Miss Griswold tilted her head and adjusted the reins on her lap. “None that I can think of. But . . . I’ve always been a somewhat unusual sort, a circumstance that practically guaranteed my admittance into the wallflower set instead of the fashionable one when my father and I moved to New York.”
“My tumble down the society ladder and into the wallflower set is yet another reason why I’m uncomfortable marrying Edgar. I’m afraid he’ll eventually come to the conclusion that I only accepted his offer in order to escape the difficulties of my life.”
“I don’t think you’re giving the gentleman enough credit. If you ask me, I think he returned to the city in order to discern whether or not you still held any affection for him—because he obviously still holds a great deal of affection for you.” She gave a short bob of her head. “I could see it in his eyes last night whenever he looked at you. He adores you.”
“Which is an encouraging idea. Although . . .” Looking up, the rest of Wilhelmina’s words died on her tongue when she took note of a delivery wagon sliding its way through the street. Unfortunately, that wagon seemed to be sliding in their direction, a circumstance Miss Griswold had yet to notice. “I don’t mean to be an alarmist, Miss Griswold, but it might be a sensible choice to retake the reins at this particular moment. If we don’t remove ourselves from that wagon’s path, I’m fairly certain it is soon to crash into us, leaving your sleigh—along with us, I must add—a mess of tangled parts.”
Miss Griswold glanced at the wagon in question, and then returned her attention to Wilhelmina. “Mr. Merriweather doesn’t need me to hold on to the reins. He’s very good at getting us around the city on his own, as well as dodging any and all obstacles that might appear in our way.”
“You named your horse Mr. Merriweather?” Wilhelmina couldn’t resist asking, even with certain danger and death sliding ever closer their way.
“I did. I actually wanted to name him Charlie, but he simply refused to answer to that name.”
Holding her breath as the wagon drew ever nearer and Miss Griswold did not pick up the reins, Wilhelmina felt herself going a bit dizzy from lack of air . . . but then sucked in a large breath a mere moment later, when Mr. Merriweather pulled the sleigh over to the very farthest corner of the road, giving the wagon a wide berth.
Sending Wilhelmina a rather smug smile, Miss Griswold picked up the reins, although she held them in a hand that, to Wilhelmina’s eye, was merely for show.
“Do you and Mr. Merriweather spend much time traveling around the city?” she asked as the horse took that moment to pick up his pace, almost as if he wanted to prove to Wilhelmina that he was in complete control of their situation.
“We travel to Central Park nearly every day to watch society take their afternoon strolls or drives. We also travel to the shops on the Ladies’ Mile as well as the shops located in the seedier parts of the city, because I simply can’t resist searching out a good bargain.”
Wilhelmina’s nose took to wrinkling. “Isn’t your father one of the wealthiest men in America these days?”
“I don’t know if he’s one of the wealthiest, but he does have a rather impressive fortune. I, however, have always possessed a frugal nature—thus the reason for shopping with an eye toward thrift.”
Before Wilhelmina could ask why Miss Griswold would spend every afternoon watching society stroll around Central Park when she was probably never invited to stroll with any of the society members gathered there, Miss Griswold suddenly pulled back on the reins. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Merriweather tossed his head in clear protest, though he immediately slowed his pace.
“There seems to be some type of commotion up ahead, right by the entrance to Central Park, but . . .” Miss Griswold leaned forward, squinting at something in the distance. “On my word, I do believe that Mr. Asher Rutherford might be responsible for the congestion. Although . . .” She leaned further forward. “I’m sure I must be much mistaken about this, but it almost appears as if Mr. Rutherford has taken to hawking some manner of goods in the entranceway to Central Park.”
With that, Miss Griswold clicked her tongue and steered Mr. Merriweather off to the side of the road, pulling on the brake when the horse came to a smart stop. Turning to Wilhelmina, she nodded. “Shall we nip over by Mr. Rutherford and investigate?”
“Investigate what, exactly?”
“What Mr. Rutherford is truly up to, of course. Surely you must find it just as curious as I do that the owner of one of the most prestigious stores in the city seems to be personally peddling wares.”
Seeing no reason to balk over what seemed like a reasonable request, Wilhelmina climbed down from the sleigh, smiling when Miss Griswold moved directly to her side and linked their arms together. Giving their entwined arms a good pat, Miss Griswold immediately took to grinning.