by Tori Anne
Edward helped them out onto the cobblestones. His hands were clenched at his side and his gaze kept flickering to the stream of people ascending the stairs and entering between the pillared arches. But he nodded and climbed back up to sit and await them from the driver’s seat.
“Edward, dear,” Mrs. Callen called, waving to him, “leave the carriage and come inside. I’ll pay another driver to keep an eye on it. I daresay you don’t want to miss Mr. Bergh’s speech.”
Edward flushed, his broad shoulders lifting with pride, his eyes sparkling. “Why thank you, ma’am, most kindly. I do admire Mr. Bergh fiercely and hope to be like him someday.”
Marie beamed up at him. He glanced down and his lips twitched a shy smile. It was Marie’s turn to blush and they hurriedly looked at their shoes. Marie couldn’t get Bernice’s words out of her head. He loved her?
The world was entirely and incredibly new.
“With your fine moment in the park, Edward, I daresay you’re on your way.”
Edward stuffed his hands in his pockets, a modest smile making his handsome face impossibly endearing.
Edward opened the door for Mrs. Callen who led Marie up the brownstone steps and into the Romanesque Cooper Institute, whose interior had been shaped from railroad ties and the spirit of a burgeoning class of dreamers. Lincoln had spoken here, and he’d later go on to claim his speech here was pivotal to his presidency. The institute was a school, and Peter Cooper himself had devoted his life to enrichment, and Marie could feel the excitement of a broader mind as if the hewn brownstone itself were alive with possibility.
Edward rushed forward to open the door for them.
The crowd within the lecture hall was loud and enthusiastic, an impressive mix, with a good deal of women. In Bergh it was quite clear they had found a hero. And so had Edward. He stared at the stage, and at Marie, with boyish delight.
Her mother had found an acquaintance Marie did not know near the door and was engrossed in what Marie only assumed was gossip, to her great relief. Marie motioned that she and Edward take a couple of seats in the back corner, not well lit and not surrounded by others.
She sat and gestured for him to sit beside her.
“Shouldn’t I stand in the back here, Miss Callen? I…I oughtn’t sit next to you…”
“Will the man who saved a fine mare’s life today stand while a lady who did nothing sits? Come now, hero of the day, take your seat beside me.”
Edward’s pursed lips twitched into a proud smile as he carefully sat down, allowing for a decorous space between them. Marie glanced at her mother who remained blessedly far off and out of the way, and slid a little closer.
Mr. Bergh, a tall man in a wide moustache, came onto the stage to thunderous applause.
Edward seemed painfully aware of Marie’s proximity, for he was careful about where he put his hands when he wasn’t clapping, staring at the folds of her dress and how they spilled onto his knee, and the blush on his cheeks meant he noticed how much she was staring at him.
“You’re looking at me like you’ve never seen me before,” he finally murmured.
“You opened my eyes to two things today. This wonderful man,” she nodded toward Mr. Bergh, who was taking some time to shake hands with congressional members who had been instrumental in passing his legislation, “and you. You were wonderful with that driver. That, and Bernice told me I’d been stupid not to see how you looked at me.”
“Oh, it’s been that obvious?” Edward looked down. “I’m surprised your father hasn’t fired me on the spot. I’ve tried to be a gentleman.”
“And you have been. Bernice is just a genius for knowing what everyone is thinking.”
“I overheard your father talking about Mr. Phillips.” Edward swallowed hard. “I suppose I ought to congratulate you.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort. The notion is odious. Bernice is helping me figure out how we may sabotage the situation and she has my utmost confidence. I trust you’ll also forget I said anything of the sort.”
Edward smiled as if a great weight had been lifted. His immense pleasure at the news was evidence of his complicity. Marie chuckled and turned to the stage to see that her mother and the woman she knew were there in the front row, chatting with Mr. Bergh. Mr. Bergh’s arm was on Mother’s friend. Was her mother friends with Mrs. Bergh and she didn’t even say so? Sometimes her mother’s quiet, calm privacy was maddening.
