Free Blessing by Lyn Cote

down in a trice. Thy gig is at the front?”
    “Yes.” He watched her leave and regretted coming.
    Within minutes he was helping both ladies onto the seat of the one-horse gig. The other woman, her face concealed by a close-brimmed, veiled hat, crowded them a bit on the seat, but he didn’t point this out. He’d offered and he was stuck.
    Following the widow’s directions, he drove out of town in silence.
    When the silence became heavy, Blessing asked, “So Stoddard Henry is thy cousin?”
    “Yes. He’s the son of my father’s sister. We were at boarding school together.”
    “How interesting. I received my education at home, and then, at fourteen, I was sent to a Friends’ school for girls in Pennsylvania for a few years. After graduation I taught school in Cincinnati—before my marriage.”
    “Really?” He’d spoken to very few educated women—even fewer who had actually worked at a profession. Of course, teaching was one of only a handful of professions open to women, and typically to those who were unmarried and without funds. From her and from what Stoddard had told him, he extrapolated that the pretty teacher had charmed a wealthy man. “You married well, then?”
    She laughed as if he’d told a joke. “Yes, I suppose thee would think so. Richard Brightman owned two breweries.”
    He hadn’t expected her to admit this, so he stared momentarily. Again he wondered how a straitlaced Quakeress had agreed to marry to a brewer. “I see.”
    She laughed again. “I doubt it. I sold the breweries upon my husband’s death and invested in other concerns.”
    “It was unusual for you to inherit, wasn’t it?”
    “Yes.”
    Steaming at her slightly mocking attitude toward him, Gerard drove on, trying to come up with a way to turn the conversation in the direction he’d planned for it to go. He’d come to charm the widow in order to bend her to his own purposes, and now a prim stranger—a silent chaperone—sat stiffly beside her, and Blessing was laughing at him in a way he didn’t understand. And didn’t like. How fast could he drive six miles?
    But wait—surely he would have better odds with the woman once they were alone. And they would necessarily be alone on the way home. Perhaps he could delay their return so that she might be mildly compromised from being in his company alone after dark.
    He brought up a fresh smile and began to quote poetry, a ploy he usually found successful in charming ladies.

    Later that afternoon, after they reentered Cincinnati, Blessing relaxed. Except for the presence of Gerard Ramsay, so unexpected but so providential, everything had gone exactly to her plan. And the effectiveness of the runaway’s impromptu disguise: the veiled bonnet, along with a wig, gloves, and white rice face powder, was an extra precaution. His company had added zest to the whole experience. No one would suspect someone like Gerard Ramsay of helping a runaway. She suppressed glee at successfully using him as the means to her own end.
    “You’re in a lighthearted mood,” Gerard said.
    Since she was listening for it, she heard the tinge of irritation concealed in his words. “Yes, I am. It’s been such a lovely ride, doesn’t thee think? I’m so glad we had a nice breeze. I almost hate to return home.”
    “I’m glad you’ve enjoyed my company,” the man had the nerve to say. “Perhaps we can take another ride soon. You still haven’t shown me around the city.”
    Her house came into sight. “Thee strikes me as a man who can find his own way around, but I do thank thee for driving my friend to her next stopping point.”
    He didn’t reply to this, merely pulled up the horse outside her home.
    Before he could offer to help her down, Blessing slid off her seat and down the step. “Thank thee again.” She waved and was up the steps without waiting. She turned back for one more look and saw Ramsay staring at her. She couldn’t help herself—she grinned.
    Letting herself in, she ran