Love in Disguise

by Carol Cox

  Except for the possible damage to her heart.

  On the other hand, if her heart was going to be broken anyway, how much more broken could it be? This was not some amateur group thrown together by Althea Baldwin and her church ladies. An evening at Pickford Hall would bring her into contact with the professional theater again. And with Steven as her escort, what could be better?

  She studied her reflection and gave a little nod. She would do it. Once she moved on to other investigations, she would still have the memory of one perfect evening to cherish. Tucking that bittersweet knowledge away, she started walking toward the mercantile.

  “Miz Stewart!”

  Oh no. Ellie closed her eyes. When she opened them, she saw Amos Crawford trotting across the street toward her.

  She forced her lips into what she hoped would pass as a smile. “Good morning, Mr. Crawford.”

  “Mornin’, ma’am. I need to talk to you.”

  Ellie peered at him curiously. Something about him seemed different this morning. After a moment, she realized what it was. For once, the telegrapher wasn’t looking at her with calf-eyed longing.

  Intrigued at the change in spite of herself, she nodded. “Go on.”

  Amos swallowed and ran his finger around his collar. “About those flowers I brought you.”

  Ellie’s defenses went up again, and she edged half a step to the right. “Yes, they were lovely. Thank you so much for your thoughtfulness.”

  Amos looked down at the boardwalk and shuffled his feet. “It’s kind of a funny thing. You’re never going to believe it.”

  For someone about to tell a humorous story, he seemed remarkably ill at ease. He looked more like an accused criminal about to spill out a confession.

  “It seems Miz Baldwin—Althea—got wind of me bringing them to you.” Amos smoothed the top of his balding head with one hand.

  “Yes?” With an effort, Ellie refrained from tapping her foot. The man seemed to be going in circles and was not getting anywhere.

  “Well, it turns out she’s had her eye on me for a long time.” He pushed out his chest and pulled in his stomach a fraction of an inch. “Sort of an infatuation, you might call it.”

  Ellie blinked. She had met Althea only a few times, but she had always seemed like a woman in full possession of her faculties. “Do tell.”

  “Yes, ma’am, that’s the gospel truth. When she heard about me bringing you those flowers, it lit a fire under her, so to speak, and she started in to wooing me.”

  “Wooing?”

  “That’s right. Before I knew it, she was bringing me cakes and pies, asking me over for Sunday dinner.” A dreamy look came over his face, and he smacked his lips. “My, that woman can cook.”

  His smile faded, and he looked at Ellie again. “I want to tell you straight out that I’ve proposed and Althea has accepted me. We’re going to get married at the end of the month.”

  Ellie’s mind reeled at the news. “How nice for you. My congratulations to you both.”

  Amos reached out and touched her shoulder briefly. “You don’t have to put up a brave front, Miz Stewart. I’m afraid I may have given you false hopes, and I want you to know I feel bad about it.”

  Relief made Ellie’s knees weak. “Oh no. Don’t give it another—”

  “No, a man’s gotta take responsibility for his actions, and I intend to own up to mine. I just don’t want you to think I’m the kind of man who’s only interested in flittin’ from flower to flower and breakin’ hearts. I am—”

  Ellie cut off the flow of words with a wave of her hand. “Mr. Crawford, I can truthfully say I would never take you for that type of scoundrel. You and Mrs. Baldwin have my blessing, and I wish only the best for your future together.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “That’s mighty fine of you, ma’am. Mighty fine. I always knew you were the kind of woman a man would be lucky to have beside him.”

  His eyes took on a wistful gleam. “When I think of what might have been . . . maybe I—”

  “No.” Ellie injected the word with all the firmness at her command. “Put those thoughts out of your mind, Mr. Crawford. Make it a clean break. You owe it to yourself and your future bride.”

  Over his shoulder, she could see the subject of their conversation walking toward the telegraph office, a covered tray in her hands. “Look! There she is now.”

  Amos turned, and his face lit up. “She’s bringin’ me lunch. What a woman.” With the spryness of a much younger man, he loped across the street toward his lady love, apparently consigning Lavinia to the past forever.

