Imitations of a Lady Page 7

  “Miss Williams,” he said, swallowing when his voice cracked.

  She closed the three books in front of her and stood. “It’s been ages since I studied.”

  Jesse detected her blush, her uneven tone. What did she have to be embarrassed about? Had he caused the blush? He stepped closer. “Your calf has found a new mama—thought you should know. Henrietta will do just fine.”

  She smiled. “I am glad to hear it.”

  Jesse’s heart skidded to a stop. A genuine smile on her face was an uncommon occurrence, like rainclouds in the sky. “And there was something else I wanted to speak to you about.”

  “Yes?” she asked, furrowing her delicate brows.

  He inhaled. “Nothing so worrisome, I hope. I’m sure Grams told you about the Davis Stampede next week.”

  Miss Williams nodded. “She tells me it is quite the event. I hardly know how to prepare.”

  “It ain’t anything so fancy, not anything like what you’ve seen out East.”

  Her lips fell into a flat line, and she shook her head. An internal battle seemed to play across her features, knitting at her brows and slipping to the creases near her eyes. “I’m sure the celebration will be entertainment at its best.”

  Jesse stepped closer still, until he towered over her from across the table. He watched her chest rise and fall with each visible breath. She looked as nervous as he felt. His head spun, and he spit the words out before he had a chance to doubt himself. “I wondered if you might consider going with me?”

  She staggered, leaning on the back of the chair for support. “As your date?”

  Jesse pursed his lips and nodded. “I know I won’t know the fancy footwork of your usual Virginian partners, but I’d be more than willing to try. If you’ll have me.”

  She looked up at him, scanning his expression for some time.

  Silence stung, ripping through his throat and shattering the little courage Jesse had mustered. “I won’t make you answer, if it’s so disagreeable…” He moved to turn from her.

  Miss Williams reached for him, her hand trembling against his forearm. “Wait.”

  A seed of hope lifted his sight to her. “Yes?”

  “Forgive me. I have never been properly asked to accompany a gentleman on any outing. Shock sealed my lips, but if you are serious in your invitation, I am happy to accept.”

  Never been asked to accompany a gentleman? Serious in his invitation? Happy to accept? Jesse’s breath hitched, then came out in a loud puff. His own shock overcame him, in part because of the fact Miss Williams had never been asked on a date, and in part because she’d accepted his offer. “You mean it?”

  She smiled brighter. “Yes.”

  A silly-lovesick smile spread across his cheeks, no matter how hard he wished it gone. He placed his hand on hers, and this time, she didn’t pull away. “I’ll let you back to your studies, Miss Williams. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight,” she said, sitting down in her chair. Her cheeks were rosier than usual, and her lips held the slightest curve.

  Jesse turned on his heels. His feet were the only means of keeping him to the ground—he felt as if he’d soar right out the study otherwise. He walked only five feet, then startled at the sight of Grams.

  She licked her dried lips and smiled her jagged-tooth smile. All smug like. “Jesse.”

  “Grams.” The word came out high, a distinct change from his usual low voice. “I thought you were at cards with Mabel…”

  She lifted a crooked finger, pointing to the rain pelting the window. “I reckon the weather kept her from leaving the comforts of home. No cards today. Disappointed?” She cranked her neck around Jesse, glancing in the direction of the study.

  “No,” Jesse said much too rapidly. He wiped the perspiration at his temples. The old woman was much too perceptive, and she’d suppose her scheming had brought Jesse and Miss Williams together, when it was really something more. “I only thought to update Miss Williams on the health of the calf she’d taken a liking to.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Grams said, narrowing her eyes. “My eyesight is shaky—I’ll own that—but my ears and nose do quite well, young Jess. I smell a lying rat; I know what I heard. Ain’t never seen you ask another girl to the stampede.” She pinched his arm. “I told you so.”

  Jesse sighed, kissed his grandmother on the forehead, and left the house without another word. Grams could tease all she wanted. Miss Williams had agreed to accompany him to the dance, and that was a start.

