Love in Disguise (22 page)

“I’m afraid she wasn’t able to make it today. She isn’t feeling well.” This time the words didn’t roll off Ellie’s tongue as easily as they usually did. She hoped Pastor Blaylock’s admonishments about telling the truth weren’t going to impair her ability to maintain her roles. “But I’m sure you’ll see her again around town.” That, at least, was the truth. Or something close to it.

“I expect I will, but I needed to talk to you, as well. You can relay the message to your niece for me.” Althea Baldwin’s chins wobbled as she bobbed her head enthusiastically. “The ladies of the church are forming a theatrical group. Strictly an amateur undertaking, you understand, but we’ve made arrangements to hold performances in Pickford Hall, and we hope our efforts will bring a bit of culture to the community.”

Ellie nodded, her pulse quickening despite knowing it would be prudent to hide any connection with the theater.

“In order to succeed, we’re asking for the cooperation of all the ladies in town. May I count on your participation, and your niece’s, as well?” Mrs. Baldwin tilted her head to one side and pursed her lips. “If she is able to act at all, I’d be willing to offer her a starring role. Those stunning looks of hers would surely draw a crowd.”

A chance to perform before an audience? How she wished she could. “It sounds like a wonderful idea, but I’m afraid we may not be able to take part.” When the other woman’s face fell, Ellie hastened to add, “I’ll discuss it with my niece and let you know.”

“Very well, but I do hope you’ll be able to participate. The more the merrier, you know.” Without warning, the smile slid from Althea’s face, and she stared over Ellie’s right shoulder.

Ellie spun round, wondering if some sort of danger was afoot, but the only person she saw looking in their direction was Amos Crawford. When she looked back, Althea had already turned and hurried off to assault another unsuspecting churchgoer. Shaking her head, Ellie turned to find Steven regarding her with a smile.

“You’re not too eager for Jessie to have that starring role?”

Ellie ducked her head to hide the tears that stung her eyes. Steven mustn’t guess that his words cut closer to home than he could ever dream. It seemed like only yesterday that the opportunity to appear onstage before an audience, no matter how small, would have been the answer to her fondest wish. But now she was already playing the role of a lifetime, one where the slightest blunder could cost her far more than a bad review.

Steven chuckled at Lavinia’s embarrassment. It seemed clear she wasn’t the type to seek the limelight—one more thing he found endearing about the woman. An idea stirred in his mind. “Would you like to have lunch with me?”

Lavinia raised her face to his, and he could see traces of color on her faded cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Of course you’ll need to go back home and tend to your niece.” He wanted to kick himself for blurting the invitation out without thinking about her responsibilities at home.

“No, that isn’t it.” Spots of pink deepened in her cheeks. “What I mean to say is, Jessie isn’t really ill, you see. It’s more a matter of not sleeping well. She’s subject to that from time to time. When I went in to see her this morning, she told me she’d barely closed her eyes all night. More than anything, she wanted to be left alone. She said she might sleep until well into the afternoon.”

“I see.” Steven wondered if this sleeplessness was a common occurrence or if it was a sign of Jessie’s distress over her broken romance.

Lavinia tilted her head back and looked straight into his eyes with the air of one who had just made a decision. “Actually, I’m afraid I’ve misled you a bit. There’s something I’d like to discuss, and I’d be pleased to do that over lunch, if your invitation is still open.”

A low murmur of conversation punctuated by the soft clink of silverware filled the dining area of the Beck House. Steven placed their orders, wondering what Mrs. Stewart wanted to talk about. Had she decided not to invest in the Redemption after all? He tried to hold back his curiosity while he watched his companion take her time stirring cream into her coffee and slicing her roast beef into bite-sized bits.

Finally she laid her knife and fork across the edge of her plate and laced her gloved fingers together. Her gaze flickered to the side for a moment before she met his eyes. “I’m afraid I’ve made a grave error in regard to Jessie.”

Steven drew back slightly. He had braced himself for the possibility of seeing his hope of financial support evaporate, but he never expected her to confide in him about a family matter. He took a long sip of iced tea, studying her while he tried to cover his confusion. Her chin was set in a determined line, and her hands were clenched so tightly together he could see the shape of each knuckle through the fabric of her gloves.

Compassion won out over confusion. The poor woman had no family in Pickford other than Jessie. If she trusted him as one she could turn to in her dilemma, he would help her in any way he could. He rested his arms on the table and leaned forward, giving her an encouraging smile. “Go on.”

She drew in a deep breath before she spoke. “When you asked me why she didn’t accompany me to church, I told you she stayed home because she didn’t feel well, wasn’t sleeping well . . .”

Steven drew his brows together, wondering what she could be leading up to.

She watched him carefully as she spoke. “That isn’t exactly the case. You see, Jessie and I have had a bit of an . . . altercation.”

“Oh?” He pursed his lips, trying to decide how far he should delve into a family matter. “Just a minor disagreement, I hope?”

Lavinia’s lower lip trembled. “It’s more serious than that, I fear. I learned that Jessie has been making forays into an area of town I simply can’t approve of. She’s been visiting some of the establishments east of Seventh Street.”

Steven sucked in a quick breath. “She hasn’t just been talking about it? She’s actually been going there?”

Lavinia nodded, her face lined with sorrow. “I’ve warned her that such actions aren’t good for a young lady’s reputation—”

“Not to mention her safety,” Steven put in, his temper rising. “Forgive me for interrupting, but I’ve warned her about that part of town myself. I can understand why she might not listen to someone who’s little more than a stranger, but to disregard the counsel of her own aunt . . .”