  Thank heaven. Ellie watched the pair greet each other and go inside the office.

  At least one romance had gone right in Pickford.

  27

  Cheviot—my husband—my own old love—if the devotion of a lifetime can atone for the misery of the last few days, it is yours, with every wifely sentiment of pride, gratitude, admiration, and love.’ ”

  “ ‘My own! My own! Tender blossom of my budding hopes! Star of my life! Essence of happiness! Tree upon which the fruit of my heart is growing! My Past, my Present, my To Come!’ ”

  Thunderous applause roared from the seats of Pickford Hall as Cheviot embraced Miss Treherne, Minnie comforted Belvawney, Angus offered solace to Maggie, and the final curtain rang down on the evening’s performance of W.S. Gilbert’s Engaged. The clamor swelled to an even greater volume, and the red velvet curtains rose again, allowing the members of the company to bask in the adulation of the audience once more.

  Ellie joined in, swallowing back emotions that threatened to consume her. From the moment she and Steven had entered the lobby, she’d felt as though she’d been swept back in time. The hush of anticipation as the curtain rose, carrying the audience away from reality and into a world of make-believe, the lines spoken with perfect timing, even the sounds of the actors’ feet treading the boards—all of it combined to draw her back into her old life, where she had spent so many hours hovering in the wings.

  Steven leaned over and whispered, “They did a fine job, didn’t they?”

  Ellie nodded, unable to speak past the lump that blocked her throat.

  Steven’s lips curved up in the smile that never failed to send a tingle shooting through her. “I take it you enjoyed the performance?”

  More than he knew.

  Ellie nodded again and dashed a bit of moisture from her eyes. Let him think it was a rush of feeling brought on by the performance. For one evening, she had been back at the Orpheum, experiencing the sights and sounds she knew so well.

  Steven rose and helped her to her feet, keeping her close to his side as they joined the crowd making their way back toward the exit. Bending down, he murmured into her ear, “We have another treat in store. The cast promised to greet the audience out in the lobby.”

  Ellie gave him a watery smile. She only hoped she could bear up under more reminders of what she had left behind. It wouldn’t do to break down in front of Steven and the rest of the town.

  When they reached the lobby, they found members of the troupe stationed at various points around the open area. “Is there any particular player you’d like to speak to?”

  Ellie found her voice at last. “You decide. Whoever you choose will be fine with me.”

  He scanned the room, focusing on a spot where the knot of people wasn’t quite so thick. “How about over here?”

  He led her to a group surrounding Estelle Renault, who played the role of Maggie MacFarlane.

  Ellie watched the young actress greet the awestruck citizens of Pickford with grace and charm, showing none of the condescension Magdalena had often displayed. She seemed genuinely happy to meet members of her public and receive their acclaim.

  When it was their turn, Steven cupped his hand under Ellie’s elbow and stepped forward. “Thank you for your performance, Miss Renault. We enjoyed it thoroughly.”

  The actress dipped her head in acknowledgment. When she turned to Ellie, a qui
zzical look spread over her face, and she tilted her head. “Don’t I know you?”

  Ellie’s smile froze. “I . . . don’t believe so.”

  Estelle’s lips pursed in a charming moue. “Are you positive? I can’t put my finger on when or where, but I’m quite sure I’ve seen you before.”

  Steven chuckled. “She’s from Chicago. Maybe your paths crossed back there.”

  The room seemed to spin around Ellie, and she cast her mind back. Had she met Estelle Renault before? And if so, where? When?

  The actress tapped one finger against her lips and studied Ellie again. Then her face lit up. “It’s your eyes—that beautiful shade of turquoise. I once played in a theater with an actress whose assistant had eyes of that very same hue.”

