Levinia glanced up at him from under lowered lashes, gave him a dimpled smile and pushed one small, silk-slipper-clad foot against the floor to set the swing in motion. “You must not look at me so intently, Captain Benton. It is not seemly.”
He rose to the coquettish cue. “Forgive me, Miss Stewart. But your beauty draws my eye as candlelight draws a moth. I find it impossible to resist looking at you. As, I believe, would any man.”
The quick flash in her blue eyes before she lowered her long lashes told him that she had been well pleased by his compliment.
“You flatter me excessively, Captain.”
Her tone told him that she wanted more. He took the hint and fed her another morsel. “That would be impossible, Miss Stewart. My tongue cannot find words adequate to describe your beauty.”
He was rewarded for his effort with another dimpled smile.
“I see you are not a man who accepts reproof, Captain Benton.” Levinia’s small foot peeked out from beneath her skirt to push against the porch floor again. The swing moved gently to and fro. “The evening is pleasant.”
So the flirting was over for now. It was time for small talk. “Yes. The cloud cover has cooled things a bit. It will most likely rain tonight—and tomorrow.”
“Oh, I hope not tomorrow. I have a lovely new dress to wear to church.” A flirtatious, coaxing look came his way. “Shall I see you in church, Captain?”
Sam’s face tightened. Church was the last place he wanted to be. But if he were to win Levinia and be accepted within the social elite of St. Louis, he would have to play the part. Does this amuse You, God? He pasted a smile on his face. “I will be there, Miss Stewart. Though with you seated in the congregation, it will be hard for me to concentrate on the sermon.”
Her small laugh rippled softly on the cool, evening air. “Gracious, Captain, you must desist from paying me so many compliments or you will quite turn my head!” She lifted her gloved hand and toyed with one of the blond curls dangling at her temples. “Mother is very pleased with this new law Father passed to clear our streets of those filthy urchins. She was quite undone the other day when one of them entered Simpson’s market. He almost touched her gown!”
A delicate shudder. Planned, not real. And another of those feigned coaxing looks. Does she practice? He couldn’t imagine Miss Randolph acting in such an affected way. He squelched a frown.
“I hope you will arrest them all soon and get them off our streets. They are a most unpleasant sight, and quite ruin a lovely day of shopping.”
You are going to jail children because they are alone on the street? Because their parents had the bad fortune to die? Sam shook his head, studied Levinia’s face to rid himself of Mary Randolph’s voice in his head. “I shall uphold the law to the best of my ability, Miss Stewart.”
“Oh, I did not mean to suggest you would do less, Captain. Father says he can always depend on you. He says you will go far.” Levinia’s pink cheeks dimpled in another smile that did not quite disguise the appraising look in the widened blue eyes. “He says with his guidance and support you may even be mayor of St. Louis one day.”
Sam dipped his head to hide his elation. “I am pleased to hear your father thinks well of me.” He looked up and locked his gaze with hers. “And may I hope you feel the same, Miss Stewart?”
“Why, Captain—” Light flashed across the dark clouds on the horizon. Thunder rolled in the distance. “Oh!” Levinia placed a hand on her chest and rose from the swing. “I fear your prediction of inclement weather is coming true, Captain Benton.” There was another flash of light, a low rumble. “I dislike storms. Forgive me, but I must go inside before the rain begins.”
“I insist you do, Miss Stewart. I would not want you to take a chill. Please, allow me to assist you.” Sam stepped forward and opened the door for her.
“Thank you, Captain Benton. I shall look forward to seeing you at church tomorrow.” She gave him a quick smile and rushed inside. Sam tugged on his hat and trotted down the porch steps.
So the mayor thought he would go far. Maybe even be the mayor of St. Louis someday. Well…maybe he would. A smile split his lips. Levinia would be the perfect wife if he went into politics. And judging from her actions tonight, along with that measuring look she had given him, she was considering that possibility herself.
