“North. The note Quentin left me yesterday said they were going to get married.”
Surprise rendered her speechless. She’d been correct in thinking the two had feelings for each other, but to marry? As far as she knew, miscegenation was illegal most everywhere in the United States. Were they bound for Canada? she wondered.
Mr. Bascom continued, “I hired a Pinkerton to track them down and bring him back. I don’t care what happens to her.”
Val was saddened by that. Bascom, like her father, was determined to dictate the life choices of his adult offspring, but she kept that to herself and said instead, “Thank you for your time, Mr. Bascom,” and left his shop.
Drake looked up when Val entered the parlor. He was pleased to see her but because he was guarding his heart, he kept his feelings hidden. Going back to the mechanical drawings he was working on, he asked, “Things go okay with the carriage?”
“Yes.”
“Do you need me to unhitch the mare?”
“No. I took care of it. She’s been watered and is in a stall.”
He was surprised.
As if sensing that, she explained, “Cole showed me how when he taught me to drive because I asked him if he would.”
“I can always do it for you.”
“Thanks, but it isn’t necessary. Is your mother here?”
Her steadfast determination to be self-sufficient was one of the many facets he found admirable about this woman so reluctant to link their lives. Her independent nature was one of the many aspects that endeared her to him. “Mama’s gone to visit her friend, Aunt Vi. I believe that’s her name. My brothers and I’ve never met her, but we assume she’s one of Julianna’s longtime friends. Did you talk with Eb?”
“No, but I left a message with one of the workers. She said he’d be at the hotel this evening. I also stopped in to see Dina. Apparently, she and Quentin have eloped.”
Drake was floored. “How long have they been gone?”
“Bascom found a letter from Quentin last night, so less than a day, I’m guessing. He’s hired Pinkertons to bring his son back to New Orleans. Said he didn’t care what happened to Dina. Reminded me of my father.”
The mention of her father brought Drake back to their disagreement.
“What are you working on?” she asked.
“A pump station for a large landowner. He and a group of men are looking to build one in an effort to drain a swamp so they can reclaim the land.”
“Is that common here?”
“More and more. The city’s expanding and dry land is needed to fuel that growth.”
She walked over to view the drawings. “Can you explain what I’m seeing?”
So for the next few minutes he did—pointing out the pump house’s structure, the boilers and engine it would need, and how the piping would be laid. He found the questions she asked a testament to her intelligence, another facet he admired. She was positioned by his side. Her nearness made him remember their last interlude, the softness of her skin, the feel of her nipples hardening under his tasting tongue, and how hard he’d been when he finally turned her loose. As if reading his mind, her gaze rose from the drawing to his. The contact lengthened, and it took all he had to not reach out and stroke a finger across the lush petal of her bottom lip. Reminding himself he needed to resist the lure she exuded, he said, “I promised to complete these drawings as soon as possible, so I need to finish them.”
“Of course. My apologies for disturbing you.”
Her icy exit from the room gave him pause. Since their falling-out, she’d been trying to apologize and his inflated ego had refused her olive branches like a petulant toddler eschewing a nap. Now? He felt a different type of sting. One that said, maybe he should’ve gotten off his high horse when he’d had the chance. If her steely departure was any indication, his lovely hellion was no longer offering peace. Playing the injured male had just widened the rift between them. If he didn’t figure out a way to bridge the divide, she’d dissolve their marriage immediately after her father’s departure, and Raimond would auction off his chair two seconds later. He forced himself to concentrate on the drawings, but Valinda remained on his mind.