The front door opened. Brinkley’s voice welcomed his employer home, and Niall’s footsteps echoed in the vestibule.
Athena sat up straight and had her best smile ready for him when he walked into the parlor. She held out her hands.
“Niall, welcome home! It is so wonderful to have you back.”
He bent to take her hands and kissed them. “Athena. You are looking well—and lovely, as ever.”
Athena searched his face. He, too, was looking well; his ordinarily sober gray eyes were almost sparkling, as if with some hidden mischief. They reminded her of the old days, when Niall had been… when it had been so much easier for him to laugh. So much easier for both of them.
“Sit down, and tell me all about your business,” she said, signaling for the parlormaid to bring tea, coffee, and biscuits. “Was it very successful?”
Niall smiled and sat in his armchair facing the fireplace. “You have never taken any interest in my business.”
“Perhaps it is time I did.”
“And perhaps it is past time that I take an interest in yours.”
She grew alert. “I am… sorry about our argument before you left—”
“No. You were quite right. I have been too harsh, without understanding.”
Her heart swelled with hope. “That is kind of you, Niall. Nothing would please me more than if you wished to help.”
“Then I trust you will be pleased with what I have brought you today.”
Athena did not allow herself to show vulgar excitement. Niall often brought her gifts upon his return from business trips, but never with such pleasure.
“I do not see a package,” she said, leaning as if to look behind him. “I cannot imagine what you can have brought from the mines in the south!”
“Oh, it will not fit in any sort of box,” he said with mock solemnity. “Indeed, you will have to come outside to see it.”
Alarm stopped the air in her lungs. “Here at the house?”
“It would not even fit on the grounds. You must come out with me, in the carriage, if you want your present.”
She looked down at her lap and the carefully arranged folds of her gown. “You know… that is not easy for me, Niall.”
“You go out to the orphanage and among the poor.”
“Yes, but that is different—”
“Because they have no right to pity you?”
She flinched at his too-acute observation. For a moment he looked uncomfortable. “I realize that you do not enjoy going into the city, or even on social calls,” he said. “But I think you will wish to make an exception in this case.”
She met his gaze. There was a hint of a challenge in it, and that was shock enough to win her full attention. He was so apt to want to protect her, and now he urged her to go out. There was something special about this, indeed.
“Very well,” she said slowly. “If you will take refreshment while I prepare—”
“Nonsense. You are fine as you are.” He rang for Brinkley. “Please call Miss Munroe’s maid, and tell Romero that we will be needing the rockaway.”
Fran appeared to settle Athena’s wrap about her shoulders and pushed her chair down the hall. Only moments ago Athena had been wishing for some new source of inspiration, and her wish seemed to have run away with her.
Fran, Romero, and Niall bundled her into the carriage and covered her legs with another wrap. She forced herself to look out the window as they set off, catching glimpses of several women she knew walking arm in arm, a new mansion going up on Welton, the streetcar on its way to the business district. Everything about Denver was moving, too busy to slow down for an instant.
She expected Niall to stop the carriage at any time, but they rattled on out of the better part of town, past more modest dwellings with livestock kept in dusty yards, and on to an area near the outskirts of the city. The Munroes owned several empty lots there, and Niall had often said that he expected the investment to pay off when the city expanded and required the land for new construction.