Would-Be Mistletoe Wife. Christine Johnson
embrace and smoothed her skirts.
The girl stood in the doorway, smirking and apparently free of the headache she’d claimed all morning.
Louise hurried to control the damage. “Thank you, Mr. Hammond, for saving me from a terrible spill.” She picked up the stool. “How careless of me to place it on a wobbly board.”
She hoped that would spare her from Priscilla’s manipulations.
“You are excused, Miss Bennington.”
“Of course, Mrs. Smythe.” But that smirk didn’t leave her lips as she flounced off toward the dining room.
“I hope I didn’t get you into trouble,” Jesse said.
Louise closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Too late. If only he’d risen to Louise’s defense, Priscilla might have believed her story. Instead, this little episode could prove costly, if not for her personally then for the school.
What had he been thinking? That was the trouble. Jesse wasn’t thinking. If he had been, he would never have remained so close to Louise Smythe.
It had begun innocently enough, saving her from a fall, but he’d held on too long. Then, overwhelmed by the feel of her in his arms, he’d considered kissing her. Louise’s long eyelashes swept to her eyebrows, and her gray eyes, which could be severe, had softened to the color of a gentle rain. She’d drawn in her breath, and her cheeks turned the most delightful shade of pink.
Her reaction was so unexpected that it had caught him off guard. She’d been the one woman who didn’t sigh and stare at him. She’d seemed completely unaffected until that moment. Maybe that was what had tempted him. The immoveable had become irresistible.
Why had he succumbed to temptation?
That prissy girl with the blond curls had noted the near-embrace with a smug grin of triumph.
Jesse had stepped back the moment Louise leapt from his arms. Her explanation might have succeeded if she wasn’t blushing the entire time. Then she demanded the girl leave them.
This would not end well.
“Perhaps I should go,” he offered. “We could discuss the lecture another day. Or not at all.”
“Are you suggesting I don’t know enough about the subject to even assist you? I’ll have you know that I could give that lecture.”
Jesse put up his hands in surrender. “I’m sure you could. I’m just offering to step away if it’ll make matters better for you.”
“Things will go just fine, no thanks to you.”
Jesse wasn’t used to receiving reprimands from a feminine quarter. His sister, Beatrice, had been more interested in her own trials than in disciplining her little brother. His father...well, he’d never quite been himself after Ma’s death. “Forgive me. Next time I’ll let you fall.”
Louise flushed even more furiously. “That’s not what I meant. I was referring to...to...well, you know.” She brushed at her hair, though it was in perfect order. “Priscilla probably got the wrong impression.”
No doubt she had. Jesse’s lips had brushed against Louise’s forehead. Preventing her fall could be explained away, but not holding her in such an intimate way. “I will talk to Mrs. Evans.”
For a brief second, she looked hopeful, and then a shadow clouded her eyes. “That won’t be necessary.” Yet she stepped a little farther away. Her gaze drifted downward and then she exclaimed, “The book!”
She bent to pick up the fallen volume.
Jesse hurried to lift the heavy tome first. His hand collided with hers.
“Oh!” She jumped back and rubbed her hand as if it had been stung.
“I’m sorry.” He seemed to be saying that a lot. “Maybe I’d better leave.”
“Yes, perhaps you should.” Yet that admission came with surprising wistfulness.
“I can cancel the lecture.” Had those words really come from his mouth? Yet it was the perfect solution. “Since you are very knowledgeable about the weather, I’ll leave the lecture to you.”
Something like a smile flashed across her lips, only to vanish the next instant. “Thank you for your confidence, but Mrs. Evans asked you to give the lecture. I am only here to answer your questions and offer support.”
Jesse ignored the irony. Moments before they’d argued bitterly over just that.
“I might like to hear what your Captain Elder told you,” he suggested.
The smile returned, this time to stay.
“He was well-read and experienced, a dear man, and highly acquainted with the sea.”
“I have no doubt,” he murmured.
She gave him a sharp look.
“As you said,” he added, “ship masters need to understand the weather.”
Again she beamed, and he had to admit it felt good. He would much rather be on Louise Smythe’s good side than endure her scathing tongue. Not that he was interested in courting her. Not at all.
* * *
“It was completely innocent.” Louise reported to Fiona Evans just after the midday meal. “I slipped, and he—Mr. Hammond—caught me. I tried to explain that to Priscilla, but I don’t think she believed me. I’m afraid that this time she will make trouble.”
Fiona arched an eyebrow. “I would never dismiss you.”
“Thank you.” It was the other possibility that had made it impossible for Louise to eat more than a few spoonfuls of soup. “I’m worried that she will disparage the school. Priscilla could tell her parents that the school allows improper behavior.” That could then force Louise’s dismissal. Since her purse was empty, she would be in a terrible predicament.
“How exactly is a gentleman coming to your rescue improper?” Fiona brushed back a red curl. “I’d call it gallant.”
“I, uh, might have lingered too long after he steadied me. Priscilla could have interpreted that as...attraction.” Heat flooded Louise’s cheeks.
“Oh?” The single word clearly carried an additional inference.
“It’s not what you’re thinking.” Actually, it probably was exactly what Fiona was thinking. That man had a way of taking away Louise’s good sense. “I—I was too flustered to think clearly. The point is, Priscilla doubtless thought there was more to the situation.”
“Is there?”
“No!” Yet Louise’s burning cheeks refuted her statement. “I don’t know. I just met him.” She squared her shoulders and looked Fiona in the eye. “But I can tell you that Jesse Hammond is the last man I would let court me.”
Fiona’s eyebrow lifted again. “Why is that?”
It was so difficult to explain. Or was it? “He reminds me too much of my late husband.”
“Oh. I see.”
Last spring, Louise had shared with Fiona a little of what she’d endured during her marriage, but she didn’t care to explain further.
“That’s neither here nor there.” Louise tried her best to sound cheerful. “What matters now is how to address the situation with Priscilla. I don’t want the school to suffer. The Benningtons are influential enough to drive away prospective students.”
Fiona sighed. “I’m afraid this is a problem she’s had at the other schools she attended.”
Though