“So if a young man like Mr. Phillips isn’t to your liking, Miss Callen…” Edward stared at his knees, “Who is?”
“Someone who defends the helpless. Someone who’s very strong but only when need be. Someone who has a passion for something worthwhile. Does that remind you of anyone you know?”
Edward bit his lip. “Only someone I’d like to be.” He turned to her earnestly. “I’m sorry, Miss Callen, you… We shouldn’t be talking about this. Even jesting about it, or playing pretend. I’m not…on your level. We can’t…”
“Nonsense what I can or cannot do. Or what you can or cannot do. I daresay you’re the first boy I’ve fancied, Edward, and while society might wish to take it from me, don’t you do it too.”
“Well you do speak your mind don’t you, Miss Callen…” Edward murmured, his cheeks brightening to pure scarlet.
“Father regrets he ever had me educated.”
“I sure don’t.”
“Good then.”
They watched Mr. Bergh as he regaled the crowd with some of his most famous and oft repeated tales of dramatic interventions on behalf of animals, and took time to thank everyone that had helped make the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals possible, and that its example would set other legislation in motion.
“I’d like to conclude by saying I recently had the pleasure, the morning that the law was passed and I strode confidently into the world with a copy in my hand, of halting an offender from the deed of abuse mid-whip.” There was applause he silenced. “While my personal vindication in the moment was keen, it was only sweetened by the reports I’ve heard from precincts and patrols that other valiant citizens have been doing just the same throughout this great city, even just this morning, the news of which blesses me more than I can possibly say. Thank you, and bless you.”
The crowd jumped to their feet to see the man of the hour off.
Marie spied a tiny tear in Edward’s eyes. His hero knew he’d done his part.
“I’ll have to thank your mother; I bet she told him about earlier,” Edward murmured.
Marie nodded. She wanted to take his hand, to share in this feeling of victory that he felt so strongly, and that she felt vicariously, but noticed her mother searching for her with a raised eyebrow and so she edged herself into the light and to a more proper distance.
****
Once home again, Marie let her mother go on ahead so she could linger on Edward’s hand and pause in his gaze.
“Wasn’t it thrilling?” Marie exclaimed.
Edward nodded. “Mr. Bergh is always inspiring.”
“Goodnight Edward, again, you were brilliant in the park.”
“Thank you. I can’t bear to see one of these noble creatures treated like a mere object,” Edward said, patting Fran’s muzzle.
“I hope you would say the same of women,” Marie said, gathering up her skirts and stepping onto the flagstone.
Edward blinked. “Well…of course!”
“Good then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Will you?”
“I told you,” she leaned in with a murmur, “there’s a plan.”
Chapter Four
Mr. Phillips arrived in a fine suit that was slightly too big for him, and slightly too fancy. As if he, or more likely his father, were living beyond his means. It was perhaps unfair to the young Mr. Phillips that Marie judged him more on his father than on himself. But his father had always done all of the talking when they’d been over for dinner, and Marie didn’t find she liked anything the man had to say.
Her suitor wasn’t entirely bad looking, but he was clearly a young man suited more for business than for labor or sport, he was a bit thin and drawn. His features weren’t altogether bad but the paste his father used on his own dark hair—and surely co-opted his son into using too—had turned what might have been a fine head of natural looking hair into an unnatural shell.
He was shown into the upstairs parlor, where Bernice was most assuredly in attendance, looking fresh and friendly. He bowed and stood near the door, awaiting the invitation to sit, his gaze flickering to Bernice who had swapped out her usual tightly buttoned black dress for one that had a scooped neck. Marie was sitting on the window-seat, glancing down onto her backyard where the dusting of snow had remained to keep the earth quiet and pristine.
“Do come in and sit, Mr. Phillips.”
“Thank you, Miss Callen.”
