Behind a Lady's Smile Page 4

  “You won’t find a better price. You’re welcome to try. But when you come back, it’ll be ninety-five.” He gave Mitch the smug look of a man who knows he’s looking at a desperate fellow.

  Mitch looked around the shop, crowded with all sorts of items that people—probably people more desperate than he—had sold for ready cash. One hundred dollars would barely get them to Omaha, never mind New York. He was beginning to doubt his plan, because the jeweler didn’t look like the kind of man who could be swayed by a story or a pretty pair of green eyes. Unless he was wrong, Mitch would have to use some of his precious savings to fund the trip, and there was no way on God’s green earth that he was going to pay for a sleeper car. If Genny could sleep out on the trail without uttering a single word of complaint, limping along for miles, she could sleep on a train bench.

  Mitch looked out the dusty window, saw her standing next to Millie, and recognized how pathetic she looked. “See that girl yonder? The one with the yellow braid down her back?”

  The jeweler leaned over to look out his window. “Yes.”

  “Those two pieces are the only things she has left of her poor departed mama. She needs to get to New York, and one hundred dollars surely won’t take her there.”

  “Sure it will.”

  Mitch clenched his jaw in frustration. “I’m escorting her. Can’t let a woman travel alone all the way from California.”

  The jeweler gave Mitch a look he didn’t much care for but chose to ignore. He needed to get more money out of the man and antagonizing him would not help his cause.

  “How about one hundred fifty,” Mitch said, smiling.

  “One hundred. Take it or leave it.”

  “One twenty-five. I have to buy the little lady a dress, don’t I?” Again, he gave the man a smile that was about as sincere as a wooden nickel.

  The jeweler looked out the window again and frowned. “What’s wrong with her leg?”

  “Lame,” Mitch said, shaking his head slowly. “Poor thing.” Genny looked up and through the window and Mitch shoved his hands in his pockets, his signal that his negotiations were unsuccessful.

  And then, she walked in—or rather limped in—looking like a ragged, unloved orphan. A pretty, ragged orphan. “Have you had any luck, Mr. Campbell?” She stopped still and looked around as if she were standing in the middle of a Paris boutique. “Oh, what a lovely shop. Are you the proprietor?”

  The jeweler straightened, trying to make his rather diminutive frame a bit less diminutive. “Why, yes, I am.” Funny what a clipped British accent and a pretty face could do to a man, Mitch thought. “Do I detect an English accent?”

  Genny smiled, and when she gave a smile like that, she was just shy of stunning. Even in her repaired men’s clothes and her hair in a simple braid, there was something about her that just made a man want to lay down his coat across every puddle she encountered. Mitch, who thankfully was immune to her smile and her charm, leaned back to watch the show. He’d seen her do this to three other men and it was fascinating. Her ability to wrap a man around her finger was downright frightening. She had a gift, for it certainly wasn’t something she’d learned on the ballroom floor, having never seen a ballroom floor.

  “I see you’ve been looking at my mother’s pieces. I’m broken-hearted over selling them, of course, but I fear it is the only way I can finance my trip back to England. I’m going to see my grandparents, you see. I do hope you’ve been fair with Mr. Campbell.”

  “Oh, yes,” the man said, coming round to the front of the counter. “More than fair.”

  Mitch coughed. “He offered one hundred dollars, Miss Hayes. I’m so sorry.”

  It was almost comical how her expression went from stunning happiness to dewy dismay. My God, his actress mother would appreciate this performance. He wanted to applaud. Instead, he winked at her, but if she saw that wink, she gave no indication.

  “But my mother . . . Oh, I see. I shall never get home now.” She gave the jeweler a tremulous smile. “Thank you, Mister . . .”

  “Benson,” the jeweler supplied.

  “Thank you, Mr. Benson. And I am Miss Genevieve Hayes. I do appreciate your time, but I fear I cannot sell my mother’s jewels for such a price.” She turned to Mitch. “How long would the journey take on foot, do you think?”

  Mitch used all his self-control not to burst out laughing, and he feared she might have gone a bit too far. No man, not even one instantly smitten like Mr. Benson, would think she meant to walk to New York. What would they do next? Swim to England?

