The Last Heiress Page 4

  “This lovely spring day has set both our tongues free.” Nate grinned at her embarrassment. “Think no more about it.”

  She stepped back to peruse the contents of several shelves. “You display a fine selection of goods, sir. I will remember your shop for future necessities. Do you work here for your father?” Her warm brown eyes sought his.

  “No. My father has passed on.”

  “For your mother, then?” She pursed her rosy lips.

  “My mother is at rest, awaiting the Second Coming as well.” Nate draped the rag over his shoulder. “They are buried side by side under a fir tree. My ma took sick one winter and died before Christmas.”

  “Forgive my impertinence, Mr. Cooper, but you appear too young to own a market by yourself.”

  “I was twenty-five on my last birthday, in robust health and usually sound of mind. Don’t forget this is America—the land of opportunity for those with ambition. Even a nobody from the Blue Ridge Mountains can move to the seaboard for a fresh start if they’re willing to work long hours. I have few requirements other than keeping my customers happy.”

  Miss Dunn stared at the floor. “Now I’m the one being boorish. I hope you won’t judge all English people by my rudeness.”

  “I haven’t met many Brits. Your countrymen usually send their servants to town to shop. And I don’t find your curiosity inappropriate. If we don’t ask questions, how can we learn? Now let me ask you one. What brought you into my store today? A bolt of fabric, a bottle of tonic, perhaps candy for your sweet tooth?”

  For several moments she appeared perplexed. Then her lips pulled into a smile. “I almost forgot why I’m here. I have been walking all morning and I’m famished. Could I purchase a tin of soup or a potted pie for lunch? Chicken, beef, mutton—the type doesn’t matter—but I don’t wish to return to my sister’s until I finish exploring. Who knows when I’ll have another opportunity to escape?” As she ended her explanation, she dropped her voice to a whisper.

  “Excuse me just for a minute, Miss Dunn.” Nate marched into the stockroom without the slightest idea as to how to fulfill her request. He sold linens, powders, sacks of grain, and canned goods, not meals for those out for the day without a lunch hamper. He scanned burlap sacks of barley, flour, and rice; stacks of foolscap for penning letters; and kegs of apple cider and maple syrup. But he had no cookstove even if he found enough ingredients to prepare a simple meal. Nate reentered the store carrying his only solution.

  He spotted Miss Dunn by the front door, assessing tins of salt and spices. “You’ll find a basin behind the counter should you like to wash.” He rolled out a clean linen cloth and poured a cup of cider. “Here you are, miss. I hope my special-of-the-day meets with your approval.”

  She washed and dried her hands and then climbed onto a tall stool at the counter. “My, this looks delicious.” Miss Dunn lifted the top piece of grainy oatmeal bread and peered at a thick slice of farmer’s cheese covered with spicy tomato relish. Holding the sandwich in both hands, she took a bite. “It’s wonderful! While I eat, why don’t you explain how merchandise finds its way onto your shelves?”

  Nate perched on the opposite stool. “Vegetables and sacks of grain arrive in wagons from outlying farms, along with pickled meats and canned goods. I carry smoked hams, dressed turkeys and pheasants, and fresh venison whenever available. Fabric, notions, and cooking implements come by train from the west. Lately, those deliveries have been haphazard. Coffee, sugar, vanilla, and spices from abroad are becoming scarce because of the blockade, while pineapples, oranges, and bananas from the tropics are rare as snowstorms. Many residents are drinking more tea since the plantations around Charleston increased production.”

  “Splendid. Colonists are returning to the favored beverage of their mother country.”

  “It’s been a long time since Carolinians thought of themselves as colonists. That war is past history. We’re smack dab in the middle of another conflict now.” Nate tried not to stare as she ate, but her creamy complexion and curvy figure beneath the dark dress drew him like a bee to nectar.

  “Weren’t you compelled to run off and enlist for the Glorious Cause? Our newspapers made it sound as though men were fighting for noble reasons, but taking someone’s life is killing, plain and simple.” Miss Dunn dabbed her mouth with the napkin.

