did...not.” His mind fogged. His hat remained in his hands and he replaced it before the urge to muss his hair became too strong.
“I imagine the post can be rather slow from England to Ohio.”
“Yes.” Words failed him. He couldn’t tear his eyes from her face. His mind skipped like a phonograph needle, playing the same thoughts over and over. Some sort of mistake. An enormous mistake. Thankfully Frederick returned and slapped him on the back. The jolt broke his trance.
“The trunk’s being loaded. Are you two ready?”
James stared at his friend. “Ready for what?”
Frederick smirked. “Didn’t you say you’d made reservations at Donahue’s?”
“Yes, yes.” He would follow his original plans for now. In a few hours he’d be at home and more than a few feet away from this woman and he could think clearly again. For now he struggled to keep his voice steady as Ann looked up at him through impossibly dark lashes. “I thought we could get some dinner in town before going back to my farm.”
“That sounds lovely.”
James offered her his arm, and Ann placed her hand on the sleeve of his jacket. He swore the heat radiated through two layers of material and scorched his skin.
Frederick cleared his throat. “It was very nice to meet you, Ann. Very nice. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The brim of her hat obscured her face, but he could hear the smile in her voice. Ann’s lilting accent sent a shiver through him. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, as well, Mr. Renner.”
“Frederick. Call me Frederick.”
“A pleasure, Frederick.”
Frederick winked at him and hurried away as fast as his short legs and ample frame would allow. He disappeared around a corner before James could think of a reason to convince his friend to stay.
Donahue’s stood four blocks from the station, but the journey felt like miles. Ann asked polite questions about each building they passed, and James tried his best to keep his eyes directly forward as he answered. The smallest glance at her face disoriented him, and he couldn’t help but notice how her beauty’s effects extended to passersby. He caught smiles of admiration, eyes slit with jealousy and two men received pointed elbows from their female companions for the mistake of looking too long. Several men outside the tobacco shop sent streams of juice down their shirts in distraction. Every eye in New Haven seemed to be fixed on Ann, save for his. Please, Lord, he prayed during the brief moments of silence. Grant me wisdom.
James couldn’t taste a bite of his two-dollar steak. He dutifully chewed the meat and swallowed, but his brain barely registered the meal. How many times had he walked past Donahue’s Hotel and Fine Dining and wondered when he might have an occasion to eat there? Now inside, he couldn’t be bothered to take in the grandeur of his surroundings or the extravagance of the meal. It all paled next to the beauty of the girl seated across from him.
Even as new rivers of perspiration trickled down his back and his hands trembled when he reached for the salt shaker, she showed no signs of being nervous. No one would guess she’d been traveling for days, let alone recently met the person she thought to be her future husband. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes were bright and her golden hair freshly styled. If only she knew what James had to say. His throat caught at the thought of telling her.
“I hope your steak is as delicious as mine,” she murmured.
Her lilting voice brought his attention to the piece of steak on his fork. How long had he been holding it? James took a bite. It sat as coarse and flavorless as week-old mutton in his dry mouth. “Yes, delicious.”
“Your friend Frederick seemed very nice.”
“Yes, nice.”
“Have you two been friends long?”
“Fairly long.”
Ann pressed her pink lips together and took a long draft of water from her cut-crystal glass. He couldn’t keep her at arm’s length for the entirety of the meal without upsetting her, let alone for the weeks or even months it would take to sort all this out. Yet he knew he couldn’t tell her in the middle of Donahue’s. She was a foreigner in a new land and none of this was her fault. He must be tactful.
“Frederick and I have been friends since we were kids,” he offered.
Her smile returned. “And he lives near you?”
“He lives here in town.”
“Shall we be seeing him in town tomorrow, or is he visiting your home?”
“I’m sorry?”
She cocked her head to one side. “He said he would see us tomorrow.”
Creamed spinach caught in his throat and his eyes watered. He took several gulps of water to keep from choking. “He did, didn’t he?” he croaked.
How could he explain this one? He would have to tell her the truth. At least part of it. “The agency said some couples marry almost immediately,” he blurted.
For the first time Ann’s calm demeanor broke. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes widened. Her hand trembled as she reached for her water glass. “Yes, Mrs. Turner said some choose to marry rather quickly.”
“So I’d made an appointment with Judge Vollrath at the courthouse for tomorrow. I’d planned for Frederick to meet us there and act as a witness.”
Ann bobbled her water glass but righted it before any liquid spilled. “You did?”
“But I’ve decided to cancel,” he added quickly. “It seems hasty.” Why hadn’t he started by saying that? Something about Ann Cromwell made it hard for him to put his thoughts in the proper order. He chastised himself as the red in her cheeks faded, returning them to their natural rosy hue.
“Mrs. Turner said many couples like to get to know one another before they marry. Assuming, of course, there is no—” she paused and her cheeks flushed again “—impropriety.”
Something about her embarrassment made James’s heart leap in his chest. It took everything he had not to reach across the table and take her hand in reassurance.
“I’m afraid I can’t afford to put you up anywhere, but my Uncle Mac lives with me. Never leaves the house, in fact. Would you object to him serving as our chaperone?”
She shook her head. “That sounds quite acceptable. I don’t imagine Mrs. Turner would object.”
James speared an impossibly thin potato with his fork and pushed it around the gold-rimmed plate. His next questions required delicacy. He knew nothing of Mrs. Turner and the Transatlantic Agency outside a brief correspondence and their ad in the New Haven Gazette. Fine English Girls Seeking Home and Hearth in America.
“I completed a profile for Mrs. Turner. Did you do the same?” He tried to sound casual.
“We all did. She also conducted extensive interviews before she matched us.”
James
