“You wanted to make sure I was the best candidate for the job?”
“Well, yes, but it was more than that.” He kneeled down next to the bed again. He took her hands in his and a shiver of excitement shimmied up her spine.
“I enjoyed reading your letters. I found them—entertaining.”
Entertaining? She’d rather hoped for erudite, intelligent or knowledgeable. He made it sound like she’d been writing Penny Dreadfuls.
“I’m so glad you enjoyed them,” she said, with a bit more pepper in her voice than she’d intended.
Gerritt laughed. “I didn’t mean to insult you, but the way you talked about your experiences in the classroom, the other students and the instructors. Well, you weren’t always kind, but you kept me reading.”
She swallowed as a twinge of humiliation rippled through her. She remembered how she’d made fun of some of the pompous ways her instructors had treated her and the other women in their classes. “It was ridiculous how they thought writing with a pen and tapping on the keys of a typewriting machine required the strength of a man.”
“And I loved the caricatures you drew. I believe one of my favorites was Professor Pompous-Ass, with his dunce hat and huge feet.”
Prudence groaned and put her head in her hands. Her typing instructor had been a particularly onerous man. A squat, balding older man with a bulbous nose and breath that stunk of cabbage, he’d enjoyed pointing out every error the women made, chastising them and calling them stupid cows. “I have no idea why I sent those.” She looked up at him. “Really, you should have known then I wasn’t the proper sort of woman to be your secretary.”
He laughed again, and despite how foolish she felt, the warm, deep rumble of it made her grin back at him.
“Did you think it strange that I asked you for a tintype?”
“I hated having to send it, because I was sure it was so awful you’d never want such a plain little mud wren in your home.”
“I like mud wrens,” he said. “They’re such lovely songbirds.”
She angled her head to look up at him. “But I don’t sing. Not in church, not when I’m alone. Never.”
“That’s a pity. Do you whistle?”
She blinked. She couldn’t tell if he was serious or if he was teasing her.
“I happen to be a most excellent whistler.” She lifted her chin with pride. “In my hometown, I was a champion whistler. In fact, I was the county champion.”
He burst out laughing. “Of course you were. Well, anyway—I asked for that tintype photograph because I thought from your letters that you’d be lovely. I was charmed, but I knew a beautiful woman wouldn’t last more than a month out here. Montana territory is filled with lonely bachelors.”
Her heart plummeted. So, he wanted to see what she looked like and if she was plain enough, he’d hire her without concern she’d be married before she finished organizing his office. She didn’t like the implications. Feelings she’d thought encased in ice were pricked with a sharp edge that made her tremble.
“I assume you were assured I wasn’t attractive enough to be lured away by a courting cowboy or lovesick miner.”
“Quite.” he said.
She smacked his arm. “That is misplaced honesty. You should have fibbed so you wouldn’t hurt my feelings.”
“It’s a horrid image of you, not flattering in the least. I hate that ugly bonnet. And all the brown and black clothing you wear. It’s quite hideous.”
Now her feelings were hurt, and she bit her lip to keep from bursting into tears. Not only was he being unkind and picking on the way she looked but he now criticized her wardrobe. She was forced to agree, she hated her clothing too. Damned if she would tell him that though.
“I’ve been in mourning and I didn’t have enough money to pay for new clothes before I came here,” she snapped.
“I apologize. I should have remembered that. And the photograph is unbecoming because it doesn’t even begin to capture your soft skin, your thick, lustrous hair or that incredible, marvelous smile that transforms your face. You’re beautiful.”
She immediately felt better. “Do you actually think those things about me?”
He stood and moved back away from her. “I think about you more than I should. I wonder what you’re doing when I’m not around and I look forward to hearing what you’re going to say next. To be honest, I can’t forget what happened the first night you arrived in town either. Or the way you looked when I opened the door of the bathhouse.”
“The scenery?” she said, her cheeks warming at the memory of their encounter.
He turned and headed toward the door, unlocked and opened it before twisting his head back to face her.
“If I’m given but one vision on my deathbed, I sincerely hope it’s that memory. But I believe you will understand, my work must come first and I can’t allow anything to interfere with my current project. It’s too important. The fate of the Union might depend on it.
Prudence shuddered at his words. How silly of her to be thinking of her own desires and needs, when so much depended upon Professor Rhinehart’s work. But her curiosity was piqued.
“Can you tell me what you’re working on? Perhaps I can provide some assistance.”
He shook his head. “Believe me, the less you know about this invention, the better. I intend to get to know you better Mrs. Prudence Worthington. But all good things come slowly. We have plenty of time for that. My first priority is to keep you safe. No matter what I have to do, I swear I’ll protect you.”
With that, he stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him.
Prudence sighed deeply. She felt like a schoolgirl, flushed with her first taste of romance. She leaned back on the pillows and closed her eyes.
He thought she had a marvelous smile and lustrous hair. No one, not even Eli, had ever given her such beautiful compliments.