Rain pattered on his hat, splattered against his shoulders and danced on the hard, dry ground. Sam glanced up at the roiling clouds overhead and frowned. He was in for a good soaking before he reached home. But the courting call he had made on Levinia was worth it. He had found out his plan was going forward even better than he had anticipated.
The wind picked up. Rain pelted his back, plastering his shirt against his skin, but nothing could disturb the warm glow of satisfaction inside him. The only thing that could make this evening better was if he had ridden Attila. He smiled, pulled his hat brim lower and stretched his legs out into a ground-eating lope. Church tomorrow. It seemed God was going to help him achieve his goals after all.
Was that thunder? Mary laid her book aside and crossed to the open window. Black clouds were tumbling across the sky. The ends of the branches of the elm tree in the backyard dipped and swayed in a rising wind. Light glinted across the horizon and her thoughts darted to her sister. She leaned on the windowsill and looked toward the northeast. Sarah was terrified of thunderstorms since she had seen lightning strike her fiancé dead aboard a ship they were sailing.
Mary shuddered and wrapped her arms about herself. If two sailors in a dingy had not spotted the skirt of Sarah’s dress caught on a broken-off piece of the ship when she fell in the water, her sister would have drowned. Mary looked up, watched the black clouds filling the sky, shutting off the evening light. Oh, Sarah, I hope the sun is shining on you in Cincinnati.
The wind gusted, blowing the skirt of her dressing gown against her legs. Rain slapped against the raised window, coursed down the small panes and flowed off in rivulets. The candle on the washstand beside her bed guttered and died.
Mary shivered and stared out into the dark. How many young children were out there in the storm? Where did they take shelter? You cannot save them all, Miss Randolph. There are too many of them. Captain Benton’s words flowed through her mind. They bore a frustrating truth. Doubt assailed her. She brushed the rainwater from the sill with her hand, closed the window and stared out into the stormy night.
Should she request an audience with Mayor Stewart? Or was Captain Benton right? If she was successful in presenting her petition to have this law removed from the city charter, what then? Who would feed, clothe and shelter these young, orphaned children? She had no room in this tiny cottage. And she could not ask Ivy to take in more of them.
The lightning flashed brighter. The thunder rumbled closer, and the rain drummed on the roof over her head. Mary sighed. It was too big a task for her alone. But she would do what she could. Tomorrow she would write and ask her father to increase her allowance. And to allow any more orphaned children she found to sleep in the warehouse. It was not enough, but it was a start. And she would call at Mayor Stewart’s office on Monday. She could not help a child who was in jail.
Jail.
Her thoughts returned to her confrontation that afternoon with Captain Benton. If what you say is true, then I shall need help. Would you care to join me? Mary frowned and unfastened her dressing gown as she crossed to her bed. Anger had pushed her into challenging Captain Benton—but why did she get so angry with him? She knew he was only doing his job. It was his duty to uphold the law. And he had been gentle when holding Callie this afternoon, unlike the other policeman. But—
Mary shook her head and hung the damp dressing gown over the back of the desk chair to dry, then kicked off her slippers and crawled under the covers. She arranged her pillow, rested her head on the downy softness and closed her eyes. It did no good. The truth hovered in her heart, waiting to be confessed. She wanted him to be better than that. She wanted him to help the chi
ldren instead of arresting them. She wanted to admire him.
The admission brought warmth rushing to her cheeks. She was attracted to Captain Samuel Benton, more than she had ever been to any man—including Winston Blackstone. Though why she should be was beyond her understanding. The man made her uncomfortable. Simply being in his presence was…disturbing. And today, when he had looked at her—
Mary snapped her thoughts away from the memory. She did not want to examine too closely how she had felt during that long, uneasy moment. That way led to more hurt. She was well aware of her shortcomings in men’s eyes. Especially men like Captain Samuel Benton who courted petite, beautiful blondes like Miss Stewart.
Chapter Nine
Mary adjusted the long wrap that matched her amber, watered-silk gown and walked down the center aisle beside James, looking neither left nor right. Why did he always choose a pew close to the front of the church? She would much prefer to hide in the back, and he knew it.
