They Called Her Mrs. Doc. Read Online Free Page B

your father.”
    Cassie rose reluctantly from her comfortable chair, brushing at her skirt to whisk away any wrinkles.
    “Well,” she informed Dickerson, “show him in.”
    An eyebrow raised. “In here, Miss?”
    “Why not?” she retorted somewhat shortly. “You said he wishes to see me in place of my father. Then show him in.” “
    Very well, Miss,” replied Dickerson curtly, but Cassie knew that the elderly butler did not think it was “very well” at all.
    She laid her book on the small table and turned to face the door. Soon footsteps approached and Mr. Smith stood before her, his gentle smile crinkling the corners of his eyes and lighting his face with good humor. “I am dreadfully sorry to be disturbing you, Miss Winston,” he began, “but I have some papers for your father and have a bit of explanation to go with them.”
    “I expect my father to be back very soon,” Cassie was quick to assure him. “Rather than try to explain things to me, perhaps you would have a cup of tea—or coffee—and await his return.”
    “Oh, but I wouldn’t intrude—”
    “No intrusion. I have been reading. The story will wait. Have a seat here by the fire. It isn’t really cold but the evenings can hold a bit of a chill.”
    Then Cassie turned to the shocked Dickerson. “Would you see that we are served, please?” she said quietly. “I believe that Mr. Smith prefers coffee to tea.” Dickerson left without a word.
    Samuel Smith’s eyebrows shot up as he studied her, and then a smile twitched his lips, suggesting that perhaps she was not the child he had taken her to be.
    “Now, be seated, please,” she invited, waving one slender hand at the chairs before the fire.
    “Thank you,” Mr. Smith responded, his voice edged with humor at the turn of events.
    “So you do not care for football?” he asked as he lowered himself into the overstuffed chair and held his hands toward the blaze in the fireplace.
    “As my parents’ only daughter—I decided to be just that,” Cassie responded good-naturedly. “They have enough company taking my three brothers.”
    “But your mother enjoys the game?”
    Cassie had never stopped to wonder about that fact before.
    “I guess she does,” she responded slowly. “I really don’t know why. At first I think that she felt Papa needed help with three energetic young boys. Then—well—then I guess she maybe grew to like it.”
    He chuckled softly. Cassie liked his laugh.
    “Wouldn’t you possibly learn to like it?”
    She cocked her head to one side and thought about his query. “Perhaps,” she responded, “but I really see no need to put myself out to try. I’m—I’m rather a book-and-fireside person. I much prefer the warmth here to the chill of the wind out there.”
    A silence threatened to become awkward. “And you?” asked Cassie quickly.
    “I love the sport. I only wish that I had time to go. Although, I must admit that I’d rather be playing than sitting in the stands.”
    Cassie looked at him with new eyes. Yes, he likely would enjoy sports. He was of medium height, with a rather broad build and appeared to be solid. She nodded her head and made no reply.
    “What are you reading?” he surprised her by asking.
    She reached for her book and turned it so he could see the cover. “It’s Wuthering Heights, ” she admitted a bit apologetically. “I—I read it fairly regularly.”
    “And your fancy goes to Heathcliff?” he prompted.
    Cassie felt her face flushing. She was glad that Dickerson arrived with the coffee tray before she had to answer.
    The conversation flowed on over their steaming cups. Cassie had never entertained a young gentleman before and was surprised how easy he made her task. In fact, it really wasn’t that much more difficult than chatting with Abigail.
    As the minutes passed by in conversation, she discovered many little bits of personal information about her guest, but she eventually realized he had gently probed to find out