Mr. Phillips sat in a stiff-backed brocade chair and looked every bit as uncomfortable and miserable as she felt.
“Mr. Phillips, I could waste your time with pleasantries and other inanities.”
“Or?” he looked suddenly hopeful.
“I could simply be honest in telling you I’ve no wish to marry you.”
The mutual relief on their faces was like a balm to the room. Bernice didn’t bother to hide a laugh.
“Though our fathers would have it otherwise,” Marie added.
“Indeed. And please, Miss Callen, believe me when I say I’ve nothing against you, but I am tired of following my father’s orders like he’s the foreman of my singular company. I want nothing to do with running that death-trap of a mill of his! How I shall tell him that is something I’ve yet to fathom.”
Marie snorted. “My dear Mr. Phillips, you endear yourself to me yet. What would you rather be doing?”
“I’d rather write books about traveling the world.”
Bernice sighed dreamily. Mr. Phillips smiled sheepishly at her.
“Perhaps,” Marie said, her mind whirling, “you could posit yourself as an international salesman to Phillips Mills, to try and garner business abroad, and use the trips to garner fodder for your books. Once your travelogues become a success, you’ll not need Phillips Mills, or anyone but yourself!”
“Why how very sensible of you, Miss Callen.”
“Now Mr. Phillips, until we may devise how best to tell our families of our agreeable mutiny, would you deign to keep up appearances with these calls of yours? Bernice has graciously agreed to help us spend the time, and I daresay she’s more winsome than I. Shall you be a good sport in this pretense?”
Bernice smiled sweetly. Mr. Phillips reddened and cleared his throat.
“Indeed, my good ladies. Indeed.”
****
Marie burst into the stables, throwing back the hood of one of her old cloaks, hopefully one that wouldn’t be immediately recognizable to a family member in passing, and blurted words in Edward’s direction. “We’ve got an hour while Bernice entertains Mr. Phillips.”
Edward, startled by her entrance, turned away from brushing Fran’s mane and stared at Marie, looking a bit dazzled. He set the brush on a shelf and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Fran appeared disappointed at being ignored for another female and she shook her blonde mane disdainfully. “Well, what shall we do?” he asked tentatively.
“Take me for a ride!”
The grin that spread across Edward’s face made Marie’s heart expand.
“You won’t be disappointed!” he cried, and moved over one stall to give the family stallion, Fred, a loving scratch along his hefty chestnut jowls.
Once Fred was saddled, as he was the larger horse and more well suited for double duty, and an extra pad was extended for additional company, Edward swung himself up and reached down to effortlessly lift Marie up behind him. She was petite to be sure, but his strength in making her feel quite the feather did impress her.
“Hold on to my waist,” he instructed. Marie did, without hesitation, sliding her arms around his muscled torso that she felt tighten beneath his coats as she threaded her hands inside the buttons to rest upon his linen shirt.
Pressing herself against him she felt the flood of heat between them, the shudders racing down both their spines. This served only to throw her body more fully into the experience of holding onto him for dear life as they shot out onto the open road and veered west and straight toward the open Park.
The snowy conditions would have given another rider pause, but Edward was sure and steady, stern and coaxing when necessary, never angry, and most assuredly in his element. He veered away from passes that would have been a risk and chose smart routes like an expert explorer of the new country. The trees were laden with dripping ice, the sky was clear and sunny, making them squint smiles into the bright day.
Edward slowed Fred to a halt. Marie peered over his shoulder to find they were looking out over the great frozen lake. In the distance, a few skaters tested the more solid corners.
“No one I know could maneuver a horse in these conditions. I’m very impressed.”
Edward shrugged. “Horses take to me, and I to them.”
He hopped to the ground and helped Marie down. Unsteady on her feet in a drift of snow, she toppled toward him with a little squeal. He caught her and she looked up into his bright green eyes, his dark blonde hair dancing gently in the breeze, his cheekbones flushed from activity and perhaps the bloom of attraction… Marie knew that her face was as giddy as she felt as he didn’t bother to right her again, but let her remain pressed and leaning steadily against him.
