Page 196 of Conveniently Wed
His eyes trailed to Jenson again. The man shoved a cinnamon roll into his open jaw with both dirty hands. He had glaze smeared on his beard and a streak of something brown on his cheek that might be cinnamon. Hopefully cinnamon.
No, there was no way his kind, genteel Leah had been married to this vagabond.
Gideon could take the sitting no longer. He rose, stepped over the bench, placed a coin on the table for the meal, and strode out the door.
32
Gideon had to ring the little bell at the desk twice before the clerk came through the doorway, covering a yawn. It was the same man from earlier, the one with the thick hair on the sides of his face, but clean-shaven around his mouth.
“Is Miss Townsend in her room?” He didn’t mean his voice to sound as harsh as it came out, but the urgency of her situation had him wound tighter than a mountain lion before attack.
“Yes, sir, but she’s already retired for the night and asked not to be disturbed.”
Retired for the night? It couldn’t be seven o’clock yet. He placed both hands on the desk and looked the man square in the eyes. “I need to speak with her, and it can’t wait.”
The clerk’s chin jutted out as he coolly returned Gideon’s glare. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that. As I assured you earlier, Mr. Bryant, the safety and comfort of our guests is of the utmost importance to us. Miss Townsend has requested privacy, and that, sir, is what she will receive.”
He held the man’s gaze. The actions of this clerk were exactly why he’d brought Leah to this boarding house instead of the larger City Hotel. He’d heard this was a family-run place where they put great stock in caring for their guests.
It looked like Wooly here wouldn’t let anyone close to Leah for tonight, at least. And Gideon would be here first thing in the morning to fetch her, whether this manallowedhim to or not.
At the breakfast table the next morning, Leah perused the scene around her. The boarding house clerk had recommended this eatery asquality food and service,and it appeared many other people agreed with him. All tables were occupied, and the aroma of sausage and fried potatoes wafted through the room.
“Can I sit here?”
She looked up to see a large man standing behind the empty chair across from her. His hair was mussed and his beard shaggy, but he wore a suit—although it was at least two sizes too small and the buttons pulled across his burly abdomen.
“I suppose so.” With so many people around, the man was surely harmless enough.
He plopped into the ladder-back chair and motioned toward a waiter across the room. Leah took a sip of her tea while he ordered coffee and food. His manners were rough, at best, and his gentleman’s clothes seem to fit his personality as poorly as they fit his body. Her gaze drifted to his hands. They were huge and calloused, but at least dirt wasn’t caked under his nails.
When the waiter moved away, the big man turned to her with a scrutinizing look. The hairs on her neck tingled. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to allow a strange man to share her table.
“So are you from these parts?”
Why did that question make her cheeks heat. Maybe it was the way he studied her. “No, sir. I’m from the state of Virginia originally, although I’ve been traveling in recent months.”
Why had she given so much about her background? The months at the cabin had given her a false sense of security, but she was back in the real world now. Would Simon really be able to track her to the Montana Territory? She shouldn’t take any chances.
The man’s interest showed on his face. “Virginia, huh. I have friends there. Where’re ya from in Virginia?”
No. She’d said way more than she should have. But how to get out of the question? “I’m from the eastern side of the state.” And that was all he would get out of her.
“An’ what’d ya say yer name was?”
She had to find a way to reroute this conversation away from herself. What if his friends were from Richmond? The Townsend name was well-known in that city. “My name is Leah. And yours?”
It was almost unheard of for a woman to allow a strange man to use her Christian name, but if word got back to Simon that a Miss Townsend was in Butte City, the outcome would be much worse than an improper manner of address. And the chances of her meeting this man again were slim. She hoped.
“Name’s Jenson.”
“Well, Mr. Jenson. Do you live here in Butte City?”
She was spared his answer by the arrival of their breakfast plates, and Jenson dove into his like he hadn’t eaten in a week. His table manners left much to be desired.
She averted her eyes and nibbled at her own food. She needed to begin looking for work today, but the thought held no appeal. Where should she start? It didn’t seem likely she’d find a governess position in this town. Maybe she could visit a mercantile and see if they had jobs for women.
Her breakfast companion finally raised his head and sat back in his chair, wiping his face and hands with the napkin. The cloth came away quite dirty.