  The missing piece in Ellie’s memory snapped into place. Of course! The young woman had once played Mary Melrose, cousin to Magdalena’s character, Violet, in a production of Henry James Byron’s Our Boys. Her path and Ellie’s had barely crossed, as Magdalena deemed herself too important to hobnob with the lesser players. And once compliments started filtering in about Estelle’s beauty and talent, Magdalena made sure she never played the Orpheum again. No wonder Ellie hadn’t recognized her right away.

  She forced a light laugh. “I’m afraid I’ve never been on the stage.”

  Estelle chuckled along with her. “Now that I look at you more closely, I know you couldn’t be the same person I was thinking of. The eyes are right, but she was a much plainer woman than you.”

  Ellie absorbed the dagger to her heart with as much composure as she could muster.

  “It’s a very unusual eye color, though,” Estelle said. “No wonder it brought back memories.”

  “I’ll certainly agree that they’re beautiful eyes.” Steven’s tender glance threatened to undo Ellie completely. “Her aunt’s eyes are that same color, too. Maybe it isn’t as uncommon a shade as one would think.”

  “Really?” The actress arched her eyebrows.

  “Yes,” Ellie said. “It’s something of a family trait.”

  Steven chuckled. “You never know. This other woman might turn out to be a long-lost relative. You may have more family in Chicago than you realize.” After exchanging a few more comments with Estelle Renault, they took their leave and walked out into the crisp night air.

  They strolled a block before Steven spoke. “I hope you enjoyed this evening as much as I did.”

  “More than you can imagine. It will always be one of my most cherished memories.”

  “I’m glad. I wanted tonight to be special.” He opened his mouth as if to say more, then gave a barely perceptible shake of his head, and they continued on in silence.

  Ellie matched her steps to his unhurried gait, wishing she could do something to prolong their time together. She longed to rest her head against his shoulder, to feel his arm wrap around her in response and hold her close, but she held herself in check. It was one thing to enjoy the moment, quite another to build up expectations in his mind that could never be realized.

  She cast about for something to say. “It’s hard to believe we can see our way so clearly. It’s almost as light as daylight outside.”

  Steven drew her arm closer to him. “There’s nothing like taking a stroll with your special girl by the light of the full moon.”

  “Full . . .” Ellie stopped in her tracks and pivoted around to look behind them, where an enormous silvery disk hung suspended in the eastern sky.

  “Yes, a full moon.” Laughter bubbled in Steven’s voice. “Surely you’ve heard of those in Chicago?”

  Ellie stared at the shimmering sphere. “But when I asked Gertie, she said . . . I thought it wasn’t supposed to be full until tomorrow night.”

  Steven stepped closer and traced her chin with his forefinger. “I’m rather glad Gertie was wrong. It puts the finishing touch on a wonderful evening.”

  A furrow appeared between his brows. “You’re shivering. Did you just take a chill? Come on, let’s keep moving.”

  They resumed their stroll down Douglas Street. Ellie’s feet moved along steadily of their own accord while her mind raced, trying to reclaim the shattered pieces of her perfect evening.

  How could Gertie have gotten the day wrong? No, she couldn’t blame her friend. She should have checked the date herself.

  In any case, this was the night she’d been waiting for, the night of high significance, according to what she’d overheard from Marvin Long. And instead of being on the alert, she’d spent the last few hours enjoying the company of the man she . . .

  No. There was no point in pursuing that line of thought. Suffice it to say she had squandered precious time when she should have been on the lookout for . . . whatever was supposed to happen.

  She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Maybe she hadn’t missed it, after all. The moon wasn’t even high overhead yet.

  And Billy Taylor was on watch. As keen as the boy was to earn his nickel, she felt sure he would be steadfastly on the lookout. That knowledge let her relax enough to lean on Steven’s arm again.

  He covered her hand with his own. “Better?”

  She nodded. For the moment, at least.

  Much too soon, they reached her porch, mounted the steps, and stood before the front door. The night wrapped around them like a velvet blanket, the only sources of light the moon and the dim glow from the small lamp she’d left burning in the parlor.

  Steven shifted from one foot to the other, suddenly seeming ill at ease. With a pang, Ellie realized what this meant. He would be saying his good-byes in a moment, and this dream of a night would be over.

