“The mistakes and adventures they’ll have are for them to determine. Just as yours are for you to live. You’ve the tamest life of any man in his early twenties I’ve ever met. You’re never in a saloon. You have almost no friends your age. You spend all your time caring for your brothers, running interference with that aunt of yours. You need more from this life, Gabriel.”
“When I know my brothers are settled, when we have our own place . . .” He broke off as Mr. Smithers waved his hand at him.
“Rubbish. Live your life now. Waiting to begin living is no sort of life. Dare to dream, son. Have faith fate won’t be so cruel a second time.” He watched Gabriel with a fierce pride.
Gabriel looked down into his coffee mug and shook his head, speaking barely above a whisper. “That’s hard to do, sir. But I will try.”
“That’s all I can ask of you. Now I doubt that piece’ll varnish itself or those measurements get taken if you continue to sit on your tail end drinking coffee.”
Gabriel smiled, relieved at his mentor’s tactful change in topic. He rose, attempting to rid his mind of Mr. Smithers’s words. For no matter what Gabriel had said to his friend, dreams only led to heartache.
CHAPTER NINE
RICHARD AND GABRIEL STOOD at the front door to an imperious brick mansion on Chester Square. It was twice as large as its neighbor’s, with large gardens in front in full bloom with dahlias and asters in a riotous mix of colors. Gabriel shared a long glance with Richard before nodding to the door for Richard to knock. Richard raised the heavy knocker in the shape of a closed fist and tapped a few times.
After a few moments, the door opened soundlessly to a maid in black dress, white apron and white cap covering her hair. “Yes?” she inquired.
“We are here to see Mrs. Kruger,” Richard said.
“Do you have a card?”
“Ah, no,” Richard said, gripping his hands around the brim of his hat to prevent patting at his coat and pants in futility. “If you could tell her that I’m the man who helped find the new bakery, and I wanted to call to pay my respects. Thank you.”
The maid nodded in understanding, ushering them into a large dark foyer filled with black walnut furniture.
Gabriel reached out to trace the furniture, with ornately carved floral patterns on some pieces and deeply etched mosaics on others. “This is the work of a true Master,” Gabriel said in awe as he crouched to study the base of the hall stand.
“If you would be so good as to follow me,” the maid said with a lift of an eyebrow to find Gabriel on his knees studying the furniture.
Gabriel rose, sharing an amused smile with Richard, and followed Richard into the formal sitting room.
Mrs. Kruger, who appeared closer to ninety than eighty, heaved herself up with the aid of her cane as they entered the room. Her dress of gray wool with black trim did not follow the current fashion of exaggerated puffed sleeves and was one of understated elegance. She swayed with her efforts, and Richard beat Gabriel to her side, gripping her arm to prevent her from falling.
“Please sit, ma’am,” Richard said as he eased her back to her seat. When she was settled with her gray skirts pleated around her feet and her cane next to one hip, Richard relaxed and followed her nod, taking a chair facing her on her right. Gabriel sat in the other vacant chair on her left.
“Why have you called on me?” Mrs. Kruger asked, her voice that of an elderly woman, hinting at the strength of her youth, yet thready and shaky in her old age.
“I am Richard McLeod, and I aided one of your maids in finding a new bakery,” Richard said. “This is my brother, Gabriel.”
“So you are Florence’s young man,” she said with a sparkle in her blue-gray eyes. “I wondered if you’d have the temerity to call on an old Brahmin.”
“I mean no disrespect, ma’am,” Richard said with a worried glance to Gabriel.
“Our mother would have been considered a Brahmin had she married anyone other than our father,” Gabriel said with a deferential nod. He shared a surprised look with Richard. “Aunt said as much once on one of her tirades when you were at school.” Richard nodded before they both turned their attention to Mrs. Kruger.
“She was learned?” Mrs. Kruger asked.
“Yes, and insistent that we also have a good education.” Gabriel’s gaze became distant as he thought of his mother. “She was cultured. She knew much more about poetry and books than she did about cooking and darning socks.”
