Because of Rebecca - By Leanne Tyler Page 0,6

up at him. She didn’t know how to rectify his misinterpretation of why she’d been in mourning. Perhaps it will be easier to explain Lucas if I don’t correct him. But no, that wouldn’t be right. She must correct him.

“I’m n-” she tried again, but he cut her off.

“I’m a widower myself. Three years now.”

“Yo-you are?” Rebecca noticed the sorrow and pain behind his blue eyes. Is that how one looks when they’ve lost their true love?

“Then it is I who am sorry for bringing up painful memories, Mr. Hollingsworth.” She smiled, dipping and swaying around the room with his lead.

Jared shook his head. “Life goes on. We cannot dwell in the past. I’ve learned that the hard way. I’ve lived as a recluse for far too long.”

Before she could speak, the dance ended and a young man swept her away before the next reel began. Several dances and partners later, she finally returned to Mr. Hollingsworth’s arms.

“Having a good time?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied, relaxing in his gentle hold as they waltzed once more.

Soon the music ended and they made their way to the refreshment table for more punch and a sampling of the wedding cake.

“Hollingsworth, good to see you,” a balding gentleman said, breaking line to refill his cup of punch. “How are things out your way?”

“Well, thank you,” Mr. Hollingsworth replied. “And yours?”

“Couldn’t be better for this time of the season though we can always use a little rain,” the man said, nodding his head in her direction. “I don’t believe we’ve met, miss?”

“Forgive my manners. George Wimple, this is Mrs. I mean Miss Rebecca Davis. She’s a close friend of the bride. Miss Davis, this is Mr. Wimple. He owns a plantation near mine.”

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Wimple.” Rebecca greeted him with a slight curtsy and a smile.

“Same here and I hope you find Jackson to your liking. Couldn’t be a better place to live,” he said, taking a plate of cake and beginning to munch. “Though, I sometimes wonder if there is a place safe to live. A person’s property can be taken so easily. Have you heard what happened over in Macon?”

“No, I can’t say that I have,” Mr. Hollingsworth said, shifting his weight from one foot to the next. He glanced at her and smiled, though he didn’t appear pleased by the conversation.

“One of the slaves disappeared in broad daylight. She was working one minute and the next she was gone.” The man snapped his fingers for emphasis to what he said and Rebecca felt her stomach knot.

“Mercy,” she murmured, wondering if Mr. Wimple spoke of Ruth’s disappearance or another. The Vigilante Committee had several branches and she was only privy to her mission. She hoped this disappearance would not make her task of seeing Ruth safely out of Mississippi more difficult.

“Exactly, my dear,” Mr. Wimple said with a nod. “I hope they find her and find her soon and she is dealt the strictest of punishments. We don’t need word spreading amongst the plantations and causing others to attempt running off.”

The knot in her stomach tightened a notch or two. “So you think she ran off?”

“Aye, I do.” Wimple finished his refreshment and discarded the plate, refilling his cup for one last gulp of punch. He nodded at them both before sauntering away.

“He’s a lively chap,” Mr. Hollingsworth said, offering her his arm. “Shall we go find the bride and groom?”

“Let’s do,” she said, allowing him to lead once more as they danced their way over to the newlyweds.

Rebecca admired her friend and her husband as he held her close in his arms. They looked lost in a world of their own, despite their dancing in the middle of a crowded room. They made a striking pair, with her fair coloring and his dark features.

Elizabeth looked their way as they approached.

“Rebecca, can I steal Mr. Hollingsworth away for a dance?” she asked when the music stopped for a moment.

“Of course,” Rebecca replied, stepping out of his grasp.

“Allow me.” Mr. Cooper offered her his hand in return.

As she danced with the groom, she found herself watching Mr. Hollingsworth instead of paying attention to her partner. She admired Mr. Hollingsworth’s profile and then his back, amazed how the cloth of his clothes stretched and relaxed over his solid form as he moved. Realizing she’d been staring at him, she chastised herself and lost her footing, stepping on Mr. Cooper’s boot.

“Oh dear! Clumsy me,” she exclaimed apologetically. “I’m so sorry.”

“Wool gathering will do that,” Mr.