by Gina Danna
That caught Francois’s attention. “You don’t say? Very interesting.” He casually looked around, finding that most others near them were really far enough away from earshot, plus locked into their own conversations. Considering the circumstances, and the ill-fated return to Yankee imprisonment, Francois leaned closer. “So, have you taken passengers on these unexpected chances to land in the South?”
Amherst’s chin tilted up. “Passengers, no. But I have crew that land. Why?” He gave him a tight grin. “Yankee cold making you long for home? Or you and the missus on the out and out?”
“Missus?” He cocked his head, confused until he heard a giggle that sounded like Ada’s, though she shouldn’t be so close. To be honest, he wasn’t sure the shipper would consider the trip if he knew the true meaning of transporting a runaway Confederate.” I might have need to return home and it’d be dangerous to take her, considering.”
“Indeed, indeed. I’m sure something can be attempted,” Amherst answered.
“Great!” Then his thoughts stopped. How could he arrange this, since he stayed with her? He remembered Dr. Leonard had whispered opportunities, making him wonder if this was what he was referring to. Another giggle distracted him. This time, he turned and found Ada in another man’s arms as they danced, swinging in and out with the other couples on the dance floor. He shouldn’t care, but a flair of jealousy snaked down his spine with anger in hot pursuit. She looked like she was having way too much fun with this varmint, with a dreamy look in her eyes that he could see from here.
“If you’ll excuse me. I need to return back to my Ada. I will be in touch soon.” And on that note, he took off across the room, vaguely hearing his host warning him to not be too long. But seeing her dance partner’s hand swept a bit lower than acceptable, Francois’s temper exploded. Who the hell was this man? And why did she look at him like that?
His shoulders locked, his spine steeled and any pain in his foot vanished as he stormed forward, determined, the demand forming for this interloper to go to hell!
Ada’s thoughts whirled, just like her heart and her reasoning. During the next spin, her love was holding her hands, his infectious smile and warm brown eyes melted her heart, pulling her closer to the man who had left her to help in the War. He’d arrived, swooped her off her feet as it were with the surprise visit and whispered how happy he was to see her.
And she, thrilled to death to see him, hugged him in return before she playfully snapped back, “Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?”
His reply, as they separated, was a wink. At times, he was so irritating but she could never be mad at him. He was here, with her now, and she’d take every second she could. The lead couple took hands and walked down the line between them, with the split lines of ladies and gentlemen following suit. After ducking under the couple’s raised arm-bridge, they all separated just as the music faded and they bowed on queue.
Ada was thrilled, especially as he offered her his arm and she gladly accepted it when she got a glimpse of a slim, dark-headed bull storming her way. Now what was that man doing?
By the time Francois reached them, the ensemble of dancers were bowing to their partners as the dance had finished. She placed her hand on Richard’s arm when Francois appeared, not looking like a huffing bull any longer, but more like a gentleman with a whisper of a smile on his lips and mischief in his eyes, making her wonder again, what was he up to?
“Miss Lorrance,” he greeted warmly. “Sir,” he nodded coolly to Richard. “I believe you accepted my invitation for the next dance.”
She stared at him speechless. She’d never granted that, however, to deny him was bad protocol as well. Aggravated, because she wanted more time with Richard, she slowly acquiesced by withdrawing her hand from his arm and gave it to Francois’s proffered hand.“I do not recall this,” she halfway snarled as they turned on the dance floor while she watched Richard retreat to the sideline and out of the corner of her eye.
“You can’t have all your dances consumed with one man,” he contradicted. “It’d raise too much awareness.”
“And more than one with you is acceptable?”
He chuckled. “We’ve not been together but one dance all night. I think we’ll be not be led to the altar over two.”
Her eyes narrowed even though the strings began to sound and the dance partners bowed and curtsied to each other. “You can’t expect me to believe you interrupted my dance for my wellbeing.”
They stepped forward together for the first steps of the dance.
“No, more for my own wellbeing.”
“How so, might I ask?”
They spun. “Who was that man?”
“Why?”
He shrugged slightly, before they returned to the first form of the dance. She bit her inner lip. He almost acted as if he was jealous, though considering how they’d been acting in bed, she shouldn’t be surprised. Her stomach flipped. That was something that ate at her, though, now that Richard was finally back…
“He is a surgeon. Colonel Richard Peregoy,” she replied at the next meeting.
She caught a flare in his eyes, which quickly vanished. He’d heard of Richard? How?
“Union quack, I see,” he muttered.
“He’s a well-qualified surgeon, sir.”
The dancers turned and it was on that turn, as he opened his mouth to speak, he faltered, crumbling on the injured foot, stopping the dance sharply.
“Too much tonight, you think?”
He nodded.
Grinding her teeth, she stood and, looked for Richard, who was absent, but she found Will. He came over and suggested they move off the floor. Once to the side, the musicians started again and everyone returned to the dance, regardless of the missing dancers.
Will knelt before Francois and took a brief glance at the ankle, hardly straying his eyes off him. “Perhaps you need to refrain from dancing.”
