and the leather of the two chairs in front of it was cracked and mottled.
But Evie's interest was more in the man behind the desk. He wore unrimmed glasses as he studied a stack of papers that had apparently accumulated in his absence. His blond, thinning hair seemed barely able to cover his skull. But when he looked up, his smile was genial, and then appreciative, and Evie felt right at home.
He wasn't much taller than herself when he stood up. Accustomed as she had become to tall men like Tyler and the Hardings with their wide shoulders, she was slightly taken aback at Mr. Hale, who seemed almost slender and effeminate. But she remembered men like that from St. Louis—very successful men—she reminded herself, and she relaxed.
"Mr. Hale?" she inquired.
"Jonathan Hale, at your service, ma'am. How may I help you?" He gestured toward one of the leather chairs.
Evie chose the chair without arms and spread her skirts as she chose her words. "It's a rather delicate matter, sir. I don't know how to put it." She smiled a little, just enough to get him slightly flustered. It was purely ridiculous the way men would fall for a woman's smile, but she had very few weapons in her arsenal, and she had learned to use them skillfully. "I'm Mrs. Maryellen Peyton, the new schoolteacher here in Mineral Springs."
Hale had reason to remember the name "Peyton" well, and his interest intensified. As he studied the woman before him, he grew even more excited. The hair, the eyes, the clothes, all fit the description. The name was baffling, and her appearance here was a matter of some concern. Unaffected by her smile, he listened as she continued to speak at his nod.
"I've just come from Natchez, but I have corresponded for a long time with a friend of my childhood in St. Louis. When she heard I was coming here, she was most anxious that I make a few inquiries, and she gave me your name." Evie hesitated a moment to see how this elaborate network of lies was being absorbed. The lawyer nodded thoughtfully, waiting for her to continue. He wasn't being very helpful.
Slightly miffed, Evie elaborated a little further. "She's an orphan, but she has reason to believe her parents are from this area." Evie silently cursed her choice of assumed name. There would be questions about that "Peyton" if she wasn't careful. She summoned all her powers of creativity to the problem. "As a matter of fact, she was quite excited when I married Alexander Peyton, my late husband, because she thought Peyton might be part of her family name." There, that should do it. She had Tyler to thank for that little absurdity.
Hale formed his fingers into a little tent and studied her intently. "Are you asking me to find your friend's family, Mrs. Peyton?"
Evie took a deep breath, but the little man didn't seem to appreciate the sight. She exhaled slowly to give herself time to place this as delicately as possible. "She found your name on some papers, Mr. Hale. She thinks you might already know about her family. Her name is Evangeline Peyton Howell."
Evie waited in triumph while the lawyer took off his glasses and polished them. He knew the name all right. She could see it in the way his hand shook. The test of his honesty would come with his next words.
Hale replaced his glasses on his nose. "The Howells were a prominent family in this town, Mrs. Peyton. They paid well to keep their secrets. They're all dead now, of course, sad to say, but I can't ethically give secrets to a stranger. Perhaps you should have Miss Howell write to me."
Swamped with disappointment, Evie folded her hands in her lap. She wanted to know now. She had half a mind to tell him who she was just to shake him out of his complacency, but she had promised Daniel to be cautious. She didn't want to be cautious. This man had what she wanted, and she wanted it with every hair and particle of her body.
But she stood up and smiled sweetly. "I'll do that, Mr. Hale. I do appreciate your time. Evie will be quite delighted to hear you know of her family. You don't have any idea what that will mean to her."
Hale rose and saw her to the door and watched as she swept down the stairs in a flurry of silk petticoats and a cloud of cinnamon-rose