“Ah, then you have no need to be afraid of the likes of me,” Mrs. Kruger said, her eyes lit with delight. “It’s been some time since I’ve had the pleasure of company for tea. I hope you’re able to stay?”
“We’d love to, ma’am,” Richard said. His gaze continued to wander toward the doorway, searching for Florence.
“She’s on her way, young man. I’m heartened to see she isn’t the only one pining for a visit with you.” She cackled as Richard flushed and fidgeted on his overstuffed chair.
At that moment, Florence bustled into the room, carrying a laden tea tray. She watched Mrs. Kruger, not glancing at Mrs. Kruger’s company as Florence set down the heavy tray.
“I have guests, Flo!” Mrs. Kruger said triumphantly.
“I can see that. The kitchen’s in an uproar, ensuring all is done properly for your tea,” Florence said as she scooted the handle of the pot around to face Mrs. Kruger.
“No, little Florence, you must stay. I want you to join us.” Mrs. Kruger sat straight, and the echo of the formidable woman she had been was easily discerned. When Florence murmured her dissent, Mrs. Kruger grasped her hand with gnarled fingers, preventing Florence from slipping away. “Don’t you want to join my discussion with the McLeod brothers?”
Florence gasped, raising her eyes to meet Richard’s amused, warm gaze. She then looked toward Gabriel and paled, his expression guarded and calculating as he studied her. “Mr. McLeod! I hadn’t thought you’d call.”
“You told me that Mrs. Kruger wanted to meet the man who introduced you to a new bakery,” Richard said with an impish smile. “And I thought it would be a minimal imposition to partake in some of the delicious fruitcake I see you purchase every day.”
“No imposition, my boy. No imposition at all,” Mrs. Kruger said as she watched avidly the silent interaction between Florence and Richard. “And you can stop glowering.” She glared at Gabriel. “It’s good for young people to show an interest.”
Gabriel jerked and bit his lip as though fighting laughter. “Yes, ma’am.”
“It might do you good to find a woman of your own,” Mrs. Kruger said. “Then you’d stop fretting about your brother like a mother hen.”
“In time, Mrs. Kruger.” Gabriel continued to study Florence as she settled in a hard wooden chair, dragged over from a nearby desk with Richard’s help. She sat between Mrs. Kruger and Richard.
“Well, time is the one thing you young people are good at wasting. If you had any sense, you’d know better than to throw away your youth worrying about tomorrows. Be happy now. Be content with the present rather than always dreaming of the future.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Gabriel said.
“Which means you’ll ignore it like all the others. Mark my words, young man. One day, you’ll regret the time you wasted dithering. No woman likes a man who dithers. And no man should spend his life bemoaning what he wished he’d done. Don’t be one of those.”
“What he won’t tell you, ma’am,” Richard said, “is that he won’t think about himself until he’s certain Jer and I are all right.”
“Who’s this Jer, and why isn’t he here with you?” Mrs. Kruger asked as she nodded her thanks to Florence for pouring her a cup of tea with milk and one sugar added.
“Just sugar, please,” Richard said, and Gabriel indicated the same with a terse nod. “Jeremy is our youngest brother. He’s still in high school. Gabriel insists Jeremy finish high school, although it was good enough for us to apprentice out for a trade. We left Jeremy
at his studies and decided to call on our free day.”
“You apprenticed out after you finished your studies,” Gabriel hissed.
“You’ve taken on the role of parent then,” Mrs. Kruger said to Gabriel. “And in the process, lost your youth. Poor boy.” She looked at Gabriel with compassion as he bristled. “You’re a boy in my eyes, especially when you get to be my age.”
She took a dainty sip of tea and nibbled at the fruitcake. She smiled appreciatively as Gabriel and Richard wolfed down their pieces of cake. “Have more. There’s plenty. I so rarely am able to share my fruitcake with anyone outside of the house. Where are your parents?”
“They died in a fire years ago. I was twelve. We’ve lived with an aunt since then,” Gabriel said, his voice flat and emotionless.
