Elizabeth scooted toward the far side of the carriage, giving the rancher—not cowboy—more room as he sat beside her. She hadn’t considered that he and his sister would attend the banquet together, or that he would insist they take his carriage, not Jackson’s. She didn’t want to share a carriage with the man after offending him earlier that afternoon.
Though she still wasn’t sure how she’d offended him. Surely the man couldn’t be upset because she’d asked for a donation, could he?
She clasped her gloved hands together on her lap. What had Jonah been thinking, anyway, to leave the estate to his grandson? It would have been much simpler had Jonah divided up his legacy before his death and donated everything to charity. Then again, maybe he’d planned to do that in a few more years. No one had been expecting that sudden heart attack.
“Good evening, Miss Wells.” Mr. Hayes’s voice rumbled from beside her.
She glanced his way, then down at her lap. My, but he did look dashing in a tuxedo, all the wild strength of the West, thinly veiled in dark evening attire. Now if only he would trade in that cowboy hat for a proper top hat.
But cowboy hat or not, he’d still be the most sought-after man at the banquet. He had too much money and too-fine looks for people to ignore him. Not that she cared in the least.
And she’d best find something productive to talk about, lest she sit here contemplating his appearance for an hour. “Jackson, about our previous discussion, have you—”
“Not now, Elizabeth.” Jackson flicked his hand as though getting rid of a fly. “I’m sure Mr. Hayes has more pressing things to discuss than your preoccupation with food costs at the academy.”
“I’m not—”
“Mr. Hayes.” Jackson nodded at the rancher. “Please accept my sincere condolences about your grandfather.”
Mr. Hayes’s hands gripped the edge of the seat, and his body tensed as though he would vault from their bench and squeeze between the courting couple across the carriage. The man was quite good at issuing threats with his eyes, and this one read: Jackson Wells, touch my sister, and you’ll regret it.
“Jonah Hayes was a great businessman,” her brother continued. Whether oblivious to Mr. Hayes’s disapproval or purposely ignoring it, she couldn’t tell. “Not to mention one of my father’s most faithful and generous supporters.”
“Yes.” Mr. Hayes’s eyes glinted with studied coolness. “I understand my grandfather was a faithful supporter of a great many things.”
Jackson laughed, the overly loud sound bouncing off the carriage walls. “Have you considered following in your grandfather’s footsteps and donating funds to one of New York’s longest sitting and most popular assemblymen? My father has personally passed legislation that...”
The sun cast its fading orange rays inside the carriage while the familiar discussion about politics and campaigning swirled around her. Elizabeth shifted in the seat and made herself comfortable as the carriage wheels rumbled over the road.
If they were exactly 5.2 miles from Albany and they reached Albany in 56 minutes, that meant they traveled at a rate of 5.474 miles per hour. So say the wheels on the carriage were twenty-four inches in diameter, what would be the wheels’ rate of rotation? She closed her eyes, letting the numbers and equations dance before her.
But even with her eyes shut, the scents of grass and sun and musk emanated from the person beside her, and the seat dipped ever so slightly in Mr. Hayes’s direction, making him rather unforgettable—even with her equations.
It was going to be a long ride.
* * *
As the carriage threaded through the crowded streets of Albany, Mr. Hayes and Jackson continued to discuss Father’s politics. Jackson talking about Father’s campaign and funding for an hour wasn’t unusual, but Mr. Hayes not agreeing to give away a penny?
Amazing.
Across from her, Samantha stared blindly out the carriage window, bored with how Mr. Hayes had kept Jackson’s attention away from her this whole time. An intelligent man lurked behind the rancher’s cowboy hat and country slang—now if only he shared his grandfather’s passion for educating women.
Instead it seemed he’d come into town convinced he needed to undo half of his grandfather’s strides in that area. Elizabeth folded and unfolded her hands in her lap.
“Are you looking forward to the banquet?” Mr. Hayes’s breath tickled her ear.
She turned to face him. Had he and Jackson finally finished their conversation? They must have, because he was leaning over, his attention riveted to her.
“Yes, of course.”