  Chapter 17

  Dinner that evening was a quiet affair. Eric and Christine had dined in town, and Frank missed the meal, branding the last batch of month-old calves instead. The long formal table and chairs were filled with only four people—Mrs. Davis, Cora, Jesse, and Jude.

  Mrs. Davis was quieter than usual, and she continually looked to Jesse. Her lips twisted to a pucker each time she did so, her eyes glimmering with humor. Jesse, on the other hand, refused to meet his grandmother’s gaze. He spent little time eating—a strange occurrence for any ranch hand, especially that of Jesse. Cora wondered what hung between Mrs. Davis and her grandson.

  “More water?” Miss Luellan asked, hovering above Cora.

  She cleared her throat. “Yes, please.”

  Miss Luellan filled Cora’s cup, then returned to her corner of the room.

  “Strange it rained,” Jude said, breaking the tension between those seated at the table. “I haven’t seen it rain this much for some time. Don’t suppose it’ll breed another crop of larkspur?”

  “I won’t hear talk of it,” Mrs. Davis said, flapping her hand in Jude’s direction. “Now, Miss Williams, you spoke of losing your touch with music since I saw you years ago?”

  Cora swallowed. “Yes, shamefully.”

  “Shamefully indeed. Now, I want to institute a schedule change. Every evening, we shall retire to the parlor. That includes you, Jesse and Jude. Music might do your rough edges some good. And, perhaps we may find your touch once more, Miss Williams. Once learned, the notes never leave you.”

  Cora’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t wish to torture you.”

  Mrs. Davis grinned. “Nonsense. At the very least, I shall hear you sing. I remember your voice quite clearly—soft and gentle. Just what my troubled soul needs.”

  Soft and gentle? Cora bit back a refusal. Her voice was anything but soft and gentle. It was forceful and commanding, soulful and rousing. She’d sung enough at the saloon to know her own talent. Customers would stop and stare, waiting for the end of the music before commencing with conversation or activity.

  “Grams,” Jesse said, rolling his eyes. “Miss Williams sounds reluctant to sing. Why make her?”

  “Practice,” Grams said, winking, “makes all the difference.”

  Cora offered a tight-lipped smile to Jesse in gratitude. He’d tried to spare her however futile it was. Mrs. Davis wasn’t one to accept defeat or disobedience.

  “Now, shall we?” Mrs. Davis flicked her head in the direction of the parlor. “Surely you’ve had your fill. No one but Miss Luellan has scarce said a word at the table tonight. I know the perfect piece to begin with.”

  Miss Luellan helped her mistress from the chair, escorting her to the other room.

  Jesse pushed his plate to the center of the table and shook his head at Cora. “She don’t realize her impertinence. Grams believes if her stomach is full, everyone else’s must be too.”

  Cora sighed. She’d already picked up on that fact.

  Jesse stood, assisting Cora from her seat.

  His hand burned the back of her waist, as he led her to the parlor. Since Jesse’s invitation to the stampede, Cora blushed at the slightest touch or glance. She chided herself for such giddiness. He was interested in a refined woman like Lettie, not her.

  “Now, Miss Williams, shall we start with a hymn? A nice introductory since your break from music?” Mrs. Davis’s shoulders caved forward, her arms shaking as she spread the pages across the stand. She settled in the roc
king chair beside the piano and waited.

  Amazing Grace.

  Anxiety washed over Cora. Milton hadn’t the gall to request hymns in the saloon, and Cora hardly knew how to sing reverent music. She’d attended a few services each year but only to please Maggie. Saloon girls, no matter how pure, weren’t a welcome sight in the chapel. The pastor always stared down at Cora, as if warning her away.

  “A lovely introductory,” Cora said, inhaling. At least Mrs. Davis expected a shaky performance. She sat, skimming the keys and sounding the notes in her head before beginning the introduction. Soft and gentle. Soft and gentle. Cora offered a silent prayer. If Mrs. Davis retained an ounce of sanity, Cora’s performance would be a sure giveaway. “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me…” Cora added a crack for good measure, even sang a wrong note. Her voice, however tamed and reserved from its usual strength, still carried across the room like a bird’s song—clear and riveting. Heat rose to her cheeks, and Cora stopped mid verse and stood.

