In the Shadow of Lakecrest(3)

“Mr. Lemont!” she exclaimed.

“Miss Headly,” he called back in greeting as he straightened up and began walking toward us. I glanced at Maisie, who looked as thrilled as I felt.

“That’s Matthew Lemont,” Lillian whispered to me hurriedly. “Of the Lemonts. Father says they’re rolling in money.” Louder, so Matthew could hear, Lillian called out, “What a pleasure to see you again. It was so refreshing to dine with someone younger than Methuselah at breakfast this morning.”

“Lillian,” I admonished, instantly regretting the schoolmarmish tone.

“I was delighted your father invited me,” Matthew chuckled. “And grateful to you girls for the entertaining conversation.”

Lillian and Maisie hadn’t told me Matthew had joined their table that morning, and I felt a dark stab of jealousy that I’d missed it. My morning meal, as usual, had been delivered on a tray to my cabin.

“You haven’t introduced me to your companion,” Matthew said. His gaze met mine and held it.

“Oh,” Lillian replied dismissively, as if I wasn’t worth his notice. “This is Kate.”

“Kate Moore,” I said, holding out my hand.

“Matthew Lemont.”

There was no jolt of electricity as our palms pressed together, but what I felt was something deeper, a bond being formed, as we silently agreed to say nothing of our previous meeting.

Lillian abruptly turned and motioned toward the shuffleboard courts, where a raucous family was about to vacate a space.

“Now’s our chance!” she exclaimed. Maisie scurried off after her sister, leaving Matthew and me alone.

“Matthew Lemont,” I said, sounding out each syllable with dramatic emphasis. “How mortifying. I had no idea, yesterday . . .” I looked away, as if I were too embarrassed to face him.

“Don’t apologize,” he pleaded. “I enjoyed my secret life as Mr. X.”

“I’m quite sure I never told you I work for Mr. Headly. What a coincidence that you should have breakfast with him the very day after our meeting!”

To my delight, Matthew laughed at being caught. “I’ll confess,” he said, “I was so curious about you that I stalked the smoking room last night in search of a father with literary tastes. I met Mr. Headly, and we spoke about his love of British poetry and his two daughters, and before I knew it, he was insisting I join them this morning.”

“I hope you’re not too disappointed,” I said. “Kate Moore is awfully boring compared to Miss Z.”

“On the contrary,” Matthew said. “I find the mystery more compelling than ever.”

He took a step forward, and I pretended to be flustered while I tried to work out what to do next. Matthew wasn’t the type to have his head turned by fluttering lashes and girlish giggles. I heard Lillian shout out in triumph, and I nodded at Maisie, urging her on. If she gave up in frustration, as she so often did, I might never get another private conversation with Matthew.

“I’m quite ordinary,” I said. “A governess traveling with a widowed father, his ancient spinster aunt, and two daughters who will use any excuse to escape their lessons.”

“But who is she, this governess?” he teased. “I know nothing about her.”

Why would he want to? I was passably attractive (my mother’s words, forever imprinted on my memory), but had none of the glamour I’d assumed a man like Matthew would be drawn to. My dress was simple white cotton, and my dark-brown hair was cut in a practical chin-length bob. My figure was all wrong for the fashions of the times: bosomy on top and rounded at the hips, so dresses clung stubbornly to my curves rather than cascading elegantly downward.

I had to pretend none of that mattered. I’d risen above the miseries of my childhood because I was determined not to let my past define my future. Self-confidence was the only advantage I had.

“If you were a detective—Sherlock Holmes, say—you could deduce everything you need to know,” I said in a breezy tone. “I’m practically penniless, as you can tell from the scuffs on my shoes and the fact that I’m wearing the same clothes as yesterday. I’m well educated; otherwise, Mr. Headly would never have hired me, yet I also told you I’m not part of the family’s regular staff. When the girls go back to boarding school in the fall, I’ll be out of a job. And I haven’t the faintest idea what I’ll do next.

“Now for the most damming evidence of all: I am confessing all this to a man I hardly know, which must mean I am either terribly forward or terribly lonely. There you have it! A complete portrait of Miss Kate Moore. I warned you. It makes for a very dull story.”

“Then why is it I’d rather talk to you than any other person on this ship?” Matthew’s voice had dropped to a whisper, and he was so close, his breath tickled my cheek.

Before I could respond, we were interrupted by an irate Maisie, who ran over from the court and threw her stick at my feet, the clatter echoing along the deck.

“Lillian cheated!”

“Don’t blame me for your clumsiness,” Lillian snapped as she walked over to join us.

The spell was broken, and Matthew’s playfulness vanished. With formal politeness, he leaned forward in a bow and said, “Ladies, forgive me. I promised to join a game of cards this afternoon, and I’ll be forced to walk the plank if I’m not there to make a fourth at bridge.”