Secrets of Sloane House(61)

Luckily, Deacon Thomas didn’t give them any further time to speak. He raised his arms and had them begin the last section of the hymn from the very beginning.

Forty minutes later, the deacon dismissed the group, they said their good-byes, and Reid was escorting Rosalind down the busy street. Horses and their carriages trotted by, their clip-clopping hooves mixing in with the jangle of the trolley bells in the distance.

“You are a wealth of surprises, Mr. Armstrong,” Rosalind said with a smile. “I would have never imagined you as part of a church chorus.”

Reid was used to the comment. He’d known when he joined the choir that his choice of activities would be questioned, but he’d found that his enjoyment of the group far outweighed any negative comments. However, he was still interested to hear her reasons for the statement.

“What surprised you? My singing in a church or the company I was keeping?”

“Both.” She paused, obviously choosing her words with care. “I had no idea you could sing. And while I don’t see myself as an authority on the upper classes, I didn’t imagine church—or church functions—were seen as important.”

He pondered that as he kept to her right, taking her arm as a pair of unruly boys scampered down the sidewalk on her left. “I’m a Christian,” he said at last. “It’s as much who I am as the color of my eyes or the fact that I’m left-handed. My mother is very devout. She raised me to have the Lord in my life. I’m grateful for that.”

“And your father?” she asked as they paused at an intersection.

He thought about that. “His faith is important to him as well, though I must admit that he was never one to openly embrace his faith. Usually it was just an understood thing.”

Determined to get to know her better, he looked into her eyes. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yes. It’s only fair that you get to have your share of questions,” he teased. “Were you raised with religion?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t so formal. We have a community church, but it takes over an hour to get to it. Living on a farm as we do, my folks couldn’t always take off so much time, not even on Sundays.”

“You mean to say that your animals haven’t heard of a day of rest?”

She chuckled. “Oh, they’ve taken the resting part to heart. They just haven’t come around to thinking that we need to take time off too.” She shook her head in mock sorrow. “No matter how much I’ve talked to the pigs, they still want to eat every day.”

His lips twitched, enjoying her humor. “So what do you do instead?”

“We have church at home. My father reads from the Bible. We pray together. We talk about our week and our dreams. Talk about where we see the Lord calling us.”

“That sounds nice,” he murmured, meaning it. “I like the idea of making things simple.”

“It is simple, but it is certainly nice too.” She smiled. “One of the benefits of growing up in a large family is that there are a lot of us to contribute to any discussion. Sometimes we agree. Sometimes we don’t. But no matter what, those moments together in our family room? When we’re all seated and discussing the Lord’s Book? It brings us closer together.”

“You’ve been blessed.”

“I think so.” Glancing at him, she added, “But there is something awe-inspiring about sitting in a pew and listening to a choir. It was beautiful.”

“I’m rather new. I’ve only been there a year. But I do like it. As you noticed, our choir is made up of all sorts of people.”

“Mainly middle-class folks?”

“Yes.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“Not at all. My roots are firmly middle class. Besides, I like knowing all sorts of people.” He smiled, hoping she’d realize he included her in that group.

She smiled back at him then, just as a group of four schoolgirls walked by. Their chatter was loud and their need to stand four-across made it necessary for Reid to pull Rosalind close to his side, almost against the plastered wall of a bank building.

With that step, she was so close that he could smell the faint scent of lemons in her hair.

His hand curved around a trim waist that felt only slightly corseted. Surprised, she gazed up at him. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes beckoning him. If they were alone, he knew he’d be tempted to kiss her.

Which, of course, would be a terrible mistake. No matter how much he enjoyed her company, nothing more personal could ever erupt between them. Definitely nothing romantic.

All he was doing now was helping a friend in need. Being a Christian. Nothing less.