  She closed her eyes to squeeze back the tears that threatened. Her Cinderella moment had ended. It was time to go back to reality. The best she could hope for was to let their magical evening end on a good note, leaving them both with a memory they could treasure for the rest of their days.

  Twisting her hands together, she lifted her chin and opened her eyes to look up at Steven. To her astonishment, his whole demeanor had changed in that brief moment. Instead of the self-assured man who’d escorted her to Pickford Hall, a nervous schoolboy stood before her.

  He shuffled his feet and cleared his throat once, then twice. With a bashful smile, he reached for her right hand with both of his. “There’s something I need to ask you.”

  Something in his expression made her mouth go dry at the exact moment her heart picked up its tempo. Her intuition warned her where this conversation was leading. She had to do something, say something to stop him. Her lips moved, but no words came out.

  Steven captured her fingers in his hands and looked at her with a light shining in his eyes that put the moon to shame.

  Ellie felt her heart soar and break at the same moment.

  “Jessie, we haven’t known each other very long, but I think my soul recognized you the first day we met.”

  Ellie’s free hand crept to her throat.

  “I’ve been waiting for someone like you all my life,” he said.

  Footsteps pattered along the dirt on Second Street.

  “If you are willing . . .”

  The running feet grew nearer, now pounding up Ellie’s walk.

  “. . . I would like to begin courting—”

  “Miss Monroe!”

  Ellie’s hand dropped from her throat, and she turned to face Billy Taylor, not sure whether she wanted to hug him or throttle him.

  “I followed him! I followed him! Do I get my nickel now?”

  Cut off in midsentence, Steven glared at the boy.

  Ellie caught her breath. “You followed him? Where?”

  Steven swiveled his glare to her. “Jessie?”

  Ellie held up her hand, cutting him off again as Billy replied, “He was walkin’ along Grant like he’d just come from one of the saloons, but then he cut south and headed out of town.”

  Steven spread his hands and looked at her and Billy as if they’d both lost their minds. “Could someone explain to me�
��”

  “Do you have any idea where he was going?”

  Billy gave her a cheeky grin. “Better than an idea. I followed him there.”

  Ellie gripped his shoulders. “Followed him outside of town? Didn’t I tell you to be careful?”

  The boy’s grin widened. “With all this moonlight, I didn’t even have to stay close to see where he was going. He went straight out to the Constitution.”

  Steven clutched at his hair. “What are you two talking about?”

  Ellie waved him to silence, her mind racing. What would the foreman of the Busted Shovel be doing at the Constitution Mine so late at night?

  Only one thing came to mind. She’d been certain the robbers were planning something big, and this had to be it. They were going to rob Tom Sullivan, just as they’d tried to rob Alfred Clay’s mine.

  She opened her reticule and fished inside for a nickel. “Good job, Billy. That’s exactly what I needed to know.”

  “That isn’t all I saw. There was somebody else following him.”

  “Who?”

  “Mr. Tidwell from the hotel . . . or what used to be the hotel.”

  Donald Tidwell? The news sent a cold shock through Ellie, followed by a rush of white-hot anger. “Are you sure?”

  “Sure as I’m standing here.” Billy held out his hand, palm up.

  Ellie let the nickel slip from her fingers and dug in her reticule again. “Here’s a dime, five cents for each man you saw. Now go home and stay inside.”

  “A dime?” With a whoop, Billy snagged the coin and raced toward his house.

  Ellie turned to face Steven, who stared at her with a combination of hurt and confusion.

  “You’re paying that boy to follow people? I don’t understand.”

  “I know.” A shaft of agony pierced Ellie’s heart. She brushed her fingertips across his right cheek. “I can’t expect you to. And I don’t have time to explain right now.”

  He leaned forward and clasped her hands. “Jessie, dear . . .”

  She pulled her hands away. “Don’t call me that.”

  Steven straightened as if she’d slapped him. “I’m sorry. Maybe that was presumptuous of me.”