The bright glow of streetlamps shone through the carriage window, bathing that bold, handsome face in a mixture of shadows and light, while subtle wisps of cologne teased her nose. She stared at the ceiling. She could breathe. Nice calm breaths not remotely affected by the fragrance of sun and grass and musk tingeing the air. “I...um...thank you for your concern.”
“I’d like a word with you once we step inside,” he whispered as he leaned closer.
Her heart pounded. She wanted words with him, too—about keeping Samantha in school, about contributing to Hayes Academy. But not at the banquet.
“I’d like to discuss things, as well.” She glanced across the carriage as it rolled to a stop in front of the Kenmore Hotel. The lovers whispered together much the way she and Mr. Hayes did. She edged as far away as she could, pressing herself against the wall. “But not tonight.”
His eyes narrowed and blood throbbed in her ears.
She averted her gaze and focused on a streetcar clunking past, but she didn’t let out her breath until he shifted away. How foolish to let him bother her. First with getting her ire up that afternoon, and now by acting so polished and intelligent she could hardly think. A man hadn’t stirred her this way since her former fiancé.
But she was older now, and stronger, no longer a child to be swayed by flattering words and handsome looks. She’d even gone to college and gotten her mathematics degree to avoid being trapped into a marriage with someone like David again.
“Miss Wells?”
She glanced up.
Mr. Hayes stood in the doorway of the now empty carriage, his hand extended, his eyes assessing. Did he know what went on inside her? How handsome she found him? How hurt she was by his disregard for anything and everything concerning Hayes Academy?
Of course not. He could only see what the lights illuminated, which was precious little, as she clung to the far corner of the conveyance and shadows filled the space between.
“Are you all right?”
Of course she was all right. She was Miss Elizabeth Wells, daughter of the esteemed and long-standing assemblyman, Thomas Wells. Educated woman and teacher of mathematics. And she wasn’t about to let a few whispered words from Mr. Hayes bother her. She leaned forward and gave him her hand.
“I’m sorry for barging into your class yesterday and disrupting the test, and for that comment this afternoon about a diploma not being important. I didn’t mean to upset you. Not either time.” His low voice rolled over her, smooth as polished glass.
She nodded slightly as she climbed down from the carriage. “You apologized about interrupting class yesterday.”
He rubbed a hand over his chin. “Didn’t exactly mean it then, but I do now.”
She couldn’t stop the smile that curved her lips. “Thank you, sir. We’ve still much to discuss, but I’m afraid this evening simply isn’t the time. Now we’d best head inside.”
“As you like.” He took her hand and placed it firmly on his arm.
She glanced around and tried to tug free. But Mr. Hayes only settled his other hand atop hers, giving her little choice but to follow him into the Kenmore. She didn’t intend to let him escort her. She had plans for the evening, and they involved speaking to the school board members about keeping Hayes Academy open, not standing around on the arm of a rich bachelor and fluttering her eyelashes every time he deigned to look her way. Arriving at the banquet together had been merely a matter of convenience, hadn’t it?
Once inside, Mr. Hayes helped her with her cloak before she could take it off herself, and handed the garment and his hat to the clerk. When he extended his elbow this time, she stepped back.
“If you’ll excuse me.” Her heart thudded slowly, as he turned those cool blue eyes—eyes that always seemed to see too much—on her. “There is a gentleman I must speak with. Do forgive me if I slip away.”
Before he could answer, or take her hand again, or stare into her eyes for too long, or do something else equally unnerving, she turned and hurried toward the banquet hall, alone.
The room held the dimly lit, quiet ambiance of formal dinners but lacked some of the usual glamour. The rich array of women’s dresses should have looked beautiful beside the men’s crisp tuxedos, but the gowns and suits appeared old and overworn. That only made sense, as her own dress was more than four years old. No one had money for new dresses or properly tailored tuxedos these days.
Even the hall itself reflected the hotel’s attempt to save money. On the tables, crystal goblets glittered beside sparkling china plates and polished silverware. But the tablecloths weren’t bright white, more gray in hue with an occasional faded stain, and the chandeliers and windows looked in need of a good scrubbing.
The depression had hit New York hard, and her family felt it more than most. The force of the panic struck home last April, when a mob had descended on her father’s bank. Nearly all her parents’ campaign financing and personal savings had been lost, along with the trust funds set up for her and her brother—which she hadn’t been able to access until she married anyway. Indeed, few people had escaped the panic and depression unscathed. Fortunately for Luke Hayes, his grandfather had been one of them.
