He tried not to cringe at his words as she nodded. Could he sound more awkward? It was as if he expected her to vanish the moment his back was turned. Like Anna. Max shook his head at the thought of his daughter. Perhaps it was best that she wasn’t here. Arriving in a new place and meeting him for the first time had to be overwhelming enough for Miss Elliott. He could at least let her get her bearings before introducing her to a little girl who wanted nothing at all to do with her.
He signaled a porter and paid the man to arrange to have Miss Elliott’s trunk delivered to the house he rented. Then he returned to Miss Elliott and offered her an arm.
“Do you live far from here?” she asked as they crossed the platform.
“Not at all. It’s just off the main road here, a couple of blocks to the south.” He nodded in the general direction as he tried not to think about the way her fingers rested gently on the sleeve of his jacket.
They made light conversation as they walked. He asked her about her journey, and she told him of the interesting sights she’d seen along the way. Her voice was pleasant, and the way she described the changing scenery and the various characters who had boarded the train reminded Max of his own journeywest twelve years prior. He’d been so young then, eager and ready to take advantage of every opportunity thrown his way.
“This is my place.” He paused outside the door, and for the first time, all he could see in the house was its flaws. He had a moment of panic as he glanced at Miss Elliott. While she hadn’t gone into detail in her letters about her family’s standing, it was evident from her clothing and the carpetbag he carried that she didn’t come from poverty. This house had to be much more humble than where she was used to living.
She turned to him with a broad smile. “It’s so perfectly cozy. May I see inside?”
Heartened, Max opened the door and ushered her in. Miss Elliott dropped his arm and began to wander the small front room.
“The kitchen is through that door. I apologize for the size. I know it’s small.” Max set the carpetbag down and shoved his hands into his trousers’ pockets as Miss Elliott peered through the door into the kitchen.
“Upstairs is where I sleep.” He gestured at the steep set of stairs that led to the attic-like bedroom.
“And it appears your daughter sleeps there?” Miss Elliott pointed to the narrow bed in the corner of the parlor. It was unmade, as usual, and a plate with crumbs from Anna’s breakfast sat on the floor next to it.
“Yes.” Max quickly swept across the room to retrieve the plate.
Miss Elliott watched him, but thankfully said nothing about it.
A knock came at the door as Max was returning the plate to the kitchen. “That must be your trunk.”
The man delivering the trunk generously offered to carry it upstairs, and Max slipped him a few more coins for the courtesy.After he left, Miss Elliott stood near the stairs, looking somewhat uncomfortable as she glanced up toward the bedroom.
Max half wanted to run out the door. It was an odd feeling, one he’d only experienced when men had grown weary of losing card games to him. But just like he’d needed to then, he forced himself to remain in place. “I imagine you’d like to unpack and refresh yourself.”
Miss Elliott smiled at him again, any trepidation he thought he’d seen vanished from her expression. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”
“I . . .” He trailed off, trying to find the least awkward way of telling her they had an appointment at the church to be married at two o’clock. But there was no beating around it. She could hardly stay here if theydidn’ttake themselves to the church at the appointed time. “The minister offered to meet us at two o’clock. If that’s all right with you, of course,” he said in a rush.
She brightened at his words. “Of course. I’ll be ready.”
“Yes. Good. That’s fine, then.” He sounded like an utter fool. “I’ll just . . . I’ll retrieve my daughter and return soon.”
And then he ran out the door, satisfying the instinct to put some distance between himself and Miss Elliott.
Chapter Three
“YOU LOOK PERFECTLYlovely, dear.” Mrs. Canton, the minister’s wife, laid her hands on Delia’s shoulders.
