Amon by Kit Morgan Page A

smile, one he often used to comfort her. “I’ll have my say with the gentleman alone, yes. You know me well enough.”
    She had to smile as well. “Indeed I do.” She tossed a furtive glance at Mr. Cotter, who was still staring at her, his eyes intense. She swallowed hard. “I’ll go tell Mrs. Upton to prepare a pot.” She gave a small curtsy, left the room, closed the door, turned …
    … and walked right into Mrs. Upton. “Oh! I’m terribly sorry!” Then she noticed that the other woman was carrying a large cast-iron frying pan.
    Mrs. Upton followed her eyes and nodded. “I heard a ruckus up here, so I thought I’d better look in on things. We ladies can’t be too careful.”
    “Truer words were never spoken,” Nettie sighed, leaning against the nearest wall.
    “It sounded like Clinton Moresy.”
    “It was.”
    Mrs. Upton shook her head sadly. “That boy just isn’t right,” she offered, tapping her temple with a finger. “Well, what can I do for you?”
    “Oh, yes. My brother is entertaining a guest and wanted some tea if it’s not too much trouble?”
    “No trouble at all, honey. You come with me.”
    As they headed down the hall, Nettie breathed a sigh of relief as she saw no sign of that horrid man Mr. Moresy. They descended the stairs, crossed the lobby to the dining room and from there into the kitchen. “Oh my!” she said as she glanced around, her eyes widening. The place was enormous!
    “Yes indeed,” Mrs. Upton said proudly at Nettie’s reaction. “Quite a place Mr. Van Cleet built here. Now the visitor – is it that handsome Mr. Cotter?”
    Nettie couldn’t help but look surprised. “However did you know it was him?”
    “Honey, it wasn’t just Moresy’s voice I heard coming down the stairwell.” She hummed to herself a moment. “Besides, that Mr. Cotter … I swear his voice could melt butter.”
    Nettie realized she was right – the man’s voice was pleasant. She hadn’t had a chance to dwell on it before, being more concerned about Mr. Moresy causing trouble.
    “Is your brother speaking to him about marrying you?” Mrs. Upton asked with a wink.
    Nettie gasped, then sobered. So what if the woman knew? Soon the whole town probably would. “I suppose he is.”
    “Sent you down here so they could meet in private, huh? Well, that's a good sign.”
    She squared her shoulders and was about to give Mrs. Upton what for, then stopped. The other woman meant no harm. But she was determined to choose her own husband – and even if her brother approved of him, she might not. That’s what she hated most about this: the horrible feeling that she had no control over her life, any more than she had slaving for the Baron.
    No. She wanted to marry, but no one – not her brother, the Duke, or his brothers for that matter was going to choose her husband for her. About that, she was determined.

Five
     
    “I dare say,” Imogene huffed, “but if reading The Devil’s Bride and The Pirate’s Peril aren’t enough to pick you up, then I’m at my wits end!”
    Cutty shifted himself on the bed, crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. They were in the patient room at the back of Doc Waller’s house. He’d been there ever since the Whitman twins had arrived in town a few days ago. “Woman, the day yer at yer wit’s end will be the day yer in yer grave! Even then, you’ll no doubt have some cuttin’ remark that’ll set the Grim Reaper’s sickle on fire!”
    “Well, well,” Imogene said with a smile, “there’s the Cutty I know! You’ve got to fight whatever this is that ails you! And I don’t think it has anything to do with your previous injuries.”
    He glared at her with his one good eye. “And what makes ya say that, Doctor ?”
    “Because I know you better than you think, dear sir.”
    Cutty sank back into his pillows at the remark. “Ya don’t know me!”
    “Don’t I?” Imogene said with a sly smile. “I’ve spent enough time with you, you old