Now she knew what it felt like to be the belle of the ball. The kind of woman who paused before entering a room so others could admire her beauty. The kind of woman who was confident as she swayed against her partner when they waltzed across the dance floor. She almost believed she could be that kind of woman.
It astonished her that with a few kind words from a handsome man, she felt special and attractive for the first time in many years. It was a wonderful feeling. A feeling she’d like to experience more often.
But the professor had been clear about his intentions. His work came first and he was concerned about her safety. She would do everything she could to assist him, and she’d be much more cautious in the future.
She sighed as she recalled his words. He’d sworn to protect her. It was difficult to stop the romantic notions fluttering through her at his vow. But, she must try to maintain a professional demeanor and do everything she could to organize his office and support his work.
She could allay his concerns for her safety and allow him to focus on his inventions.
And if she daydreamed a bit about the handsome professor, that was not something she would share with him, or anyone else. As she recalled the way Gerritt had appeared as he stood in her room she realized she now had a great deal more material to fuel those dreams.
Chapter Six
A Man Decides, A Woman Abides
“You’re quite lucky to have escaped from that horrid machine. It must have been terrifying to be in the mine with that mechanical monster.” Edith Blakely’s mouth twisted down into a sneer.
Prudence had a notion her lucky escape didn’t sit well with the older woman.
“Of course, being such an independent woman—” she gave Prudence a sour look that indicated the use of this particular word wasn’t a compliment “—you must be accustomed to placing yourself in dangerous situations.”
Her daughter Henrietta gave a small gasp, before shoving a tea cake into her mouth. Her gaze flew to meet Prudence’s eyes and there was sympathy reflected in them.
The hot lick of a rising temper whipped through Prud
ence and an angry retort formed on her lips, but she swallowed it. She’d grown proficient at ignoring slurs while living with her mother-in-law and attending classes at Lamere.
“I’m fortunate Professor Rhinehart was quick thinking enough to save me from any injury other than a slight nip of my lip.” Prudence picked up the china teacup and wished her guests would hurry their visit and leave. It annoyed her to be forced to play the gracious hostess when she found these women, or at least the older woman, to be a gossipy nuisance.
“Still, a woman like you, who seems to crave adventure and doesn’t understand how to behave like a real lady, must expect things like this to happen, Edith said.
Prudence’s fingers trembled as she set the teacup back on the tray.
“Mother,” Henrietta said with a sharp edge to her voice. “Mrs. Worthington is just recovering from her ordeal.” The younger woman stood and shot an impatient glance at her mother. “I suggest we let her get some rest, she appears to be exhausted.”
Prudence offered Henrietta a weak smile and once again considered that if she and the younger Blakely woman could be alone together, they might become friends.
“I am quite tired after everything that happened—it was all such a shock.” She fought the tears rising to her eyes, but she couldn’t keep pretending that being attacked by the Mecho hadn’t left her drained and exhausted. She’d had difficulty sleeping the previous night as memories of the attack kept her tossing and turning on the narrow bed.
And the dreams of Gerritt, with his dancing green eyes, deep dimples and luscious lips didn’t help. She found it difficult to keep her thoughts from straying to her attractive boss.
“Here are your cloaks and parasols.” Alma Faraday stood in the doorway to the parlor. Her face was grim and it was clear if the ladies didn’t leave, she wouldn’t have any problem shoving them out the door and onto the front porch. She’d probably even be willing to kick them down the steps.
“Well, we can chat another day,” Mrs. Blakely suggested as she gathered her things from the housekeeper and swept out the door.
“Don’t hurry back,” responded Alma as she slammed the door behind them.
Prudence couldn’t contain her giggle at the housekeeper’s bad manners.
“Alma, I’m sure that Mrs. Blakely will be telling everyone the professor has the rudest employees in the territory.”
The housekeeper patted her silver hair and grinned at her. “He don’t give a damn what anyone says ‘bout him. He’s always got his head stuck in some machine in his workshop. He’s got no time to pay attention, anyway. My thinkin’ is if somebody’s gossipin’ about me, they’re leaving some other poor soul alone.”
The older woman studied Prudence. “That old hen is just jealous, anyway. She set her sights on capturing the professor for her daughter. To be honest, till you came to town, the girl didn’t have much competition.”
Prudence folded her hands primly in her lap. “Professor Rhinehart is my employer and it’s my intention to keep our relationship on a completely professional basis.”
Liar, a small voice chirped in her head.
Alma snorted. “Well, if you say so, that’s the way I’ll tell it, but if I was twenty years younger I’d have set my cap for him myself.” She stacked the porcelain cups and plates on the silver tray. “Besides, you can’t let that Blakely woman get her claws into him, she’s a regular crow.”
“I don’t know. I suspect Miss Blakely wouldn’t be so bad if her mother wasn’t around,” Prudence objected, sitting back on the horsehair sofa and relaxing for the first time since her visitors had arrived over an hour ago.
“Well, she is around and that girl of hers is spooked by the old lady. Can’t seem to think for her own self and won’t say boo unless she’s given permission.” She tilted her head to study Prudence.
