Peter's stores, but she wasn't much concerned about the connection. Actually, Peter didn't own the stores yet. They belonged to his father.
Thinking about Peter's father gave Georgina the cold shudders. There was a man with no conscience, one whose only concerns were his wealth and his ability to acquire more. If he were the model of Peter thirty years from now, she knew this marriage was a mistake.
But once the call came for dinner, Peter was all that was attentive. He led her to the table, held her chair, asked about her travels, and made no further mention of their impending nuptials. She would have been flattered had she not felt his interest was forced.
Remembering her conversation with the cowboy earlier, Georgina allowed the conversation to go on without her. Mr. Martin's interest hadn't been forced. She had behaved her absolute worst, and he had seen right through her. Why couldn't there be more men of her acquaintance who would actually listen to her as he had?
She had never even asked him why he had come to Cutlerville. If she had her choice of places to go, it certainly wouldn't be here. Cowboys belonged on the open range with wild horses and buffalo and other creatures of nature. Perhaps he had come for medical treatment for his injured leg.
"Georgina, you aren't listening," Peter whispered gently, prodding her back to the moment. "Your father asked you a question. Are you ready to set the date yet?"
Rounding up her straying thoughts, Georgina pursed her lips, gazed around at the people waiting for her reply, and felt a furious surge of rebellion. Pushing back her chair and rising, she replied, "No, but since the three of you have handled it perfectly well without me until now, I'm certain you can continue to do so."
She flew from the room, leaving her parents to apologize for her behavior. As usual.
* * *
The street outside her father's factory was unpaved. The early summer dust filled the air with every passing wagon, coating already filthy buildings with still another layer of Ohio clay. Georgina frowned at the layer of dust coating her dark green gown. She had rejected wearing a cloak in this heat, but she was regretting her haste now. She had meant to appear very mature and reliable when she was shown to her father's office. She feared she looked more a hoyden than ever.
Well, it was too late to do anything about it. Setting her chin, she entered the side door that she knew led to the offices.
Her father's secretary looked up from a stack of correspondence and frowned before donning a fawning smile. "Miss Hanover! How good it is to see you home again. I understand congratulations are in order. When is the happy day?"
Almost all of her father's employees were female, Georgina knew, and that included his secretary. The tall, graying spinster had been with the company for years, possibly decades. She couldn't be disrespectful to the woman, but she couldn't in all truth answer the question either.
"I don't know. You'll have to ask my father," she answered simply. She hadn't spoken to him since the night before. She was about to correct that oversight. There were a few things that just had to be discussed before this comedy of errors continued. "Is he busy? I'd like to see him a minute, if I might."
The secretary looked regretful. "He's with someone right now. If you could wait a few minutes, I'm sure he would be delighted to see you."
She knew her father's idea of a few minutes. Picking up the travel bag with her sketchpad in it, Georgina gestured toward the door leading into the factory. "Would it be all right if I waited in there? I mean to learn about the business, and that seems to be the best place to start."
She spoke modestly, quietly, like any obedient daughter, but she didn't wait for a reply. For all her life her father had kept her out of the factory where his money was made, saying it was no place for little girls. Well, she wasn't a little girl any longer. It was time she started
Thinking about Peter's father gave Georgina the cold shudders. There was a man with no conscience, one whose only concerns were his wealth and his ability to acquire more. If he were the model of Peter thirty years from now, she knew this marriage was a mistake.
But once the call came for dinner, Peter was all that was attentive. He led her to the table, held her chair, asked about her travels, and made no further mention of their impending nuptials. She would have been flattered had she not felt his interest was forced.
Remembering her conversation with the cowboy earlier, Georgina allowed the conversation to go on without her. Mr. Martin's interest hadn't been forced. She had behaved her absolute worst, and he had seen right through her. Why couldn't there be more men of her acquaintance who would actually listen to her as he had?
She had never even asked him why he had come to Cutlerville. If she had her choice of places to go, it certainly wouldn't be here. Cowboys belonged on the open range with wild horses and buffalo and other creatures of nature. Perhaps he had come for medical treatment for his injured leg.
"Georgina, you aren't listening," Peter whispered gently, prodding her back to the moment. "Your father asked you a question. Are you ready to set the date yet?"
Rounding up her straying thoughts, Georgina pursed her lips, gazed around at the people waiting for her reply, and felt a furious surge of rebellion. Pushing back her chair and rising, she replied, "No, but since the three of you have handled it perfectly well without me until now, I'm certain you can continue to do so."
She flew from the room, leaving her parents to apologize for her behavior. As usual.
* * *
The street outside her father's factory was unpaved. The early summer dust filled the air with every passing wagon, coating already filthy buildings with still another layer of Ohio clay. Georgina frowned at the layer of dust coating her dark green gown. She had rejected wearing a cloak in this heat, but she was regretting her haste now. She had meant to appear very mature and reliable when she was shown to her father's office. She feared she looked more a hoyden than ever.
Well, it was too late to do anything about it. Setting her chin, she entered the side door that she knew led to the offices.
Her father's secretary looked up from a stack of correspondence and frowned before donning a fawning smile. "Miss Hanover! How good it is to see you home again. I understand congratulations are in order. When is the happy day?"
Almost all of her father's employees were female, Georgina knew, and that included his secretary. The tall, graying spinster had been with the company for years, possibly decades. She couldn't be disrespectful to the woman, but she couldn't in all truth answer the question either.
"I don't know. You'll have to ask my father," she answered simply. She hadn't spoken to him since the night before. She was about to correct that oversight. There were a few things that just had to be discussed before this comedy of errors continued. "Is he busy? I'd like to see him a minute, if I might."
The secretary looked regretful. "He's with someone right now. If you could wait a few minutes, I'm sure he would be delighted to see you."
She knew her father's idea of a few minutes. Picking up the travel bag with her sketchpad in it, Georgina gestured toward the door leading into the factory. "Would it be all right if I waited in there? I mean to learn about the business, and that seems to be the best place to start."
She spoke modestly, quietly, like any obedient daughter, but she didn't wait for a reply. For all her life her father had kept her out of the factory where his money was made, saying it was no place for little girls. Well, she wasn't a little girl any longer. It was time she started