A Woman so Bold by L.S. Young Page B

whiskey.
    “Begging your pardon,” he said.
    “My mother was a housemaid and then a governess after the war,” I said, “I am neither, but I’ll give you your hat and see you out.”
    Daddy shot him a look as if to say I told you so.
    We paused on the porch, and he turned his hat around several times rather than putting it on.
    “I had a very pleasant time,” he said finally. “Your father’s a nice fella, not at all how you let on.”
    “Yes, he seems to like you. You would feel quite differently if he didn’t. Just ask Emmett. ”
    “ And who is that?”
    “Lily’s former beau. He’s about eighteen, so in my opinion that makes her far too young for you .”
    “I have no intention of courting Lily, but you’ve been eavesdropping.”
    “Men smoke and drink so they can talk away from women. It’s the only way to hear anything of importance. Perhaps I’ve been too outspoken, but that only goes along with my vim and vigor.”
    He looked away, embarrassed. “I meant that as a compliment. If not, I wouldn’t have said it to your father.”
    “However you meant it, I don’t relish being spoken of as if I were a pony up for auction. Why must gentlemen compare ladies to breeding animals?”
    “I sincerely beg your pardon. It’s just something men do when they’re alone—speak of women so. I did it more to get on his good side than anything.”
    “Oh?”
    “We are neighbors. And I’ll warrant you’re desperate for company out here in the boondocks, a young thing like you! Seems you’ve got precious few gentlemen to choose from.”
    I flushed. “I want to be absolutely certain you haven’t been deceiving yourself about me, sir,” I said. “I find your company pleasant, but you’re a stranger to me.”
    “I’ve offended you.” His cheeks turned ruddy as well, and I thought, What fools we are, blushing like childhood sweethearts at one another. “I assure you, I never meant to be rude or forward. I only meant . . . you must get lonely.”
    I twisted a fold of my skirt and shrugged. “You haven’t offended me, and I do get lonely. It’s only that, no matter what Daddy says, I didn’t want you to think that I’d . . . encouraged you.”
    “I wouldn’t think such a thing of a woman with your manner or intelligence.” He put his hat on and descended the front steps, unfastening his horse from the hitching post. I stayed where I was.
    “Thank you for a fine dinner, Miss Andrews,” he said, swinging into the saddle.
    “Thank you for attending,” I replied.
    “I hope to see you again, but I shall await your invitation.”
    I filled my lungs, nodding. “You may wait a long time,” I said softly, but he had already swung his horse into the drive and was gone.
    I was wrong. Mr. Cavendish visited us only two weeks later at an invitation from Colleen, who risked my ire by then being so ill from nausea as to be in bed when he arrived.
    “My stepmother is indisposed today,” I said, showing him into the parlor, “but Lily is here, and Edith.”
    Edith rose and curtsied, then folded herself back into the armchair where she was reading. I glanced briefly at her bowed head; her blond hair was parted cleanly in the middle and twisted into two neat braids. Edith’s presence did not make much difference in a social circle, as her nose was always buried in a book. I envied the way Colleen indulged her love of literature. I had not been given such freedom to read since my years with the Mondays. Things had been different then; I was in my teens, Eric was home, and Colleen was well.
    “Tell us about yourself, Mr. Cavendish,” said Lily easily, sensing my distraction. Mr. Cavendish’s answer gave me time to step up to the buffet and resume my duties as hostess.
    “Well . . . I was born durin’ the war. My father was a gentleman. He had an old name, a bit of land, and not much else. He was killed at the Battle of Olustee. What fortune he left my mother was inherited by my elder brother,