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It is never too late to be what you might have been.
~ George Eliot
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The overnight flurries had left more than a foot of snow behind. Holding tightly to the hand of her three-year-old daughter, Hazel, she navigated the crossing of a slippery 5th Avenue carefully. Admonishing her son who towed a toboggan along behind him to do the same, she was treated to the sight of a scowl similar to Shane’s for her trouble. At almost nine years, Ellis considered himself the man of the house and above such mothering.
His sour face earned him a light smack on the back of the head from Nanny—despite her words, Prim wasn’t fool enough to wrangle three children in the park on her own—who was bringing up the rear with five-year-old Luella.
As they entered the gate to the park, a quick look around showed her James was nowhere in sight, but the distant screams of joy grew in volume with every step. Hearing them too, her two older children picked up their pace until they were almost running. Or as close to running as they could be in snow nearly to their knees. It looked more like trudging to her as they created a deep furrow in the snow for her to follow.
Pilgrim Hill was a popular site for sledding. On a day like this, sunny but brisk with new snow, it would be crowded already with children eager to enjoy the snowy slope.
Though Hazel whined to be set free with the others, Prim kept a firm hold of her hand as Ellis and Luella began making headway with Nanny puffing after them.
“Mama!” Hazel cried in dismay. “I won’t get a turn!”
Prim laughed and swung her youngest up on to one hip, increasing her pace. “They’re not going anywhere without you, dearest. I promise.”
It was slow going, though. The deep snow was dragging at her long skirts and coat, making each step a monumental effort. Holding Hazel tightly with one arm, she tried to lift her skirts with the other but with only moderate success.
Hazel bounced on her hip, up and down, as if that might make her go faster. Their slow progress was exhausting and a tad ridiculous. She let out an exaggerated groan with each clomping step until her daughter was giggling merrily at her efforts.
“Mama, you’re so silly.”
“Yes, she is.”
The wonder in the deep Scottish brogue was obvious. The expression on Mr. MacKintosh’s face when she looked back to find him just a few steps behind them, though, wasn’t one of disbelief but rather appreciation.
“You continue to surprise, Mrs. Eames.”
Prim had no response to that, dazzled as she was. He looked even better in the bright daylight than he normally did, and Prim realized she’d never seen him in anything other than candlelit ballrooms and salons. Never in anything other than formal attire. Black or white tie, depending. Though he was mostly enveloped by a thick charcoal gray wool coat that went to his knees, she could see a hint of a lighter gray morning coat beneath and a forest green tie knotted simply at his throat.
He touched the brim of his bowler and offered a short bow of greeting. “Perhaps I can be of assistance?” he asked, holding out his arms.
Did he mean he’d carry her daughter, Prim thought with astonishment. James MacKintosh...holding a toddler? Willingly? She couldn’t even envisage such thing.
Her surprise must have shown for he rolled his eyes. “I won’t drop her. I promise you, I have quite a lot of expertise in this particular practice.”
Again, he accurately read her bewilderment without her saying a word.
“Most of those siblings you once asked me about have been astonishingly productive these past few years.”
The decision was taken out of her hands when her normally shy daughter flung herself across the gap between them. Prim yelped, thinking Hazel might fall, but James caught her handily and hefted her up to his shoulders where she perched with a squeal.
He looked down at Prim, eyes dancing. A broad grin as bright as the new-fallen snow flashed across his swarthy, handsome face as Hazel tore his hat from his head and tugged at his dark hair. Prim knew a moment of tenderness and rapture as her heart raced at nothing more than the sight. It was promptly followed by a twinge of distress.
She’d made a terrible mistake.
* * *
He’d done the right thing, James thought, looking down at Prim, her face framed by the lush brown mink hood of her velvet coat. Rich in color, but not as much as her hair touched by bright sunlight in the front. Her eyes were light with laughter, her pale cheeks rosy with the effort of walking through the deep snow.
She looked lovely and free. Just as she ought to be.
Aye, he’d been right to decide to help her gain some autonomy from her family...even if it meant helping himself in the process.
“Look at me!” Hazel cried, bouncing hard against his shoulders and breaking the spell the sight of a smiling Prim Eames had cast over him.
“Hazel, darling!” she chided. “Don’t pull Mr. MacKintosh’s hair.”
“Sorry, Mama,” she said immediately.
“It is not I you need to apologize to.”
Pudgy hands caught his cheeks and urged him to look upward until he was nose-to-nose with the toddler as she leaned down. Eyes of a familiar hyacinth stared back at him.
