Volume Three - WordPress.com — Get a Free Blog Here

“Charming the ladies, Mister Trimble?” Eugenia asked, approaching the two with a smile.
Dréoteth straightened his posture and glanced aside. Eugenia Bailey, with her lively eyes and freckled
complexion, annoyed him. She didn't have a reedy voice or an ugly face and yet he discovered that she put him
on edge.
Perhaps his victim had inadvertently come to him. Thea darted away with another giggle, leaving the pair
alone.
“My attempts are poor, since they keep running away. If you will excuse me, Mistress Bailey, I was just about
to find dinner.” Without waiting for her to forestall him, he inclined his head and stepped around her.
***
Eugenia opened her mouth to speak and closed it when she found herself summarily dismissed. Staring after
him, she balled her small hands into fists at her sides. She had intended to apologize and try to open what she
hoped would be enlightening dialogue. Instead, she wound up alone.
She had heard rumors of his lengthy conversations with Tuttle, Upham and Lyon and itched to probe past
the indifferent veneer he always presented.
Perhaps he wouldn’t seem so threatening if she could just understand his mind.
She muttered under her breath, watching until the crowd obliterated him from view.
Rather than follow and force her company, she allowed one of the farmer's sons to lead her into the dance.
She was a little stilted in poise and grace but her partner, the handsome and sought after Thom Liston, never
noticed.
When the music came to an end, Eugenia found herself standing next to Meyer Lyon. She added her
applause for the musicians, dipped Thom a curtsy, and took advantage of Miss Merriweather being absconded by
another partner to face Meyer.
“Mister Lyon, I wonder if you could answer a few questions for me,” she asked.
Meyer, following Miss Merriweather and her partner with his eyes, glanced down. “Of course, Miss Bailey.
Let us get a drink and get out of the dancers way.” He offered her his elbow gallantly.
She slid her fingers under his arm, grinning, and let him lead her between the bales of hay toward the
refreshments. “I wanted to ask you about Nehemiah.”
Meyer chuckled. “Let me guess. You want to know if there is any particular woman he has his eye on.”
“Of course not! I mean—well—is there?” Eugenia hadn’t intended to ask any such thing. Meyer piqued her
curiosity with the thought there was a woman Nehemiah might be interested in. What kind of woman would he
like? She knew all the single girls in town and she found herself impatient to know whether it was a dainty miss, a
snobby one, or something in between.
Meyer glanced down, grinning like a he-devil. “If there is, she is the best kept secret in Malmsbury. As far as
I know, he has not shown interest in any of them. Some men are like that, though. They keep their secrets close
to the chest.”
They passed a row of children bobbing for apples and stepped up to a long table. Meyer picked up a goblet
and gestured at one of the wine casks.
She nodded, distracted with their conversation.
“Has he confided anything else to you of late? I know the last time we spoke, you did not know where his
family was from, or even where Nehemiah was born.”
Meyer filled the goblet halfway and handed it to her. He filled a tankard with mead for himself. “I know
nothing new. He does not seem to enjoy discussing his past.”
“Thank you.” She took the cup and had a sip, rolling the taste of the wine across her tongue. “I cannot
manage to get past ‘Hello’ or ‘How are you’ with him.”
“Are you interested in Mister Trimble, Miss Bailey?”
She choked on her wine, coughing delicately. Rounding on him with wide eyes, she said, “Have you taken
leave of your senses? Indeed not!”
“Really?” Meyer’s dark eyes glittered with amusement. He led her toward the tug of war game about to start.
“I wonder then, why you are so curious about him.”
“I am curious about every new resident of Malmsbury.”