  “I think we could buy a couple of horses,” Mitch said hesitantly, worrying his hat in his hands. “Though we wouldn’t have much left over for food. You don’t mind sleeping out under the stars, do you, Miss Hayes?”

  Poor Mr. Benson looked beside himself. “If you don’t mind me asking, Miss Hayes, who is this man to you?”

  Genny looked momentarily confused by the question—not by the meaning, but by the suspicious tone. “Why, Mr. Campbell saved my life and now has offered to escort me to New York. He found me in the wilderness with a broken leg. My poor departed father was mauled by a bear. Ferocious beast. Mr. Campbell slew the bear and repaired my leg, though I fear it will never be the same. Mr. Campbell is a hero, Mr. Benson. A hero.”

  It was such a ridiculous tale, even if there were some elements of truth to it, that Mitch wanted to groan. No one could be as gullible as Mr. Benson.

  “Two hundred dollars. That’s as high as I can go, Miss Hayes, though I wish I could do more.”

  Genny smiled again, brilliantly. “Oh, wonderful, Mr. Benson. I do think that is a much fairer price, don’t you think so, Mr. Campbell?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her smile slipped a tad and Mitch braced himself for what was coming next. She looked down at her clothes and frowned, pulling at a patch in her pants. Then she leaned toward Mitch and whispered, rather loudly, “I suppose that means no dress? That’s fine, really. Do you think too many people will notice?”

  He looked at her in wonder. What a little scamp.

  “Two hundred twenty-five. Then you can buy two pretty dresses,” Mr. Benson said, then hurried behind the counter.

  “Oh, no, Mr. Benson. That is too much,” Genny said, limping over to the counter as if to stop him from throwing cash at her. “I don’t want to take advantage of your soft heart. You are a business man and you must be fair.”

  Mitch was pretty certain Mr. Benson would have laid down his life for her at that moment. He looked at her with pure admiration. Then he made a great show of examining the pieces again, clicking his tongue as he did.

  “These are much finer than I first thought, Miss Hayes. I do apologize for the confusion. Two hundred and fifty dollars and not a penny more. But I would ask one favor.”

  “Yes?”

  “Stop by with your new dress before you leave.”

  Genny tilted her head and gave him a genuine smile. “I will, Mr. Benson. Thank you.”

  “I could just hug you,” Mitch said, shoving the wad of cash into his pocket once they were outside. “Where did you learn to be so charming?”

  Genny smiled and shrugged. “I have no idea. I was always able to wrap my father around my little finger and I remember as a little girl going to the kitchen and begging for an extra dessert. It’s fun, like a game.”

  “That game just won us an extra one hundred fifty dollars.”

  Genny grinned up at Mitch, and he reached over and mussed up her hair.

  “What do you say we get you that dress and a bath?” He looked up and down the street, then nodded to a hotel two blocks down. “That looks respectable enough for the granddaughter of a duke.”

  Genny followed his gaze to the grandest building she could ever remember seeing. Certainly, when she’d lived in Philadelphia as a child she must have seen grander, but the Sacramento Hotel looked like a palace after her cabin in the woods and sleeping under the stars. “I can sleep in a real bed tonight. Will they have a room
with two?”

  Mitch looked down at her and frowned. “Two what?”

  “Two beds.”

  He immediately turned away and grabbed Millie’s lead. “We won’t be in the same room, Genny. It wouldn’t be proper.” He stood silently for a while before turning to her. “We have to be proper from here on out.”

  “And it wouldn’t be proper to share a room?”

  Mitch looked like he might choke. “No, of course not. We’re not married and we’re not brother and sister, so no, we can’t share a room.”

  “Seems silly and expensive to me,” Genny grumbled. “Who cares if we’re married or not?”

  “Oh, good God.”

  “This is another one of those things I’m supposed to know but I don’t, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  When they’d passed through one small town, a colorfully dressed woman with bright red hair had asked Mitch if he wanted some company. Mitch had been polite but rather cool toward the woman and declined; Genny had wanted to know why. “’Cause she’s a loose woman, Genny, and that’s all you need to know.”

