Prudence and the Professor

by Sibelle Stone

  She glanced around her and frowned. “I’m here to be employed as your secretary. And I must say, when I first learned I was going to be riding on your Steaming Meemie conveyance when I arrived in Darby Creek, I was quite dismayed.” Her mouth pursed, thinning her luscious lips into a line as she glanced over her shoulder at the machine.

  “At first, I found careening up and down the hills most disconcerting.”

  Did she imagine he didn’t know who she was? They’d written letters to each other for months and he had to admit, he was a bit disappointed now that she’d arrived in Jubilee. Her letters had reflected an independent, spirited female who seemed ready to take charge of her life. She was small and dainty and didn’t look capable of walking across the yard unassisted.

  “The Meemie is one of my best inventions, shortening an entire day of travel down to a few hours. Granted, it takes a little time to get used to the speed on the mountainous track, but most people find the trip invigorating.” He’d even sent Brandon Faraday to drive today, because he was the most steady and reliable of the several men he employed to handle the invention.

  She nodded. “That was at first, because once I determined the way you engaged basic principles of propulsion, along with gravity, to power the contraption— riding upon it was an interesting adventure.”

  Once again, Gerritt was stunned into silence by her scientific observation.

  Mrs. Worthington turned to watch Brandon unload the cargo. “Careful please with that trunk, it has the Sholes and Glidden machine in it. Very precious cargo.”

  Gerritt was seized by curiosity and rushed to the back of the Meemie. “I hope it’s arrived intact, Mrs. Worthington, because I’m excited to see you operate this marvel of the modern age.”

  She inhaled a deep breath, blinked at him and nodded. “I’ll be happy to offer you a demonstration, Sir, once I’ve had time to clear the dust from my throat, clean myself up and perhaps enjoy a cup a coffee.” She shot him a wide, beneficent smile.

  Gerritt couldn’t believe the transformation in her face. Full, pink lips parted to reveal two rows of perfect white teeth. A rose color brushed across her cheeks, and he realized she might not be as plain as he’d thought. Then he frowned at that realization. He’d hired a dowdy woman and he wanted her to remain a plain, unattractive and unmarriageable widow.

  His work for the Union army was too important to lose focus. And an intelligent, charming and attractive woman like Mrs. Prudence Worthington could soon attract a bevy of suitors. Before long he’d be forced to send for another secretary because Mrs. Worthington had been swept off her feet, romanced and left him to sort out his own mess.

  He shook his head, because he didn’t think he’d heard her correctly. “I beg your pardon, did you say, coffee?”

  “Yes, I’m ashamed to confess I’ve developed a great fondness for coffee while traveling, and I was hoping I might enjoy a cup and then have an opportunity to make my ablutions.”

  Gerritt glanced down at the duster, which had lived up to its name, and her travel-worn gown underneath. She’d been on a canal boat, a train, then a stagecoach and the Steaming Meemie. It had been quite a journey for a woman traveling alone and he felt a pang of remorse for rushing to judge her so quickly.

  He ought to be admiring her strength and tenacity. After all, there weren’t many women who would head out to the Western wilderness to accept a position with a bachelor. Of course, he’d once been a student of her uncle, Professor Edwin Bailey. So he’d been able to provide at least one good character reference. Still, there were women who refused to cross the street without a proper escort and she’d crossed an entire continent alone.

  “I think you’ll be delighted to know we have indoor plumbing and a water closet in the house. Also…there’s a building with a hot steam bath, just steps from my front porch.” He pointed to a large stone building near the river that stood a few steps away from a massive two-story clapboard house.

  “We’re fortunate to have a hot springs nearby and I devised a means to pipe the hot water to several tubs inside. We alternate days for the men and women, but tonight I’d be happy to make an exception and allow you exclusive use of the baths.” He folded his arms across his chest, and lifted his head with pride. They might be in a small, wild, mining town in the mountains of Montana, but he did everything he could to civilize the place.