Elizabeth weaved quickly through the room, searching for a board member not already engaged in conversation. She finally spotted Mr. Wilhem standing beside a window and surveying the crowd. Perfect.
“Elizabeth. Don’t you look becoming this evening.” Mr. Wilhem swirled the wine in his glass as she approached.
“Thank you, sir. You’re looking rather fine yourself.”
The middle-aged man chuckled, his bushy black-and-gray-specked eyebrows rising. “Come now, child. There’s no need to flatter an old man’s vanity.”
Child. The word struck her in the stomach. He didn’t think her that young, did he? But then, he’d known her since she was a little girl. “I wanted to let you know how much the students at the academy are enjoying their studies this year.”
Mr. Wilhem patted her on the shoulder, much like a grandfather would. “Are they now? Always a pleasure to hear students are excited about learning. Though I must admit, I’m a little concerned about those newspaper articles, both the editorial you wrote and the one the reporter penned in response. Did Miss Bowen tell you—”
“Samuel, there you are.”
Elizabeth turned as Mr. Taviston, the head of the school board, approached.
“Good evening, Charles.” Mr. Wilhem extended his hand to Mr. Taviston. “Miss Wells and I were just discussing Hayes Academy. It seems the students are enjoying their studies.”
A thick, wooly sensation wrapped itself around her tongue. She hadn’t anticipated any trouble discussing the benefits of keeping the academy open with an old family friend. But the head of the board of directors?
Mr. Taviston watched her like a fox would a rabbit.
“Thank you for allowing the school to stay open,” she managed. “The students are doing quite well, and I’ve spent time working on the books this weekend, looking for ways to allow the school to function on a reduced budget.”
Mr. Wilhem smiled, but Mr. Taviston ran his gaze slowly down her body, his eyes observing every subtlety of her blue silk gown. A flame she couldn’t stop started at the base of her neck and licked onto her face.
“I don’t understand how students being happy will help the school to stay open, Miss Wells. But I’m very interested to see your brother’s report in another week. I doubt we’ve enough money to keep the school running for the remainder of the year.”
“Of course we’ll be able to keep things running.” Her voice sounded overly bright, even to her. “We’ll find a way.”
“Are you aware how many letters board members have received from the public since those articles appeared? I’ve gotten over a dozen myself from people imploring us to find better use for our funds. It seems the people of the Albany area are very much of the opinion that young women should marry and have children, not fill their heads with calculus formulas and astronomical charts, which any good mother would find rather useless, wouldn’t you agree?”
If he thought education useless, why was the man on the board of directors? But she knew the answer. He thought educating women useless, but not men. And he was a businessman who would invest in a girls’ school if he saw the potential for immediate profit. If the profit disappeared, so did any vision for the school.
“No, I wouldn’t agree,” she mumbled.
“Well, it certainly seems to be in the best interest of both our banking accounts and society as a whole to close Hayes Academy.”
“Of course we should close it. Was there any doubt after the meeting a couple nights ago?”
Elizabeth nearly cringed at the familiar blustery voice. Father wedged himself between her and Mr. Taviston, his wide shoulders and thick middle forcing her to take a step back. “Good evening, Father.”
“Daughter, you’re not discussing business with these gentlemen, are you?”
If a school banquet wasn’t an appropriate time for her to discuss school business, when was? “Just Hayes Academy, where I happen to teach.”
“I’m sorry to say we must close it, dear. The public is simply outraged after the appearance of that reporter’s article, which you encouraged by that ridiculous editorial you wrote. Have you any notion how furious your mother was when she saw what you’d penned? It isn’t appropriate for a lady like yourself to express your opinions in such a public way.” He spoke the words without so much as a glance her direction.
“Well said,” Taviston interjected.
“You’re aware you should have gotten consent from the school board before you published such a thing, aren’t you?” Mr. Wilhem patted her shoulder again.
Elizabeth licked her lips and took another step back. Was there any point attempting to argue? The men had already made up their minds. “Yes, I’m sorry. I see I made a mistake. But I was only trying to help boost enrollment.”
