Brig straightened. “You’re wrong there. I’m taking you and your project very seriously.” He pointed to the model. “It’s plainly evident that you’ve given a lot of thought to the planning of this home.”
“Father Patrick and I worked closely with the architect.”
“You seem to know the sort of place children need to grow comfortably.”
She warmed to the compliment but admitted, “The Father’s influence more than mine, although I spend as much time as I can at St. Andrew’s, doing what I’m able. They’re wonderful children and they deserve much better than they’re receiving from the community now. In a city where quakes and fire are part of life, where children can be orphaned in the blink of an eye, it only makes sense to provide for—” She stopped and concentrated on smoothing the curled edges of the blueprints. “I’m sorry. I tend to go on about my causes, this one in particular. Mother says it’s my worst fault.”
“If it’s your worst fault, then you’re a paragon among women. There are worse things than feeling passionate.”
Brig’s softly spoken words washed over Lydia and she blushed at his phrasing. Had he meant to be provocative? She stole a glance at him, decided his comment had been innocent, and felt a small pang of regret. His head was bent over the model. He was studying the area at the rear of the orphanage set aside for play. How different it must have been for him, she thought. He’d shared little about the London workhouse during their dance, and Lydia did not press, but she knew enough about such things to fill in the pauses in his story.
Lydia pointed to the expanse of land adjoining the orphanage property. “We’d like to be able to buy this as well. The goal is to make the orphanage as self-sufficient as possible by raising our own beef and poultry. The garden would not only support the needs of the children but also allow us to sell some of the crop in the city. I think most children will find a measure of satisfaction in farming; a few may even enjoy it. The outdoors will be so much better for them than tedious piecework, and they tend to love being around animals. We’ll be able to have pets and—” Smiling guiltily, she shook her head. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”
“I’m not complaining,” Brig said, his expression frank.
“You’re too kind,” Lydia said, an impish grin touching her lips as she added, “But I’ll wager you’ll think twice before saving another woman in a Frisco shaker. Look where it’s got you.”
Brig laughed, and Lydia knew she liked the sound of it.
“Darling...” Madeline said as she and Nathan entered the circle of light laughter. “You can’t monopolize Mr. Moore. You have other guests.”
The light that had been building at the back of Lydia’s cobalt-blue eyes was shuttered now. “Yes, of course,” she said quietly. For the first time she noticed the man on her mother’s arm. Surprise paralyzed her voice and her feet.
Madeline made the introductions all the way around, and Lydia realized she must have responded in some appropriate fashion. At least no one was looking at her as if she’d grown a third eye. “Let me allow Mr. Moore the opportunity to meet some of our friends,” Madeline was saying, “while you show Mr. Hunter your plans.” She smoothly disengaged herself from Nathan and gave Brig no choice but to accompany her on a tour of the room.
When she and Nathan were alone, Lydia turned her back on her guests and betrayed her nervousness by speaking quickly. “How did you find me and what do you want?”
Nathan’s predator eyes narrowed slightly and he studied Lydia a moment before answering. She was clearly agitated by his presence, a factor he hadn’t counted on. While he hadn’t expected gratitude, as Brig had when he’d devised the scheme, neither had Nathan anticipated his earlier rescue would result in such an annoyed greeting. “This may come as something of a surprise, Miss Chadwick, but I didn’tfindyou and I don’t want anything.”
Lydia pursed her mouth to one side in plain disbelief. With an air of impatience, she crossed her arms in front of her.
“Your posture speaks for itself,” he said tightly. “Excuse me, I’ll find your father.” Nathan turned on his heel and had taken three steps when he heard Lydia call his name. He kept on walking.
Frustrated by his actions and embarrassed by her own poor manners, Lydia hurried after her guest. Trying not to be obvious, she slipped her arm through his and pulled him up a little.
Nathan halted and turned cold eyes on her. “I’m not a horse to be reined in, Miss Chadwick.”
Lydia had the grace to look away and stammer an apology. “But you can’t blame me for being startled,” she added, defending herself.
“I don’t blame you for being startled. Only for being rude.”
At the far end of the ballroom Madeline and Brig were passing in front of the orchestra. Madeline’s head was thrown back, a bright smile on her face as she laughed with evident enjoyment at something her partner said. With a coy tilt of her head and a sideways look, Lydia said, “A dance might improve my disposition.”
Nathan had seen the direction of her gaze before it came to rest on him and understood her intent. “Don’t flirt. It’s not becoming.”
Lydia blinked widely, not certain she had heard him correctly. And he calledherrude! She considered telling him so, but then he was pulling her into his arms and spinning her across the floor.
Chapter 2
He was not an accomplished dancer. He lacked the fluid grace and practiced rhythm that had made Lydia so comfortable in Brig’s arms. She followed his fits and starts as best she could, but more than once she found herself trouncing his toes. Each time she apologized for her clumsiness. He said nothing. Lydia thought she heard him counting out the three-quarter time under his breath.
Against her better judgment she ventured a question. “How do you know my father?”
There was a pause several beats long before Nathan answered, confirming Lydia’s suspicions. “What?”
“You said you were going to find my father. How do you know him?”
“I met him a few weeks ago at the Silver Lady.”