“As for me, I admire a woman with spirit and so does the professor. Give him a filly who can kick up her heels and has some vinegar in her blood.” She winked at Prudence. “That is, should some lady decide she’d like to be his woman.”
“Alma, you’re incorrigible.”
The older woman sniffed. “Hell—that’s what the professor says to me all the time, but damned if I know what it means.”
Alma strode out of the room after refusing to let Prudence help her with the tea service. Prudence was tempted to go back upstairs to her comfortable bed, but she’d been lying down for over a day. She was getting restless and wanted to get back to work organizing Gerritt’s office.
She’d insisted she wasn’t an invalid and begged to return to work.
Gerritt refused to consider her request, gave Alma strict orders to keep his office door locked and then stomped out the house snarling beneath his breath about damned fool modern women.
Since their encounter in her room, she spent an inordinate amount of time imagining ways to flirt with Gerritt and encourage him to pursue her. It occurred to her she was becoming a lewd and improper woman.
The door swung open and the man she’d been fantasizing about walked into the parlor. His broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his crisp white shirt, and his waistcoat was tailored to show his trim waist off to perfection. He held his frock coat folded across one arm.
“I heard you had some company today, I hope they didn’t tire you overmuch.”
His polite tone didn’t mask the concern in his eyes.
“I’m fine, Gerritt. Mrs. Blakely and her daughter were kind enough to stop by and see how I was doing. It was very nice of them.”
He nodded and took a long step in her direction. “We need to talk, but not here.” He glanced over his shoulder, as if he expected the Blakely women to barge into the parlor at any moment.
“Perhaps we should move to your office,” she suggested.
He shrugged. “If you don’t mind the mess. I’m afraid I’ve made it even worse in the time you’ve been indisposed. I don’t have a knack for neatness.”
She stood. “I suppose I can overlook that one small flaw in an otherwise sterling character.”
His mouth formed into a thin line and his forest green eyes grew darker. There was no warm smile or hint of flirting. He was too serious.
“I need to talk to you about something important.” He draped his frock coat on the back of a high-backed chair and waved her toward the door to his office. “Ladies first.”
Her legs seemed to have turned into iron as she trudged into the hallway toward the professor’s office. Something was wrong. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.
Gerritt had not exaggerated. The room was in even worse shape than when she’d arrived. Papers were strewn from one end to the other, as if he’d torn the room apart searching for something.
Prudence paused on the threshold, sighed and forced her features into a complacent mask. She was furious that all of her hard work had been destroyed in such a short period of time.
Alma was right. Professor Rhinehart was an expert at creating chaos.
But she didn’t think it was the right time to chastise him for the mess. She would begin again, sort the various papers into some semblance of order and organize the room. It was a challenge but she would persevere and eventually succeed.
After all, that was her gift. She could never look at disorder and not see methods of categorizing, classifying and organizing. Her instructors at the Lamere Business School had never failed to comment on her innate ability to find a means to sort and simplify. Even if some of them did so begrudgingly.
Gerritt’s expression telegraphed mortification at the state of his study. Prudence wanted to put her arms around him. To reassure him that it wasn’t a problem and she would deal with it.
Instead she pasted a gentle smile upon her lips. “I’m afraid you didn’t lie about the state of this room.” She took a long step into the office. “But, I’ll consider it job security.” She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. If this is the result of only one day without my services, I
shall comfort myself with the knowledge you require my assistance even more than I realized.”
“I’m sorry, Prudence, but I needed to find some designs. It’s for an important project.” The line between his eyes channeled deeper.
“If they should fall into the wrong hands. . .” He gazed off into space. “It could have serious consequences for the war effort.”
“For the Union?” She was glad to know he was working for the northern states and not the southern rebellion.
Gerritt shook himself, seemed to realize what he’d said and gave her a sheepish grin. “I’m afraid I did more damage than necessary because I was frustrated.”
Prudence couldn’t shake off her apprehension, but she worked to portray a confidence she didn’t feel. “I know it’s difficult for you to locate the papers you need for your work.” She took another step into the room, picked up several books and set them on an oak table.
“Trust me, eventually I’ll have a system so functional that you’ll simply be able to tell me the title or subject of your paper and I’ll be able to locate it within a few moments.”
Gerritt shot her a suspicious look. “Are you sure you still want to tackle such a formidable task?”
A tremor of fear rippled through her. Was this what he’d brought her to his office to discuss? Did he think the attack had affected her so much she couldn’t concentrate on her work? She’d avoided being terminated the other day but maybe he’d changed his mind.
“I assure you, Professor Rhinehart…” She used his official title to clarify her intentions. “I never make promises I cannot keep.”
His head shot up and his gaze searched her face. His shoulders drooped as he cleared a spot on his huge desk and leaned back on it.
“If that’s true, I’m afraid you’re a better person than I am.”
Prudence folded her hands in front of her and forced herself to remain perfectly still. She steeled herself to hear something she didn’t want to, because her experience with men taught her when a man turned serious, a woman should prepare herself for bad news.
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