Follow the Heart by Kaye Dacus

sorry I was unable to greet you last night with the rest of the family.” She edged closer to him.
    He tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked from heel to toe. “I understand you weren’t feeling well. I hope you are better now.”
    “Much better, thank you.” She took another cautious step forward.
    “Now you’ve had a chance to look me over, do I meet with your approval?” Christopher turned side to side, as if offering her the chance to inspect him fully.
    She nodded. “Yes—I mean, I did not expect you wouldn’t. I mean, I rather expected—hoped—you might be dressed in buckskins and wearing a raccoon hat.”
    He laughed. “A coonskin hat, you mean? I see you’ve been reading up on my fair land.”
    “Did you know him? David Crockett?” She closed the gap between them, warming to her topic.
    “No, to my utter disappointment. Davy Crockett died when I was very little. But I too enjoyed reading about him.”
    “How far is Tennessee from Philadelphia? Miss Woodriff has a map, but it is not a very good one.”
    “Tennessee is quite a distance from Philadelphia. And as it is a large state, parts of it are very far from Philadelphia.”
    “As far as from here to London? It takes hours to get to London on the train.”
    Christopher bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “It’s a bit farther than that.”
    Her blue eyes grew wide. “As far as to Paris?”
    “Even farther than that—though we don’t have the burden of crossing the English Channel, only the mountains.”
    “But the train could take you there, so you could see where he came from?”
    He affected a deep sigh. “Alas, the railway system in America is not nearly as advanced as it has become in England. We have many more miles to cover, and most of it is through hazardous, rough terrain.”
    “Filled with Red Indians?”
    He gaped at her. “Miss Florence, what does your governess allow you to read?”
    “You may call me Florie. And Miss Woodriff gives me the most wonderful books. But Matthew sneaks his penny dreadfuls to me after he is finished with them.”
    “Matthew . . . the footman?”
    “Yes.”
    No wonder this conversation had been very much like the one he’d had this morning with the young footman assigned to be his valet.
    “Matthew is ever so desirous of going to America. A year ago when Miss Woodriff’s brother left to go to California to get rich, Matthew almost went with him.”
    Christopher’s interest piqued at that detail. So the governess’s brother was off in California seeking gold. Though Christopher considered the endeavor foolhardy, he admired the man for the foresight of leaving Miss Woodriff behind where she would be comfortable and safe, rather than dragging her across the continent on a difficult journey only to put her at risk—from the environment and those populating it—once they arrived in California.
    A clock chimed, echoing through the gallery. Florie gasped. “I had no idea how late it was. Miss Woodriff despises tardiness.”
    Christopher offered his cousin his arm. “Then let me escort you, and I will explain how I detained you. That way, she can be angry with me instead of you.”
    Florie took his arm with another giggle. “She tries to be stern, but deep down, I don’t think Miss Woodriff could truly be angry with anyone. Not for long, anyway.”
    After several minutes, Christopher was glad of Florie’s chattering company—he never would have found his way. They left the main part of the house and went into an older wing—colder, damper—and up two more flights of stairs.
    When they reached the top of the second flight, the echoing clip of footfalls met them. They turned a corner, and Miss Woodriff came to an abrupt halt before she ran headlong into them.
    She stared at Christopher for a moment, astonishment clear in her golden-brown eyes. With a little shake of her head, she turned her attention to Florie. “Miss Florence, your Latin lesson was to have started five