Her unruly daughter led the fray. Heat rose from Elizabeth’s toes to the roots of her hair. “Release me.”
He stood her on solid ground and shifted away. Damn her wobbling legs. With a clearing of her throat, she made a charade of smoothing her skirts and patting her hair into place until her limbs quit shaking.
Out of the corners of her eyes, she took in the escaping carriages. Her shoulders slumped.
Zachary caught the line of her gaze. “Keep on enjoying yourself. Get away from those chains that bind you.”
“Your home run was remarkable,” said Amanda Fitzgerald, congratulating her.
Zachary cocked his head. “Looks to me as if Miss Spencer has had practice around the ball diamond. I believe an explanation is owed.”
How the frontiersman dogged her steps to the table where the servants laid out fried chicken, a joint of cold roast beef, homemade bread, watermelon, apples, tart lemonade, and luscious cherry tarts for dessert.
She picked up a piece of fried chicken and placed it on a fine porcelain plate, raising an eyebrow as a huge man approached, digging up puffs of dirt from his heels in company with the Chinaman from the orphanage. “I attended Miss Porter’s Finishing School before the war. It wasn’t merely painting and writing poetry. The founder was a reformer promoting the importance of education for women. The school’s curriculum included chemistry, physiology, botany, geology, astronomy, mathematics, and the importance of physical exercise. The school boasted a baseball team. I was the captain.”
“She’s brilliant,” said Fiona, and then her maid started clucking at the state of Elizabeth’s appearance. “Your gown needs to be repaired. And I see problems ahead with that battle-ax, Mrs. Astin, that nattering rumormonger of your mother’s inner circle. I can be certain she is cutting a path to your home.”
With a sigh, Elizabeth took a sip of her lemonade. She was having too much fun and would deal with the aftermath later. “As far as Mother is concerned, I will handle her.”
Fiona harrumphed. “More like she’ll announce your betrothal to the fool sugar baron.”
Elizabeth waved her hand palm up and presented Fiona. “As you see, Mr. Rourke, my maid expresses her opinions freely.”
“You don’t deserve that lout,” said Fiona, escaping into her Irish vernacular that was forbidden in the Spencer household. “For sure the lazy hole couldn’t peel an orange in his pocket.”
Zachary grinned. “I agree with you. Havemeyer doesn’t deserve her.”
Elizabeth giggled. “I doubt Mother will continue with Havemeyer. The man was discovered sprawled drunk in a pile of her prized orchids. To think a dreadful scandal could have ensued if the gardener hadn’t reported the issue, and then swept him through a back door into a carriage.”
Zachary rubbed his throat. “A pity a man cannot keep his balance.”
“Havemeyer’s imbalance was unfortunate, wasn’t it, Mr. Rourke?” Fiona crinkled her all-knowing eyes on the tall frontiersman. “All the servants agreed that the haughty windbag deserved his fate. The gardener was furious with the mess, but all the servants knew it was because Havemeyer drank the gardener’s whiskey stash. For myself, I thank you for protecting Miss Spencer and saving her from a dreadful marriage.”
“Enough about my mother’s wishes. I’m going to carve out my own path.”
Fiona rolled her eyes. “Sure you are, except your mother will have a strong opinion on whatever you do.”
Elizabeth licked her lips, embarrassed with the truth. Her mother controlled her life. “Did you know Fiona is an expert on marriage?”
Fiona fluttered the back of her hand to her forehead in a dramatic pose inherent in her Gaelic forbearers. “That’s right. I’ll be picking my own man. He’ll be handsome and rich and never argue. I don’t tolerate men especially those Irish blokes who fight or drink or find cause for for endless debates. I’ve had a lifetime of those Irish squanderers. I want a man who will cook and wash dishes. My man will look at me and say that no matter how I shined, he would see me as the glitter of a single star in a universe of constellations. That’s the man for me.”
“That’s a very special animal to acquire. Like finding a unicorn,” said Zachary.
The Chinaman and the enormous giant with bull-buffalo, broad-high shoulders joined them. Elizabeth took a step back to get the breadth of him.
He slapped Zachary on the back. “Looks to me like you swallowed a horned toad backward, Zachary. The lass has a great swing. Not every day my boyo gets hoodwinked. I’m Daniel O’Reilly, and you must be Miss Spencer,” he said in a thick Irish brogue mixed with a western accent. He squeezed Elizabeth’s hand in a bear hug of a hearty shake that forced her to step forward to regain her balance.
Fiona advanced between them, fire in her eyes. “You don’t greet my lady like that.”
Bemused, O’Reilly curled his thumbs beneath his suspenders. “I did nothing wrong. I was polite.” He muttered under his breath to Zachary, “She looks mean enough to fight a rattler and give the snake the first bite.”
Fiona glared at him. “You don’t think I have ears, you big lout?”
Elizabeth faced her maid before she could work herself into her famous Irish temper. “Fiona, we need to show–”
O’Reilly’s mouth was the very assertion of humor, uncurbed mischief, and jocular self-will. “And if she isn’t from the old sod, herself. And the prettiest thing I’ve seen east of the Mississippi.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. O’Reilly.” She turned her back on him.
