Mitch, and then longer at Genny. “Who are you?” The question was directed at Genny.
“Miss Genevieve Hayes. We’re here to see Mrs. Campbell,” Genny said.
“Well, Miss Genevieve Hayes, if you haven’t been here before, you have to make an appointment. You can’t just waltz in here and demand to see Mrs. Campbell. Everyone knows that. Besides, we’re closed down for a few days.”
Mitch held up his hand, stopping any more conversation between the two women. “You work for Mrs. Campbell?”
The maid nodded. “I’m her personal maid,” she said, in a way that made it seem as if she expected a challenge to her claim.
“I’m her son,” Mitch said, and Genny felt a bit of delight when the girl’s eyes widened.
“Oh, Mr. Campbell. That’s right, we were expectin’ you. Come on in with the both of you. You can’t be too careful, you know. Your mother, she’s a fine woman, she is. She should be getting up right about now. I’ll go check on her.”
Mitch pulled out his pocket watch. “It’s nearly four in the afternoon.”
“Yes, that’s about right,” the maid said, leading them further into the apartment. “You wait here and I’ll be right back.”
“Jesus,” Mitch breathed. He was standing in the most luxurious room he’d ever set foot in. The walls were rich, carved mahogany, the floor covered with an impossibly soft carpet, the furniture gleaming wood and expensive leather. It looked like a room one would find in an exclusive men’s club, not that he’d ever been in one. This could not be his mother’s home. Last he’d seen her, her furniture had been shabby and she certainly couldn’t have afforded a maid. Hell, she could hardly afford to feed herself. Had she found herself a rich man?