Francois nodded but hissed, “I can’t just sit. People will be talking and, in the end, my true self will be exposed.”
Ada glared at him. “Precisely why we shouldn’t have come!” She turned her attack on Will. “You knew he’d be here, so again, you’ll do anything to keep me away.”
“Ada,” Will started but she’d hear no more. If they were to leave, and to be honest with herself, she knew they’d have to since even she could see the ankle was red and slightly swollen, she’d see if she couldn’t find Richard in search of Reginald Amherst, to apologize for their leaving.
So here was the price for demanding she be allowed to work on the Confederates and knowing Will. Also, she’d bet it was God’s way of reprimanding her for sleeping with the enemy. The anger surged through her veins. Dammit, he could find his own way home! Damn slave-owner!
Chapter 31
“If my name ever goes into history, it was for this act.”
—Abraham Lincoln’s remark for issuing his Emancipation Proclamation
Francois adjusted his shoulders one more time, peering into the darkness and wondering, for once, if he’d made the right decision. Though, it wasn’t really up to him. The choice was plain and clear—stay in New York with Ada and end up ruining her life, Dr. Leonard’s life and destroying what freedom he’d ever have, imprisoned in a Yankee cell. Or, agree with the surgeon and leave for the South. Bracing for the next step, he shook his head, unable to forget the last encounter with that fiery abolitionist who’d saved his life.
“Yes, come in!”
Her bark at his scratches to her door made him want to laugh. She was still mad about leaving the ball, which floored him as she didn’t want to go there in the first place. Yet he definitely got the hint of her anger on the ride back when she said nothing to him, virtually jumped out of the carriage when it halted at the house, and slid past the front door before he steadied his cane to step off the vehicle.
“Miss Ada, are you all right?” he asked once he entered her bedroom. He was surprised to see her brushing her hair with a vengeanc
e, still dressed in the ballgown. The maid standing next to the dressing table, looking confused and distraught at being without a task. He gave her a smile and nodded for her to leave.
“I am fine.”
A short simple answer wasn’t good, he decided. “My ankle feels better, having sat for so long on the ride.”
Her gaze narrowed at the reflection in her looking glass. “Really? How convenient.”
“I didn’t know you had such a desire to stay. You, in fact, didn’t want to go, if I recall correctly.” When she didn’t answer, he mulled it over and decided to try his theory. “Unless, that officer you danced with held more meaning for you than wearing the Yankee blue. Heavens knows there were plenty of those there tonight.”
She threw the brush down and spun his way. “That officer is the man I hadn’t seen for a long time. He will be my husband, when all is said and done, but instead of being able to see him, you come like a bull, determined to take me away!” Her face was red, her eyes on fire and her shoulders straight, like steel. That energy attracted him and that surprised him.
“What was his name again? I seem to recall hearing it before.”
“Colonel Peregoy to you, sir. A surgeon with the Army of the Tennessee.”
Now, the memory blossomed. His sister, upon her return to the family last fall, told a story of a doctor in Tennessee, one who had tried to lure her away from the man she loved. Francois snorted. The woman’s anger now had her pacing.
“Ah, yes, I recall hearing of your hero.” He poured a glass of wine. “You might want to rethink your desire.”
“How could you possibly know of him? Your fated army was in Virginia.”
Her quick defense of him instantly set off a series of questions in his head, that all seemed to zero back to the same conclusion. It was this man’s letters he had seen her cling to and no doubt the same person he found her writing voraciously too. And he was the same one Cerisa claimed nearly ruined her marriage…
“That man is not what he appears to be,” he answered.
“Whatever do you mean?” Her voice contained a sharp edge. “He is of rank and a good surgeon!”
“He is not the type for you to waste your time with!” Now he was angry.
She laughed harshly. “Stay away from Will, Dr. Leonard,” she corrected. “He has never cared for Richard.”
“You shouldn’t either. He is not worthy.” The hair on the back of his neck bristled as his blood raced through his veins wildly. Cerisa’s story of this surgeon’s forward advances to her came crashing back into his memories. And if he recalled correctly, the man was married!
“You say that just because I’ve allowed you to be too close to me!”
He could barely hear from the pounding of his heart as madness started to take hold. “I’ve made love to you, not once but several times!”
She laughed. “I should have never seen to your care, nor taken you back.”
“My, how we get so snippety when you know damn good and well you couldn’t turn down the chance to practice real medicine,” he roared back.
That stopped her pacing.
“Ah, I see I hit home with that.” He stepped closer to her but refused to touch her. “Now, you throw me aside, as if I was no more than one of those poor souls you want to save.”
She inhaled deeply, her face turned red with anger and before he knew it, she slapped him across the cheek. Stunned, he quickly overrode that emotion and pulled her close, probably rougher than he needed to, and kissed her soundly on her lips. Again, she surprised him, for a moment after he locked her in his embrace, she fought back and bit his lip hard. He yelped, releasing her.
“So now I see what you do with your slaves. You’re no better than any other Silas Marner!” She spat the worse example of the slave-owner from that Yankee abolitionist’s novel, “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”, only making him want to laugh.
