A reception at Melbourne’s Government House had provided the setting for Scott’s introduction to Kinsey Furlong. His immediate impression judged her as a self-centered brat demanding constant admiration. At the time, he hadn’t realized the young lady’s displayed behavior reflected a mother’s grooming of her socialite daughter. Also in the realm of Scott’s ignorance was the knowledge of his connection to the little attention-seeker.
A few days later, the captain of the Enchantress sailed out of Port Phillip. A few weeks later Fletcher Garrett’s granddaughter trusted the wrong man.
*******
Scott called it a brain itch - a bothersome thought he’d ponder on for a spell until it faded away. Sometimes, the itch returned offering no promises regarding its comings, its goings or its final demise.
His latest nagging notion started a month ago. The itch had popped up and spoke one morning while Scott sipped his cup of coffee and watched the sun push away the bluish-purple of predawn darkness.
Was that bastard present at Melbourne’s Government House?
Scott frowned.
The itch presented its worry a bit clearer.
Did the reception guest list include Kinsey’s soon-to-be attacker?
As Scott tried to brush it off, the itch crawled to a place where he couldn’t quite scratch.
Did you shake the man’s hand?
Laugh at one of his off-colored jokes?
The sonofabitch could have sat at your table.
Provided a round of drinks.
Entertained you with amusing stories.
Fortunately, Scott’s reasoning stepped in.
Truth is if the man had stood front and center, would you have guessed the bastard’s intentions for Eleanor Furlong’s daughter? No. How could you?
And the itch faded away.
During a rare, quiet evening of solitude, the itch returned a bit more… itchier.
Did Kinsey have an escort on the day of the reception?
Was he in the photograph taken for the Melbourne Punch?
Scott found himself abandoning Emerson to stare at clipped newspaper photographs fished from a small, worn valise containing mementos from his travels.
Scott and Kinsey:
Sitting on the steps of the Government House
Posing with Garrett’s Gallop
Strolling the grounds at the Melbourne Cup
Attending the horse derby
Scott and Kinsey:
Surrounded by nameless faces
Common sense soon pointed out the fruitless task of scanning the grainy newsprint photos causing the itch to dull and drift away.
*******
“Scott!” Kinsey’s voice bounced up to the Ebner Hotel balcony.
Enjoying the afternoon sun, Scott leaned over the railing to spy his cousin crossing K Street in the company of a package-laden Westcott.
“Wait until you see the dress I bought! It’s perfect for the gala!” The little cousin disappeared under the terrace and into the hotel.
Grinning, Scott witnessed the familiar juggling of purchases executed awkwardly by his business partner. “So, the perfect dress was found?”
Seth squinted up at the query. “Correct! I look stunning in it!” The announcement captured the attention of a few pedestrians. Westcott elaborated to clear up any confusion. “Brings out the color of my eyes.”
“I predict you’ll be the belle of the ball.” Scott’s insightful surmise encouraged the strollers to quicken their pace and pulled hearty laughter from Seth. “If I know my cousin she’s about to bust a bustle with excitement. Best get those packages inside.”
As his last comment ricocheted off the street below, the itch hit between Scott’s shoulder blades and slithered up the back of his neck.
Was she ready to bust a bustle before the Government House reception?
The itch stayed with Scott the rest of the afternoon, assisted him in dressing for the evening gala and brought him in front of Kinsey’s hotel room door - debating on a conversation which would no doubt be met with eye rolls and tongue-tsking.
However, in Scott’s opinion, asking a young lady to stay close to her escorts in a mansion full of strangers was not a ridiculous suggestion.
His knock resulted in a partially open door revealing one brown eye, a cheek, and half a pout. “Yes?”
“May I come in? I’d like to speak with you before we leave.”
“Scott, you’re early. I’m not ready.”
“I’m only a few minutes early and if the rest of you matches what I can see you’re quite ready.”
The door swung wide with Kinsey’s trademark vocal expression of exasperation.
“Honestly, Scott.” Sitting on the edge of the bed with her hands folded, the little cousin displayed another recurring visual expression - total innocence.
Scott raised an eyebrow of suspicion as he closed the door behind him. “You can lose your pious posture of sitting in a Presbyterian front pew. This isn’t a sermon.”
Grabbing the chair he’d occupied the day before, Scott sat down. “And it’s not a lecture. It’s a request.”
“Oh!” A smile replaced sanctity. “A request. Yes, of course.”
Well, now. Scott relaxed with a satisfied nod at his calm, direct approach to a possible debate. The tickling intimidation of someday being a father and raising a daughter eased slightly. This newly-established confidence suggested he’d do just fine in the role. “Kinsey, tonight at the gala there will be rooms filled with unfamiliar faces -”
“Due to the fact I was denied my full week stay in Sacramento and missed opportunities to meet people.”
“Denied?” Scott’s eyes squinted at the hint of contention. “I believe you’re confusing Murdoch’s consequence with an undeserved judgment.”
“I suppose one could look at the situation from that perspective.” A sweet smile encouraged the continuation of the discussion.
Scott cleared his throat. “Right. So, tonight at the Stanford’s, I’m requesting you stay close -”
“Stay close?” Pursed lips erased the sweet smile.
“I think it would be best if you stick -”
“Like glue?”
“No, not like glue.” Rewording was implemented. “I don’t want you wandering off -”
“From the herd?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“First Johnny compares me to a dog with a bone and now you make me sound like a stray calf. My self-esteem is in serious jeopardy.”
“Wait. All I’m asking is that you keep close to Seth or you stay with me -”
“With you?” Concern filled the room. “Oh no, Scott. I would be amiss to agree.”
“Amiss?”
“Jane… I mean… Mrs. Stanford, indicated several fine young ladies of prominent Sacramento families will be present tonight and, seriously Scott, with me on your arm… what message will it send.”
“Kinsey -”
“He’s taken! That’s the message.”
“Kinsey, this discussion is not about my choice -”
“The McGuire twins are fine examples of -”
“Your opinion of the McGuire twins has been stated -”
“Hussies! One is bad enough, but two!”
“I'm only seeing Madeline -”
“How can you tell? They’re identical. Unless -”
“Stop.” Scott pinched the bridge of his nose and slowly exhaled. “Kinsey, you are not Shanghaiing this conversation. Forget my request - it’s now a directive. Tonight, you’re sticking like glue and staying with the herd. Is that clear?”
A sigh resulting from the terrible burden of being misunderstood introduced the patient patronizing agreement. “Of course. You’re right. It truly is for the best.”
“Good.” Scott rose with a relaxed, satisfied nod at his calm, direct approach to diffusing a prolonged debate. “Let’s meet in the hotel lobby at six.” As he stepped out into the hallway a confession caused him to turn.
“I must admit, Scott. I thought you were here to quote The Ladies’ Book of Etiquette and Manual of Politeness.” The door partially closed leaving one brown eye, a cheek, and half a grin. “A proper young lady never accepts a kiss from her suitor in broad daylight. Chapter 12. Page 43.”
Click.
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