A quick look at the clock in the corner told her she had more than an hour before then.
Dennis nodded over his coffee cup. “Yes, Shane, what’s wrong with him?”
Prim hardly heard them. Time enough to change her dress perhaps, or have her maid fix her hair differently…? Snatching up her teacup, she scolded herself for such a ridiculous thought.
“He has an atrocious reputation with the ladies,” Shane argued.
“Or an enviable one,” Dennis countered with a grin. “Depending on how you look at it.”
“Which would you consider it when applying it to our sister?” Shane asked with a raised brow. When silence fell, he nodded arrogantly and turned to Prim. “There, you see?”
“Whether Mr. MacKintosh wants to court me…or otherwise even,” she told them, her face on fire, “it’s none of your business. Any of yours.”
Despite that audacious claim, Prim knew she wasn’t quite ready for James to call for her at her own front door. She’d send him a reply in the affirmative, but ask to meet in the park itself.
A bit clandestine, maybe, but easier all around if her brothers were to linger here rather than going home. Besides, she didn’t yet know if James wanted to meet because he agreed to aid her in her plot or planned on letting her down gently.
Hiding the letter in the folds of her skirt, Prim pushed back her chair and stood. “If you’re all done here, I promised the children I would take them to the park for some sledding.”
“Do you want some help with them?” Jeremy asked.
Prim sent him a scathing glare. “Do you think you boys are the only ones who can act like mother hens?”
CHAPTER 10
It is never too late to be what you might have been.
~George Eliot
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 5thAvenue 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.
