truth, Mr. de la Croix. You didn't really come all this way to court me, did you?"
"You could call me Theo," he said.
When I didn't reply, he pulled the reins smoothly to stop the horse. Suddenly still among the swaying grasses, the phaeton grew dreadfully quiet. But with more aplomb than I could have managed, Theo wound the reins round his hand and turned to me.
"The truth, Miss Stewart, is that I was leaving Baltimore regardless. Your flight simply encouraged my direction."
"And if I had stayed?"
Charming again, Theo waved a hand airily. "I would have written pathetic doggerel about your eyes and your mystery from an attic in Paris."
That made me smile, and I relaxed into the red velvet seat. "I tender my regrets to Calliope and all the muses for depriving them of your contributions."
"No doubt it weeps." He returned my smile, then added, "And I apologize for the unfortunate impression I may have left on your friend Miss Corey. She was eager to have me call until she realized I came to ask about you."
Ah, Mattie. I could imagine the smooth expression she must have effected; play-acting for suitors was one of her gifts. Straightening my skirts, I said, "Don't trouble yourself over it. You were but one dance, and she has Baltimore entirely to herself now."
We were, for a moment, comfortably quiet. And then Theo broke it by turning his gaze to the west. Red streaks of light played on his face, teasing through his hair. It darkened his lips, and his voice sank low when he murmured, "Have you ever seen such beautiful lights, Miss Stewart?"
Gently, to dissuade any romantic notion he might have about the moment, I said, "I'm afraid I don't care for sunsets anymore." It was the truth; a prophecy in the vespers had taken my Thomas from me.
But that was hardly Theo's fault, so I touched his shoulder lightly to turn his attention. "Do you think we could race a bit? I was enjoying it."
"It would be my pleasure," he replied. And in an instant, we were flying—away from the setting sun instead of toward it, into the welcoming velvet of night.
When I slept that night, I dreamt of sailing a measureless expanse of sea, the wind in my hair and light on my skin. But pity poor Mr. de la Croix, for in my dream I sailed with Emerson Birch at my side.
***
As I had only driven it, I hadn't realized how long a walk it was to town. Starting early, with the morning still blooming, it was a pleasant trip. The stars flickered out one by one, swallowed when a pink sunrise chased away the night.
Louella actually slept in the basket of a little wagon that Birdie and I took turns pulling. If I'd known about the wagon, we probably would have made it to the wading creek. Then again, if we'd made it to wading, we might not have had prairie chicken and eggs, so it was a fair enough trade.
"I'm going to put up a notice at the general, and the restaurant. You can post your letters and put one up there."
I nodded, and patted the bundle I had tucked into my pocket. The bundle of letters home warmed me, something to take my mind off the new torment that was my old corset.
As much as I had wished for it back, I was glad that Birdie hadn't insisted on lacing it tight. Even let out, the corset's bones bit my skin. The calluses-—mental or physical-—that I'd once possessed had softened.
I still ached from wearing the thing the night before, and now its stricture irritated me doubly. I had the unenviable sense that I would be left wanting whether I wore it or not.
"And don't forget," Birdie continued, as if running down a mental list. "It's two dollars to have you come, period. They're paying for your appearance, not for the water."
My papa would have enjoyed that bit of wordplay, and I didn't argue. I could promise no one a running well or a good spring. I could only tell them what I saw, and it was best if that came with no positive guarantee.
Nevertheless, my heart beat an odd pattern, my nerves wearing with the unknown. I knew how easily a
"You could call me Theo," he said.
When I didn't reply, he pulled the reins smoothly to stop the horse. Suddenly still among the swaying grasses, the phaeton grew dreadfully quiet. But with more aplomb than I could have managed, Theo wound the reins round his hand and turned to me.
"The truth, Miss Stewart, is that I was leaving Baltimore regardless. Your flight simply encouraged my direction."
"And if I had stayed?"
Charming again, Theo waved a hand airily. "I would have written pathetic doggerel about your eyes and your mystery from an attic in Paris."
That made me smile, and I relaxed into the red velvet seat. "I tender my regrets to Calliope and all the muses for depriving them of your contributions."
"No doubt it weeps." He returned my smile, then added, "And I apologize for the unfortunate impression I may have left on your friend Miss Corey. She was eager to have me call until she realized I came to ask about you."
Ah, Mattie. I could imagine the smooth expression she must have effected; play-acting for suitors was one of her gifts. Straightening my skirts, I said, "Don't trouble yourself over it. You were but one dance, and she has Baltimore entirely to herself now."
We were, for a moment, comfortably quiet. And then Theo broke it by turning his gaze to the west. Red streaks of light played on his face, teasing through his hair. It darkened his lips, and his voice sank low when he murmured, "Have you ever seen such beautiful lights, Miss Stewart?"
Gently, to dissuade any romantic notion he might have about the moment, I said, "I'm afraid I don't care for sunsets anymore." It was the truth; a prophecy in the vespers had taken my Thomas from me.
But that was hardly Theo's fault, so I touched his shoulder lightly to turn his attention. "Do you think we could race a bit? I was enjoying it."
"It would be my pleasure," he replied. And in an instant, we were flying—away from the setting sun instead of toward it, into the welcoming velvet of night.
When I slept that night, I dreamt of sailing a measureless expanse of sea, the wind in my hair and light on my skin. But pity poor Mr. de la Croix, for in my dream I sailed with Emerson Birch at my side.
***
As I had only driven it, I hadn't realized how long a walk it was to town. Starting early, with the morning still blooming, it was a pleasant trip. The stars flickered out one by one, swallowed when a pink sunrise chased away the night.
Louella actually slept in the basket of a little wagon that Birdie and I took turns pulling. If I'd known about the wagon, we probably would have made it to the wading creek. Then again, if we'd made it to wading, we might not have had prairie chicken and eggs, so it was a fair enough trade.
"I'm going to put up a notice at the general, and the restaurant. You can post your letters and put one up there."
I nodded, and patted the bundle I had tucked into my pocket. The bundle of letters home warmed me, something to take my mind off the new torment that was my old corset.
As much as I had wished for it back, I was glad that Birdie hadn't insisted on lacing it tight. Even let out, the corset's bones bit my skin. The calluses-—mental or physical-—that I'd once possessed had softened.
I still ached from wearing the thing the night before, and now its stricture irritated me doubly. I had the unenviable sense that I would be left wanting whether I wore it or not.
"And don't forget," Birdie continued, as if running down a mental list. "It's two dollars to have you come, period. They're paying for your appearance, not for the water."
My papa would have enjoyed that bit of wordplay, and I didn't argue. I could promise no one a running well or a good spring. I could only tell them what I saw, and it was best if that came with no positive guarantee.
Nevertheless, my heart beat an odd pattern, my nerves wearing with the unknown. I knew how easily a
Similar Books