  “Whatever is the matter?” Mrs. Davis asked, glancing up.

  Cora shook her head. “I am afraid a fearful headache has come on. If you will excuse me, I must retire to bed.”

  Her employer licked her dry lips. “If you must, but I expect a song of your choice, in its entirety, tomorrow.”

  Cora curtsied. A goodnight greeting would take all her strength, when she really wished to run up the stairs and bury her face in the pillow. “Goodnight.”

  “Help Miss Williams to her room, Jesse,” Mrs. Davis said, giving a sideways glance. “Can’t you see she’s unwell with a frightful headache?” There was a hint of humor in her words.

  Cora wanted to protest, but Jesse scrambled to his feet.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, placing a hand on Cora’s lower back.

  The strength of his touch surprised her—safe, strong, undeniably sweet. Cora’s eyes met his, and the strength of his watch surprised her even more—protectiveness, intent, kindness. And from a man? She’d only experienced the likes of Gary Carpenters and Miltons.

  When they reached the top of the stairs, Jesse leaned closer. “I know you aren’t much for singing in front of others, but I hope that won’t stop you from trying. I never heard a prettier sound.”

  The edges of her lips tugged. Jesse Davis thought her a coward, even if he was too kind to say it. Cora wished, more than anything, she could tell him in that moment who she was, and why she didn’t dare sing.

  But why? It would only damage his perception. Surely he preferred the likes of Lettie to that of a saloon girl.

  “Thank you,” she said, breaking from his touch. “And goodnight.”

  She walked the rest of the hallway by herself and fell to the bed without changing.

  Cora closed her eyes to no avail. Sleep—impossible after seeing Jesse at dinner and after his invitation in the study.

  A fire had ignited in her chest, spreading through her throat and cheeks and down to each limb until each finger and toe tingled in anticipation. Was this what Maggie had told her of romance and love?

  Romance, an illusion of the foolish—that’s what Cora had been taught since childhood. First, her mother’s ever-changing lovers, then the apathetic expression on her mother’s face at their parting. Love seemed as distant as the ocean, unreachable and unknown.

  Milton’s saloon only furthered Cora’s belief. Men passed in and out the doors for three things—drink, gambling, and women. There, women were treated as nothing more than an amenity, an additional incentive for being a customer. Lust. Greed. Selfishness.

  Love existed only in the arms of Maggie, Cora’s one protector and friend, but even that waned. Maggie wouldn’t live forever. Love, as pure and honest as it seemed, only prepared a person for the opening of another wave of emotions—grief, loss, and loneliness.

  Cora threw off the covers and rolled toward the window. The stars lit the sky like tiny pin pricks among needlework. She glanced from constellation to constellation, the workmanship of the perfect master.

  If only her life was as clearly mapped.

  How much longer could she pretend to be Lettie? The act became more difficult with each meeting with Mrs. Davis, each glance of Jesse Davis. Exposing Lettie’s condition seemed brutal and wrong…but continuing fooling people she’d begun to care for didn’t feel right either.

  And what of the Davis family? Would they care for her if, or once, they found out who she really was? She was nothing like Lettie. She was raised in a boarding house in Crooked Creek—far from the likes of finishing school and Virginia.

  But Jesse Davis had asked her on a proper date. A dance. Her heart burned afresh, and a smile grazed her lips. His confidence had wavered at her silence, and she’d struggled to peel her gaze from his handsome, yet vulnerable, face. Never had she believed that romance could be so kind, so genuine, so very pure.

  Cora laughed aloud. She would sing for Jesse Davis and show him who she was, however she could manage it. For once, Cora wanted to believe in love, in romance, in all that was good and pure. Like the strays outside, Cora had been caught in Jesse’s loop, and she didn’t mind it one bit.

  Chapter 18

  Grams hadn’t stopped winking, pinching, and staring at Jesse since she’d witnessed him ask Miss Williams to the stampede. He’d tried ignoring her, hoping she’d see the irritation she caused each time she acted so ridiculous.

