“Tonitruous.”
“You say it your way, and I’ll say it mine!”
“Tonitruousmeans ‘explosive.’ ‘Thundering.’”
He saw an “I-dare-you-to-argue” expression in her eyes and quieted immediately.
Theodosia walked to the bureau, and battling the temptation to smile at Roman’s agitation—which she knew was somehow related to his mended shirt-sleeve—she pinned her ruby brooch to the collar of her gown and slipped her ruffled sunbonnet over her head. “Suppose you tell me what people do at fairs. Besides eat food prepared by the best cooks in the world, that is.”
He gaped at her. “You’ve never been to a fair?”
“No.”
“They don’t have fairs in Boston?”
She slid her hands into her gloves. “I’m certain they do, but I—”
“You were always too busy studying something to go.” Reminded anew of the many things she’d missed out on, Roman took her hand and led her into the corridor. “You have fun at a fair, Miss Worth.”
“But what form of fun, Mr. Montana?”
He smiled when he thought about what her idea of fun was. A freshly dug plant root sent the woman into rapture.
But he was going to change all that. Today he would begin to show her a world she’d never known. A world where rain had a taste and stars were made for wishing.
It was the very least he could do for the only woman on earth who had ever taken the time to mend his clothes.
After they enjoyeda dinnerof flaky meat pastries, fresh crisp salad, and cold lemonade, Roman led Theodosia through the crowd of people gathered in the meadow. “There now, look at that,” he said, pointing to a group of children who were dancing around a large tub filled with water and apples. “That’s what you call fun.”
The music of fiddles, guitars, songs, and laughter floating all around her, she watched the children take turns bobbing for the apples and clapped when one little girl succeeded in sinking her teeth into one of the floating fruits. “You did that as a child, Mr. Montana?”
“Sure did.”
She felt him give her hand a squeeze and went mushy inside. Roman was definitely the most handsome man at the fair. No woman there could take her eyes off him, and several had been dragged away by their jealous husbands or irate fathers. Theodosia, for the first time, understood the pride a lady felt when her escort was the cause of such female interest.
She squeezed his hand back. “And how many turns did it take you before you got your apple?”
Her question catapulted him into the past. He hadn’t had to take turns bobbing for apples because he always played the game alone. “I got my apple on the first try.”
Before she could question him further, he led her toward a row of booths manned by the townswomen and urged her to examine the beautiful workmanship of the quilts, lacy tablecloths, and embroidered pillows and to sample the delicious preserves, jellies, and candies. He then escorted her to the livestock show, where she saw proud farmers exhibiting their pampered swine. She barely had time to get out of the way when one irritated hog escaped his pen, knocked over a dessert booth, and devoured two cakes before anyone could stop him.
In addition to the locals, a small traveling carnival had joined the merrymaking. A professional juggler and magician astounded one and all, as did the group of dancing monkeys. Two more carnival men had set up games of chance, which were of great interest to the townspeople because of the dazzling array of prizes and cash sums to be won.
“Well, Miss Worth?” Roman said, his fingers caressing hers as he held her hand. “What do you think about the fair?”
Her concentration centered on one of the games a carnival man was running, she didn’t reply.
“Miss Worth?”
“Mr. Montana,” she said, pointing to the carnival game and the man who operated it, “that number game over there is—”
“Yeah, we’ll play it after we get some dessert.”
“But—”
He laid a finger over her lips. “We’ll play the game in a minute. Now, relax and—”
“How can you expect me to embrace ataraxia when that flagitious man is committing such a blatant act of fubbery by—”
