conscience, leave you here on the road when the temperature is dropping.” He glanced up at the clouds. “I fear it’s not going to let up for a while.” He took a careful step forward. “Where do you live?”
When I stretched out my arm and pointed further down the road, I realized my hand was shaking uncontrollably. “That way.”
The man’s expression revealed that he would not take no for an answer. He strode toward me, removed his hat, and bowed slightly at the waist. “My name is Sebastian Fraser and I live here on the Cape, near the head light. Please, you must permit me to drive you somewhere.”
Feeling numb and shivery from head to foot, and dreading the thought of walking another mile in such blustery weather, I reluctantly agreed and allowed him to escort me to his coach.
My rescuer—it makes sense, now, to call him that—opened the door for me, and I peered in at the luxurious green, deeply buttoned upholstery and matching tasseled blinds on the windows.
Mr. Fraser handed me up into the cozy interior, where I sat down gratefully, arranged my skirts and brushed the dampness from my sleeves. He then swung himself inside, shut the door, took a seat beside me and reached into his pocket for a clean white handkerchief, which he kindly offered to me.
I used it to dab at my face and hair. “Thank you, Mr. Fraser. I am in your debt.”
“Do not be silly,” he replied, tapping the handle of his walking stick on the ceiling while regarding me steadily. The vehicle lurched forward and we were suddenly on our way. “But I would like to know your name and where I should instruct my driver to take you.”
“Of course. I do apologize. My name is Evangeline Hughes and I am new to the area. My father is George Hughes. We recently took up residence in the Vaughn Blackstone Cottage.”
“Ah yes,” he said. “I know the place. It’s not out of the way at all. I must inform my driver.” Mr. Fraser lowered the window glass and removed his hat before leaning out into the wind and rain. He shouted instructions while the wind blew a part in his thick black hair.
“What a spectacular day,” he said as he closed the window and sat back. “Tell me more, Miss Hughes. What brings you and your family to Cape Elizabeth?”
Clearing my throat, I endeavored to speak in a steady voice, which was no easy task when I was still shivering from the cold. “My father has retired from his position at a Boston bank, and he wished to live close to the sea. He’s a bit of a romantic that way. I think he’s always dreamed of being captain of a sailing ship and traveling around the world. As it happens, Mr. Blackstone is an old family friend, and he offered us his cottage while he is abroad, indefinitely.”
I refrained from mentioning that I’d overheard my parents discussing our financial situation late one night—that it was a charitable offering from Mr. Blackstone, for we were in dire straits and could not afford to pay our rent.
“Then please allow me to welcome you to Cape Elizabeth,” Mr. Fraser said. “I am sure you will be very happy here. It’s glorious in the summer months, but I must warn you—it can be bitter cold in the winter, when the ground freezes and the trees are coated in ice. You’d best have plenty of firewood on hand.”
My eyebrows lifted.
“I do beg your pardon.” He chuckled, and I couldn’t help but admire the dimples in his cheeks. “That was rather tactless of me. I’ve frightened you, haven’t I?”
“Not at all. We had ‘spectacular’ winters in Boston as well.”
He smiled. “Indeed.”
At this point, I would be remiss if I did not point out that my belly had exploded into a mad flock of nervous butterflies—which began the instant Mr. Fraser passed me the handkerchief and our fingertips touched briefly—for he was the most handsome man I had ever encountered in my young life.
To begin with, his eyes were a pale shade of blue, the likes of which I’d never
When I stretched out my arm and pointed further down the road, I realized my hand was shaking uncontrollably. “That way.”
The man’s expression revealed that he would not take no for an answer. He strode toward me, removed his hat, and bowed slightly at the waist. “My name is Sebastian Fraser and I live here on the Cape, near the head light. Please, you must permit me to drive you somewhere.”
Feeling numb and shivery from head to foot, and dreading the thought of walking another mile in such blustery weather, I reluctantly agreed and allowed him to escort me to his coach.
My rescuer—it makes sense, now, to call him that—opened the door for me, and I peered in at the luxurious green, deeply buttoned upholstery and matching tasseled blinds on the windows.
Mr. Fraser handed me up into the cozy interior, where I sat down gratefully, arranged my skirts and brushed the dampness from my sleeves. He then swung himself inside, shut the door, took a seat beside me and reached into his pocket for a clean white handkerchief, which he kindly offered to me.
I used it to dab at my face and hair. “Thank you, Mr. Fraser. I am in your debt.”
“Do not be silly,” he replied, tapping the handle of his walking stick on the ceiling while regarding me steadily. The vehicle lurched forward and we were suddenly on our way. “But I would like to know your name and where I should instruct my driver to take you.”
“Of course. I do apologize. My name is Evangeline Hughes and I am new to the area. My father is George Hughes. We recently took up residence in the Vaughn Blackstone Cottage.”
“Ah yes,” he said. “I know the place. It’s not out of the way at all. I must inform my driver.” Mr. Fraser lowered the window glass and removed his hat before leaning out into the wind and rain. He shouted instructions while the wind blew a part in his thick black hair.
“What a spectacular day,” he said as he closed the window and sat back. “Tell me more, Miss Hughes. What brings you and your family to Cape Elizabeth?”
Clearing my throat, I endeavored to speak in a steady voice, which was no easy task when I was still shivering from the cold. “My father has retired from his position at a Boston bank, and he wished to live close to the sea. He’s a bit of a romantic that way. I think he’s always dreamed of being captain of a sailing ship and traveling around the world. As it happens, Mr. Blackstone is an old family friend, and he offered us his cottage while he is abroad, indefinitely.”
I refrained from mentioning that I’d overheard my parents discussing our financial situation late one night—that it was a charitable offering from Mr. Blackstone, for we were in dire straits and could not afford to pay our rent.
“Then please allow me to welcome you to Cape Elizabeth,” Mr. Fraser said. “I am sure you will be very happy here. It’s glorious in the summer months, but I must warn you—it can be bitter cold in the winter, when the ground freezes and the trees are coated in ice. You’d best have plenty of firewood on hand.”
My eyebrows lifted.
“I do beg your pardon.” He chuckled, and I couldn’t help but admire the dimples in his cheeks. “That was rather tactless of me. I’ve frightened you, haven’t I?”
“Not at all. We had ‘spectacular’ winters in Boston as well.”
He smiled. “Indeed.”
At this point, I would be remiss if I did not point out that my belly had exploded into a mad flock of nervous butterflies—which began the instant Mr. Fraser passed me the handkerchief and our fingertips touched briefly—for he was the most handsome man I had ever encountered in my young life.
To begin with, his eyes were a pale shade of blue, the likes of which I’d never
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