  Nate felt the tiny hairs lift on his neck. “I’m no coward, if that’s what you’re implying. I thought about signing up, but Wilmington is the center of trade for the Confederacy. If every man took up arms against the Yankees, who would be left to run the port?” He busied himself cleaning up bread crumbs. “Besides, I’m not from around here. No one back home owned slaves—they were too poor. I can’t see the point of dying to maintain slavery. That evil practice only helps the rich get richer.” Nate locked gazes with her.

  “Forgive me, Mr. Cooper. It wasn’t my intention to question your bravery or loyalties. In my attempt to understand the Southern culture, I have insulted you for the second time today.”

  “I’ve become quite adept at explaining myself.” Nate ran a hand through his hair. “And there isn’t one Southern culture. Quality of life depends on whether you’re rich or poor, black or white. I suppose the same can be said in…”

  “Village of Wycleft, outside of Manchester. And indeed that is the case.”

  “Where does your sister live, if I may inquire?”

  “Abigail and Jackson Henthorne live on Third Street at the corner of Orange. Are you acquainted with them?”

  “I’ve walked past homes in that area. Most assuredly I don’t belong to the same social circle as your family.” Nate tried unsuccessfully to keep scorn from his voice.

  “Like you, I am opposed to slavery. Perhaps I will have little in common with their social circle too.” Finished with the sandwich, she rose and walked to the window overlooking Water Street and the wharves beyond. “You mentioned you’re from the Blue Ridge Mountains. Is there a high point in town where I might catch a glimpse of these peaks?” She smiled prettily over her shoulder.

  He chuckled. “I’m afraid they are four hundred miles to the west. It would take a week to reach them by coach, probably the same by train since the armies keep tearing up the tracks.”

  “Four hundred miles? Yet we would still be in North Carolina?”

  “Yes, ma’am. America is huge, not like that little island you call an empire.” He winked impishly.

  “I will allow you that insult and permit one more before we’re even. But I’m keeping you from your noon meal. I should have insisted we dine together. Why don’t you eat while I entertain you with tales about my home?”

  Nate shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “As delightful as that sounds, I’m afraid it’s impossible.”

  “Why? Since you own this mercantile, you have no one to answer to and can eat a meal when you wish.” She cocked her head to one side. “Are you too shy to eat in front of a stranger? I thought we were halfway to becoming friends.”

  “It’s impossible, Miss Dunn, because you ate my lunch.” He leaned back against the counter.

  Her amused expression changed to abject horror. “I did? Why would you permit such a thing?”

  Nate shrugged. “Because you were hungry and I wasn’t at the moment. I enjoyed your company and didn’t wish to cut our conversation short. Besides, if I sent a starving woman down the street to the hotel, what would that say about American hospitality?”

  Miss Dunn fumbled in her purse with trembling fingers. “I have gobbled up a man’s sole meal until sundown while insulting him at every turn.” She placed several coins on the counter. “My sister left these for me on the hall table, but I’m not familiar with American currency. Please take whatever is fair for the meal.”

  “Absolutely not. The sandwich was a gift.”

  “My embarrassment will only increase if you refuse my money. I entered your store with the express purpose of buying something to eat.” She pushed the coins across the glass to
p.

  “Your embarrassment is baseless. I wouldn’t have given you the sandwich if I didn’t want you to have it. And gifts don’t require payment.” Nate shoved the coins back.

  “You are a very stubborn man, Mr. Cooper,” she said, returning the money to her purse. “Is that a Wilmington trait or something you brought from the impossible-to-see Blue Ridge Mountains?”

  “It’s a trait which bodes well for our potential friendship because we have it in common. Is yours an English tendency or perhaps a genetic disposition inherited from a Dunn ancestor?” He selected a shiny red apple from a bin and took a bite.

  She paused to consider. “It must be the latter because my twin sister isn’t the least bit stubborn. Impulsive, yes. Maybe even flighty, but Abigail is as amenable and pliable as they come.”

