Catch Me If You Can Read Free Page B

attire, riding astride her horse like a man. The household servants and the tenants were used to her ways. She expected Frieda to be a kindred soul who wouldn’t be embarrassed by her attire, but what of Mr. Rivers? Perhaps he was more proper in his ways.
    Eleanor had scant knowledge of how Californian society might differ to their own. In their travels, she’d learnt never to assume customs were the same, or even similar, and one should endeavor to make those with different customs feel comfortable. However, as if in response to her thoughts, Rivers rose and took off his traveling coat, laying it on a nearby chair.
    Eleanor couldn’t resist watching the movement of his broad chest and his long, lean limbs as he slipped the coat off. When he moved lithely across the room and seated himself nearer to them, she smiled in greeting.
    Rivers returned the smile. Humor warmed his expression and graced his solid hawk-like features with a magnetic attraction.
    A rush of butterflies loosed in the pit of her stomach.
    He truly was a most handsome man.
    Eleanor knew her meeting with Frieda was going to bring even more pleasure and interest than she’d expected, and not least from the presence of her handsome companion.
    Chapter Two
     
    A Rose by any Other Name
     
     
    That evening, Rivers sat across the dinner table from Eleanor. She found that the conversation, enthralling though it was, never entirely distracted her from the intensity of his gaze. It kept her oddly on edge, self-aware and the tiniest bit nervous. When she attempted to eat, she found she wasn’t much interested in the food.
    Mrs. Bramley, the housekeeper, was delighted with the opportunity to demonstrate all her culinary skills to the assembled dinner party. She’d created such a volume and variety of delicious dishes there was little possibility they would do true justice to the feast, especially on such a sultry evening. The housekeeper had supervised the serving girls as they loaded the table with port-broiled partridge, roast pork, apple dumplings, onion custard and a profusion of roast and steamed vegetables to accompany.
    Eleanor had made some efforts herself, in order to reassure the guests she wasn’t entirely heathen in her ways and knew how to dress as a lady. She’d instructed Alice, her maid, to lace her corsets as tight as can be and to bring out her red evening gown, for she knew it flattered her coloring. It was edged with black filigree lace across the low cut décolletage. Her full underskirt was rustling black taffeta. She draped her shawl over the back of her chair, for it was far too warm to need it. Small jet beads fell from her ears and sparkled at her throat. The skin across her bare shoulders and arms was marred only by the distinct beauty spot in the dip of her cleavage.
    She opened her fan whenever the heat of his gaze became too much for her, which was rather often. She silently chastised herself for fidgeting. His presence had somehow created a dense well of heat inside, heady and delicious, yet sent wild skitters of rare self-consciousness over her skin. She dragged her attention back to the assembled company, interjecting when she realized they were discussing the trans-continental America journey.
    “No, Father. We must do it exactly as you did, follow the path exactly. It would be the only way to undertake your historic journey and do the pioneers true justice.”  Her glance was accusing. They had argued amiably over this subject many times before.
    “The railroad passes across the whole country nowadays, Eleanor,” Frieda said. “Surely that would be enough of an adventure for you? It’s a hard journey across the land. After all...” She looked at James, amusement bubbling in her eyes, “…they never planned to cross the whole country, did you?” 
    James Craven looked down at his dinner plate and laughed, sheepishly.
    “What is this? Have you kept a part of the story from me?” Eleanor picked up the lace fan