Free The Rocky Mountain Heiress Collection by Kathleen Y' Barbo Page B

woman with the agility of a much younger man.
    Tova stepped between Gennie and the door. For a moment, nothing happened.
    “Pleased to meet you,” Gennie said as she stared into blue eyes that seemed unable to blink. “Thank you for your kindness in helping me settle in.”
    Again, nothing.
    “Tova?” Mr. Howe called from somewhere inside. “I’d be obliged ifyou’d go on over to the Fisher’s Dry Goods Store and fetch the lady a new dress and whatever she needs to go along with it.” He appeared beside Tova and looked Gennie over. “Appears she’ll need everything, head to toe.”
    At the housekeeper’s raised eyebrows, Mr. Howe scrambled to explain. “What I mean to say is, likely she’s got road dust on every layer.” A brisk red climbed into his cheeks. “That didn’t come out right. See—oh, never mind.”
    Elias mumbled something about womenfolk and the Confederacy and disappeared inside. With him gone, Gennie was left in Tova’s sights. It was, to say the least, an uncomfortable feeling.
    But she was not unaccustomed to dealing with the help. She needed to diffuse the situation with a gesture. A grand gesture.
    Gennie fumbled with the strings of her reticule. “Here,” she said as her fingers wrapped around the wad of cash she’d nearly lost. “I can pay.” As soon as she made the offer, Gennie realized she had no idea what the price of such a purchase would be. “How much would a dress and some underthings cost?”
    The housekeeper didn’t respond, nor did she move.
    “I’m sorry,” Gennie said as she peeled off a few bills, then, when Tova lifted a pale brow, added a few more. “Generally I have my dresses made by this wonderful seamstress in a shop near the Seine, so I’ve no idea what size I wear. That is, I’ve never purchased a dress from a department store before.”
    The brow went higher.
    Two more bills went into the stack, and then, for good measure, Gennie added one more. A glance at the remaining funds told her she’d spent half at least, possibly more. The remainder she would count in the privacy of her chambers.
    “Please, take it,” she said, thrusting her hand toward the imperious woman. “I’m ever so tired and grateful for your kindness.” Gennie paused. “You’re a true blessing and an answer to prayer.”
    At this, both brows went up. “You pray?” Tova asked in surprisingly unaccented English.
    “Yes, of course,” Gennie said. “More so, lately.”
    Tova relaxed her expression but not her posture. “Then we shall have an understanding, you and I.”
    “All right,” Gennie said, lowering her hand to her side, the money still tight in her fist.
    “You shall look after the child,” Tova said, “and you will leave the care of Mr. Howe and Mr. Beck to me. When you are not looking after the child, you’re mine, and I will use you to help with the cleaning. Is that understood?”
    As Gennie nodded, another type of understanding dawned. No wonder the former governess left in such a hurry to become a bride. This Scandinavian housekeeper had a territory to protect, and young unmarried women were obviously not welcome.
    Gennie thought back to the last time she’d encountered such a woman. Before her came the image of Mrs. Vanowen in all her glory, wearing a frown not unlike the one on Tova’s face. Gennie had taken the old dowager into her confidence by offering up a choice tidbit on a favorite but quite exclusive dressmaker in Paris, one Mrs. Vanowen would surely want to share with her friends on their upcoming visit to the Continent. Perhaps that tactic, applied in a slightly different manner, might work now.
    Gennie cast a glance to the right and then to the left before leaning toward the housekeeper. “I’ve a secret.”
    “Oh?” Tova’s stoic expression remained in place, though Genniethought she saw the beginnings of a spark of interest. A woman was a woman, whether in Manhattan or Denver.
    “Yes,” she said in a loud whisper. “You see,