  But now he stood before her at breakfast. Jesse had tried speaking of his concerns to Claire, but she didn’t know Miss Williams well enough to offer any insight. Grams spent every waking moment with the lady, and if there was one person who would give it to him straight, it was Grams.

  “Isn’t like you to be early to breakfast,” Grams said, spreading her napkins across her lap. “Nor is it like my Miss Williams to be late. I permit her morning walks, but only because she’s never shown the least indication of being tardy. Let’s hope it’s only last night’s festivities getting her distracted.”

  Last night. Jesse sighed. Miss Williams had said no more than two words when Mr. Clemens arrived with his daughter to donate food for the celebration in two days. Jesse introduced the pair to Miss Williams, explaining Grams’s companion would be his date to the stampede. Miss Clemens had stared Miss Williams down after that, as if her gaze alone could send daggers through her new opponent.

  “About Miss Williams,” Jesse said, sitting down. “I wanted to ask you some questions.”

  Grams narrowed her eyes. “Spit it out, Jess. I’ve no patience for dancing around a subject.”

  He grinned. Just as he hoped. “Don’t you find some of her behavior odd?”

  “Quite,” she said, cackling.

  “One minute she’s reading and talking proper, studying in that library for all hours of the day, making shy at that piano each evening, and the next…”

  Grams jerked her head forward, a common impatient tick of hers. “Yes?”

  “It don’t make sense.”

  “You’ll have to explain, because nothing you’re saying makes sense either.” She held a finger to him, silencing him while she said her prayers.

  Jesse let out a slow breath. Always a slave to Grams’s schedule.

  Her eyes snapped open. “Now, speak.”

  He laughed, rubbing his hand along his jaw. “One minute, Miss Williams seems the pretty and mannered lady you sent for. She curtsies and says the right things, but there are times when I can see she’s holding a part of herself back, maybe a lot of herself, and that’s the part I long to know most.”

  Grams tapped her finger on the table, chewing her bite to bits. “You don’t know, do you?”

  Jesse furrowed his brows. What was Grams talking about?

  Her lips curled, and she took a long sip of tea. “Dear Jess. Our Miss Williams is—”

  The front door flew open, and Miss Williams appeared in the dining room doorway in a dash, blushing at the sight of Grams and Jesse. She brushed her fingers through her hair and swallowed.
>
  The sight of her unrestrained took Jesse’s breath away. Disappointment overcame him as she settled back to the lady Grams and he had just began discussing. The contrasting sides of this woman seemed to be even more confusing than last week. Perhaps it was because he’d asked her to the dance. Cold feet?

  But there was something about being attracted and pulled toward contradicting pieces of personality that left Jesse feeling unsettled, nervous. Either she was hiding something, or she was the oddest person he’d ever met.

  “Forgive me, Mrs. Davis. I travelled to a beautiful cove on the edge of the first pasture and got quite distracted by the time,” Miss Williams explained. A few stray strands fell along one side of her face, hinting at the woman behind the practiced smiles and proper speech.

  Grams scowled. “Always running about this early. Never heard of such a thing. If you can’t make it to breakfast on time, my dear, you’ll have to forego such walks. You know my opinion on punctuality.”

  Miss Williams sat across from Jesse, scooping eggs and sausage onto her plate. “I can guarantee I will not be late again.”

  “Hmm,” Grams said, looking to Jesse. “It seems Miss Williams lost her way. Perhaps you should give her a tour of the ranch, help her know her way around better?”

  Jesse repressed a smile. Grams wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all Miss Williams. “It’d be my pleasure, Miss Williams, if you’d be up for it?”

  She blushed, looking only to the plate in front of her. “Thank you. I would like that.”

  What he’d have given to know her thoughts at that moment. If he’d caught her unexpected, like by the creek or after her fall, he’d have seen every sentiment written across her beautiful features. In those rare moments, she became transparent…refreshing.

  “As the festivities are only two days away, I expect your dress is ready, Miss Williams?”

  She lifted her chin. “Yes, Miss Luellan pressed it yesterday.”