And the little girl in his arms was as blond as…well, as the elder Mrs. Hughes.
Some story waited here, he had no doubt. The only question was whether it had any bearing on his business. For now, he saw no reason to pry. Especially since a Negro woman bustled in from the rear door, full of energy and exclamation.
“Lands, but it’s cold out there today! I—” She halted when she looked up from her shawl, her gaze darting from the lady to him. “Mari.”
Marietta’s smile looked tight. “Morning, Freeda.”
The man cleared his throat. “Mama.” When the child in his arms wriggled and clapped, he held her out to the woman.
She gathered the little one close, smiling. “There’s my precious. Grammy has a treat for you.” When she moved her gaze to Marietta, her expression remained indulgent. “You might want one too. Gingersnaps. Your mama and I just pulled them from the oven. That’s why I’m late.”
Slade blinked again and let the pieces slide into place. He’d done a bit of asking about the Arnauds, so it only took a moment to place this woman as Freeda Payne, a free black who had been working for Julie Lane Arnaud since…always. As her aging parents still did for Thaddeus Lane. Her father, Henry Payne, was apparently one of the most renowned pilots Baltimore had ever seen.
Gossip had mentioned that she’d never married despite having a son, but it had failed to inform him that the son in question worked here. He’d be free because she was. This man before him might be an ally-in-waiting. Or he might be something else entirely.
The mistress of the house chuckled but made no other response about the cookies. She instead turned to Slade. “Did you need assistance, Mr. Osborne?”
How cool she sounded. All polite inquiry, not so much as a residual gleam of unease in her eyes over being interrupted with her stable hand. Maybe that meant it had been innocent.
Maybe.
He pulled out as much of a smile as he figured the situation warranted, which was about half. “I was hoping I might borrow a mount. Hughes said he doesn’t have riding stock, but you do.”
“Hmm. Walker can help you with that.” She sashayed his way while Freeda bustled toward the opposite door with the girl.
Slade forced his gaze from his hostess and fastened it on the man, who regarded him as though he were a predator on the prowl. “I would appreciate it.”
Walker nodded but made no move to fetch a horse. Slade knew when he was being assessed. He held his ground as he held the man’s gaze…at least until Marietta’s skirt swished within a few inches of him. He figured then it was only natural to take her in. Perhaps most men would have moved out of her way, but she could get by. The doors were wide. “You’re looking well this morning, Mrs. Hughes.”
He suspected she’d practiced that smile in the mirror to find the perfect balance of saucy and demure. “Thank you, Mr. Osborne. I put another book beside your chair in the library.” She swept her lashes down and then back up. Artistic flirtation that barely covered challenge. “Surely if you enjoy Wesley, you will equally enjoy Jonathan Edwards.”
The other half of the smile threatened to stake its claim on his lips. “One of my father’s favorites. Especially ‘Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.’ Care to recite it for me?”
“Don’t think I couldn’t.” She swept past him before he could tell whether she smiled as she said it.
His smirk faded when he faced forward again and slammed into a warning glare from Walker.
The man strode past Slade and yanked a saddle from its shelf on the wall. “Don’t.”
“Pardon?”
“Don’t look at her like that.”
Interesting. Slade trailed behind him as he fumed down the center aisle. “Like what?”
“You know very well like what. Like every other man, like the Hughes brothers. You don’t wanna be like them.”
Slade’s gait hitched but then evened out. “What does it matter to you?”
Walker slung the saddle over a stall door and shot Slade another glare. “I promised her brother I would look after her. Keep her out of trouble.”
The snort of cynical laughter escaped before Slade could bottle it. “You haven’t done the best job of that, have you?”
He regretted the jab when Walker spun on him, not stopping until they were toe to toe. No doubt with his fingers curled into a fist, though Slade wasn’t about to look down to see. He just waited. One tick, two.
Walker snarled. “You ever try talking sense into a woman like her?”
“Yep. Never worked.”
Just like that, amusement took the place of anger, and Walker backed off with a soft laugh. “Then you know. Ain’t no keeping her out of trouble. Best I can do is make sure she survives it.”