  Genny had been silent for a while before saying, “What’s a loose woman?”

  He’d sworn under his breath and said, “A woman who gives favors to a man who isn’t her husband.”

  But that didn’t clear up things at all for Genny. “Favors?”

  “Bed favors. Naked favors. The kind of favors that make babies.”

  Genny had flushed red, finally understanding what he’d been talking about all along. As exciting as it was to leave her little cabin and head home to England, it was also rather terrifying. And the farther away from the cabin she got, the more lost she felt. She’d grown so comfortable in her world; she knew the smell of pine, the snuffing sound of a bear foraging for food, the way the wind wrapped around her cabin, calming and soothing, as if it added a barrier of protection. Ever since her father had died, all she’d been able to think about was leaving, but now that she’d actually left, she found it hurt to realize she’d never be back.

  She knew who she was in that cabin; she didn’t know who she’d be in a dress, how she would act, what she would say to her grandparents when she saw them for the first time. In her cabin, she was brilliant. In this world, she didn’t even know how to fasten the shoes they’d seen in a storefront window.

  Sometimes Mitch would look at her as if she were something hateful, a dark intense look she didn’t understand. As they stood on the side of the street, he was giving her one of those dark looks. She put that look on the long list of things she didn’t understand.

  “Let’s see if we can find you a dress. You ever wear one?”

  “Of course I did when I was young. But when I started helping out my father more, it made more sense to wear pants. He didn’t care for it at first, but when I outgrew my dresses he let it go. It’s a bit difficult to hunt in the winter wearing a skirt. The last time I tried to put a dress on, it didn’t fit, and there wasn’t enough material to alter it.”

  “When was that?”

  “My father’s funeral.” Genny looked away, not wanting to think about it. It had taken her two days to dig a grave, for the ground had already started to freeze. She’d wanted to look her best when she read the Bible before his grave and said good-bye, but none of her dresses had come close to fitting.

  When they walked into the dress store, three pairs of feminine eyes looked at them with something close to horror. Genny smiled. “As you can see, I clearly need a dress.”

  “Take off your hat,” Mitch whispered, leaning toward her, and she pulled it off, her head feeling naked and her whole being somehow more exposed.

  Two of the women looked like a mother and daughter, both wearing fancy dresses and fancier bonnets. She curled her fists into the brim of the battered hat that had once belonged to her father. The third woman, Genny assumed, was the shop owner, who stared at Genny as if she’d just heard a pony ask for a dress. The shop owner looked at Mitch, who was standing slightly behind Genny, and suddenly smiled when he pulled out his billfold.

  “Oh, you poor, poor dear. Of course we can find something for you.”

  Mitch nodded his head slightly. “Thank you, ma’am.” The words were polite enough, but there was steel behind them that Genny didn’t understand.

  “I have dresses, of course,” Genny said. “But I daresay they wouldn’t be appropriate for train travel. My mother brought her best gowns from London, you see, and I hardly would have use for a ball gown, would I? And Mama was much taller than I am at any rate and I haven’t had time to alter them.”

  The smile that the shopkeeper had plastered on her face, softened. “Traveling are you?”

  “Yes, to New York and then on home to London. So I’ll need something for comfort, ma’am.”

  “Please, you may call me Mrs. Courtland,” the owner said, ushering her over to the dresses.

  “I am Genevieve Hayes and this is Mitch—”

  “Hayes. Her husband.”

  Genny nearly burst out laughing, but when Mrs. Courtland narrowed her eyes, she smiled brightly. “Just married, as a matter of fact,” Genny said, darting a look to Mitch. His lips twitched slightly, and he narrowed his eyes in a subtle warning.

  “Oh, lovely,” Mrs. Courtland said. “Newlyweds. And you without any pretty dresses.” She gave Mitch a look of reproach. “We’ll remedy that, won’t we? When are you leaving? Perhaps you have time for me to create something for you.”

  “We’re leaving tomorrow,” Mitch said, putting an end to that thought. Genny looked at him curiously, wondering why, when Mrs. Courtland was being so kind, his tone was rather tight. Perhaps he felt uncomfortable in a lady’s store.