  Nate’s apple stopped inches from his mouth. “Are you saying you have a twin? That there are two of you?”

  “I am. We are identical in size and feature, but Abby is now a Carolina belle with hoops and frills and ostentatious hats. I compare poorly in my taste for clothes.”

  Nate studied her while eating the apple. “In my opinion, much of ladies’ fashion seems better suited to a theater stage. But the notion that an identical copy of you lives mere blocks away has me stymied.”

  Miss Dunn stopped fiddling with her change purse and met his eye. “Why is that, Mr. Cooper?”

  “Because you’re the prettiest woman to ever walk into my store.”

  For several moments she didn’t speak. Then she burst out laughing. “I shall accept that as high compliment, even though not one soul has entered your shop since I arrived. Which reminds me, I should leave and finish my explorations of your lovely town before my sister alerts the authorities. She must be worried that I’m either lost or have fallen in with a bad lot.” Miss Dunn headed for the door with a sprightly step.

  “Wait. When can I see you again?”

  She turned around. “Would tomorrow be soon enough? I could bring a hamper around noon if you’re willing to share lunch this time. After all, what’s fair is fair.”

  “Little in life would please me more. But as I have no employees, I have no one to watch the store if we go off on a picnic.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Is this counter spoken for tomorrow afternoon, or perhaps your front stoop if it’s sunny and mild?”

  “No one has reserved them thus far.” He felt a frisson of excitement begin to build inside him.

  “Then it is settled. Good day, Mr. Cooper.”

  A good day to you, Miss Dunn. Nate didn’t voice his words because the enchanting woman was already quickly walking up the street. But as he watched her he felt a whisper of unease. He was so out of his league. Amanda Dunn may as well be the Queen of England herself.

  Three

  Amanda didn’t slow her pace until she came to the two-block hike up the hill to her sister’s house. After the long period of inactivity on the ship during her crossing, she was breathless by the time she climbed the steps to the lower verandah, where her sister was waiting for her.

  “There you are, naughty girl. I was about to send the carriage in search of you.” Abigail shook her finger in a brilliant imitation of their mother.

  “Forgive me for worrying you, Abby. I was so fascinated with your city that I lost track of the hour. I browsed shop after shop, admiring everything I saw.”

  “In that case you are forgiven. We hope you’ll enjoy Wilmington enough to remain. Shall we have tea?” Abigail settled on a chaise in the cool shadows and rang a small silver bell. A tea service materialized almost immediately.

  “But Papa is depending on me to return to England with signed contracts—”

  “Pooh. That’s what the postal service is for, or you could hire a ship’s courier to transport papers home.” Abigail poured a cup of black tea and then handed it to her sister.

  Amanda decided not to send Josie for a pitcher of cream, although her maid hovered behind her chair. “I may be here longer than I originally supposed. Mr. Henthorne said he must seek permission from Mr. Davis to conduct business with Dunn Mills.”

  Abby sipped her tea. “He is President Davis, not mister, and these things take time. Jackson said that you comported yourself admirably during the meeting. He expected you to stammer and stutter, if not faint dead away, but you acted like a true woman of industry.” She giggled as though the idea amused her.

  “That was my intention.” Amanda peered through the filmy curtains into the house. “Did you say that Jackson was home?”

  “Yes, but then he left for his men’s club. He often takes business appointments there, but I believe imbibing alcohol and smoking cigars goes on more than anything else. I heard they also play cards for money late at night. What would our Episcopal priest say about that?” Abby dropped her voice in case the preacher lurked in the shrubbery. “At least Jackson doesn’t go out often at night.”

  “Do you suppose he would venture to Richmond to call on President Davis?” Amanda asked between sips of surprisingly delicious tea.

