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“Did you now?” She turned to him fully, her eyes wide, but her lip began to curl, just a touch, like it did before she’d suggest something particularly naughty. Something that made all the recklessness and rashness he worked so hard to contain bubble to the surface.
Oy. He was sweating. Not attractive and his thoughts were nowhere proper or prudent.
“So you have a job? I mean, they pay you?” David winced, but his brain couldn’t hit upon better questions fast enough, at least not ones that wouldn’t reveal how much he knew about said column.
“Yes, a little bit. Not as much as my allowance, but it’s something. I’m not particularly liquid at the moment. My parents went to a great deal of trouble protecting our assets so I need their permission if I want more funds than I’m normally allotted. And that invites questions.” She opened her mouth as if she was going to say more, but instead closed it, her lips a tight line, her eyes at the water.
Now that was intriguing. What would she want to purchase that she needed to hide from her parents? Perhaps that was the issue with her finances from the file. Well, if there was ever a perfect time to inquire without being rude... He took a breath, and just as he was about to ask, she started speaking again.
“And disapproval. And lectu
res. About waste. Something they clearly think I am.” She threaded her fingers in a rather prim way that somehow made him ache.
She couldn’t possibly believe her parents thought that about her, could she? Yes, they could be a bit much, but anyone who spent one second with the Truitts could tell how much they loved each other.
Amalia drew in a rather loud breath through her nose. “Anyway, the column. I have an eye. Everyone always said so. At least they used to, though there have been some complaints as of late. And some criticisms.”
That made his spine prickle. “Around the time you began receiving the threats?” Not that it was his area, but if there was information the agents in Indianapolis should know...
“A little before?” She shrugged. “They haven’t stopped, just increased. More and more people deciding I’m not good enough. Or realizing it.”
Or one particular person, just intensifying his campaign. He wet his lips. Not dispositive, but something to look into. “Do you have any of them with you?”
She slipped her hand into her purse and handed him an envelope. “Please don’t read it. I know I should’ve told you or Thad or the other agents earlier, but it’s humiliating and it can’t actually be important.”
Worse than the threats? He didn’t ask the question though, just slipped it into his pocket. He’d mail it to Philadelphia from the station that evening.
“You know I’m sensitive about being...well, about not inheriting my family’s intellect.” Amalia ducked her head.
My last tutor said college would be a complete waste. Simon was brilliant, rivaling Thad. He was supposed to attend Yale. My parents have no idea what to do with me.
They’d been lying in the grass, just off the terrace, behind the Truitt house, staring at the moon. At the time he’d rubbed her hand, before kissing her nose, her neck, and...not an exercise he could repeat.
“Anyway, though I might not be able to add, I can write. Sort of. And despite what a few readers say, people do find it enjoyable and I do have the knowledge.” She inclined her head towards him. “And, I figured that when you have a rather wicked reputation, you’re permitted to take risks.” She drew out the s of the last word before flashing him a dimple.
“Really?” He had to bite his own tongue so not to lick his lips as he recalled one of his few good memories from the war. How late one night, in their tents, a drunk Simon Truitt waved the tintype in his face and asked for his opinion on it and his younger sister’s letter.
Don’t laugh too hard. Enclosed is a photograph I had taken at the Philadelphia house. Our parents won’t even permit me to wear this ball gown outside my bedroom. But fashion is all about risks. That’s what makes it enjoyable and don’t we need some enjoyment? You’ll talk to them, won’t you? I really want to wear it. Please?
“Oh yes.” Her smile broadened to a real one. Bright and sunny like the summer air and the life her letters promised him—but on a mature woman, who was a great deal cleverer than anyone, including him, suspected.
“That’s why I adore accessories so much. Unique embroidered gloves or chain purse or even a little something only you can see, like—” she glanced around and lowered her voice “—scarlet underthings. Something little and secret and just for you can make all the difference. People think women dress to attract...” She frowned.
“What?” His heart beat in his throat. Her eyes were so focused and intent on him, searching as if she saw him, really saw him and was about to give him a glimpse of the full her. He waited, not breathing, and the sparkle behind the lashes dimmed.
“Nothing. You must think I’m a spendthrift.” Her clipped tone nearly hid the note of hurt at the end—nearly.
“You’re no spendthrift. I’d know. Your brother gave me your accounting statements.” He blanched as she gasped and blinked.
Schlemiel, schlemiel, schlemiel. Why was he so bad with words? And more, why did he have to be working instead of just speaking to her? Especially when she became so, well, passionate. The way she could discuss her own expertise, how her eyes flashed and her color rose and all the confidence—she was breathtaking. And despite all the past hurt, when she was like that, he was a moth to flame, hanging on every word, no matter the subject, enjoying her.
“Right.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Though you clearly haven’t studied the file so well since I’m sure he included information on the column.”
David pressed down on his knees, hard, to keep from arguing back. Not that she would listen if he let the knowledge slip. She was busy talking herself back into being annoyed with him. “So, what else is in the dossier? More evidence of my failures?”
He opened his mouth and closed it. Tight, so nothing hurtful could escape his lips. Despite what she’d said to him in the past and how good a bit of turnabout would feel, she didn’t need that from him, not now. Right now she needed something else. Something like a friend.
A flash of heat at the unfairness of it, the stupidity, the waste, coursed through him.