“Help?” Father adjusted the lapels on his tuxedo. “We can’t afford that kind of help. It cast the school board and others involved in a bad light, and hurt the public’s opinion of us.”
You mean hurt potential voters’ opinion of you. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from spewing the words. And to think, she’d already agreed to give a speech to educators for her father in a little over a week, to help convince them to support her father in next year’s election. Yet when he stood here now, he tossed any and all support for her school aside.
She should have never told him yes when he’d asked. “I think closing the school would be a great disservice to both young women and society as a whole.”
Father glared. “Elizabeth, I believe Edward needs to speak with you. Why don’t you go seek him out?”
Oh, sure he did. Her father’s head of staff always needed to see her when she started causing trouble, which seemed to be every time she was with her father these days.
“Gentlemen. Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth sighed at the sound of the crisp English voice. One would think, after thirty years in America, the accent would mellow, but Mother still sounded as though she recently stepped off the ship from London.
“Mother.” She offered the group a tight smile as Mother squeezed into the foursome.
“Good evening, Mr. Wilhem, Mr. Taviston. Hasn’t the weather been wonderfully mild for October? I trust you’re taking the utmost advantage of it.” Mother looked elegant in a new rose-colored gown, likely one Father couldn’t afford.
“Why of course, Mrs. Wells,” Mr. Wilhem responded. “I’ve enjoyed several walks with my wife during the evenings.”
Mother smiled, a flawless half curve of lips and slight raise of eyebrows. “Have you gentlemen met the Hayes heir? I was informed Elizabeth arrived with him this evening, and I think I smell romance in the air.”
Elizabeth’s entire body grew rigid while four pairs of eyes turned to her. If only she could grit her teeth and pretend she didn’t know the woman beside her. Instead she kept her forced smile in place. “Mother, my arriving with Mr. Hayes is not what you make it seem. He decided to chaperone Samantha, and as Jackson had already asked me to chaperone, we traveled here together. Mr. Hayes and I are merely...” friends? No, too strong of a word. “...acquaintances.”
Mr. Wilhem raised those bushy eyebrows once again. “Then you’re not seeing Mr. Hayes?”
“No. I’m not accepting any suitors. Now if you gentlemen will excuse us, Mother and I have some important matters to discuss.” She squeezed her mother’s elbow so hard the woman’s perfect smile pinched.
“Yes, do excuse us, gentlemen.”
Elizabeth pulled her mother away, leaving the men to whisper furiously, probably about how soon they could announce the closing of Hayes Academy. Why even ask Jackson for a report when they’d already made their decision?
“Dear, you should have had something special made for this evening.” Mother’s lips sank into a frown as Elizabeth led her toward a vacant corner of the room. “That dress is so old I’m afraid you’ll not attract a single man.”
“I’m not here to attract men.” This time she couldn’t stop her teeth from gritting.
Mother reached up to touch a stray wisp of hair at the side of her face. “Really, Elizabeth, a girl of your wealth and beauty should be married.”
Wealth. That was laughable considering the money her family had lost in the panic. And if her beauty wasn’t enough to keep a suitor faithful, then what good was it? “I’m a mathematics teacher, Mother, and a rather good one according to my students and the headmistress. I don’t plan to stop what I’m doing.”
She should have expected the crestfallen look, the way the light deserted her mother’s eyes and turned them a dull green. But something inside her deflated anyway.
“We never should have let you walk away from marrying David when you were younger.” The tone of lecture in Mother’s voice, the hint of implied guilt, the soft way her eyes entreated Elizabeth to agree all coalesced into a giant wave of regret. Did Mother stand in front of the mirror and practice these speeches? “You were so young, and I thought we were helping, that maybe you should wait another year before you married. Now it’s been eight years and I see how foolish a mistake we made.”
“No. The mistake would have been marrying David. I’m happy remaining a spinster and teaching.”
“I expect you to care about your family’s happiness, not just your own. You’re still a Wells, after all.” Mother’s face paled beneath her face powder and rouge, and she blinked an absent tear from her eye. “And it...it happens that your family needs you right now.”
Her family needed her? Since when? They always seemed to manage fine on their own. Elizabeth reached her hand out and clasped her mother’s. “What’s wrong, Mama?”