“Sorry, Mr. Mac-in-shhh.”
Charmed to his bones, he could only smile up at the bonny child. He hadn’t considered that Prim might have her children along when he’d asked her to meet him. One didn’t normally greet a suitor en masse, but James found he didn’t mind. Theirs wasn’t a true courtship after all.
“Quite all right, wee lassie.”
She grinned in return and resumed her bouncing...without the hair pulling this time. James steadied her with one hand and swept an arm out, motioning for Prim to precede him.
She was staring at him peculiarly, as if he were some novelty in a freak show. Finally, she shook her head, the pursed lips and censuring air he’d long associated with her returning.
“Are you going to allow a lady to blaze a trail for you, Mr. MacKintosh?”
“Why not? You’ve been doing a fine job of it so far,” he assured her teasingly.
Prim pressed her full lips together but couldn’t completely hide her grin. “Some gentleman you are.”
“You’ve enough gentlemen in your life, haven’t you?” he asked. “Perhaps it’s time someone started assuming you’ve the same measure of competency any man has.”
The words were meant to be playful, but James could tell by her expression that she liked the sound of that. Without any remark, she turned. Grasping her skirts with both hands, she determinedly plowed a path through the snow until they met a more well-trodden trail leading to the sledding hill.
James lifted the little girl from his shoulders and set her down. She was off and running before her feet met the ground.
“Oh!” Prim cried, setting off after her daughter, but James held her back.
“She’ll be fine. Let her go,” he said. There were only a dozen or so children and a handful of adults gathered at the top of the hill. The toddler streaked with purpose toward a stalwart looking woman in a plain gray coat and started tugging at her skirts. “Your nanny, I presume.”
Prim stepped forward, then back and forward again before she stilled at his side. All three children were piling onto the long sled, fighting over who got to be in front.
“Ellis will want to go too fast. I should—”
“Let them be children,” he finished firmly, holding her by his side before she could set off. “Let them have fun. If they get a few bumps and bruises along the way, it’s all a part of being a child.”
“Is this part of allowing me to prove how capable I am?” she asked, throwing his words back at him.
“Capable and overly protective are two different things.”
“Mr. MacKintosh...,” she began, once again brimming with the exasperation he was becoming so familiar with.
“James, please. Or Jamie, if you like,” he said. “If I’m going to court you, you might as well call me by my name.”
Clearly, she’d doubted he would come around to accepting her proposal. Relief and happiness shown in her eyes as they glazed with moisture. She blinked it away and offered a dramatic eye roll.
“I’m beginning to think if you were to court me, you’d drive me mad.”
Still, it pleased him to please her. Besides, her lips puckered just so, and as he’d been the previous night, James was struck by the urge to kiss her. Would she be as icy as the snow around them? As prudish as she played at being? He might have thought so not long ago but now he rather doubted it.
Her mouth softened, her already pink cheeks growing rosier under his slow perusal. “Why do you look at me like that?”
The corner of his mouth kicked up at the naiveté of her question. “Why do you think?”
She gaped like a fish for a moment, though with far more charm. Squeals of delight spared her the need to answer, and they turned back to watch the children take their first run down the hill. The older boy was at the front of the sled with the toddler sandwiched between him and another girl, both holding tight to his waist. Beside him, Prim tensed and gasped as they hit a rut and bounced off the ground, but the boy righted them and they drifted to a halt at the bottom of the hill.
Immediately, they bounded to their feet and started to climb up again.
“They’ll be at it for a while,” he said. “Would you care to walk?”
Prim shook her head but then nodded. “Not out of view though.”
“Of course not.”
Taking his out-held arm, she frowned up at him. “I assume you’re mocking me again.”
“Would it be because you’re imagining things or because your overprotective behavior deserves a little mocking?”
She only gawped at him. “Why I...?”
“You’re doing exactly what you’ve accused your brothers of,” he said, for no other reason than to rile her up. “Mollycoddling them.”
“But I am their mother,” she pointed out, obliging him with the show of bluster he was hoping for. Her bright eyes snapped with indignation as she tossed her head.
Her regal posture might have cowed a lesser man, if it were not for the fact that her pert nose and the tips of her ears were bright red with the cold.
“Children, even small ones, need some rough play now and then,” he said.
“Yes, I’d heard that before...”
Smugly, he nodded.
“...then promptly dismissed such nonsense as asinine,” she added, but he could sense a hint of banter in her tone. “You know nothing of childrearing, Mr. MacKintosh.”
“I know more than you might imagine.”
