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he fare in the business?”
    â€œUnfortunately, my father was not of good health. He died shortly after our arrivalin the valley. The West is not an easy place for a man used to the comfortable life of nobility.”
    â€œYour father was a nobleman?”
    â€œMy father was the second son of a baron.”
    David studied her carefully, resting his chin on his hands. “And that makes you . . .”
    â€œIt makes me nothing, as I am an American.”
    David nodded. “It is just as well,” he said. He leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head. “A title is much too troublesome and high-minded.”
    MaryAnne glared back, certain that she or, at the very least, her ancestors had been offended. “Whatever do you mean?”
    â€œI believe Your Grace was saying,” David said, adopting an exaggerated British accent. “My Most Reverend, Most Noble, Right Honorable, Venerable, Duke, Duchess, Squire, Lord, Lady, Baron,Baroness, Viscount, Marquess, Earl.” He breathed out in feigned exasperation. “It is a business in itself and all too tiresome.”
    â€œYou mock me!”
    David waved a hand. “No. No. I am merely amused by the show.”
    MaryAnne sat back, her arms folded defensively across her chest. “America has its castes.”
    â€œTrue. But in America they are for sale.”
    MaryAnne glowered, then suddenly stood up, brushing down her skirt as she rose. “I think I shall go now, Mr. Parkin.”
    Her response surprised him and the smile left David’s face.
    â€œI have offended you.”
    â€œNot in the least,” she replied, raising her chin indignantly.
    â€œNo, I have. I am sorry. Please don’t go.”
    She said nothing.
    â€œI apologize, Miss Chandler. I did notmean to be offensive. Attribute my rudeness to my crass upbringing as an American. Surely you cannot begrudge me of that.”
    â€œPity you, perhaps.”
    â€œTouché,” David said, grinning.
    She retrieved her coat from the pole and put it on. David walked over to the doorway. “MaryAnne, I should like to work together. I will pay you eighteen dollars a week. If you choose to accept, you may begin immediately.”
    MaryAnne lifted her chin proudly, retaining an air of indignation. “I will see you Monday morning at five minutes to eight, Mr. Parkin.”
    David grinned. “It will be a pleasure, Miss Chandler.”

CHAPTER THREE

David
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    â€œMy new secretary manifests a peculiar confederation of English ritual and American sensibility. I enjoy her company, though she seems of a rather serious nature and I wish she were not so formal.”
    David Parkin’s Diary. April 29, 1908
    An hour after the close of the business week, Gibbs, the company’s head clerk, lumbered up the stairway sporting a tumbler in each chubby fist. When he reached David’s office, he was breathing heavily. He set the glasses on the desk and announced, “I brought you some port.”
    David was standing behind his deskthumbing through a leather-bound manual. He brought the volume to his desk and sat down.
    â€œAh, you are well trained, Gibbs. Or at least opportunistic. Thank you.” He bowed back over the book.
    Gibbs took a chair in front of the desk and claimed one of the drinks as his own. “The Salisbury mine is now in possession of a new ore crusher and our account runneth over.”
    â€œWell done, Gibbs. It is a strong year.”
    â€œThey have all been strong years.” Gibbs looked around the room. “Your girl is gone?”
    â€œMaryAnne? Yes, she has left for the day.”
    â€œYou have not said much of her.”
    David continued reading, acknowledging the observation with only a nod.
    â€œIs she capable?”
    David looked up from his register.“She is wonderful. In fact, I am growing quite fond of her.”
    Gibbs pushed back in his chair. “Fond? Why so?”
    David closed the