Morning Song by Karen Robards Page A

ladies had given him more than one come-hither look. To his credit—and Jessie hated to acknowledge that there was anything that was to his credit, searching for an ulterior motive that would account for his circumspection—he had not seemed to accord any of them more than polite attention. He had stayed properly at his fiancée’s side all day, deflecting female silliness with a smile and a quip, while Celia showed him off like a hunter with a trophy, queening it over the other ladies because she had him and they only wished they did.
    The sight made Jessie sick, so she tried not to watch any more of it than she had to. But Celia's silent boasting and her fiancé’s deliberately charming smile were pretty hard to miss. Celia and Stuart were cheered as they came to the end and separated, moving back into line. Nell Bids-well and Chaney Dart were right behind them. With her green dress billowing and his blond hair gleaming under the light of the chandelier, they made a handsome couple. To Jessie's surprise, Miss Flora had found a partner in the widowed Dr. Angus Maguire, and that elderly couple skipped the length of the line after Nell and 71

    Chaney with as much energy as any of the young ones. They were roundly cheered, too.
    Jessie had been so caught up in the spectacle of the dance that she didn't realize it was her turn and Mitch's until Lissa Chandler high-stepped into the middle to join her husband. Seth Chandler was the heir to Elmway, and Jessie guessed that the richness of that plantation had gone a long way toward increasing the squat, balding Seth's appeal for his pretty young wife. Which meant that Lissa Chandler had married for money, just as she suspected Stuart Edwards of planning to do. But somehow it seemed different for a woman. Women were supposed to find security in their husbands, not the other way around.
    Then it struck Jessie that the Misses Edwards had said that Stuart would be their heir. Tulip Hill was not nearly so large or profitable as Mimosa, or Elm-way, for that matter, but it was certainly a respectable property. Maybe—and the thought made her scowl—just maybe, she had wronged Stuart Edwards when she had accused him of being a fortune hunter. Maybe the man was truly in love with Celia after all, impossible as it seemed.
    "Ready, Jessie—uh, Miss Jessie?" Mitch's question recalled Jessie's wandering attention. She blinked at him across the space separating them with something very near to panic. Her thoughts had been so busy that she had almost forgotten she was in line for the reel, much less that she and Mitch were next. Unless a miracle occurred within the next few seconds, she was going to have to dance down the long corridor of clapping revelers with Mitch, of all people.
    If she could even dance.
    The movement was no more than skipping with joined hands in time to the music. She could manage that. She had to, or make a 72

    fool of herself by darting out of the line. And suddenly it was very important that she not make a fool of herself in front of Mitch.
    The music was wonderful, the laughter infectious. Mitch was the boy she had swooned over in secret for years. Maybe, maybe, he was going to notice her at last. He had not seemed adverse to dancing with her, and he was smiling at her now.
    Suddenly the world did not look bleak, but bright.
    "Ready," Jessie answered, and with a beaming smile she stepped out into the center to clasp hands with the boy she'd been silently, hopelessly, in love with for years.

    VIII

    Mitch's hands were warm, his skin soft and dry. He clasped her hands strongly, smiling down into her eyes. (Funny that she'd never noticed before how much taller he was than she; perhaps he'd grown.) Just the feel of his hands holding hers made her go all shivery. Jessie flushed rosily, beamed, and somehow made it down the clapping corridor to the end of the line. The only embarrassing moment came when it was time for them to part; Jessie was so enraptured that she