The Captain's Challenge (The Wolf Deceivers Series Book 3)

by Elaine Manders

  The butler’s announcement pulled Aunt Mandy around with a look of astonished joy in her clear blue eyes. She and Gillian broke into a run towards each other.

  “My darling Gillian.” Aunt Mandy embraced her. “You’re here at last.”

  She recalled how punctual her aunt was. “I came as soon as I could. I hope I’m not too late. ”

  “Certainly not, dear. It’s never too late.” Aunt Mandy looked over Gillian’s shoulder to Alex.

  “Thank you for bringing her, Alex. Would you tell Beulah to bring us some cold lemonade? You may order a more potent drink for yourself, if you prefer.”

  “You know I don’t drink anything stronger than your sassafras tea, Amanda.” Alex laughed shortly. “Perhaps I should leave. I’m sure you and your niece have a lot to talk about.”

  “Nonsense. We’ll have plenty of time to gossip later. You can at least take the time for a social drink.”

  “How can I refuse? I’ll get the lemonade.” He cast a sly grin Gillian’s way on his way out. Now, how did Aunt Mandy and Alex get to be so friendly?

  When he cleared the room, she asked, “Where did you meet Alex? And how did you come to be on a first name basis?”

  “We met at the governor’s ball last week. Alex is such a gentleman, and too handsome not to notice, even for an old lady like me.”

  “Do all the handsome Yankee officers follow you home?”

  Aunt Mandy bent over in laughter. “No, we discovered we have mutual interests in the government. He’s General Terry’s new assistant. But I’ll tell you all about that later. Let’s be seated.” She glided to the matching royal blue brocade wing chairs that graced her small receiving room.

  Gillian couldn’t fathom how Alex could have mutual interests with Aunt Mandy. She waited until they both settled in their chairs before asking, “Don’t tell me you think an army officer is going to help you overthrow the carpetbagger government?”

  Her aunt’s features took on a who-me look. “Gillian, never say that, even in jest.” Her aunt glanced toward the door and lowered her tone. “James Parker, a friend of your uncle George, suggested I get to know Captain Blaine so we might learn what’s going on in Terry’s office. James is the editor of the Atlanta Sentinel and is practically salivating to expose the whole Bullock administration.”

  The entire thing sounded underhanded to Gillian. “You’re spying for Mr. Parker and using Alex to that end?”

  Aunt Mandy looked even more aghast. “Oh, no. I’m not spying. Alex knows my concerns and is of the same mind. He believes the whole government is corrupt all the way to the Grant administration. At the same time, he’s sworn to uphold the government, so he isn’t going to share any secrets with me. He’s been perfectly upfront about that, and I respect his position.”

  Gillian sank back in her chair. This was far more complicated than she’d imagined. She’d considered Alex an ordinary army officer, but here he was hobnobbing with men in high places.

  Aunt Mandy must notice the concern on her face because she reached across to pat her knee. “We’ll discuss that later. I don’t want your visit to be all subterfuge. We’ll have fun preparing for your cotillion. You may meet a young man you fancy more than Lord Brimington.”

  Gillian couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “And to think I fancied myself in love with Lord Brimington before— I don’t think I’m a very good judge of men.”

  “Young ladies are usually too trusting. Just remember, men are the same on both sides of the Atlantic. I understand Julia has already thrown Reuben your way.”

  She stiffened and wrinkled her nose in a way that had Aunt Mandy laughing again. “Let Lord Brimington be a lesson, my dear. Never consider a man you can’t respect, even if you do love him. Isn’t that right, Alex?”

  Gillian straightened, unaware Alex had quietly slipped in.

  “I agree wholeheartedly. You would do well to heed your aunt’s advice, Gillian.” He strode toward them, the maid following with a serving tray.

  Her mouth suddenly dry, Gillian took one of the tall frosty glasses offered and drank deeply. She glanced up from over the rim and found Alex staring at her with unmistakable admiration.

  She ducked her head, and loose tendrils grazed her cheeks. Why hadn’t she thought to go to her room immediately and repair her appearance? He couldn’t possibly admire her for her beauty. And her father was no longer wealthy. Why would Alex pursue her? Or Reuben, for that matter.

  “Do sit down, Alex.”

  “I can only stay long enough for a toast.” He turned to Gillian. “To your beautiful and charming niece. May she enjoy her visit and listen to your wise counsel.”