  “A steam bath. Really, Professor, I’m quite astonished at such luxury here in the wilds of Montana.” Her gray eyes sparkled with delight as another whimsical smile played across her features.

  Damn that lie of a tintype, the woman was lovely. Once she bathed, donned clean clothing and got some rest, there was an excellent chance she’d turn out to be a beauty.

  Warmth spread from his chest, to his belly and then lower. Gerritt was struck with the realization that despite his best intentions, within the week his little secretary might attract a posse of men intent on courting her. If she managed to go a month without a marriage proposal, it’d be a miracle.

  He offered her his arm, which she accepted with a gracious nod. They strolled up a short incline to his home.

  She glanced over her shoulder at the town, a dozen rough wood buildings on two sides of a muddy street, some tiny cabins stretched at one edge and a white field of tents clustering together like sheep in a meadow on the other. He realized to a woman from the east, the designation of town might seem a bit exaggerated.

  Brandon had hauled her luggage to the house and was wiping his brow as he studied them from the front step. “You want me to take these trunks upstairs, Professor?”

  Gerritt had a hunch Brandon would rather get back to his ranch as soon as possible, and sneak off before he encountered his mother. Gerritt could wrestle Mrs. Worthington’s luggage up to her room by himself.

  “Go ahead and get back to the Flying A Ranch. I appreciate your help.” He shook the other man’s hand and watched him head to the livery to get his horse.

  Waving up the steps to indicate Mrs. Worthington should proceed him, he grinned. “Welcome to my home, Madam.” He paused for a moment. “If you decide you’d like to move down to Mrs. McCauley’s boarding house, please simply inform me. As I said in my letters, it’s possible your living up here might incite some gossip.”

  She glared at him, lifting her chin in defiance. “I’m a war widow, Professor. I don’t care one bit about gossip or those who choose to indulge in it. I’m here to do a job and that is my primary purpose for traveling here.” She patted his arm gently. “But I thank you for your concern.” Her look softened as she gazed up at him with wide, gray eyes fringed with dark lashes.

  A shot of heat surged through his blood when she leaned against him as she lifted the hem of her gown to ascend the porch steps. He took a deep breath. She might clean up nicely, and even if he didn’t manage to keep her from becoming an object of fancy for the men of Jubilee, at least for a little while he could enjoy the company of an intelligent, gently-bred lady. As long as he remembered his mission was the important thing. Enjoying her company was all he could do.

  “I hope your journey here hasn’t been too exhausting, Mrs. Worthington.”

  She paused on the second porch step to study him. “It was filled with a great deal of trial and tribulation, but there were moments of exhilarating beauty and all in all, I consider it to have been quite an adventure so far.”

  “And are you an adventuress, Mrs. Worthington?”

  She frowned as she considered his question.

  “Before this journey, I’d never been more than thirty miles from my home. I was married at eighteen and became a widow before my twentieth birthday. I moved from my father’s house, to my husband’s home to live with his family while he fought in the war. Until this trip, I’ve never been on my own.”

  She lifted her skirts to climb the remaining steps. “I think I have so little experience of the world that every moment since I stepped on the canal boat in Oswego I’ve been living a life of adventure.”
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  Before they crossed the threshold of his home, she tilted her head and fluttered her lashes. It was such an unexpected and feminine gesture that the sudden flush of heat he experienced took him by surprise. Her smoky gray eyes glowed with excitement. “I hope you intend to introduce me to even more thrilling exploits now that I’ve arrived in Montana territory.”

  Gerritt felt his mouth go dry and he couldn’t muster a response. The image that filled his mind was of an aroused and sensual Prudence Worthington, garbed only in her corset and stockings, with her long dark curls cascading down her back.

  These thoughts entered the dangerous territory of desire. And that was a place he needed to avoid at all costs. But— how could he avoid thinking about the delectable Widow Worthington when she was going to be within arms reach every single day?

