“Here are your apples,” said the proprietress, plunking them down on the table, while glaring at Allan. “Eat them while they’re hot. A person can depend on apples. Men? Not so much.”
Allan picked up his spoon with the hand that was not still holding Melody’s. “Some of us are not so bad,” he said. “And you said yourself that I was handsome. This apple smells wonderful, Mrs. Pratchett.”
Mrs. Pratchett snorted, dismissively. “Handsome is as handsome does, Mr. Allan. Many a woman has mistaken glitter for gold, and ended up deserted or worse.”
“But Mrs. Black is too smart to be tricked by fool’s gold, Mrs. Pratchett,” Allan pointed out. He smiled at the lady who was fast becoming essential to him. “If I am false, she will no doubt discover me, beat me to a pulp, and hang me out to dry.”
That startled a chuckle out of the proprietress, and Melody, too, was smiling. “You have that right, handsome,” said Mrs. Pratchett. “Perhaps you are not too bad after all.”
“I am sorry about that,” said Melody, when the woman had gone back to her cooking and her customers. “There are men who think widows and neglected wives must submit to their advances. Some tried to cozen us, some used force. If it had not been for Mrs. Pratchett and her friends, we could not have survived. She is still protective of me.”
Then I owe Mrs. Pratchett my grateful thanks.“I am glad of it. That you were subject to such persecution makes me want to punch someone.”
“I learned to defend myself,” said Melody. She shrugged. “Men are vulnerable, if they are on their own and a person knows where to hit. But I always prefer to talk my way out of trouble, if I can.”
Allan’s admiration for the lady kicked up another notch. And his heart was hopeful. She had not snatched back her hand, though she now carefully disentangled her fingers from his so she could pick up her spoon. Still, he had a chance. She liked him. She was attracted to him.
Now all he had to do was convince her to give up her entire life, her independence, and every asset she had been able to accumulate to marry him. And look what he had to offer her in return for such a sacrifice? A lonely man, permanently twisted by his experiences, with a tyrannical father and next to no personal wealth.
His heart sank again. She’d be a fool to take him on as a husband. And Melody Blackmore was no fool.
