Bicycle Built for Two Read Online Free PDF Page B

Finney. If you’re Kate
Finney, your brother told me to give you this.” He thrust a grubby
wad of paper at Kate.
    At once, Kate’s heart gave a painful spasm.
If one of her brothers was trying to get in touch with her, it
probably meant that something was wrong. Jerry O’Hallahan, the
urchin, held tight to his prize until Kate fished a penny out of
her handbag. “Here, kid. Now get lost.”
    The boy saluted smartly, accustomed to such
pleasantries from the gentry, and sauntered off, whistling “Daisy
Bell,” one of the latest popular songs. With trepidation in her
heart, Kate unfolded the paper, which was damp with sweat from
Jerry’s fists.
    Her heart sank like a boulder in a pond as
she read the words: “Took Ma to hospital. Come quick. Billy.” She
whispered, “Nuts,” and wished she wasn’t too tough to cry.
    She very nearly shrieked when she heard a
voice come to her out of the dark.
    “Miss Finney? I need to speak with you.”
    Whirling around, she beheld none other than
Alex English. She frowned, sensing more trouble. “What do you
want?”
    “To speak with you.” He looked grim.
    His looks were nothing compared to the
savagery roiling in Kate’s own bosom. “Yeah? You got a carriage,
Mr. Rich Guy?”
    He blinked, obviously surprised by this
reaction. “A—a carriage? Why, yes, but—”
    “All right. I’ll talk to you. But it’s going
to be in your carriage, because you’re taking me to the hospital on
Fourth and Grand Oaks.”
    Kate wasn’t surprised when Alex’s mouth
opened and closed a few times, making him look like a particularly
elegant variety of the trout family.
    But he led her to his carriage, which is what
Kate needed.
    # # #
    Alex wasn’t quite sure how it had happened,
but not five minutes after he’d spoken to Kate Finney on the
Midway, he was directing his driver to make haste to Saint
Mildred’s Hospital. Although he told himself he didn’t really want
to know, he said, “Are you ill, Miss Finney?”
    “No. I’m fine. What do you want to talk to
me about? My morals? My father’s morals? My Aunt Fanny’s
morals.”
    Alex frowned. This woman was very difficult
to talk to, perhaps because she seemed to approach all
conversations as a soldier might approach a deadly battle. Her
attitude offended Alex, who had been feeling put-upon ever since
Gil McIntosh told him he was turning into a fussy old man.
    “Really, Miss Finney, there’s no need for
such an attitude.”
    “No?” She kept glancing nervously out the
window.
    Alex got the impression of tremendous energy
trapped in Kate’s small body. He sensed that she’d like to get out
and shove traffic out of her way so that his carriage could make
better time. She was definitely worried. Deciding it might behoove
him to discover the source of her trouble before telling her his
impressions of her so-called “dance,” he muttered, “If there’s
something the matter, Miss Finney, I’d like to know what it is.
Perhaps I could help.”
    That got her attention. From staring out the
carriage window, her head whipped around, and she commenced staring
at him. Her scrutiny made Alex uncomfortable even before she
spoke.
    “You? Don’t make me laugh.”
    After her words smote him, his discomfort
turned into ire. “Now see here, young woman, I don’t understand
your hostility. I only asked a civil question.”
    “Yeah? Why do I get the impression you’re
only asking because you think you have to? Sort of a gesture, you
know? Before you kick me in the teeth, you’ll lull me into thinking
you care.”
    “Now, really! There’s no call for that sort
of thing.” Why was it that every time he encountered this
woman—which, he realized, had only been twice so far—she outraged
him? What had he ever done to her that he should earn such enmity?
Well, except for questioning the propriety of her working at the
World’s Columbian Exposition.
    “No?” She tilted her head and surveyed him
from top to bottom. Alex felt like