  He felt like a boy again, warned to keep his hands off the molasses cookies his mother pulled from the oven, but suffering burnt fingers for the first warm, delicious bite.

  Gerritt already knew that a nibble of the luscious woman he watched going through the door to the house would never satisfy his carnal hunger. She was as dangerous to him, and to his work, as a rebel spy. Her letters had intrigued and delighted him.

  Now he found her presence unsettling. Perhaps he should insist that she move down to the boarding house.

  As soon as the thought occurred to him, he discarded it. Gerritt had managed to avoid romantic entanglements for many years. How difficult could it be to resist one little female?

  Chapter Two

  A Snake in the Grass Beats Two in the Bush

  Prudence watched Professor Rhinehart carry her things up the stairs and realized she was in serious trouble. The thick, corded muscles of his arms as he hoisted the wooden trunk as effortlessly as if it were a basket of eggs fascinated her.

  She lowered her eyes to avoid staring and found her gaze fixed on the firmness of his buttocks. Her cheeks heated and she wondered what in the world possessed her? She should not be noticing the man’s anatomy. He was a stranger and her employer. She needed to gain control of her improper thoughts and emotions.

  The very moment she’d seen him swing off the windmill, she’d had an intense physical reaction to the professor. First, she’d been terrified at his ridiculous prank and sure she was watching a man plunge to his death. Added to that was her irritation at having been forced to ride his contraption through the mountains, uphill and down, at a speed that made her dizzy as they dipped and turned on the track . She’d resisted the urge to slap some sense into the man the instant he introduced himself.

  Except he was ridiculously handsome. When she’d calmed down a bit, she was shocked by the realization that Professor Gerritt Rhinehart was no slouched over academic with a big pot-belly and bowed legs. Which was how she’d pictured him during their correspondence.

  Of course, he knew what to expect when she arrived. He’d requested she send him a tintype photo, which she assumed was to make sure she wasn’t elderly or infirm. She’d wanted to request the same of him, but it didn’t seem proper for a prospective employee to make any demands at all.

  She’d prayed every day he would offer her the position as his secretary. A position that that would provide her with a nest egg she could apply to opening her own business school for women. And employment that provided her a way out from beneath the thumb of her demanding, malevolent mother-in-law permanently.

  They arrived at the top of the stairs and the professor entered a room. She heard him set the trunk down before he reappeared in the doorway.

  “These will be your quarters. You have a bedroom, a private salon with a desk and a dressing room. I hope you’ll be comfortable here.” He smiled at her and she noted he had beautiful white teeth. A man in the West who knew how to use tooth powder? Astonishing. So far her observations in the territory proved he was the exception.

  She twisted sideways to avoid brushing against him as she entered the room. It was to no avail. The man was so tall, his broad shoulders stretched across the space, filling every inch of the doorway. He towered over her, making her feel as insignificant as a mouse facing a tiger. As her backside rubbed up against him, he gave a guttural moan.

  By the time she was through the doorway and could see his face, he was a study in composure, although his smile seemed a bit forced.

  Her room was a delightful surprise. It was clean and comfortable, with a beautiful bright yellow and blue quilt spread across the bed. There was a maple dresser with a matching wardrobe and commode. A porcelain pitcher and bowl perched on the marble top.

  The professor pointed at it. “That’s just for washing your hands and such, the water closet is down the hallway and, of course, the bathhouse is just down the path.”

  He stood in the doorway, his muscular arms dangling at his side.

  “It’s very nice and I’m sure I’ll be very happy here… with you…in your home.” She felt warmth crawl up her bosom to heat her cheeks. She hadn’t meant to say it as if they’d be sharing quarters. Which they would be doing of course, but not like that.

  “I mean, as your secretary.” She decided to stop jabbering and snapped her mouth shut.

  A devilish grin spread across his face, lifting the corners of his mouth to display two delightful dimples. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the strong jaw line and that delectable mouth. She shivered. Whether from delight or fear, she couldn’t say.