“My God you are beautiful,” he breathed, brushing back the hood of her cloak, fingering the brown curls that framed her face. She squinted in the sunlight but bit her lip, feeling his fingertips on her ear, the line of her jaw.
“Bernice always outshone me. I could never think myself pretty with her around.”
“Bernice is pretty like one of the hothouse flowers. Bold and bright.” Edward picked Marie up suddenly in his arms. She squealed as he walked to a nearby park bench whose surface had been cleared of its snow by the sparkling sun. “You, Marie,” he said, sitting with her in his lap, “are beautiful like lilies of the valley and morning glories. Small and delicate, elegant and classic.”
“Edward!” Marie gasped delightedly. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. I love morning glories!”
He chuckled. “I know. I watch how you always touch them and press your cheeks to the ones that grow behind the house. They’re the color blue of your eyes.”
Fred stamped in the snow, as if waiting his turn for some attention as well. It was clear to Marie that Fran and Fred were spoiled rotten by their caretaker. Edward rose and called to him jovially, reaching out to tether him to the pine tree beside their bench. He plucked an apple from his saddlebag, pulled a knife from his pocket, cut half of the fruit and handed it to Marie. She smiled and took it, nibbling the corners. An apple had never tasted so delightful.
Edward bit into the apple and stared at the frozen lake beyond, sitting again beside Marie.
“It’s true, you know, about horses taking to you, Fran was troublesome to every driver until you came last year. And Fred wasn’t much better.”
“Really?” Edward said, shocked.
“You are in your element. You know their strengths and limitations. You garner their trust.” Marie leaned toward him. “And you have mine.”
Edward chewed carefully and swallowed.
Fred’s nostrils were flaring and he was leaning his head down. Edward chuckled, giving him the rest of his apple. He grunted happily, nudging his shoulder gamely. It was almost like he was nudging him toward Marie, for he was pressed to her, their eyes locked. She felt his temperature, his powerful body that was so noble and gentle and so near to her…their faces inches apart…
“We’d best go back to the house,” he murmured.
“Why?”
“Our hour is almost up. And if you don’t go I know I won’t be able to stop my
self from kissing you.”
Marie stared at him. Her face, then the rest of her body, flooded with heat.
“I—is…that a warning? Should I…fear a kiss?”
She’d never been kissed. She wasn’t one for fearing the unknown. In fact, there was little else she was more curious about than a kiss from Edward Forest…
“I desperately want to be a gentleman, Miss Callen. But you…ever since I’ve worked here, you’ve been the only thing that can distract me from my tasks and studies…” He reached out and touched her cheek with his long fingertips, rough in patches where he held the reins. Marie closed her eyes and noted with awe and affection that his fingers faintly trembled as he touched her. Unable to help herself, she sighed, her lips parting as she tilted her head into his touch.
Her sigh was silenced by the feel of his lips on hers. He was sweet with the taste of apple. She’d never thought the taste of apple so incredibly seductive. His lips gently pressed over each ridge and corner of hers, brushing up to her nose, and along her chin. Her mouth opened in a gasp and his tongue flitted in a gentle, teasing dance against hers.
She felt her body ache with foreign sensations that overwhelmed and thrilled her, and she gave in to his kiss, returning the questing press and hearing his own soft sound in return, a low rumble that made her melt against him. His arms fell around her and she was pressed tight, his hands racing down her back, his mouth breaking from hers only to nuzzle her throat and fumble past her scarf, his lips questing to kiss every inch of her collarbone and nudge past the lace-bordered shoulders of her dress.
In turn she allowed her fingers to explore his neck, his ears, furrowing in the carefree and windswept mop of his sun-kissed hair. She pressed his face to her cheek, refusing to break their clutch. His teeth gently teased her earlobe before his ragged breath heated her ear and seared her neck.