Her eyes widened before she took hold of his hand, all but dragged him over to a large boulder, and pulled him down next to her. “I want to hear all the details of what happened with this lady.”
“You have never once struck me as someone who’d be interested in what verges on gossip.”
“Telling me about a lady from your past is hardly gossip. It’s merely one of the stories of your life, and I don’t know anything about your youth.” She smiled. “I find myself curious about that now.”
“I’m not really comfortable disclosing details about that particular incident.”
“That’s too bad because I’ve now disclosed two of my best-kept secrets—that I’m afraid and that I’m a romantic. It’s your turn now.”
“Why does it need to be my turn?”
“Because I’m still distressed over the idea I’m going to have to return to Montana. Given that I’ve already dissolved into sobs once already—although allow me to say that you did rise to that occasion magnificently and may have a somewhat sensitive nature buried deep down in your soul—I’m sure you want to distract me from my distress to avoid any additional weeping episodes on my part.” She smiled. “Besides, you’ve now witnessed both meandmy mother descend into a sobbing state, and you surely have met your quota for dealing with emotional women in any given day.”
“You don’t appear as if you’re going to return to sobbing anytime soon.”
“Women are complicated, so you shouldn’t assume I’m incapable of sobbing again, even if I don’t look sad.”
“You’re looking almost cheerful.”
“That’s because you’re about to tell me a story about a lady from your past. I have a feeling it’s going to be quite the story if you read Jane Austen books to impress her.”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“You’re the one who mentioned that I’m tenacious, so no, I’m not.”
“You certainly are tenacious, so I’ll tell you my story. But a word of warning—if you’re expecting a love story, you’re going tobe sadly disappointed.” He drew in a deep breath. “It all started with Mitzi Jarvis.”
Eunice’s nose wrinkled. “Is her name really Mitzi?”
“It’s Melinda, but her name doesn’t have anything to do with my story.”
“Of course it does. With a name like Mitzi, I’m already of the belief that she was a charming young lady who was amusing and probably a bit flirtatious.”
“You got all that out of a name?”
“I read romance novels whenever possible. The names chosen for heroines always disclose a lot about the characters, and because Melinda evidently decided she wanted to be addressed as Mitzi, it speaks volumes about her character.”
“Forgive me, but your theory about names is completely flawed. You chose Eunice as your new name, but Eunice is hardly a name one associates with a romantic.”
“Unless I’ve decided to change the impression that springs to mind when people think of a Eunice.”
“The only impression I fear you’ve changed, what with the way you’ve been wearing widow’s weeds ever since you assumed the name, is that people now must surely believe Eunice is an intimidating name that can be associated with a rather formidable and spooky woman.”
“A fair point, but if I decide to abandon my widow’s weeds and adopt a first state of fashion on a regular basis, I’m sure my theory will turn sound and people will begin to view the name Eunice more favorably. But we’re not discussing me at the moment, we’re discussing you. So, returning to Mitzi. Was she from society?”
“She was, and still is for that matter—a leader in the making, to be exact. When I first became acquainted with her, though, she’d not yet made her debut. We met at a dancing class, and I was a few years older than she was. Being a second son, I was expected to attend such events because, well, that’s what second sons are expected to do. Mitzi was the star pupil that year, and I was often partnered with her, which caused me to develop affections, if youwill, toward her. After I discovered she was partial to Jane Austen novels, I read Jane’s entire collection so I’d be well-versed while discussing those books with Mitzi.”
Eunice’s lips curved. “It sounds to me as if you were quite the romantic in your youth.”
“I was an idiot in my youth,” Arthur countered. “In hindsight, all of that time reading Jane Austen to impress Mitzi could have been better spent doing something more constructive.”
“I now find myself sitting on the edge of my boulder to hear what happened.”
“If you’re hoping for that fairy-tale ending, as I already warned you, you’re certain to be disappointed.”
“Since you weren’t accompanied by a Mitzi when you traveled to Montana seven years ago, nor did you ever bring her into any of the conversations we shared, I’m not expecting the fairy tale in this particular case.”
“You would be right about that because, you see, I was attending Harvard when Mitzi made her debut, and I missed that debut because of exams. Nevertheless, I was convinced she returned my affections, so during winter recess, I repaired to the city to attend one of the most anticipated balls of the Season—Mrs. Astor’s ball. I’d decided that was going to be the perfect backdrop to officially speak with Mitzi about courting her and decided to speak with her first before I spoke formally with her father.”