“And have had no one to truly care for you in all that time,” Mrs. Kruger murmured. “I would hazard a guess this aunt isn’t pleased you boys are at her house. Or that you have managed so well.”
Gabriel squinted his eyes as he studied Mrs. Kruger. “You’re quite perceptive.”
“When given the chance. And it’s far too rare nowadays. By the looks of you, you rarely eat all you need. Your clothes are years out of date and poorly fitting, and you have the look of those who are . . .” Her voice trailed away as she sighed with sadness.
“Mrs. Kruger?” Florence asked, reaching to touch the old woman’s hand. She raised worried eyes to Richard to find him holding himself rigidly, the teacup set on the small table.
“Hunted,” Mrs. Kruger whispered. “They’ve shown you very little care, haven’t they? And delight in tormenting you.” The last she said as fact, rather than a question.
“We’ve had a place to sleep and food,” Gabriel said.
“A soul needs more than food, clothes and shelter to thrive, young Gabriel. Surely you learned that much in the time you had with your parents.” Mrs. Kruger’s eyes lit with passion, making them appear more silver than blue.
“Survival is all we need now, ma’am,” Gabriel said. “Someday we’ll have more.”
“I hope your insistence on not wanting more isn’t shared by your brothers,” she stated, turning to watch Richard.
He looked away from Florence and cleared his throat, glancing toward Gabriel with a questioning frown because he hadn’t been listening to the conversation.
“Rich has his own ideas for his life, as he should,” Gabriel said. “And you, Miss Butler, tell us something about you.”
“I’m an orphan. I’ve lived with Mrs. Kruger since I was twelve.”
“And is this all you envision for your charge?” Gabriel asked Mrs. Kruger. “A life in service, caring for those with too much money and rarely enough sense?”
As Mrs. Kruger laughed, Florence snarled. “She’s been kind enough to send me to school to study to become a teacher,” Florence snapped. “I can’t imagine too many employers willing to go to such an expense for their staff.”
Gabriel raised his eyebrows in shock. “You have surprised me, Mrs. Kruger. I’d not thought you’d be so . . .” His voice trailed away as he struggled to find the word.
“Enlightened is the word, my boy. I believe Miss Butler is intelligent and curious, two traits that shouldn’t be squandered behind a feather duster.” She smiled as Gabriel choked on a laugh. “I think you need to do more of that, my boy. Laugh. As for you,” she said, pinning Richard with a fierce stare, “I’m interested in what you’re doing with your life. The life your brother sacrificed so much for.”
“I’ve begun work in a forge as an apprentice, and I’m learning rapidly,” Richard said with pride. “It’s a little over a year since I started there, and I’m an asset to Old Man Harris. When I’m fully trained, I know he’ll offer me work as an assistant, and then we’ll be able to leave our aunt’s house. Live on our own.”
“Plan for your future,” Mrs. Kruger said with a calculating glance between him and Florence.
Florence gasped and Richard flushed, while Gabriel returned to glowering. Mrs. Kruger laughed, enjoying the intrigue over tea. “Ah, this visit has done me a world of good. I hope you are soon to visit me again.”
CHAPTER TEN
FLORENCE PULLED HER TAN COAT more firmly about her as she walked from the trolley stand toward Mrs. Kruger’s mansion. She glanced in a shop window artfully displaying linens from France and buried a pang of regret that she had no money to buy anything. She shook her head at her foolishness and strode toward what was now her home.
“Hello, Florence,” Richard said as he sidled up next to her. He stepped away from her as she started with surprise. He smiled with relief as her instant anxiety changed to pleasure as she realized he was next to her.
“Mr. McLeod,” she said with a hesitant smile. She bit her lip as she looked around the street. “I . . . how did you know where to find me?”
“Mrs. Kruger loves to talk, and you are one of her favorite subjects. She regaled Gabriel and me about your success at your teaching academy when you left our tea to continue your duties in her house. She didn’t seem to mind informing me when you’d be walking home.” Richard frowned as he glanced around. “And I have to agree with her. It’s rather late for you to be out on your own.”
