Page 3 of Calling on the Matchmaker
As Riley gingerly crawled off her and stood, the watching crowd cheered and clapped.
Madigan bent down and began to help her to her feet. All the while, she couldn’t tear her sights from Riley.
A young lad hustled toward Riley and reverently handed him his hat. Riley squeezed the boy’s shoulder in thanks before he situated the work-worn felt hat on his head. He waved and grinned at the onlookers as if he’d just finished putting on a theater production he’d been rehearsing for weeks.
Although Riley’s breeches and woolen stockings were heavily splattered with mud, his coat and the linen shirt underneath were fairly mud free. Unlike her clothing...
She didn’t need to glance down to know she resembled a sow who’d just had a grand time flopping around in a pigsty. Not only was her front caked in mud, but her backside was too. She could even feel splotches on her cheeks and forehead.
No doubt, Riley thought she looked a fright.
As if hearing her silent assessment, he swung his attention back to her. The seriousness was gone from his expression. Instead, mirth added faint stars to his eyes, and his lips quirked at the corners, as if they weren’t comfortable anyplace other than in a smile.
Was he finding humor in how she looked?
She started to swipe at one of the splotches on her cheek but then stopped herself. It didn’t matter what Riley Rafferty thought about her. It didn’t matter what any man thought about her. Not now. Not any time.
She pulled herself up to all of her five-feet-three inches. “Thank you for saving my life, young lad.”
Riley’s brows rose. “My pleasure.”
Absolutely no one in her right mind could mistake Riley asbeing anything other than a full-grown man. But treating her suitors as though she were sixty years older than them always seemed to douse any growing sparks. Not that Riley was a suitor. And not that he had any growing sparks. But it was best if he knew she harbored no attraction toward him. None.
“You’re quite the boy.” She reached up and pinched one of his cheeks just like a grandmother would do. “Keep up the good work.”
With that, she slipped her arm into Madigan’s and tried to nudge him on his way.
When Madigan didn’t budge and continued to stare at Riley with wide-eyed admiration, she jabbed her elbow into his ribs harder.
He released a lowoofbefore stumbling forward and leading her the rest of the way across the street. Fortunately he’d been the one carrying her bag with her change of clothing and shoes, and it had survived the escapade intact.
As they made their way down Broadway, he didn’t release his grasp of her arm, retelling every detail of the rescue from his perspective, as if the brush with death wasn’t already clear enough in her mind.
On the next block, she dragged Madigan past a printing shop until she reached the alley behind it.
Her brother didn’t resist but followed along warily, likely having had enough drama for one afternoon. “What are you doing now, Finola?”
She nodded to the back of the livery stable on the opposite side of the alley. “I’m needing to change before I go home.”
Madigan’s lips curled up into one of his irresistible grins. “I’ll not be arguing with you there.”
“Good.” She crossed to the livery door and peeked inside to find it was as deserted as always at the late-afternoon hour. She’d have no trouble finding an empty horse stall and putting back on her garments like she had on previous occasions.
She always changed out of the robe lest she cast suspicion upon herself. Yes, her parents knew she was heavily involved in charity work with the Sisters of Charity. But they believed she’d given up her aspirations for becoming a nun, as they’d suggested, and didn’t know she still held the desire very dear to her heart.
They also didn’t know that she’d purposefully driven away all her previous suitors so she could enter into service. Of course, after she’d recently sent her last suitor running into the arms of another woman, she’d hoped her parents would finally resign themselves to her being single and might even suggest that she become a nun. She hadn’t guessed they’d be desperate enough to enlist the help of the matchmaker.
“Get along with you now, Madigan.” She shooed him away.
“I can’t show up without you—”
“You know as well as I do, we’ll both fare better if you nip ahead and let everyone know I’ll be there in a wee minute.” Maybe in addition to her tardiness, she could earn another demerit if she arrived looking like a swamp monster. Doing so would certainly give Oscar McKenna pause and make him think twice about arranging a marriage for her. More likely that strategy would backfire, and Oscar would decide she needed to marry a man who also looked like a swamp monster.
Whatever the case, she didn’t want to mortify her mam and da. She might be full of shenanigans, but she wouldn’t intentionally hurt or embarrass her parents.
Finola shook the habit but couldn’t dislodge the mud.
Seeing her futile efforts, Madigan heaved a sigh and handed over her bag. “Fine. But mind you, no more dawdling, or you’ll get me in trouble for sure.”
