Her Beguiling Bride Read Free Page B

for a toe-tapping crowd. An upturned hat lay on the floor before them, and listeners dropped in coins. Green bunting draped overhead, reminding Belle that it was nearly St. Patrick’s Day.
    Even though the train ride from Jonesboro had only lasted seven hours, the coastal weather proved drastically different than the climate they’d left. Belle shrugged off her blue crocheted shawl and folded it over her arm. She’d left Rattle and Snap in a coat, and here, in balmy Savannah, she didn’t even need a light cape.
    She twisted, trying to catch sight of Alice, who’d disappeared just as the train rolled into the station after telling Belle she was off to collect their luggage.
    A loud hiss emanated from the stack at the front of the train, obliterating the boisterous clamor around her. Belle winced at the noise as panic rose in her breast. It was foolish of them to travel to Savannah without a male escort. What if she and Alice were separated?
    “All aboard!” the conductor yelled.
    Belle whirled, looking everywhere for Alice. She leaned and stretched trying to see over and around the throng pushing their way through the depot. “Alice!” she called, but her voice faded into the cacophony.
    She stumbled as a man swept past her in a rush to board the train. Stepping out of the way was nearly impossible, but Belle gathered her skirts and threaded her way to the side. She never should have agreed to let Alice get the bags by herself.
    The crowd thinned, and with a puff of smoke, the great locomotive lurched forward and churned out of the station. Belle stepped back toward the middle of the platform to search for Alice.
    A man clad in an elegant sack suit and black bell crown topper hat strode toward her. He sported a decorative cane in one hand and under the arm he carried two bags—one of which Belle recognized as her own.
    She squinted, and her lips parted as realization sank in. The man was Alice! Belle gaped as Alice made a show of depositing the bags on the ground and removing the hat before making a sweeping low bow.
    If Belle hadn’t been so taken aback, she would have laughed outright. Instead, she stared, stunned. Alice was downright handsome in her male finery. On closer inspection, Belle identified the embroidered gray silk vest and black gabardine frock coat as her deceased husband’s.
    A sideways grin claimed Alice’s full lips—the only girlish feature she possessed while dressed in these clothes. “Granny retailored them to fit me. I hope you don’t mind. I thought I might be taken more seriously as a man .” She whispered the last word.
    Belle couldn’t speak. She could only take in the sight of her lover looking every bit a southern country squire. Knowing the very feminine secret that lay beneath the male clothing caused a stirring in her pantalets. She gulped. “I agree,” she managed.
    Obviously pleased with herself, Alice rocked back on the heels of her black leather brogans. “Shall we see how convincing I can be?” she asked and turned, her gaze scanning the crowd. “Porter!” she called, waving her cane in the air.
    “Alice,” Belle hissed under her breath. Alice could be fined, jailed, or worse. Perhaps it’d be best not to attract too much attention. But Belle had no such luck. A porter already scurried their way.
    “Yessuh, can I get your bags?” he offered.
    “Yes, please. And could you also hail us a hansom cab?” Alice asked with all the aplomb of a gentleman.
    “Of course, suh,” the porter said. “Where will you and the missus be going?”
    Belle’s stomach flipped. The missus?
    “We have business with Robert Billings, the cotton agent,” Alice said, lifting the bags and passing them to the porter.
    “Yessuh,” he said. “This way.”
    Belle tried not to gawk as Alice offered her an arm. They followed the porter out of the depot to where several horse-drawn cabs waited. Alice stepped up next to the hansom and presented her hand to Belle who, still in a state of