“I quite agree.” Lavinia raised her head, and he could see the tense lines etched around her eyes and lips, a testament to the concern she harbored for her wayward niece. “But Jessie doesn’t see it that way. She’s determined to make the most of her ‘Wild West adventure,’ as she terms it, and she was quite upset by my admonition. So much so that she refuses to accompany me anywhere.”

Steven stared at her. “I had no idea.”

“And that is why she wasn’t in church. Jessie doesn’t want to be seen with me.”

Steven picked up his fork and stabbed at a bit of steak. He simply couldn’t make head nor tail of Miss Jessie Monroe. More than once, he’d seen her flitting around town like a bright butterfly, striking up conversations with everyone she met. Hardly the behavior of someone heartsick over a broken romance. Just the other day, he’d seen her walking arm in arm with Marshal Bascomb, throwing her head back and laughing as though he’d made the wittiest comment she’d heard all year.

Not possible, since he knew for a fact Bascomb didn’t have enough wits to come in out of the rain.

The day he met her, she’d been talking to that gambler in a manner that was altogether too familiar, to Steven’s way of thinking. But when he escorted her back to the house she shared with her aunt, she’d seemed different. Softer, somehow. While she hadn’t accepted his caution about consorting with the gambler and his ilk, he couldn’t imagine her acting in the defiant manner Lavinia described. She almost seemed like two different people.

So which one was the real Jessie?

Lavinia cleared her throat gently, pulling him away from his baffled musings. “I’m afraid I’ve ruined your meal, Mr. Pierce. Let’s talk about something else—the problems you’re facing, for instance. Who do you think is behind the silver thefts?”

“Huh?” The abrupt change of topic brought him back to the moment with a jolt. He blinked hard, trying to regroup his thoughts.

“I honestly don’t know. I’ve racked my brain trying to figure it out, but I haven’t gotten anywhere.” He hated to make that admission, hoping it wouldn’t diminish him in her eyes and jeopardize their future partnership.

“What about the other mine owners we met with? Do they have any ideas?”

Steven shook his head. “There are plenty of ideas floating around, but none that I think have merit.”

“Why don’t you tell me about the people they suspect? Sometimes talking a situation through helps me think more clearly. It might help you, too.” Her eyes lost their sadness and took on a sparkle of interest. “Maybe we can figure this out together.”

“I’d like to think it was that simple. If it were, though, we would have collared the culprits by now.” Steven lowered his voice. “To tell you the truth, I placed a lot of hope in getting help from the Pinkertons.”

Lavinia looked down at the piece of biscuit she was crumbling between her fingers. “You still haven’t heard from them?”

He pushed a bit of potato around his plate with his fork. “I can understand them wanting to find the best agent to deal with this, but I have to admit I’m not as optimistic as I was before. We sent them a deposit some time ago, so you’d think someone would have shown up by now.”

“I’m sure they’re working on it. Don’t give up.”

“I won’t.” He managed a crooked smile. “Not yet, anyway.” Pulling his watch from his pocket, he checked the time and called the waitress over to settle their bill. “I hate to hurry off like this, but I need to check on one of my men. He’s been laid up for several days, and I want to make sure his family has everything they need.”

A shadow of disappointment dimmed the light in Lavinia’s eyes. “There’s no need to apologize. It’s kind of you to show such care for your men. Don’t bother walking me home. It’s a lovely afternoon, and I’ll be fine on my own.”

“No, I’ll be glad to see you home first.”

Steven helped her out of her chair and led her outside, his thoughts torn between pondering his own dilemma and concern about the rift between Lavinia and her niece. Their falling-out obviously distressed the older woman, and he respected her determination to take a firm stance in spite of Jessie’s obstinate attitude. Excursions into the seamy side of town held perils a well-brought-up young lady couldn’t possibly imagine. Was there any way he could intercede to bring about an understanding between the two?

He pondered the captivating mystery that was Jessie Monroe while they walked up Fifth and turned on Grant. A block later, a young lad came barreling out of the telegrapher’s office and ran straight into Lavinia.

Steven caught her and set her upright, then snagged the youngster by the shirt collar. “Hold on there. Where do you think you’re going in such a hurry?”

The boy squirmed under Steven’s grasp. “Lemme go. I’ve got a telegram to deliver.”

“That can wait until you’ve apologized to this lady for nearly knocking her down.”

“Sorry,” the boy mumbled.

Steven gave the lad’s collar a little shake. “I think you can do better than that.”

The boy looked up, embarrassment staining his cheeks a dark red. “I really am, ma’am. Sorry, that is. If I’d seen you, I never would’ve run into you.” His forehead crinkled. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No,” Lavinia assured him with a smile. “You just knocked the wind out of me for a bit.”

“I’m glad. I wouldn’t have wanted to hurt you. I was just in a rush because Mr. Crawford told me to get this to Mrs. Stewart in a hurry.”

“Mrs. Stewart?”

“Yes’m. She’s a new lady in town.” He glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice to a whisper. “If you ask me, I think Mr. Crawford’s kind of sweet on her.”

Steven saw the way Lavinia’s face stiffened before she held out her hand.

“Well, I can save you the trouble of running all the way to my house. I’m Mrs. Stewart.”

“Really? That’s great. Here you go, and I’ll make sure I don’t run into you like that again.”