A Home for Her Heart by Janet Lee Barton Page B

your beautiful face.” At that she grimaced. “I wish you weren’t so determined to hide at these kind of things.”
    “I’ve told you, Aunt Bea. One of the reporters that sometimes covers these events lives at Heaton House, and while I am regretting my decision to use Mother’s maiden name instead of Papa’s, I don’t particularly want to be found out in the middle of a charity event.”
    And she didn’t want it to be John who discovered she was Elizabeth Anderson Reynolds, heiress to the Charles Edward Reynolds of Boston, and not just Elizabeth Anderson.
    “I do understand, dear. I wish I’d tried to talk you out of that idea at the time. But I didn’t, so part of the blame must lie on my shoulders as well as yours.”
    “No, Aunt Bea, the blame rests with me. Everyone is so sweet at Heaton House, even had I let them know who I really was, I’m sure they would have accepted me sooner or later. But for them to find out now...” She shook her head.
    “I’m sure they will still accept you, Elizabeth. If you’ve come to care for them, I’m sure they feel the same for you.”
    Tears sprung to Elizabeth’s eyes and she jumped up and went to look out the window. “And that means they might feel I’ve betrayed their trust in me. Oh, Aunt Bea, aside from you and Papa, they are like family to me and I so hate to disappoint them.”
    “Elizabeth, dear, come sit back down.”
    Elizabeth did as asked and her aunt reached out to give her a hug. “I can see you’re distressed. And I do think the only way you’re going to get past it is to tell them.”
    Elizabeth released a large sigh and nodded. “I know. But I don’t know when or how.”
    “Mrs. Heaton and her son know and—”
    “But they knew from the first. And they won’t tell anyone else. They wouldn’t feel it was their place to.”
    “And it isn’t. It’s your place. But the timing should be the Lord’s. He will let you know when the time is right, and give you the words to say to your friends. He knows your heart and His timing will be perfect. Just trust in Him.”
    Elizabeth nodded. “I do, Aunt Bea.” And she did. She prayed each night that the Lord would guide her in what to do. She didn’t for a minute think that He wanted her to keep her true identity secret, but she wasn’t sure how to handle it all. So she would trust that He would let her know when and how and whom to tell first.
    Until then she’d have to live with the consequences of keeping her secret. There were always consequences to not being totally truthful. Elizabeth wished she’d thought about them and asked the Lord to guide her before she—
    “Supper is served, ma’am,” Amanda announced.
    “Come along, Elizabeth. Cook has prepared something light to hold us until later. Then I can’t wait for you to see your costume. I think you’re going to love it.”
    All Elizabeth cared about was that the mask would cover enough of her face that John wouldn’t be able to tell it was her if he were there.
    * * *
    John dreaded these things with all that was in him. Masquerade parties were his absolute least favorite kind of event to cover, especially as he had to go in costume, too. The Tribune paid for the rental—otherwise he would not have accepted the assignment.
    Tonight he was dressed as a steamboat captain and he had to admit he felt at home in the attire, in spite of the odd looks he garnered on the trolley. It brought back memories of steamboat trips between Natchez and New Orleans back when his dreams were down South and before—
    The trolley came to a stop and jarred him out of his reverie.
    It was his stop and he stepped off into one of the wealthier neighborhoods of the city, not far off Fifth Avenue. As he turned the corner and found the street he needed, he wished he’d taken a hack. At least it would have let him off at the doorstep and he wouldn’t have had to endure so many curious stares. But as John got closer to the residence and he encountered