  “My housekeeper always keeps some hot coffee on the stove for me. I’ll send her up with some. Sweetening?”

  Prudence frowned. Had he just called her sweet thing? “I beg your pardon?”

  “Sugar, or honey?

  Oh please, call me honey—it’s so endearing.

  “In your coffee, would you like sugar, honey or cream?”

  “Shh, shh, sugar and cream, please,” she managed to mumble.

  He grinned again and she caught her breath. This man was entirely too, too, sensual. Yes, that was the correct word—sensual. Earthy and smelling of sunshine and pine trees, as if he’d just walked out of the woods. All the professors she’d ever met were pale, bookish types who used their intelligence as a shield to keep themselves aloof. They smelled like stale pipe smoke, ink and old, dried paper. And no one would ever use the word sensual to describe them.

  Professor Rhinehart was so different and unexpected. It was disconcerting...and she needed to gather her wits about her and maintain a professional demeanor. He was her employer, she reminded herself.

  After the professor left the room, she removed the duster and folded it. She’d take it outside and shake it out later. Glancing at her feet, she winced at the disastrous condition of her boots. They’d need to be scrubbed and polished. She owned one pair and needed to make them last until she could afford to purchase new ones. The elegant kid slippers she’d worn with her wedding gown would serve for dressing up, but she needed sturdy footwear for everyday.

  And speaking of scrubbed, the very thought of lying in a hot bath made her sigh. She’d had nothing but sponge baths, and most of them with cold water, since the beginning of her trip. A hip bath would have seemed like a blessing, but to submerge herself in hot water and wash her hair was going to be a delicious luxury.

  Prudence opened the trunk and searched the many small nooks for a bar of lilac soap. A small luxury her mother-in-law had chided her about whenever they made soap. One more complaint in a litany of complaints that hounded Prudence throughout her days on the Worthington farm.

  Hester Worthington was convinced her son made a disappointing decision when he married Prudence. The day Eli announced to his family he intended to make Prudence Bailey his wife, his mother had pulled her apron up to cover her face and ran from the room in tears. It was an omen of her future life with Eli’s mother.

  Eli remained home for two weeks after their wedding. Then he had to report to his company in Elmira. He’d written letters to Prudence, telling her how much he loved her and assuring her the war wouldn’t last long. But o
n September 17, 1862, he’d become a casualty like so many others in “The Iron Brigade”. Eli’s body was in a lonely grave in a place called Antietam. His death was just another tragic part of so much loss and pain resulting from the War of Southern Rebellion.

  Prudence took a deep breath. That was her past and she refused to dwell upon it. Thank the Lord for her father’s brother, Uncle Edwin, and his kindness. He’d arranged for her to live with his family and attend the Lamere Business College. She’d been one of five women in classes there, but in Oswego, the normal school and the presence of Dr. Mary Walker, one of the first female physicians in the country, had paved the way for women to be educated and assume a career. It hadn’t been easy, but she’d never given up.

  There was a knock on the door and Prudence swung about to see a tall, ramrod straight older woman with steel gray hair tucked up into a tidy bun standing with a wooden tray in her hands. “The professor says you need a cup of strong coffee, and if that’s what you want, ma’am, you got it!” Her smile was kind and her sharp blue eyes friendly.

  The woman strode into the room and set the tray on the marble topped dresser. She slid her hands into the pockets of her clean, but well-patched, apron and took a hard look at Prudence—from the tip of her decrepit feathered bonnet to the scuffed toes of her boots. Then she nodded.

  “I think you’ll do. I put a couple of biscuits on the tray, ‘cause the professor tells me you want to get cleaned up ‘fore supper. Holler down to me when you’re ready and I’ll show ya out to the bathhouse.”

  “Who are you? I mean…” Prudence bit her lip and straightened her shoulders as she stepped forward. “I beg your pardon, I’m Mrs. Prudence Worthington. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”