“Oh, do forgive me, dear. I didn’t intend to get so overwrought.” Mother wiped another tear from beneath her eye and fanned her face, though the jerky movement did little good in the overly stuffy room. “It’s nothing really. At least I think it’s nothing. But well...oh, how I worry about your father. He’s not been the same since the panic, losing all his savings and having to mortgage the house, so he can build his other assets back up. Some of the voters are speaking out against politicians, claiming people like your father were responsible for the panic itself. He’s under so much strain.”
Elizabeth patted her mother’s hand. “Father may have happened upon hard times, but he’ll ride it out. He always does. A year from now things won’t seem nearly so terrible, but if there’s anything I can do, you know I’ll help.”
“Do you understand how much a good marriage could aid us in a time like this? You know I married your father because of the benefit it brought my family, even though it meant I had to leave England. Every daughter should be willing to make such a sacrifice.”
She dropped her mother’s hand. The argument was far too familiar. “I want to help Father, but I’m not willing to spend the rest of my life chained to someone like David. It’s unfair of you to expect such a thing.”
“But what if your father can’t make payments on the house? What if he loses it?” The whispered words hung in the air between them. “We’d lose everything then.”
“No.” Elizabeth spoke the word quickly, almost harshly. In her mind, she drew up an image of the century-old stone home she’d grown up in, the room in the top right corner that even now held some of her things. “That won’t happen. It’s ridiculous to even think it. Father’s been managing his own money and investments since before I was born. Perhaps the panic set him back, but he’s still a smart businessman.”
The lines around Mother’s eyes and mouth only deepened. “Don’t you see? This is why we need you, dear. You say your father won’t lose the house, but it’s possible. If you were to marry someone who could help support the family, everything would be taken care of. I’ve invited several guests to dinner next weekend, and you should have a new gown made for the occasion. It’s a time to look your best.”
Elizabeth rubbed her temples. “I’d be there, you know I would. But I told you last week, the school play is that Saturday.”
Mother’s shoulders slumped, as though the very world would end if her daughter missed one of the weekly family dinners. “The guests are coming specifically for you.”
Lovely. She so enjoyed being paraded around like a horse for auction. In fact, she could almost hear the auctioneer’s announcement. Marry Elizabeth Wells, and you’ll land yourself a spinster mathematics teacher with an overbearing mother and debt-laden father. “Why don’t you reschedule for the following week?”
Mother sighed, the unladylike sound only further evidence of her distress. “Elizabeth, dear, I have your best interest in mind by wanting you at that dinner. Your family should be more important than your students.”
She wanted to scream. She wanted to howl. She wanted to beat her head against the wall. And she would have, if any of it would make Mother understand. “You are, but this play is only once a year. I’ll attend dinner the week after next, I promise.”
“Sometimes I hardly know what to do with you,” Mother huffed. “Now, just look at the Hayes heir over there. He would make a choice husband.”
She glanced at Mr. Hayes, standing among a small crowd, tall and devastatingly handsome with layers of sun-bleached hair falling around his tanned face. Mr. Brumley, the manager of the orphanage, spoke with him, while several others circled like vultures waiting to descend upon his vast inheritance.
If Mr. Hayes’s handling of Jackson was any indication, he wouldn’t be giving away a penny.
Directly beside him, Mrs. Crawford stood with her daughter, a young lady Samantha’s age, wearing pink and flounces. Indeed, every mother in the room seemed to keep one eye trained on Mr. Hayes, waiting for that perfect chance to introduce her daughter.
“He’ll return to Wyoming,” Elizabeth muttered, more to herself than anything.
“He can’t.” Mother’s face pinched. “He’ll need to stay and manage his grandfather’s estate, unless he wants to see Jonah Hayes’s life’s work run into the ground.”
As though that would bother him.
“You simply must go over there and stand beside him.” Mother gripped her shoulder and nudged her forward. “The man escorted you here, and now he’s not paying you the least attention. It’s nearly scandalous.”
Probably wiser not to tell Mother she ignored him, not the other way around. “The man didn’t escort me anywhere. We—”
The announcement for dinner interrupted her.
“What excellent timing. Come along now. I’ve already arranged for him to sit across from you.”