  “Goodness, no. Richmond isn’t around the corner, dear sister. It’s in another state, Virginia, and an arduous train ride away. Considering the fighting between here and there, that is out of the question. Could you imagine landing within range of Yankee artillery? No, no. A courier will take Papa Henthorne’s request to the capital. In the meantime, you can catch me up with news from home. And when we’re done with that, we can start calling on my friends during the afternoon. Everyone is eager to meet you.” When Abby shook the bell a second time, a three-tiered tray of sweets and savories appeared. “Look! A proper English tea to celebrate your arrival.”

  Amanda leaned forward to admire crustless sandwiches, orange scones, and tiny iced cakes decorated with pink rosettes. “How lovely. Thank you.”

  For the next two hours she filled her sister in on changes in the village of Wycleft on the outskirts of Manchester: marriages of childhood friends, the death of their former nanny, scandals among the servants, old beaus who still asked after her. Abigail laughed much, cried a little, and in general appeared homesick, especially when the conversation turned to their mother.

  “Grandmama sent a gift to you,” said Amanda. “But she insisted that I wait until our birthday.”

  “Oh, please, may I have it now?” Abby dropped her scone onto the plate, her interest in food gone.

  Amanda hurried to her room and a few minutes later presented Abigail with a small box covered in pink silk and tied with a black ribbon. Her sister pulled off the wrapping and extracted a hand-carved cameo bracelet—their grandmother’s favorite piece of jewelry. “Are you certain she wanted me to have this?” Her words cracked with emotion.

  “Yes. She was quite emphatic it was for you.”

  Abby clenched her eyes shut but couldn’t stem the tears. They trickled down her face like a leaky faucet. After a while, she cleared her throat. “Let’s talk about your afternoon before my face turns red and puffy. Jackson doesn’t like to see me upset.”

  Amanda described the dressmaker and milliner she found, along with a resident artist who painted portraits in the front window of his cluttered studio. But before long, the conversation landed on Cooper’s Greengrocery, and there it remained until Jackson’s carriage pulled up to the mounting block.

  “This shopkeeper has accomplished what no Englishman has been able to do—impress my extremely particular sister,” Abby teased, finishing her discarded scone.

  “I couldn’t believe how forthright the man was, quite unafraid to say what he thought.”

  “Dear me, I hope he wasn’t rude to you. Some of those stores on Water Street—”

  “Not at all. Mr. Cooper behaved like a perfect gentleman. He just didn’t waste time talking in circles like the men of Papa’s acquaintance.”

  “I thought the same about Jackson when we met. He spoke his mind and went after what he wanted in life. Looks as if you’ve made your first friend in Wilmington. Well done.” Abb
y rose to greet her husband, who had paused on the walkway to give instructions to the gardener.

  “May I take a lunch hamper to Mr. Cooper tomorrow? After all, I caused him to go without today.”

  Abby smiled indulgently. “I don’t see the harm, but let’s not mention this at the dinner table. Jackson can be overprotective at times, which I’m afraid will include you while you’re here.”

  That night when Amanda blew out her bedside candle, she was filled with anticipation. She had made the right decision in coming to America. Seeing her sister confirmed that five years meant nothing to twins. Her reception at the Henthorne and Sons office portended a successful resolution to the woes at Dunn Mills. And the prospect of seeing Nathaniel Cooper tomorrow? A gently raised young woman never should entertain such thoughts about a complete stranger. Yet when she closed her eyes, visions of his sinewy muscles, silky brown hair, and sky-blue eyes danced across her eyelids. Developing crushes wasn’t a common habit for Amanda, but if Helene weren’t already snoring on her side of the Chinese screen, she may have waltzed around the room with a pillow for a partner.

  The following morning, after her solitary breakfast of grits and ham, she sought out the cook in the kitchen. “Good morning, Salome. May I trouble you to pack a luncheon hamper around eleven o’clock?”

  The woman barely glanced up from rolling out pie dough. “Yes’m. Miz Henthorne already told me.”

  “Could I possibly have hearty selections suitable for a man’s appetite instead of a woman’s?”

  That question triggered a furrowed forehead. “How ’bout fried chicken with corn relish and buttermilk biscuits?”