James guided her along the shoveled pathway at the top of the hill. They paused to watch the children as they reached the top of the hill and piled on the toboggan once more. Without any squabbling this time. Their faces bright with the thrill to race down the hill again.
“Speaking of childrearing, if you’ve shown your brothers even a small dose of the what for I’m now certain you’re well-practiced at, I’m surprised you haven’t yet brought them to heel.”
Prim shook her head. “For several months now, I’ve made a concerted effort to express my displeasure with them.”
James laughed aloud at that, the picture of Prim smacking their knuckles like an incensed school marm. “Expressing your displeasure? Mrs. Eames, you might think by being stern and somber you’re somehow making your point, but I hate to be the one to tell you, men aren’t that subtle. If you want something, you need to tell them...flat out.”
“I have tried that.”
“Perhaps you need to add a touch of volume to the lecture then,” he said. “You think you have it bad? My only sister has ten older brothers, but she never fails to let us know—quite vocally—that she’s knowledgeable enough to form her own opinions.”
“So, she screeches like a harpy and you let her have her way?” she asked, surprise clear in her voice.
“Absolutely not,” he chuckled. The children were again trudging up the hill, their laughter mixing with that of the dozen other boys and girls as one sled after another skated down the hill. “We fight her tooth and nail every step of the way. She’s our helpless baby sister, after all.”
Prim groaned theatrically. “You offer me no hope for the future.”
His chuckle turned to an outright laugh. “But I am. My sister is a force of nature. The Marchioness of Aylesbury and the head of the Ladies Golf League of Wimbledon. She does exactly as she pleases at all times. Despite our brotherly domineering.”
A thoughtful moue turned down her lips. “Is she married? Does her husband allow this?”
“Aylesbury allows nothing. It pleases him to see her stand up for herself.” Just as it pleased James to see Prim in her rare moments of self-confidence and conviction. He shook off the comparison. “He likes to see her set trends rather than follow them. By all accounts, he’s quite proud of her.
Prim sighed with a sorrowful shake of her head. “She’s a fortunate woman. My husband might have given me due credit for my intelligence in the end, but he considered my involvement with the National American Women Suffrage Association little more than a source of embarrassment.”
“He knew?”
“Yes, but he was forever finding reasons for me to not attend meetings or rallies,” she said. “He believed political thoughts would cause me to neglect my home, lessen my devotion to our children, forget to mend his stockings. He’d probably blame me for burnt biscuits as well.”
“He sounds like a fair arse,” James said succinctly.
“He could be,” she allowed.
“I hope you didn’t believe him. I can see you’re a doting mother.”
But he could tell by the way she cast her eyes down at the ground that she did. At least, to some extent.
So, he had been an arse. James led Prim farther down the path, certain they had a while before the children’s enthusiasm began to flag.
“Let me tell you something, Mrs. Eames.” The words grated in his throat, strangled by the anger he experienced on her behalf. “There is not a lady in my family—and there are many—who isn’t an admirable mother, but nor is there one of them who hasn’t forged a life of achievement for herself outside the home. They run charities and missions. One of my sisters-in-law will one day be a countess and marchioness in her own right. Two of them run vast estates and business concerns in their children’s interest. Never let anyone tell you that you can’t do the same.”
Prim blinked up at him, her eyes held wide at the vehemence in his words. She looked gratified by his declaration of faith. It shouldn’t be so easy to please her like that. Truly, had no one ever given her fair credit before?
“Perhaps I should relocate to Scotland then,” she quipped, though the jest fell flat.
James shook his head, a trifle disgusted with the society that suppressed such a lively spirit. He pulled her to a stop, glowering down at her.
“Perhaps you should, lass. Scottish lads have enough confidence in their manhood to enjoy women with spirit without taking independence and intelligence as a threat.”
“Even if that show of independence and intelligence proves to be a social embarrassment?” she asked.
“Ah, but there would be no embarrassment, you see?” he said. “In truth, we consider it a rather attractive quality. We don’t subdue our women but take satisfaction in meeting our match. And find such a challenge arousing, as well...”
Though already pink with the cold, Prim’s cheeks reddened even more. “What a thing to say.”
“What?” James found himself amused by her discomfiture. “That a man might find arousal in a woman of spirit? Or that implication that I might be experiencing the same with you?”
Her gaze fled him. The red of her cheeks engulfing her whole face. Her throat worked as if she were swallowing back words, though whether they were in retort or admonishment, he couldn’t be sure.
“You couldn’t possibly,” she croaked out at last.
James raised her chin with one finger, forcing her to look at him. “Oh, couldn’t I?”
