Page 58 of A Late-Blooming Rose
She suppressed a chuckle, not wanting to encourage his gallant behavior toward her.
Rufus appeared from the coatroom, holding their coats, which he gave to Andre and reached to take the lap desk.
Andre helped Rose into the garment, before donning his own.
Rufus handed over the desk to Andre, moved to open the door, and bowed them through. “Have a lovely drive, Mr. Bellaire, Miss Collier.”
“We most definitely will,” Andre said, his tone jovial.
If Rose didn’t know Rufus also helped his wife around the house, she’d have thought the man would be bored with his role in the home.Not much call for a butler in Sweetwater Springs.She gave him a warm smile good-bye.
They walked outside into a crisp, breezy day, making her glad she’d worn her coat. Overhead, a few clouds, as puffy and white as cotton balls, drifted across the arching blue sky. Some stray leaves from the glowing, golden aspen in the corner of the huge, empty lot skittered across the dirt yard.
A glance behind showed snow capped mountains, the lower sides blanketed by nature’s quilt of autumn colors.
Andre extended an arm and escorted her down the wide brick path to the coach.
Sam waited by the team, rubbing the nearest one’s head. The chocolate-brown hides of the horses gleamed in the sun. One swished its dark, docked tail.
The coachman moved toward the vehicle and opened the door. “Morning, Miss Collier.”
“Good morning, Sam.”
“Fine day for a drive.” The coachman’s dark eyes held a hint of mischief, and the corners of his mouth turned up. “I do believe you’ll see nature at her best. The changing leaves are quite a sight.”
“Enjoy the mosaic of color,” Andre told Rose with a wide wave toward the aspen. “The fall season here is brief, and the colors will fade to brown and gray toward the end of the month.”
“For a lifelong city dweller, any chance to view the fall foliage is a treat,” said Rose, taking Sam’s hand and allowing him to help her into the coach.
Andre waited for Rose to choose the black leather seat facing the driver, placed the desk next to her and climbed in. Seated across from her, he took the large cloth-covered basket from Sam and set it next to him.
Once again Rose wondered if she’d made the correct choice to go away with Andre today. What seemed roomy when she’d first entered shrank with the man’s presence. Sitting here across from him, with his knees close to hers, the interior seemed much smaller.Right now, dealing with hordes of haughty people seems preferable to this intimacy.
Uncomfortable and unable to meet his eyes, she looked out the window at the town rolling by that was beginning to seem familiar.Perhaps by this time next year Sweetwater Springs will feel like home.
Once Sam turned the horses onto a narrow dirt road leading away from town, Andre smiled. “Now for a rustic ride. Not much else to see but nature. Speaking of nature, are you enjoyingThe Country of the Pointed Firs?”
Rose hoped he didn’t notice a guilty flush rising to her cheeks. Delia must have told him about lending her the novel. But she wouldn’t have revealed how they’d schemed to keep him home that day.
She started to describe the story. From there, the conversation veered toward other books. Slowly, their talking eased her tension, and she relaxed against the leather cushions.
Soon, they were deep into a discussion about the needs of the library, debating, for example, the merits of having two copies of Chaucer’sCanterbury Talesor three.
They interspersed their conversation with calling attention to the landscape viewed through the windows, awash with autumn colors, occasionally falling into an increasingly companionable silence. Several times they spotted deer, and, once, Rose was sure she saw the rump of a bear disappearing into the woods.
Thus, the drive passed companionably until Andre glanced out of the window. “I think we’re almost there.”
“How do you know?”
“We’re out of the forest, and I’m told the house is not far beyond that.”
When she looked out the window, Rose saw the land appeared flatter. A creek lined with golden willow trees and bushes of various colors wound toward the road. The clear water rushed over rocks.
The coach clattered over a narrow wooden bridge, the wheels clicking on the wood, and then jerked to a halt.
“Goodness!” Andre exclaimed. Frowning, he leaned to look out the window. “Why have we stopped?”
She looked out her window but couldn’t see ahead of them.
