She almost smiled at that. “Only vaguely.”
“I don’t understand why you won’t let me compliment your courage.”
“And I don’t understand why you want to.”
Why did he want to? Because he wanted her to know that he admired her, and not just because she was so lovely. “You’re a very unusual woman, Miss Miles.”
“No, I’m not,” she said, sounding oddly defensive. “I’m just like every other woman.”
“Every other woman would’ve waited in the cab and sent me in to fetch her luggage.”
She turned to him in surprise and studied his face for a long moment, giving him the opportunity to admire her amazing eyes. Were they the color of periwinkles or the sky on a cloudless day?
“Did I insult your manhood, Mr. Bates?”
“Thoroughly, Miss Miles. I may never recover.”
She almost smiled again. “Then I apologize most humbly.”
He pretended to consider her offer. “I’m afraid that’s not enough.”
“Then what more can I do to make amends?”
Gideon could think of many things he’d like her to do, but she wasn’t likely to do any of them, and she was very likely to be outraged if he suggested any of them, so he said, “You can tell me how you became a suffragist and why you decided to make the trip to Washington.”
He’d expected her to really smile at that and to happily tell him all about the amazing women who had influenced her awakening. Every suffragist he’d ever met was only too happy to speak of her conversion, and they all did so with great enthusiasm. To his surprise, however, Elizabeth Miles merely looked dismayed. Or at least he thought dismay was the emotion that flickered across her face before she said, “I can’t believe that story is of interest to anyone but me, and I refuse to bore you with it. You’ll have to think of something else.”
“All right, then, tell me why you’ve decided to go back to the city with us.”
“You should be able to guess that. Your mother willed it.”
“Ah, of course. And Anna, too, I’m sure.”
“And I was powerless to resist them.”
“Oh, Miss Miles, I don’t imagine you’ve ever been powerless.”
Once again that strange emotion flickered across her beautiful face. Why had his compliment disturbed her?
“Women are by our very nature powerless in so many ways, Mr. Bates. As the son of a suffragist, you should know that only too well.”
And he did, of course, but still . . . “Whatever your reasons, I’m glad you’ve decided to go with us.”
He’d half expected her to coyly ask him why, the way the society girls he knew would have, but instead she said, “And I’m sure after all you’ve been through, you’ll be glad to get back home.”
“I’m glad this ordeal with my mother is over, at least.”
“And we’re very grateful for your help. I’m sure the rest of the ladies will be, too, when they learn what you did.”
Gideon’s pride finally started to feel a little better. “That’s what attorneys do, Miss Miles. We keep our clients out of jail.”
“Your profession must give you a great deal of satisfaction, then.”
Gideon had never considered whether it did or not. He was an attorney because young men like him who needed a profession often became attorneys. And because his father had been one.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“What? No, of course not.”
She didn’t look convinced. “You looked like something was wrong. I didn’t mean to . . . Did I cause offense?”
“I’m not offended,” he said, sounding offended even to himself. “I just, uh . . .” He said the first thing that came to mind. “I just remembered my employer told me I could only be gone three days, and if I didn’t come back then, I’d lose my position.”
“And how long have you been gone?”
“Over a week. More like ten days.”
“Oh dear.”
But that wasn’t really what was bothering him. Oh no, not at all. She’d just brought him to the realization that his career gave him no satisfaction. None whatsoever. In fact, the possibility that he might never have to return to Devoss and Van Aken was oddly cheering.
“They wouldn’t really dismiss you, would they?” she asked with a worried frown that cheered him even more because it meant she might actually care.
“I doubt it,” he said with regret.
“I should hope they wouldn’t punish you for saving all of us. As you pointed out, that’s what attorneys do.”
“Well, that’s not really what I usually do.”
“It isn’t?”
“No. What I usually do is prepare wills and manage trusts and make sure rich people’s children stay rich.” He thought of Ernest Pike and his musical daughter, Eugenia.
“That must be . . . interesting,” she tried.
“Not very.”
“Oh,” she said uncertainly. Then, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. They pay me well enough, so I shouldn’t have any complaints.”
“And yet you do.” Her blue eyes sparkled. Was it with mischief?
“Not really,” he lied. “I was only complaining so I could mention that I’m comfortably fixed, so you’ll know I’m a good catch.”
That brought the smile he’d been seeking. “Do you frequently manage to work that into your conversation?”
“Never before until today.”
Those lovely eyes widened just a tiny bit, but instead of giving him the flirtatious grin he’d been hoping for, she turned away.
“Now I’m afraid I’ve given offense,” he said, willing her to deny it.
When she turned back, she said, “Don’t be silly.” But her smile was forced and her eyes troubled. “I’ll be sure to mention that you’re comfortably fixed to every suffragist girl I meet.” Meaning, of course, that she had no interest in the information for herself. He could have accepted that with good grace if she hadn’t looked so sad about it.
How odd. She didn’t seem like the kind of girl to get all vaporish from a little flirting, even if he had been half-serious. Or maybe more than half, if he were honest. Elizabeth Miles was the most interesting woman he’d ever met. But she’d folded her hands in her lap so tightly, he would have bet her knuckles were white beneath her gloves.