Free Behind a Lady's Smile by Jane Goodger Page A

reach New York,” she said after a time.
    “We will.” Another stretch of silence.
    “Mitch.”
    “Yes?”
    “What if they don’t want me to come?”
    “They will. You read their letters. I wouldn’t be surprised if they got on a ship the next day and came to you.”
    The engine let out a loud hiss and the train slowly moved down the track just as the uniformed porter appeared at the far end of the car to see their tickets. Once they were on their way, Mrs. Walsh leaned over saying, “I’m so excited. I haven’t seen my sister in years, nor my nieces and nephews since they were babies.”
    And off they went, the two of them talking, exchanging life stories. Twenty minutes into the conversation, Mitch switched places with Genny to let her and Mrs. Walsh talk without shouting. Genny clearly had missed having the company of a woman. Listening to their prattle, he thought longingly of the men now exploring Yosemite without him. His last summer with the group had been cut far too short.
    All around, passengers were settling in for a long trip, taking out books, knitting, crochet hooks, and, thank the gods, dominoes, a cribbage board, and playing cards. Mitch politely excused himself and wandered down the car to the salon area, where he was soon happily involved in a game of cribbage with a gentleman traveling with his wife to visit their children.
     
    Four hours into their trip, they stopped at Truckee for a light lunch and a bit of a break from sitting. Boys had been around their car offering apples and cheese, but Genny was near starving when they stopped, likely because she hadn’t eaten anything for breakfast. She was quite recovered from her illness and ate nearly all of her sandwich of thickly sliced ham.
    “Isn’t this wonderful?” she asked, looking around at the other passengers. “All these people, all heading to visit different places and family. Did you know Mr. and Mrs. Walsh don’t have any children? It was something they wanted above all things. It’s so sad. I never really gave having children a thought. But I suppose I will, in England, with my husband, the prince.”
    Mitch lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re marrying a prince, are you?”
    “Oh, yes, if I’d like. Apparently a duke is the next best thing and Mrs. Walsh said that if I wasn’t already married to you”—she gave him an impish smile—“I could have married a prince.”
    “Instead of the bastard son of an actress,” Mitch said, without even a hint of bitterness. “You have surely scraped the bottom of the marital barrel with me.”
    Genny gave him a face and pulled a small bit of crust from the remainder of her sandwich before delicately putting it in her mouth. “I’m certain you’ll make someone a good husband, Mitch. Perhaps I can visit you someday in New York with my prince husband and all our little princes and princesses.”
    Mitch chuckled and shook his head. “And I can introduce you to my slovenly wife and ill-kempt children. A whole brood of them, barefoot and in need of a bath.”
    “And I will bestow upon them the knowledge they need to care for themselves properly. Perhaps I’ll give your wife some of my old gowns. I daresay I shouldn’t have much use for them after I’ve worn them once.”
    They laughed, thoroughly enjoying the banter, and Mrs. Walsh walked by at that moment and said, “Ah, young love.”
    Mitch’s smile slipped a bit but he gave Genny a wink. “I do wish we hadn’t told them we are married,” Genny said softly, leaning forward. “I don’t like lying to Mrs. Walsh. She’s becoming a friend.”
    “It’s necessary. Otherwise people would think badly of you, think you were the wrong sort of girl. An unmarried woman shouldn’t travel with an unmarried man who is not her relative. If Mrs. Walsh knew we weren’t married, she wouldn’t be your friend.”
    Genny furrowed her brow. “I can’t believe that’s true. She’s so nice.”
    “Because she thinks you’re a