Love in Disguise by Barbara Baldwin

Author:Barbara Baldwin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical romance, gambling, transcontinental railroad, historical murder mystery, suffragists, master of disguise, suspense on the railroad, women suffragettes
Publisher: BWL Publishing Inc

Chapter Nine

Two nights later, Max descended the stairs, silently let himself out the front door, then used the knocker and waited to be readmitted. As usual, Hickory opened the door.

“Good evening, sir,” the servant stated, bowing low.

“Is Mrs. Gentry at home this evening?” Max asked in a deep southern drawl.

Hickory gave him a funny look.

“I will see if she is receiving, sir. May I tell her who is calling?”

“Jeffery Markham III, of the Virginia Markham’s.”

Max handed him a card.

“Very good. If you will wait just a minute.”

Hickory turned and disappeared down the hall, leaving Max standing on the doorstep. He grinned to himself, resisting the urge to adjust his blond wig and side-whiskers.

His disguise probably hadn’t fooled Hickory, but he felt it was good enough to fool John Dillon.

“This way, sir.”

Hickory opened the door wider to allow him entrance.

He walked into the parlor where Libby and Abby were deep in discussion. He hoped they weren’t planning the party he’d heard mentioned at breakfast. He detested social functions and only hoped Libby wouldn’t pressure him to attend. At Hickory’s harrumph, both women looked up.

Max stepped forward and bowed over Libby’s hand.

“Mrs. Gentry, it is indeed a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

The drawl he’d perfected over the years was deep and slow. Libby’s eyes twinkled as she acknowledged his greeting.

“Mr. Markham, did you say? I happen to be related to some Markhams, but they fared from Boston, not Virginia.”

She pursed her lips.

“Do you perchance know of them?”

Max returned her sally without as much as a blink.

“The Markham name is known throughout the eastern seaboard, not only for their shipbuilding ability, but for the loveliness of their women.”

He winked overtly at his aunt. She laughed at his flirtation.

“You are most certainly a Markham, sir. If I hadn’t recognized you by your features, I most certainly would have by your audacity.”

Abby’s silk skirts rustled when she shifted in her seat.

“Oh, dear, I am sorry, Abby. I didn’t intend to be rude,” Libby said.

“Mr. Markham, may I introduce my companion, Miss Abigail O’Brien, of Boston.”

Max bowed then raised his head to look directly at her.

“You are by far the loveliest maid I have chanced to meet this side of the great Rocky Mountains, Miss O’Brien.”

He spoke in the slow, southern drawl of a plantation gentleman. Abby looked like she wasn’t sure how to take him. He felt certain she didn’t recognize him, though, and that was the most important thing. She smiled at his compliment and he felt a tightening in his groin that he so often experienced in her company. He cleared his throat.

“Had I known Mrs. Gentry was keeping such beauteous company, I would have found the opportunity to visit before now.”

Libby laughed. “Beauteous? Do you think that is even a proper English word, Mr. Markham?”

She continued laughing, dabbing at her eyes. Abby stood and moved closer.

“Are you all right, Libby?”

She looked at Max, who began laughing along with his aunt.

“I didn’t think your jest quite so funny, Mr. Markham.”

At her reprimand, he and his aunt laughed harder.

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