Kathleen Y'Barbo (39 page)

“Mother.”

She patted her son’s arm. “Kyle has an eclectic set of friends, you know. Other than dear Lucas. He is such a darling boy.”

“You always did love Lucas McMinn more than me,” he complained with a wink back at Millie. “And you use ‘eclectic’ to describe anyone who does not attend the opera on a regular basis. Now, please, let’s go inside. I’m sure Miss Cope is exhausted after her trip. Might we spare her some of the family tales at least until she has had time to unpack?”

“Unpack?” His mother stalled at the door and cast a horrified look at Kyle. “You cannot have her here. I will not allow it.”

He gave Millie an I-told-you-so look. “I appreciate the offer on her behalf, but Miss Cope and I will be working together on an assignment of great importance. She must have access to the workshop at all hours. Would you have her walking the streets at odd times of the night?”

“Oh.” Mrs. Russell pursed beautifully painted lips. “And yet how can she possibly stay under this roof with you?”

“I have seven bedchambers, not counting the attic—an area of her Memphis home she was once quite fond of, I might add. I’m certain we can figure out something appropriate.”

The reminder of her destroyed sanctuary prickled, but watching mother and son locked in battle provided entertainment enough to distract Millie.

“But the scandal, Kyle—”

“Mother, this is New Orleans. If one is not in the middle of a scandal, then that is a scandal itself.”

The conundrum must have given her cause to stop and consider, for she quickly fell silent. “I do see your point,” she said softly, “and yet we are good people, Kyle. Do take care to remember that, would you?”

He gave his mother a swift kiss on the cheek, an action that caused Millie to recall a similar kiss she had given him. A kiss they agreed would be most inadvisable to repeat.

“I was raised to be a good man, Mother, and I have you and Papa to thank for that. What if I were to give a dinner in honor of Millie and invite the pastor?”

“Really, that is not necessary,” Millie attempted to interject.

“Would that be blessing enough for you to cease your worrying about my guest and leave us to our work?” Kyle asked, apparently oblivious to Millie’s protest.

Mrs. Russell laughed then, and she gave his arm a playful pat. “You are incorrigible, but I adore you. And rest assured, dear. The pastor will be invited for dinner, and you shall regret teasing me.”

“As today is Monday, I wish you luck in reaching him. You know he claims his day of rest for at least the first three days of the week.”

She returned her attention back to Millie. “Impertinent, that one, but he gets it from his father. Shall we get you settled, my dear?”

“Yes, please.”

“And you may stay downstairs, son,” Mrs. Russell said firmly.

Kyle’s amusement was hardly hidden as he offered a sarcastic, “Yes, ma’am. Though at some point I warn you I will very likely have need of my bed. Shall I just stretch out on the carpet here by the door? Or perhaps I should take my pillow and blanket and move out onto the porch. But then the neighbors might think I have passed out drunk. Where does that fall on the scandal scale?”

“This is why I like Lucas better,” Mrs. Russell said with a twinkle in her eye. “He doesn’t give me any sass.”

“He is worse, and you know it,” Kyle called as his mother led the way up the curved staircase.

After a mild debate between Mrs. Russell and the houseman on which room would be Millie’s, she was ushered into a beautifully appointed suite hung with crimson curtains sprigged with gold and overlooking the lush back gardens.

It was, she noted, on the opposite side of the home from the rooms Kyle claimed for his own. This fact was made crystal clear when Mrs. Russell stated it three times between the lovely downstairs foyer and the far reaches of the second level.

“You seem quite nice,” Mrs. Russell said after the houseman had left Millie’s trunks and departed. “I believe we shall get along swimmingly.”

“I hope so.”

The older woman’s eyes narrowed. “Unless you hurt my son. Then you will wish you had not darkened his doorstep. Do you understand, Miss Cope?”

Oh, my.
“Yes, Mrs. Russell, I do,” was the response she settled for. “And I thank you for loving your son enough to be protective of him. He is a good man and has been nothing but respectful to me.”

Was that a smile? “Then you would not mind if I moved into the suite next to you for the duration of your stay?”

“Not at all,” Millie said brightly. “In fact, I would welcome the female company. My mother passed away some years ago, and I miss conversations she and I had.”

If Mrs. Russell was surprised at the statement, she did not show it. “I’ll send a girl up to help you dress for dinner after you have had time to rest. She is not a lady’s maid but she will do.”

“I would be most grateful.”

“You are telling me the truth, aren’t you?” she said as she toyed with the bracelets on her wrist.

“That is how my mother raised me, Mrs. Russell, and so yes, I am.” Millie knew a test when she heard one. If only she knew whether she was anywhere close to passing it.

“You and I shall get along just fine.”

Millie finally exhaled when the door shut with Mrs. Russell on the other side of it. She exchanged her traveling clothes for a more appropriate dress of sprigged navy with linen pocket bows, this time with the help of a sweet young maid named Eliza who also dressed her hair.

“It’s lovely. Thank you,” Millie said when the maid had finished. She set aside the silver mirror and found Eliza watching her intently. “Is there something else?”

“Actually, there is. We were all wondering what you said to the missus.”

“I don’t understand. Is she upset with me?”

