Because of Rebecca - By Leanne Tyler Page 0,8
not successfully correcting him earlier about being a widow. There hadn’t been a day since she lost Mariah that she hadn’t prayed to have her sister back. They’d been close growing up, the four-year age difference never coming between them.
Remorse overcame her and she laid her gloved hand gently on his. “I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Don’t apologize, Miss Davis. There was no way for you to have known how I lost my wife.”
“I can tell you loved her very much,” Rebecca said softly.
“I did.”
He turned to face her, glancing down at her hand. Flushing, she removed it, regretting her boldness.
“What about your husband?” he asked. “Did you love him dearly?”
Rebecca blinked unsure how to respond having never been in love or married. She regretted not correcting the misunderstanding immediately, but how would she now explain having Lucas if she did? Oh what a tangled web. How would she get herself out of it?
“You don’t have to answer. I know that every marriage isn’t love based. And since you prefer to be addressed as Miss Davis it is clear that you wish the union never happened. But I do not judge you, Miss Davis. Many marry for security. Others through an arrangement. Those who marry for love are lucky indeed,” Mr. Hollingsworth said, taking her hesitance to respond as her answer. He looked at the passing scenery, ending the discussion.
The knot that formed in her stomach twisted tighter and tighter as she stewed over a way to explain to him about Lucas. But there wasn’t one without divulging Mariah’s naivety. And now with the confusion over her title it would be even more difficult.
She sighed and opened her purse, unfolding the note from the day before. She glanced down at it and reread the lines. I will contact you shortly after your arrival.
Why hadn’t Mr. Hollingsworth spoken to her about the mission? Was this his first as well? Or had he thought better of speaking to her in public about their orders, especially after Mr. Wimple’s declaration? She’d nearly fainted when the man mentioned the runaway. Refolding the note, she put it back in the hidden pocket and closed the purse strings.
As they rode in silence, she studied her companion more closely. She knew why she was involved with the Anti-Slavery Vigilante Committee, but why would a plantation owner risk everything? What could he possibly gain?
The carriage slowed to a stop at her hotel. Not waiting for the driver, he opened the door and stepped down before turning and offering her his hand.
She took his hand and again felt a spark of awareness from his touch as he helped her out of the carriage. “Thank you for seeing me into town.”
“I’ve enjoyed our time together, Miss Davis. Would you care to join me for dinner in the hotel dining room?”
She couldn’t help smiling at the invitation. “I’d be delighted to have dinner with you, Mr. Hollingsworth,” she said. “May I have a few moments to check on Lucas first?”
“Of course.” He handed her small bag to the driver before seeing her inside. “I’ll reserve a table in the dining room.”
“I won’t be long,” she assured him, turning toward the large staircase. She took the stairs at a proper pace, but at the mid-point landing stopped and glanced below. To her surprise he was still standing there, watching her. Smiling, she quickened her step, anxious to return to him.
Nearing her suite’s doorway, she heard crying and her aunt’s voice clear into the hallway. Her smile faltered.
“Oh Charlotte, can’t you make him be quiet?”
“I’m trying my best, Miss Josephine.”
Rebecca opened the suite door and found her aunt lying on the fainting couch with a compress to her forehead. The maid bounced a fussy Lucas as she walked back and forth across the room.
“What’s wrong with my boy?” Rebecca asked, taking Lucas and handing her discarded gloves to Charlotte. He immediately hushed and laid his head on her shoulder. “Have you missed Mama?”
“Thank heavens, you’ve returned” Josephine sat up, holding a compress to her head with one hand and her rosary in the other. “I’ve a splitting headache. He hasn’t stopped crying since you left.”
Behind her, Charlotte grinned and opened the small bureau drawer, putting away the gloves.
“Goodness. I think we have a spoiled little one on our hands,” Rebecca soothed, kissing Lucas’ auburn hair as she sat in the rocking chair.
“You better take this or he’ll soil your dress, miss,” Charlotte insisted, rushing back with a cloth for her to put between