Chapter Fifteen
WHEN MISS DAVIS DIDN’T ACCEPT his offered escort, Ezekiel disguised his disappointment by brushing imaginary dirt from his pant leg.
She’d allowed him to hold her hand, and yet taking his arm where others could see was unacceptable?
At least she deigned to walk alongside him, even if she remained silent and held that awful, unreadable mask in place.
Music. That was the key to Miss Davis’s mask falling away.
He’d never seen her so expressive as when carried away by singing.
She’d kept her eyes closed during familiar hymns, and the first true smile he’d ever seen from her stretched wide and peaceful.
Her whole heart and soul were visible in those moments, and he’d openly watched her when she was too enraptured to notice.
When she studied the hymnal, he’d been more stealthy in his observations, but he’d been no less enchanted by the way music changed her.
Well did he understand the power of music to transform.
Maybe his approach for capturing her admiration had been from the wrong direction.
Charm wasn’t helping, not that he’d stop the tactic, but he had other tools at his disposal.
He was a composer, after all. If music moved her soul, he had the power to create a piece that might sway her toward him. God willing, anyway.
What sort of music would enchant her? Something light and airy, or moody and passionate?
Her enthusiasm hadn’t discriminated between the two types of melodies during worship.
Whatever she sang, she gave it everything.
Surprisingly, a few note combinations came to mind, and his fingers itched to dance along the ivories.
He’d need to write down the combinations before he forgot them, but writing them down wasn’t likely to happen for some time.
He hummed the notes, trying to pin them in place as he and Miss Davis shuffled down the congested aisle toward the foyer.
Midway there, the septuagenarian woman who’d sat behind them caught up and interrupted his private composing session. “You two have magnificent voices. You should join the choir.”
Miss Davis tensed beside him.
“Thank you, ma’am, but Miss Davis is the true talent.”
“Well, I think you make a beautiful harmony, and in more ways than one.” She leaned forward and shielded her mouth from the view of others. “I saw you holding hands. I think you’ll make a beautiful family together, but don’t wait too long. Age sneaks up on a person.”
Miss Davis’s mouth dropped open, but Ezekiel was far too amused to let the comment pass. “We can’t have that, can we? Maybe a prayer to help us along is in order?”
By the choked, incoherent sputter from Miss Davis, he probably should have stayed silent. Music, not charm, was the way to win her.
The elder woman’s attention swung away. She called out a name as she waved a hand, then begged Ezekiel’s pardon as she rushed off.
“What do you say, Miss Davis? We do make a delightful harmony. If we serenaded the world together on more than just Sundays, then perhaps the world would become as beautiful as you.”
She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth farthest from him tilted upward.
They reached the last pew, and her suppressed smile dropped.
Her head swiveled to keep the pew in sight.
All color fled from her face, and her breath came in fast bursts.
He stepped closer and lifted an arm behind her back to catch her should she faint.
If he thought she’d allow him, he’d have wrapped an arm around her for support.
What, or was it who, had spooked her? She’d mentioned Adler earlier, but Ezekiel had seen the man off from the hotel with the rest of the opera company. Adler’s talk of restaurants in Chicago had eased Ezekiel’s mind that he still planned to leave Cincinnati. But that didn’t mean he had.
Keeping Miss Davis in his periphery, he surveyed the back pew. The only occupant was a woman dressed in full mourning, thick veil and all.
Ezekiel dipped his head to whisper in Miss Davis’s ear. “Do you see the man whose presence shook you so?”
She snapped toward him, and their noses were so close any outsider might believe the illusion of a stolen intimate moment. “Who says I was shaken?”
He pulled back far enough to save her from gossip but still keep their conversation private. “Your trembling hand did. Now you look about to faint.”
A fighting spirit brought color to her cheeks and rigidity to her spine. Without giving the woman another glance, she marched into the noisy foyer.
Ezekiel dropped his arm but stayed close. Something was wrong, but obviously she didn’t trust him enough to voice the problem.
“What you saw was my imagination running away with my logic.” Her quiet admission startled him. “The man reminded me of someone I saw in a nightmare.”
“It must have been some nightmare to haunt you so violently during the day.”
“You have no idea.” She drew a deep breath, then swiftly changed the subject. Not that he could blame her. “When you told me you couldn’t sing Ottavio’s aria, I thought it was because you sang like a frog, but the problem is, you are a bass and not a tenor.”
“It is my one serious flaw in life.” He winked so she knew he joked.
“I don’t think it a flaw, though you do have plenty of others.
” She didn’t say it, but he could see the accusation of Don Giovanni flitting through her mind.
“I should have guessed you were a bass singer. Your speaking voice is low enough.” She cast him a sidelong glance and seemed to debate her words.
“I confess, I tend to prefer a bass voice. Its timbre is so rich and powerful.”
“Are you finally saying you prefer me, Miss Davis?”
“Finally? It’s been a mere five days since our introduction.”
“Maybe our formal introduction, but it’s been four months in my eyes. Am I to take your avoidance of a direct answer as confirmation?”
She strode toward the vestibule’s doors and harrumphed. “You’re incorrigible.”
“And yet your answer is—”
“Nora! Mr. Beaumont, wait for us!” Miss Pelton raced toward them, then slid her arm through Miss Davis’s. “Abraham and his family have invited you both for lunch. That gives him the chance to get to know you”—she looked at Ezekiel—“and me the chance to gather ideas for my next romance novel.”
“Lydia!” Miss Davis actually scowled at her friend. “Neither Mr. Beaumont nor I should be your inspiration for anything so ridiculous as a dime novel.”
“I’m not opposed to it.” Being the hero of a novel sounded intriguing, especially if Miss Davis was to be the heroine. “I like the idea of testing ideas for winning my Donna Anna.”
Miss Davis threw her arms up. “You’re both incorrigible.” She stalked outside, her face clearly expressing her aggravation despite her lips not moving.
“I believe that is the longest I’ve seen Miss Davis without that expressionless mask she dons so often.”
Lydia clapped her hands. “That means she’s growing more comfortable with you, whether she’ll admit it or not.”
“Thank you. I needed that encouragement.” He watched Miss Davis’s retreating back. If he didn’t follow, she’d slip away and likely not to Detective Hall’s. He started down the steps.
Miss Pelton stopped him with a hand to his sleeve. “Be gentle with her but don’t give up. She’s a hard one to get to know, but I think it’s because she fears being known. She had a harrowing childhood.”
“Harrowing?”
“It’s not my story to tell, but it explains her reticence. Now I had better catch up before she successfully evades lunch.” Miss Pelton called to her fiancé over her shoulder as she shot forward. “Nora and I will meet you there.”
Detective Hall strolled to Ezekiel’s side with hands in his pocket and a half-cocked smile. “A word of advice: soda mint tablets. If you intend to pursue Nora, you’ll need them. She and her friends will constantly give you indigestion.”
Ezekiel laughed. “Then I’ll be sure to pick up several bottles during my break tomorrow.”