Courting Susannah by Linda Lael Miller Read Free Book Online Page A

the stove to fill it. There was corned beef hash in a skillet and baking powder biscuits in the warming oven. “Hullo, Mr. Fairgrieve,” she answered, pointedly omitting the expected “good morning.” It was, after all, nearly twelve-thirty.
    â€œI would like you to call me Aubrey,” he announced.
    She joined him at the table. “I would like you to call me Miss McKittrick,” she replied.
    He laughed. “What makes you so prickly?”
    â€œWhat makes you so bold?” she countered.
    He grinned.
    â€œYou want me to fetch you more tea, Miss McKittrick?” Maisie put in.
    â€œCall me Susannah,” she answered, and Aubrey laughed again. He had a wonderful laugh, low and masculine and yet somehow innocent. She could picture him as a mischievous boy, even though he was unquestionably a man.
    He stood and carried his plate, utensils, and cup to the iron sink, a gesture that intrigued Susannah. She had never once seen a man clear away after himself, but then, she hadn’t dined with many. Only Mrs. Butterfield’s two fussbudget sons, who had visited from Boston on rare occasions and expected to be waited upon. “I’d better get to the store,” he said. “If there’s anything you need,
Miss McKittrick,
make a list. And have a second helping of that hash. You’ve got all the substance of a sparrow, and you look pale enough to swoon.”
    Susannah, buoyantly cheerful only minutes before, took the remark to heart and was deflated. She had thought she looked, well, almost pretty. “A pramwould be nice,” she said. “If there isn’t one in the house.”
    Her injured feelings must have shown. “What did I say?” Aubrey asked, frowning.
    â€œSusannah looks right pretty this mornin’, if you ask me,” Maisie put in helpfully, laying Victoria to her shoulder and patting her little back.
    â€œI didn’t ask you,” Aubrey said. “Make that list,” he added for Susannah’s benefit. Then, after giving her one last look, half bafflement and half annoyance, he got up, put on his coat, and pulled a gold pocket watch from an inside breast pocket. Flipping open the case, he frowned again, and then he was gone, slamming out the back door into the cold, shifting fog of a snowy Puget Sound morning.
    â€œThere’s a pram up in the attic,” Maisie said into the echoing silence that followed his departure. “Mr. Fairgrieve’s brother Ethan gave it to the missus for a baby gift. When she died, the mister made me put it away, out of sight.”
    Susannah’s attention was caught. She remembered Ethan from Julia’s letters, though she hadn’t thought of him even once since her arrival. Over the last six months of her life, in fact, it had seemed to Susannah that Julia had had more to say about him than about her husband. “She liked Ethan very much.”
    â€œYou could say that,” Maisie allowed, and while the remark had a point to it, there was no malice in her words.
    Susannah backed off, mentally at least, unprepared to explore the subject of Mr. Fairgrieve’s younger brother any further. She already had a great deal to assimilate as it was, and she had not begun to align her thoughts into any sensible order, at least where the affairs of that household were concerned.
    â€œYou sure you won’t have more tea?” Maisie persisted.
    â€œThank you, no,” she said, struck once again by sorrow, and crossed the room to collect the baby, so that Maisie, who had worked hard all morning, might have a moment’s peace.
    She’d find that pram, she decided. When the weather warmed up a little, she and Victoria would go out and take some air.

Chapter 3
    T he store was full, as usual, when Aubrey reached it, but he didn’t pause to slap the shoulders of his roughhewn customers or to consult with the sales clerks as he normally would have done. His mind was elsewhere;