Hindrances

Chapter 10

"Mr Lancaster!" I hissed at him through clenched teeth.
"Miss Hemmings," he responded casually.
"What the fu-"
"You must be Mr Hemmings!"

This conversation isn't over, Mr Lancaster.

I noticed an older man in front of us, but I didn't see him approach.
I must have been distracted.
Mr Wynn, presumably, was a man of medium height though a bit rotund. Even though his hair was mostly white, he must have been in his early 40s. The lines on his face showed a good life of work and enjoyment. However, eyeing the fields behind him, I questioned the hard work part.
Mr Lancaster should have been crucified for this.
He shook Mr Lancaster's hand warmly.
"Um, 'Mister?' I'm the Hemmings." I pointedly stuck my hand out to shake, but Mr Wynn hesitated.
"When you wrote 'Ms Hemmings... I suppose the 's' wasn't an accident...?"
Mr Wynn had a southern drawl, just like the musicians I met on the street, but this sounded less... Primitive...
"Quite true, sir," I took a hold of his hand and vigorously shook it. It was more than obvious that he didn't know how to shake hands with a woman, but I wouldn't allow him to greet me in any other way. "It is an absolute pleasure to finally meet you."
"Likewise... And this is your fiance?"
Mr Wynn was stumbling over himself at this point.
"Yes. Damien Lancaster," Mr Lancaster cut in. Of course he needs to make his own introductions.
I had a feeling that Mr Lancaster enjoyed introducing himself. He always stirred some sort of reaction.
"Pardon? The Damien Lancaster?"
Mr Lancaster smiled.
Yes! Smiled!
I could tell it was fake since it didn't reach his eyes, but damn, I was still stunned.
He even had the cutest dimples...

Stop! Now! Don't think about that!

"The one and only, Mr Wynn."

Dear Lord, he could be so charming if he tried.

"Mr Wynn? Oh no! It's just Steven to you, Mr Lancaster! It'll be a pleasure doing business with you."

Not if I kill him first!

I cleared my throat.
"Um, Steven- could I call you Steven as well?- I believe that I'm the one with the supplies you need."
This is my damn business trip, whether Mr Lancaster organized it behind my back or not!
"Y-yes, please, call me Steven as well, Mrs... Miss... Um-"
"Miss Hemmings. Or Amelia. And yes, it'll certainly be a pleasure," I glanced at the, um... Workers in the fields behind him, "doing business with you."
"Let's go inside, shall we? It must have been a long trip!" Mr Wynn tried recovering from his awkwardness.
"Oh yes, it was-"
"Two weeks, six days, thirteen hours, and twenty eight minutes," injected Mr Lancaster, as he cut me off.
I glared at him, but was promptly ignored.
"Thank you so much for your contribution to the conversation, sir!" I angrily mumbled to myself, though it was loud enough for Mr Lancaster to hear. He offered me his arm anyway, and I begrudgingly took it. Mr Wynn prattled on about something or another as he walked slightly ahead of us.
"This is rather quaint, isn't it darling?"
My head snapped to the side to gawk at Mr Lancaster. Why was he being so informal?

Come on Amy, say something!

"Are we talking about how you lied to me or the slaves?" I tried keeping my voice low. There might be an issue if Mr Wynn finds out how much I disagree with his way of life.
"I never lied to you. I just never told you the full truth."
"...and President Buchanan, well he's alright enough, except for that crisis two years ago..." [1]
I didn't bother listening to Mr Wynn. I didn't like Buchanan anyway.
"What is that thing you said? Hm, something along the lines of 'I dislike all forms of lying, including, but not limited to: blatant lies, white lies, dancing around the truth, and, oh yeah, what was the last one? Keeping secrets?"
Mr Lancaster seemed completely, 100 per cent, and absolutely unfased by the fact I was calling him out on his hypocrisy.
"Secrets are the backbone of society, Miss Hemmings- everybody ought to have a few. They keep me a success."
"...at least Buchanan had the brains to support the Dred Scott Decision in '57..." [2]
I felt my temper flare up, but Mr Lancaster lightly tugged on my arm. He knew I was angry, and he knew I needed to restrain myself.
"Alright, dear, why do you get to keep secrets but not me?"
"Well, darling, if I told you, you would probably want to slap me."
"You have gotten wise, s- um, Damien."
"But my answer goes along the lines of the fragility of femininity and because I said so."
"You're right," I whisper-hissed through gritted teeth, "I do want to slap you!"
Mr Lancaster took my hand and pressed a kiss on the back of it. My face was probably red as I felt the heat creep up.
"He can't see us Damien, you don't need to pretend to love me!"
"While we are here, we must always pretend that we are passionately in love. What if someone is watching us?"
"What if someone is watching us?" I repeated mockingly. Mr Lancaster tried saying something, but we came up to the mansion door and entered. If I thought the outside was impressive, then the inside was absolutely worthy of the gods.
"Bennett? Bennett! Where are you? Ben-"
"I'm here, father," resonated a deep baritone voice.
"Ah, meet our guests for the next few weeks or so!"
Bennett Wynn was tall and rather average looking. He had simple brown eyes and brown hair and he was tall but awkwardly lanky. His face had some nice rounded features, but it couldn't compare to Mr Lancaster's chiseled-from-marble looks.
"Amelia Hem-" I began, but I was cut off.
"Boy, you need to meet the Damien Lancaster!"
I was ignored. Mr Lancaster cleared his throat.
"Perhaps you should speak with my fiancee first?" Mr Lancaster pointed out. However, based on the way he was glaring at Bennett, he was really just claiming me as his.