Storing Up Trouble, стр. 9
Because she had shot him, though, she didn’t set her horse to galloping, letting it meander down the road at a pace that left much to be desired.
It quickly became apparent that Norman had not been exaggerating when he’d claimed to have no aptitude for chitchat. The few times she attempted to engage him in conversation during their ride were met with grunts or silence, which was why she eventually abandoned any effort in that regard, spending the time it took to get to the small train station listening to Norman spout out random numbers every few seconds.
Steering the horse to a hitching post once they reached the station, Beatrix dismounted and tied the reins around the post, doing the same to the reins of Norman’s horse. She then watched in disbelief as Norman slid clumsily off his horse, landing on his backside, but before she could offer him a hand up, he was on his feet, stamping one foot and then the other against the ground and wincing with every stamp.
“I’m trying to get rid of the tingles,” he said when he noticed her watching him. “Must have lost the circulation at some point.”
“That wouldn’t have happened if you’d ridden in the saddle.”
“No, but if I’d done that then there’s a good chance I’d have fainted from terror at some point, and then where would we be?”
“You’d still be lying on the road, where I would have left you because I don’t believe I would have been sympathetic to your plight a second time.”
“And yet another reason why you’re not married.”
Her lips twitched, but not wanting Norman to know he’d actually amused her instead of annoyed her, Beatrix spun on her heel and strode to the ticket window, purchasing them two tickets to Chicago. Delighted to be told the train to Chicago would be leaving in fifteen minutes, she took a moment to explain their situation to the man in the ticket booth, who hurried to assure her that he’d see after the horses, and then returned her money, saying she deserved a free trip after the trouble she’d experienced.
“Did that man give you back your money?” Norman asked, falling into step beside her after she handed him his ticket and strode for the train.
“He did.”
“That was hardly a prudent business decision on his part. You were obviously capable of paying since you’d already done exactly that, although I was intending to pay you back for my ticket.”
“He was trying to be kind.”
“But he lost the sale of two tickets.”
Beatrix stopped walking a few feet from the train. “Do feel free to choose a seat far, far away from me.”
He frowned. “I was already intending on doing that.”
“Good.” As she marched her way onto the train, her disappointment was swift when she realized all the seats were occupied save two—and those seats, unfortunately, were together.
“And here I was hoping to get some uninterrupted time on the ride to Chicago,” Norman said behind her. “Highly doubtful that’ll happen now, not when you talked almost nonstop on the ride here.”
“No, I didn’t,” Beatrix said. “You’re the one who was never silent.”
“I was working on an elusive mathematical equation, which demanded I talk out loud because that helps me puzzle equations out.”
“You do know that talking out loud to oneself can be construed by others as rather rude behavior, don’t you?” Beatrix asked as she headed for the two empty seats, sitting down in the one directly by the window, Norman taking the seat next to her.
“No one has ever mentioned that they find my talking out loud rude, not even the decorum instructors my mother hired for me in my youth.”
“You had decorum instructors?”
He nodded. “My mother has always been determined to take her place as one of the society leaders in Chicago society. But the lessons stopped when I turned twelve, though, after Miss Addleson, my last decorum instructor, decided I was a hopeless case.”
“Your family is society?”
He nodded again.
Beatrix’s brows drew together. “Don’t you find society events difficult because you don’t enjoy idle chitchat?”
“I’m only required to attend a few events every Season.” Norman smiled. “My mother is well aware that I’m somewhat lacking in social graces, which is why she’s content to simply tell everyone I’m occupied with my work. She only insists I attend events that are deemed significant, which, thankfully, are few and far between.”
The train chugged into motion, picking up speed as Beatrix took a moment to appreciate the scenery now flashing past her window. “How did your family become involved in Chicago society?” she asked, turning back to Norman, who was in the process of retrieving an apple from his pocket, which he promptly gave to her before retrieving another one for himself.
Beatrix smiled. “Thank you.” She took a bite, swallowed, then nodded. “Returning to your family, have they always been society?”
He took a bite of his apple, chewed it for a few seconds, then shook his head. “No, at least not on my father’s side. My grandfather began mining iron ore back in the forties. He found a large deposit on some land he’d purchased, which then led him to build an iron foundry in Chicago a few years later. That foundry became quite profitable, which allowed my grandfather, and then my father, to expand into steel mills. With their success came invitations to society events and introductions to the reigning belles of the day, of which my mother was one.” With that, Norman took another bite of his apple and descended into silence, seeming to be perfectly content to end the conversation there.
Beatrix frowned. “You really are inept at the whole chitchat business, aren’t you?”
“I never said I was inept. I said I don’t have an aptitude for it.”
“You admitted you’ve had decorum instructors, so I have to imagine those instructors broached the subject of how to go about