Page 30 of An Uncertain Road

The irony of uttering Jensen’s favorite word to describe her driving was not lost on Flora, but she was no longer in any mood to laugh about it. Jensen helped the couple get situated in the Decauville while Flora started it up. They took a slow turn around the hotel grounds, then returned to their parking spot where Jensen waited.

Before the couple had even finished thanking her for the ride, a group of older men approached, one addressing Jensen with boisterous volume. “Did I see what I think I saw? You let your wife drive this contraption?”

Mr. Grady had at least tried to be decent while voicing his doubts about a female driving a car. This man didn’t even look at Flora, as if she wasn’t worth being acknowledged.

Jensen’s jaw tightened as the crowd snickered, and he shot a sideways glance at Flora before responding for her. “Mrs. Montfort owns this car, and while she’s not my wife, she is an excellent driver. Today her skill gained five spots for our team in the tour.”

“Ha!” The man’s exclamation—louder still than his first comments—drew the attention of everyone in the parking area. “She’s a pretty little thing. Suppose I climb on in here and show her how an automobile should be driven.”

Jensen stepped between the man and Flora’s car, but that only intensified the crowd’s interest. Flora’s face burned with all those eyes trained on her while she could do nothing about this buffoon’s scoffing.

It seemed as if everyone in attendance held their breath while Jensen stared down the local men, silently daring them to approach the car. Flora noticed out of the corner of her eye that several of the other drivers and mechanics were working their way over to stand by Jensen, and her heart swelled. Were they there to defend her too?

But as the group of locals backed down, Flora had to admit that the other teams most likely intended to stand up for Jensen, not her. He was one of them. Despite her driving skill, she would always be an outsider in this man’s sport. She’d felt it too many times after races with Henri when the men would crowd around to congratulate those who did well and offer good-natured teasing to those who didn’t. Flora had always been on the outskirts of those gatherings, and Henri would laugh in her face and wave her off if she tried to join.

With that memory fresh in her mind, Flora watched the group of men back away. From a distance, she examined Jensen as he glanced around. When his gaze found hers, there was not one hint of the derision she’d expected to find. No anger or laughter at her expense. Rather, admiration.

He looked as he had when they’d been in A Trip to the Moon at Coney Island, his lips inches from hers, his expression heated.

Her heart stirred, and her breath caught in her chest. After the way her faults had been exposed by those men, could he actually be feeling appreciation instead of disdain?

She stopped in her tracks. Anger she could face. That would have been Clement’s response if her presence caused him public embarrassment. Even him joining in the mocking she’d expected or tearing her down in front of the onlookers. But a look of desire...that was beyond her ability to understand.

Jensen started walking, meeting her where she stood blocked from view of the spectators by one of the massive rocks that dotted the lawn. For the longest moment, he stared, his eyes roaming her face. His voice was rough when he finally spoke. “Are you all right, Flora? That was unpleasant, I know.”

The kindness in his words almost broke the tenuous grip she held over her emotions. The last few days had been taxing in too many ways, and tears threatened. Of all things, she couldn’t allow herself to cry in front of these men. They would never see her as an equal if she did.

Flora turned and started a brisk walk toward the hotel. A small part of her hoped Jensen might follow, but she didn’t dare ask him to or even turn back to see if he did. To her relief, she didn’t make it far before his arm slid around her shoulders, the weight comforting and warm. She let herself lean into him a little, enough to show she didn’t mind the contact. But she kept moving, aiming for a deserted stretch of the wide veranda that ran around the majority of the hotel.

When they finally reached a more private spot, Flora dropped into a wicker chair, regretting the loss of Jensen’s arm around her immediately. But he took hold of another chair and dragged it around to face hers, close enough that their knees pressed together when he sat down.

He leaned forward, getting even closer. “Please tell me why you’re about to cry. That scene was unfortunate, but I’ve seen you stand up to worse without batting an eye.”

Letting herself examine his expression again, Flora saw more concern there than anything. Not a hint of scorn over her emotional display. Which made it all the harder to keep herself under control. “You’re not embarrassed by having to defend me? Or angry? Or ready to hold it over me as proof that I’ll never make my way without you?”

Jensen’s head jerked back. “Of course not. Those men are backward and ignorant. Your grace and composure in the face of their rant put us all to shame. Believe me, I was ready to take a fist to them if it meant they would shut their mouths. You didn’t deserve one word they said. And didn’t you see the other drivers and mechanics gather around to stand with us?”

She’d been wrong—not only about this situation, but the entire time she’d known Jensen. All along, she’d been expecting him to respond as Clement or Henri would have. She’d closed her mind to his helpful efforts lest they be followed by belittling comments or controlling actions. She tossed aside Jensen’s advice and expertise because she was living as if she were still stuck with the men who’d run her life before.

Leaning toward him, Flora searched his face, finding only sincere caring written there. “I’m sorry, Jensen. I’ve been treating you as if you’ve done something wrong when it was…others who did. You don’t deserve to be treated the way you have been.”

Too late, Flora realized her words had brought more questions to his mind than she’d intended. She could see them forming but couldn’t think of a way to distract him before he asked one. “Who hurt you, Flora? Who did something wrong toward you?”

The tears were burning behind her eyes again. Flora tried to blink them away, willing herself not to cry over Clement. She didn’t want to discuss him, but maybe giving Jensen a glimpse into her childhood would help him see she hadn’t meant to dismiss him so often. “My brother.”

When his eyes widened, she rushed to correct his assumption. “Oh, not Owen. He’s always been a darling. We had an older brother, Clement. Our father died when Owen and I were young, but Clement was already an adult, so he took over the household. We had old family money, so he only had to use it wisely and our family would have been secure for a long time.” Flora couldn’t hold back a sniffle as the tears still threatened to fall.

Jensen reached out and slid his rough, warm hand over hers. Her mind stuttered to a stop as the feeling of his skin on hers took over her senses. “Let me guess. He didn’t manage to do that simple task.”

“No. He took to frequent gambling. He ruined quite a few young women for his pleasure, as well. Our family reputation was in tatters and our assets were almost depleted by the time our mother died.” Flora struggled to find the words to continue. She hadn’t revealed the worst of it yet.

But Jensen’s kind voice soothed her humiliation. “That must have felt so hopeless.”

Meeting his gaze again, Flora could see understanding written there. “I nearly forgot you also lost your parents at a young age.”

“Yes, younger than you must have been. I was fortunate that the Harrison family was so kind to me.”

Flora took an odd comfort in the connection of their similar losses.