  Mrs. Courtland began wading through the dresses, once in a while holding one up against Genny, clucking her tongue as she placed it back on the rod.

  “Mrs. Hayes,” Mrs. Courtland said, darting a quick look at Mitch. “I’m going to have to measure you. It’s impossible to tell if a dress will fit otherwise.”

  “Stand still,” Mitch said, and put his hands around her waist. “Jesus, we need to get more food into you.” He smiled down at her and Genny felt that strange warmth that came upon her at odd times. He held up his hands to show Mrs. Courtland, and she gave him a tight smile.

  “I thought perhaps a measuring tape?” she said, pursing her lips.

  “Ma’am, we just want to buy a couple of dresses and whatever else she’ll need and be on our way. We’ve been on the trail for nearly a week and Mrs. Hayes is still nursing a broken leg.”

  The shopkeeper’s eyes dropped down to the rather hideous-looking wrap on Genny’s leg. The two of them had gotten used to the look of the thing over the past weeks, but it was a rather odd sight. “Oh, goodness,” she murmured, looking up at Genny with real concern. “Of course.”

  Mitch moved to the rack and pulled out a blue striped dress. “Too big.” Then a red gingham. “Better.” He held it up against her and narrowed his eyes as if picturing her in it. “This will do until we get to New York. Let’s find one more.”

  Behind him, Mrs. Courtland was blustering and making small noises of protest, but Mitch ignored her.

  He held up a few more, finally deciding on a dark blue dress with a dainty white collar. It was the prettiest dress Genny had ever seen.

  He turned to the shopkeeper. “These two and whatever else she’ll need. Stockings . . . and whatnot.”

  Sighing heavily, Mrs. Courtland nodded and retrieved several items, wrapping up the purchases in brown paper and tying the bundle with twine. “The milliner is two doors down,” she said, looking with distaste at the old hat Genny still held. “That’ll be twenty-two dollars.”

  Mitch handed over the cash. “A pleasure doing business with you.” He flashed a smile that Genny recognized as wholly insincere.

  When they left the store, Genny was quiet for a time. It was only after they’d left the milliner’s that she spoke what was on her mind. “I didn’t like the woman in
the hat store. She kept looking at me funny.”

  Mitch grinned. “She’s probably never seen a pretty girl wearing a man’s shirt and pants. And with a deerskin splint on. You are a sight, Miss Hayes.”

  “I am, aren’t I,” Genny said, laughing.

  “And you’re used to tying every person you meet around your little finger. ’Bout time someone didn’t fall for your charms.”

  Genny wrinkled her nose. “I suppose I’ll just have to try harder. And the dresses and this pretty bonnet will help, I should think.”

  “Probably too much,” Mitch mumbled beneath his breath, then he smiled and she knew he was teasing.

  “Come on, let’s go check on Millie and get my things.”

  “Are you keeping Millie here while you’re gone?” Genny asked.

  “She’s not mine to keep. My boss will come fetch her in a day or two.”

  “How will he know where to look?” Genny asked, worried that the poor mule would languish alone for weeks.

  “I told him before they moved on. They knew where I was heading and he sure wouldn’t leave Millie behind. I know that. I wouldn’t leave her behind, either, if I wasn’t sure she’d be taken care of.”

  Mitch retrieved his pack, which he’d stored briefly in the stables with Mille, before they headed to the hotel. When they reached the entrance to the hotel, Genny stopped. “Are we married?”

  Mitch drew back, his expression confused and Genny couldn’t help notice that small look of fear in his eyes. Then he took in her impish smile, and shook his head. “No. I’m your brother.”

  “Good. I think you’d be an awful husband at any rate.”

  Mitch laughed, as she knew he would, and she walked into the hotel still thinking about Millie and the way he’d rubbed her nose affectionately as they’d left the mule in her stall.

  The hotel lobby was small and dark, with rich wood paneling and a carpet that was soft beneath their booted feet. Genny hugged her purchases against her and looked around. It had been so long since she’d been in a fancy building. She looked up at the chandelier above her head, thinking it was nearly dark enough to light the candles even though outdoors it was still bright.