“You think that’s all I am? All the South is? Yet you’ve never been there. Go look at your factories here. No better than what you protest, and in some ways, worse! We take care of our investments!” Why was he arguing a system that even he was now questioning? Being pushed into a corner, he realized he fought like a caged lion to get out.
“How dare you! Get out! Get out, I say!”
“As you wish, madam, but hear me well. That doc you’ve set your cap for is not worth it. From what I’ve heard, he hardly sleeps alone,” he jabbed as he reached for the door handle. And as he started to turn it, he heard the whiz past his ear, making him duck as it reminded him too clearly of a bullet. Instead, it was her hairbrush and it crashed into the door. He cast her a leaving glance over his shoulder and found her standing straight, breathing hard, her eyes still aflame. She was so angry and so alluring, it took all his strength to walk out that door.
Virginia
Six days later
Christmas had come and gone. The weather had turned bitter cold but the further south they sailed the warmth fought to take the edge off.
“She’s all I got available.” The trader wrestled the lead rope in his hand as he led the spirited equine to the pen. “Ya know, horseflesh pretty damn hard to get these days. She’ll cost ya a right sum.”
Francois looked the mare over. “I’ll take her.”
“You ain’t even know how much she is!”
He looked at the grizzly bearded trader. The man didn’t look like he’d seen civilization in years, though from the looks of Virginia due to the war, there wasn’t much civilization left…
“It’s like you said. Not much selection about. Tell me, how did you get such a young, spirited animal?” he asked as the horse danced on her hooves.
The man shrugged. “Got men looking to make a buck or two, or,” he spat. “Runaway from the show, if’n you get me, huh?”
Soldiers who’d fled the conflict. He had heard about this prior to his capture. Men who got letters from home, begging them to return, and those who no longer had the stomach for the bloodshed with little to no pay or food or ammunition…
“How much?” He wanted the horse and to get away.
“You got Yankee gold?”
“I told you that. Yes.”
“Three hundred.”
“That’s outrageous!” He’d managed to get some money out of the family’s bank account in New York. He was shocked it wasn’t frozen, considering they were Confederate, but he didn’t waste time questioning his good fortune.
“You want her or not?”
He snarled, digging the Yankee bills out of his pocket.
“Saddle and tack be another hundred,” the greedy old man added.
Francois bit back the swear word.
“Here,” he stated, sticking the script into the man’s hand, then slapped another hundred on it. “And the tack as well.”
The man grinned, exposing his missing teeth, and he turned to go get the tack, handing Francois the rope. Francois watched the man leave so he turned toward the horse, reaching to pet her withers.
“Tres bien,” he muttered. “I will call you Rose. You’re as pretty as one, but I see you still have thorns,” he commented, having watched her prance to break free, the wild look still in her eyes though he noticed she’d calmed somewhat.
He’d wished he didn’t need to get the animal, but so far, his trip hadn’t cost him much, just his life—if caught. He saddled her as quickly as he could and then stuck his foot in the stirrup to pull up and sit in the saddle. Settling into the seat took a little more work as she twisted underneath him, jerking her head to try to free herself of him, but he clung on. It’d been a while since he’d ridden but he refused to let her dump him. His window of opportunity was tight, getting away without attracting more attention from the Yankees. Finally, he got her to answer to his control, getting her to move to his cues.
Once he got her under his command, he made her bolt down the road, and out of the coastal town. They rode southwest, skirting as much of the tree line that still remained, after years of warfa
re. Trying to find the Army of Northern Virginia was going to be rough, because he was trying to get to them before the Northern Army did the same. He’d heard the new commander of the Army was General Grant. It was a name he was too familiar with, since Grant had invaded the lands close to home and stolen Vicksburg from the Confederacy, thus sealing the Mississippi River to Yankee control and splitting the South in two. He’d spit over the man’s name now, except the spittle would only hit him with the speed Rose could go when he urged her.
Cutting through a copse of trees, he came upon an unexpected surprise. Sitting around a struggling fire, was a woman, all bundled in layers from what he could tell. Near her was a bulging carpetbag, a linen tied bag, stuffed with something and a little dog, laying against her skirts and eyeing him carefully. What was she doing out here? Virginia wasn’t safe with two large armies hell-bent on warfare.
Slowly, he made Rose walk up to her and grew more concerned when she didn’t raise her head.
“Ma’am? Are you all right?”
She pulled her head up out of the crouched position and glared at him. Wisps of amber hair escaped the scarf wrapped around her head. Her pale skin had a touch of sun on it, with a spattering of freckles across her nose. Her dark blue gaze glared at him, letting him know she didn’t trust him, nor did he think she’d trust anyone, other than that dog next to her, which she pulled closer, despite the canine’s small barks meant to ward him off.
“No, sir, I’m not ‘all right’,” she answered, with a defeated tone. “This war, this awful war, has taken everything from me, leaving me with what you see here.” She laughed awkwardly, leaning towards hysterical.
He frowned. It wasn’t in his nature to leave someone like this, but the longer he remained, particularly with a mount, endangered himself and her as well to the depravations of the Union Army that he feared wasn’t far behind him.
