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“Because my information is that very soon you and Miss Murray will be working together. Closely.”
Tattle gathered his books and left Cal to scowl after him.
***
BRIDGET THOUGHT A LOT about kissing Callahan Kelly over the next few days. During the day, she was able to keep her thoughts of him under control. She kept busy, and when her thoughts strayed, she ruthlessly marshaled them back to the task at hand.
But nighttime was another matter entirely. Her focus during the day meant she was often left without any work to do in the evenings. Margaret and Lucy liked to spend their evenings with the other agents in the dining hall, but as Callahan Kelly also spent his evenings there, it would go against her purposes to join them. Still Margaret and Lucy were persuasive and persistent.
Two evenings after her first accent lesson, Lucy and Margaret pulled on coats, scarves, and gloves as Bridget prepared to go to her room and...stare at the ceiling until she felt tired.
“Please come with us,” Lucy begged, her big eyes filled with pleading. “I won’t enjoy the evening in the least if I know you’re here alone.”
“I very much doubt that,” Bridget said. Lucy would have enjoyed herself at a funeral.
“I think what Lucy means to say,” Margaret added in her practical way, “is that we will miss your company. You cannot argue that you have work to do. You told us at dinner that you had finished it all.”
Bridget wished she could kick herself. Margaret and Lucy usually ate in the dining hall, and Bridget wasn’t used to having company in the evenings.
“Yes, well, I much prefer a book to card games and loud talk.”
“Actually, Mr. Stimple has agreed to play his violin tonight.” Lucy removed Bridget’s coat from its peg and held it out. “How can you refuse a musical evening?”
Bridget took her coat and hung it back on the peg. “I don’t dance.”
“Neither do I,” Margaret said, lifting the coat again and placing it in Bridget’s arms. “I’m sure the selections will be quite sophisticated. I’m told Stimple has quite a repertoire.”
“Come on, Bridget.” Lucy clasped her hands together. “Stuffy, staid music is just the thing.”
“You make it sound so appealing, but I think I would rather retire early.”
“If that’s what you want,” Lucy said, surprising Bridget with her easy capitulation. “But one does wonder if there isn’t another reason you won’t come with us.”
Bridget hung her coat on the peg again. “What do you mean?”
Lucy shrugged. “Perhaps there’s a reason—and by reason, I mean a man—preventing you from coming to the dining hall. Who are you avoiding?”
Bridget stiffened. “I’m not avoiding anyone.”
“Is it Mr. Kelly?” Lucy asked. “Do you carry a tendré for him?”
“Absolutely not!”
Margaret and Lucy exchanged looks. Margaret muttered, “Methinks she doth protest too much.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Bridget snatched up her coat. This was how rumors began, and she couldn’t allow Lucy and Margaret to give everyone the impression she had feelings for Callahan Kelly. Because she most certainly didn’t.
She might want to kiss him, but that was only curiosity. She would never really kiss him. So there was no reason to avoid him. She shoved her arms into the coat and pulled on a hat. “A quarter hour,” she said, walking ahead of them. “That’s all.”
They arrived at the dining hall just as the last plates were cleared. The male agents were chatting at various tables, and Mr. Galloway waved to the ladies when they entered. Lucy’s brother was seated at a table with Mr. Kelly, of course. The agents tended to eat with the other men in their building. Without being asked, Mr. Slorach and Mr. Arundel made room for the ladies, while Mr. Kelly sat and smirked.
Loathsome man. She would ignore him.
Not giving him a second glance, she sat between Lucy and Margaret. She was immediately passed a glass of wine and was content to listen quietly as the group recounted the high points of their lessons. Mr. Slorach had injured his knee during evasive maneuvers, but when Bridget suggested he see the physician on staff, he shook his head. “It’s just a bump, Miss Murray. I’ll be fine in the morning. Oh, here’s Stimple.”
Bridget had to turn her head to see the front of the dining hall, where Mr. Stimple now stood with his violin. He appeared to be tuning it, and she moved her chair to face him, so she could watch the performance without craning her neck.
It also meant turning her back to Mr. Kelly, which suited her just fine. The men quieted, and Stimple started the concert with a piece from Mozart. Bridget didn’t know much about music, and couldn’t name it, but she enjoyed it. Stimple really was very good.