James stopped beside a pew on their right and Mary slipped in, grateful for the opportunity to sit down. At least now her tallness would be disguised, not that anyone present could have failed to notice it as they had made that long walk! And thank goodness it was still overcast. The cool, stormy weather gave her an excuse to wear the dress with the high collar that hid her thin neck. And its matching bonnet, with the amber silk flowers clustered on both the inside and outside of the wide brim made her face look a little softer, less…angular.
Angular. How she hated that word! But it had stuck in her head ever since she had overheard Winston use it to describe her to Victoria. It was unflattering…but true. Her cheekbones were—No! She would not think of her shortcomings.
Mary frowned and spread her skirt, then again arranged the lavish fabric of the wrap to make herself look a little heavier. It was the best she could do. She fixed her gaze on the pulpit, and by sheer dint of will, held Winston’s words at bay. Soon she would have to rise to sing the chosen hymn and everyone would be able to see she was at least two or three inches taller than most of the other ladies assembled. That was enough to have to think about. Oh, why had God made her so—
The organist hit a chord.
Mary set her jaw and joined in the rustle and stir as the congregation rose. She knew the words to the hymn by heart, but her thoughts froze, arrested by the sight of the tall, blond, broad-shouldered man sliding into a pew across the aisle. Her pulse quickened. James was wrong. Samuel Benton did attend church.
She dipped her head to hide her face beneath the brim of her bonnet and watched the captain. He nodded and smiled at someone. She followed his gaze to see the object of his attention and looked straight at the mayor’s daughter. The young woman’s long lashes fluttered down over her blue eyes and two dimples appeared in her pink cheeks in a coy response to the captain’s greeting.
Oh, my! Perfectly done. Mary let out a quiet sigh. The woman had flawless flirting abilities and beauty enough to draw any man’s eyes—to turn any man’s head. She dropped her gaze to the petite blonde’s softly rounded shoulders and arms bared for all to see—and for the captain to admire. Not that that mattered. It was only the unfairness…
Mary yanked her gaze back to the front of the church, squared her shoulders and mouthed words, the familiar, acrid taste of bitterness in her mouth as she pretended to sing.
“I am reading today from the book of Isaiah.” The pastor’s voice rang out into the silence.
Mary sat erect in the pew and turned inward to think her own thoughts. God loved her less than those He blessed with beauty and charm; she did not owe His word her attention.
She rested her hand on the open Bible in her lap and slanted another glance at Samuel Benton. He seemed at ease. But less than attentive. She frowned and tapped the toe of her shoe on the floor beneath the concealing hem of her skirts, the sound deadened by the multiple layers of fabric. Were young, helpless children being arrested and jailed while she sat here in church watching one of their captors stealing secret looks at Miss Stewart? And where had the woman bought that snippet of a hat that showed her blond curls to such advantage? She had never seen one quite like it. She would have to explore the shops of St. Louis this week and see what they had to offer. A hat like that would be a perfect birthday gift for Sarah. It would set off her delicate beauty the same as it did for Miss Stewart.
“‘…he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him.’”
No beauty? Mary glanced up at the pastor. Who—
“‘He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him—’”
Mary stared, her attention riveted on the words. Why, the pastor could be speaking of the orphaned children. That is exactly the way the people in Simpson’s grocer and on Front Street had treated Ben and Callie. They did not care that the children were alone and frightened and half-starved without parents to care for them. They despised and rejected them because they were dirty and unkempt. They would not even look at them. Or else they wanted to jail them.
Mary shot a look across the aisle at Samuel Benton. Did he see the similarity? Had he heard the pastor’s words? It appeared not. The captain’s gaze was fastened on Miss Stewart, not the pastor.