“Oh, no, ma’am.” The maid reached to adjust a curl that had gone awry and then stood back to nod before returning her attention to Millie. “It is just that none of us have ever seen the mister’s mama be so...” She looked away as if searching for the word. “Well, so nice. There it is. She just is not very nice when it comes to the ladies. We all know she’s protecting Mr. Kyle, but goodness, the man is grown and well and able to—”

A knock was heard at the door and she went to open it. When she returned she had lost none of her exuberance.

“The mister apologizes for the earliness of the hour but wonders if you might join him downstairs for a tour of his workshop.”

“I would be delighted.” Millie rose and gave the mirror one last look before moving past the maid toward the door. A footman met her in the hall and led her downstairs.

She found Kyle waiting for her in an elegant circular library paneled in rosewood with bookshelves spanning the space from floor to ceiling. Overhead, a leaded glass panel with electric light illumination behind it glowed in rich colors of purple, gold, and emerald green. Here and there small baubles of gold or silver were tucked into the shelves. As she neared she noticed they were miniatures.

“A hobby of my grandfather’s. When he was not making money hand over fist selling land to the Americans, he fancied himself a silversmith of some talent.”

Millie turned at the sound and smiled. Kyle rose from behind an ornate but masculine desk, its top neatly set with stacks of papers and file folders. “Hello again.”

“Oh, Kyle,” she said on an exhale of breath. “This room, these books, and...oh, look at the paintings.” She turned to find him watching her. “It’s breathtaking.”

“Much the way I felt when I saw your attic room. There is something about books one has not read that raises the curiosity level, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yes. I do.”

Moving toward the nearest bookshelf, she traced the title of an oversized leather volume with her index finger. By degrees, Millie became aware of her host standing behind her.

He leaned in, his arm brushing hers as he reached over her head to retrieve a slender volume. “Here,” he said as he placed it in her hands. “A welcome gift from me to you.”

“
Faust
,” she said gently.

“In the original German.”

She opened the flyleaf and then turned to the first page. The familiar words served to remind her of the book that she had lost to the flames. Her fingers followed the words across the page as her vision swam with tears.

“Look here,” Kyle said as he removed the book from her hands to set it aside. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“No, it’s just that...” She blinked back her tears and then mustered a smile. “I will enjoy reading it while I am here, but I cannot possibly claim it for my own.”

“We shall see about that.” He nudged her toward the door. “Now will you indulge me? While I like this library very much, there is another room I am even more proud of.”

“Your workshop?”

Rather than take the stairs, he pressed his palm against a carved wooden panel and then stepped back as if to wait. To Millie’s astonishment, the panel slipped away to reveal an opening he walked right into.

When she did not immediately follow, he stuck his head out. “Are you coming?”

“Yes, of course.” She walked forward and then found herself in a metal elevator alongside her host. As the doors closed, she began to wonder what she had gotten into.

“Worried?” he asked when the lights dimmed.

“A little.”

He reached into his coat and lit the pocket lantern. “I am used to the low light in this area, but it has been so long since anyone accompanied me to my workshop that I confess I did not consider that the darkness might be disconcerting to you the first time.”

“Thank you.”

And then the floor began to move under her feet.

Twenty-Two

T
he sensation was somewhat like an elevator and yet the feeling was as if they were moving much slower. Very much like climbing stairs without moving her feet.

Kyle reached to grasp Millie’s hand. “You are awfully quiet,” he said. “We’re almost there.”

She looked up at him and mustered a smile. Though she was disconcerted, Millie was also fascinated. What an interesting way to access a workshop. And then the feeling of movement ceased.

“Just a moment and the door will open.” He released her hand. “But first I must enter the code.”

He lifted the lid on a small box to reveal a brass wheel the size of a dessert plate. Turning it right and left and then right again, Kyle convinced the door to open. Extinguishing the lantern, he stepped out into the darkness and then reached over to once again hold her hand. “Follow the sound of my voice and trust me.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if you just turned on the lights?” she asked as she inched forward, the platform beneath her feet moving slightly as well.

“I suppose so, but then you would not get the full effect of...well, you’ll see.” He pulled her close and then put his arm around her. “Ready?” he said.

She nodded and then realized the gesture was futile. For as much as the light in the elevator was dim, it was dark as pitch here.

“Yes, absolutely.”

Millie felt him stretch off to the side, and then a blast of light blinded
her. Blinking to adjust her vision to the brilliance of the electric lights overhead, she gradually began to see what appeared to be a most magical place.

Chalkboards covered with scribbling of all sorts lined one wall that seemed to go the full length of the house. Here and there they were covered with lengths of paper pasted into place or, as she observed when Kyle released her and she drifted in that direction, of a map of the world that could have covered the broad side of a barn.

She went to it and began to read. Between travelogue and scientific notes were notations about weather and barometric pressure, names of hotels alongside the Latin names for flora and fauna, and even a restaurant menu beside a chain of chemical formulas.

“Interesting,” she said as she turned to face the center of the room.

Unlike her small sanctuary, this workshop could easily accommodate a dozen worktables and still have room to drive a wagon through it. Not that she would put the feat out of the realm of possibility, for it was likely he had another elevator hidden somewhere that could suit the purpose.