Mrs. Morgan joined her daughter. “Madge, this is the man I told you is to tutor Louisa. Justin Bellamy. Please come in, Mr. Bellamy.”
Judd limped into the room. He figured a lame leg and poor lungs would complete his disguise.
He immediately saw the young woman who would be his pupil. A chinalike beauty in a pale pink dress sat beside a table laden with textbooks and sketch paper. A small white dog with black spots sat on her lap, studying Judd with interest. He figured Louisa’s hands on the dog’s back persuaded the animal not to go into attack mode. Though the dog would offer little threat.
“My daughter, Louisa.”
Judd bowed. “Ma’am, I understand you’re interested in furthering your education.”
Louisa smiled—sweet and gentle—a marked contrast to the decisive study from Madge, who followed him across the room like a cat watching a pigeon, waiting for the right time to pounce.
He sucked in air and remembered to slouch as if it hurt to walk. She could play guard cat all she wanted. He refused to have his feathers ruffled.
As if to reinforce Judd’s feeling of being stalked, a big gray cat jumped from the window ledge and sauntered over to examine the toes of his boots.
Louisa spoke, drawing his attention back to her. “I’d love to go to university. Unfortunately…” She trailed off, but he understood the many things she didn’t say. It was too costly. Her health wouldn’t allow it. It simply wasn’t practical. But she was fortunate her mother cared enough about her thirst for knowledge to hire a tutor. He would do what he could to satisfy her.
“It’s a stimulating environment. I’ll do my best to share some of what I learned.”
She leaned forward, eagerness pouring from her in waves. “I especially want to learn the history of the great artists. And if you would be so good as to…” Her voice fell to a whisper. “Tell me what it’s like to be surrounded by so much learning, so much knowledge.” As if uncomfortable with her burst of enthusiasm, she ducked her head, but not before he’d seen the flood of pink staining her cheeks.
“I’ll do my very best.”
To his left he could feel Madge building up a boiler full of steam.
Mrs. Morgan saved them both from the explosion he feared would sear the skin off him. “This is my youngest daughter, Sally.”
Judd turned, noticed for the first time the younger girl shrinking back against her chair at the far side of the table.
Her gaze darted to him and away. Then she lifted her head and gave him a sweet smile. “Welcome, Mr. Bellamy.”
“Justin, please.” He’d never remember he was Mr. Bellamy, but at least Justin started the same as Judd, which is why he’d chosen the name. He remembered to cough as he glanced around the circle of women. Madge’s gaze waited, hot and demanding. He gave his most innocuous look, rounding his eyes in faux innocence.
“I’ll show you to your quarters,” Madge said, her voice full of warning. “Then you can get to work.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She pulled her lips into a terse expression, and her eyes narrowed before she spun around.
He followed her swift stride outside, his own pace slow and measured, though he fought an urge to march to her side and match her step for step. As the wind blasted him in the face, he gave a cough for good measure.
She waited by his car. “Get your things and follow me. It’s just across the yard.”
Mrs. Morgan had said he’d have his own private quarters when he spoke to her in town, having arranged an interview there. Another reason to convince him he wanted this job. He would be able to slip in and out unnoticed as he tracked his foe.
He followed her to a tiny house—one small window, a narrow door and a low roof. She opened the door and stepped inside with him at her heels. Only the wall facing the yard was boards. The others were sod. “It’s a—”
“A soddie. Yes. The original house. I hope you’ll be comfortable.” The tone of her voice suggested she wished anything but. “The bed’s made up. There’re shelves for your belongings.”
She’d been waving at things as she talked but now spun on him. Her gaze raked him. “I know you’re the man I saw before. If you’re up to no good, I’ll soon enough find out.”
“Miss Madge, you must be mistake—”
“Don’t Miss Madge me, Justin Bellamy. Whatever your scheme, I’ll not let you harm my family.” She marched for the door—all of three steps away. “You’ll be taking meals with us. Supper is at six, which gives you time to earn your keep by teaching Louisa something she wants to learn.”
Judd watched her until she slammed into the house. Her suspicions were going to make his stay complicated, but he’d simply have to be extra cautious. He hated being dishonest, but he didn’t have much choice.
He recalled Madge’s anger when she’d plowed into him on the sidewalk. Remembered how she’d relented and chuckled. Too bad she couldn’t find humor in this situation. He’d love to hear her laugh again, see her eyes flash with amusement.
He flung his bag on the bed. He was not here to let pretty brown eyes confuse him. On the surface he was here to teach Louisa history and other subjects.
His real reason, however, would never take second place to his job. And if he felt any tug of regret that his dishonesty made an enemy out of Madge, he firmly ignored it.
Madge returned to the house. She’d been churning out clean sheets all morning and hauling them upstairs to hang and dry. She still had two more tubs to do, but she welcomed the chance to stomp up and down the stairs, huffing and puffing. Macat, sensing her mistress’s mood, climbed to her perch on the stool and observed with narrowed eyes.
“I’ll keep this to myself,” she muttered to the cat. “No need to worry Mother or Sally or frighten Louisa, but that man is hiding something.”
But what? And why did it make her so cross?
She hated herself for denying the truth and even more for admitting it, but since she’d bumped into him a week ago, she’d thought of him once or twice—dark, intense eyes full of honesty. Or so she’d believed. She snorted. “Honest, indeed. That man is lying through his teeth.”
But then, so was she. Thought of him once or twice? Ha. But she did not want to admit the truth… He came to her mind almost constantly.
She pretended she didn’t notice him return from the cabin with two books under his arm. Instead, she rushed upstairs with the last load of wet laundry, and muttered protests as she hung the sheets.
Only when she was certain he would be ensconced in the front room with Louisa did she clatter down the stairs, rushing past the doorway without allowing herself to glance in. Macat followed at a leisurely pace, protesting Madge’s haste.
Madge’s emotions gave strength to her muscles, and she carried the wash water, two buckets at a time, to the garden where she rationed a