Mary drew in a long, slow breath and blinked her eyes to control a sudden rush of tears. She stared down at her folded hands, the words the pastor had read ringing in her head—there is no beauty that we should desire him. She bit down on her lower lip and blinked harder, furious that the words made her want to cry. Why should they? It was not anything new to her. She knew beauty made people desirable to others—and that a lack of beauty brought rejection. She should. Winston had rejected her for lack of beauty. That was a grim truth she carried in her heart. Carried and accepted. But…
She lifted her head and looked across the aisle, unable to stop herself, though the sight of the mayor’s daughter made the ache in her heart swell. Oh, why had God not loved her enough to make her petite and blond and beautiful? Rejection would never happen to Miss Stewart. A woman as lovely as she need never fear that. With her beauty, any man would desire her…as Captain Benton did.
The line of departing people ahead of them was barely crawling forward. Another reason she preferred the back of the church—one could exit quickly. And all she wanted was to go home and hide. She refused to cry—no matter how her chest ached. Mary inched ahead, stopped and tapped her foot, finding relief in venting her irritation. Did everyone have to shake the pastor’s hand?
The short, plump, elderly woman in front of them, who had greeted them earlier, looked back over her shoulder. So did the woman’s husband.
Mary pasted on a polite smile and stilled her foot.
James looked at her.
The pressure in her chest increased. They were too close—knew each other too well. She could read the silent “What is wrong?” in his eyes as clearly as if it were written on his forehead. She gave a slight shake of her head, mustered a smile she knew would not fool him and turned away from his close perusal. Her emotions were too raw at the moment for brotherly sympathy. It would break her down.
She stepped a bit to the side to see how close they were to the door and gave a soft sigh of relief. Only two more couples. The young man speaking with the pastor glanced her way and she looked down in maidenly modesty. A ridiculous subterfuge she affected upon such occurrences in order not to see the look of disappointment in the man’s eyes when he got a good look at her face or realized her height and slenderness.
The line moved.
Mary stepped closer to James, adjusted her wrap to better cover her shoulders and waited.
The line moved again. The elderly couple spoke to the pastor, shook his hand and stepped through the door. A flash of sky, people drifting down the walk toward the street. Finally!
“Greetings, Mr. Randolph. I am so glad you joined us this morning.” The pastor beamed a smile at James, then
glanced her way. “And is this young lady the sister you spoke of?”
“Yes, she is.” James’s hand tightened on her elbow and drew her forward. She summoned another polite smile.
“Welcome, Miss Randolph. Thank you for coming to join us on this lackluster day.” The pastor shifted his gaze to include James and offered his hand. “I hope you will both come again.”
“We shall, Pastor Thornton.” James released the pastor’s hand and stepped back for her to precede him through the door.
At last! They could go home. The pressure in her chest eased. Mary took a deep breath, drew her wrap more closely about her and looked toward the street. She came to a dead halt, staring at the trio standing near the end of the brick walk. For one foolish moment she considered spinning about and running back inside the church. Instead, she moved forward. Only nod a greeting and walk on by, James. Please walk on by. Do not make me stand there and be compared to—He stopped. Had her hand been on his arm, she would have pinched him.
“Good day, Miss Stewart…Captain Benton.” James dipped his head. Received a nod from the captain and a dimpled smile from Miss Stewart in return.
“And good day to you, Miss Randolph.” Samuel Benton rested his gaze on her briefly, then indicated the young woman standing beside Miss Stewart. “May I present Miss Stewart’s cousin, Miss Green.”
James bowed. “Your servant, Miss Green.”
A farm wagon, with the faint smell of a barnyard about it, rolled to a stop on the road beside them and an older man tipped his hat their direction. “Afternoon, Levinia…Captain. Time to go, Rebecca.”
The young woman gave them a friendly smile. “It was nice to make your acquaintance. Please forgive me for rushing off. But we have to hurry to reach home before dark.” She turned to the others. “Do you want a ride, Levinia?”
“Gracious no!” There was the slightest crinkling of the small, narrow nose. “You go on, Rebecca. Captain Benton is escorting me home.”
The Law and Miss Mary Page 8