“I do the majority of my work around her house in the morning and early afternoon, and take the late afternoon for my course work. I don’t mind returning to the house after dark.” She slipped her arm through his as they walked past a saloon.
“Do you have to do more work this evening?” Richard asked.
“Of course. I must ensure she is settled and then tidy the house for the morning. Afterward I study before bed.”
“Seems like an awful lot of work for one person.”
“I’m fortunate. If it weren’t for Mrs. Kruger, I would never have believed I was goo—”
“Good enough to be a teacher?” Richard asked with a curious raise of his eyebrow. “I’d never worry about you being smart enough or good enough. You seem the resilient, resourceful type who will figure out what needs to be done.”
“That’s all good for survival. But I want more than that. I want to thrive.” She blushed at the passion in her voice. “Forgive me.”
“For what? I can only agree with you and admire you. Like me, you know what it is to lose your parents. Yet unlike me, you didn’t have a Gabriel ensuring you were fed and protected from the meanness in this world. And yet you’re not bitter.” He watched her with wonder.
“I wouldn’t read too much into what I am or I’m not, Mr. McLeod,” she murmured.
“Richard. I’ve already been so forward as to call you Florence. I like to think we are friends.”
“Friends,” Florence repeated, unable to hide the disappointment from her voice.
Richard chuckled and patted her hand still on his arm. “Ah, that does a man’s ego good.”
“I don’t care about a man’s ego,” Florence snapped.
“Well, how about mine? It does mine good to know you desire something more than friendship from me.” His icy-blue eyes met hers, warmed with a deep emotion.
“Please don’t toy with me,” Florence whispered. “I’m a simple woman looking for a simple future.” She became rigid with anger when Richard burst out laughing.
“Forgive me, but you’re far from simple, Florence. You’re complicated as all women worth their weight are. You’ve managed to convince yourself you want a simple life because the simplest of lives was taken from you. I understand. The same was taken from me. But I still want more. I want more than easy companionship.”
“I’m sure this is a highly improper conversation,” Florence sputtered and attempted to extricate her hand from his. He let her free her hand, but then gripped her shoulders, turning her to face him and preventing her from moving away from him.
“I know it is, but then I’ve never worried much about proprieties since my folks died and my aunt used the excuse of social niceties to deny my brothers and me any hope of a decent future. I know I�
��m speaking out of turn and that no man speaks to a woman like this. They spend their days walking and visiting, saying meaningless things and at the end of all those visits, there’s the hope that the two people will suit.
“But how are you to know you’ll suit if you never really talk? If you never share your hopes and dreams and disappointments in life? I like you, Florence, more than I thought I’d ever like a woman. You interest me by what you say and intrigue me by what you keep hidden inside. I want to be the one you share those inner thoughts with. I want to know more about you, to see if what I hope will come true . . . does.”
“Richard.” Florence stuttered out an exhalation and blinked furiously to clear her tears. “You ask more than you can ever know.”
“I want what my parents had, Florence. And I think, deep inside, you do too.”
She met his gaze as though hypnotized by what she saw in it and all that he had left unsaid. “I must go. Mrs. Kruger will be anxious for my return.”
“Tell me that you want to see me again. That I haven’t ruined everything by my rash words.”
“Meet me again, Richard, as I walk home from my course, and we’ll see if I continue to intrigue you,” Florence said as she slipped her shoulders out of his hands and moved down the walk. He watched as she entered the servant’s entrance, sighing with regret that she did not turn to look back at him before she disappeared out of sight.
***
FLORENCE HEAVED OUT A SIGH as she glanced around her after descending the trolley a few nights later. She squared her shoulders, raised her head and continued the short walk toward Mrs. Kruger’s.
“Flo!” a faint voice called.
She turned to see Richard dodging a late-evening delivery cart and a passenger carriage before coming to a halt in front of her. He clasped a few wilted dahlias in his left hand. “I’m sorry I’m late. I almost got caught getting you these flowers, and it took me a few moments to . . .” He shrugged his shoulders as though the rest of what he were to say was of no import.
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