  His lingering gaze warmed her insides. She lifted her glass to him and downed a long drink of the cold lemonade. “Thank you, captain. I always take Aunt Mandy’s advice.”

  Practically gulping from his drink, he kept his eyes locked on hers, then set the glass down. “That’s good to hear. I wish more Southerners would. Your aunt understands that the Old South is gone forever. If the Democrats would accept that reality, they’d regain power sooner.”

  “The Southern mind does not adjust to compromise easily, but we are learning.” Aunt Mandy said.

  That Southern pride Gillian had learned at her mother’s knee—the same pride that sent her brothers to war—suddenly burst through. “The South will never compromise honor.”

  “Atlanta has changed under Reconstruction, Gillian. People are more concerned with opportunity than with honor.” Her aunt expelled a small sigh, leaving Gillian to wonder if she regretted that fact.

  “I think that’s what struck me most when I first arrived in Atlanta,” Alex added. “People are different here. Different from Savannah or Macon. But the difference is good. The people are far more forward looking than before the war. They’re no longer relying on cotton. They’re building and investing in manufacturing. You’ll have to admit that’s one good thing that’s come from the war.”

  His smile suddenly looked too smug. What he said was true, but she couldn’t give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him. “I find it hard to see any good in war, captain. It took all three of my brothers and my mother.”

  Sympathy softened his features. “I’m sorry, Gillian. You’re right. War has nothing good to recommend it.”

  “Did I tell you, Gillian, I’ve persuaded Alex to show you around Atlanta?” Aunt Mandy’s light tone tried to lift the mood. She shifted her gaze to Alex who held his empty glass in mid-air. “Would you like your drink refreshed, captain?”

  “Thank you, but I must get back to the depot to retrieve Gillian’s luggage so the Rougets can get to their appointment at the Grand Hotel on time. I may be late returning since I want to inquire into what caused the train to crash into the depot.” He set his glass on the serving platter and got to his feet.

  Aunt Mandy looked alarmed. “The train crashed? Yours?” She sent the question to Gillian.

  “I’d completely forgotten to tell you about that. But it was a little train wreck. No one was injured.” Gillian tilted her head to meet Alex’s gaze. “Thank you for taking care of my luggage. You’re right. Jacque must not miss his appointment.”

  “Yes, we’re most grateful, Alex, but please return for dinner at seven—a little late, but it will give Gillian time to get settled, and tell the Rougets I’ll meet them at the Grand to introduce them to the head chef.”

  “I’ll send her luggage around before then, but don’t wait dinner for me. Good-day, ladies.”

  Both women watched his ram-rod straight shoulders as he retreated, and when the front door thudded closed, the older woman smiled. “I’ll show you your rooms when your luggage arrives. Let me take you on a tour of the house first. It was just completed last year. Then we’ll take a turn around the garden. It’s at its greatest beauty this month, and I find it’s always best to deliver distressing news in a peaceful setting.”

  Chapter 10

  Gillian brushed aside her aunt’s ominous warning, a
nd tried to enjoy the house’s grandeur, the smell of fresh cut lumber still lingering in the air. They moved from the main lobby with its spacious parlors to the right and left. Then Aunt Mandy led her to the hall and the principal staircase rising from the ground floor. Gillian stopped on several of the wide steps to view the landscape paintings gracing the walls, as her aunt explained she’d acquired these pieces on her travels to Europe.

  They passed by the entrances to the dining room and reception area. The highly polished walnut and oak woodwork of the first story gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. Inside blinds folded at a height to allow light to filter through the tall windows.

  Aunt Mandy told her about the air circulation system that forced the cool air from the cellars in hot weather. Since the days were already quite warm, this pleased Gillian to know the house would remain fairly comfortable all year.

  Upstairs, she found other modern conveniences. Hot and cold water ran in every suite, which was equipped with water closets and bathing rooms.

  Pride oozed from her aunt as she reminded Gillian the enameled slate mantles came from Cincinnati, and the granite capping the stone foundation from nearby Stone Mountain.

  Finally, Aunt Mandy took her to the roof, where a twenty-by-forty foot promenade provided a beautiful view of the countryside and distant mountains.

  Aunt Mandy pointed out the two large stables, carriage house, laundry, ice house, and cisterns.

  “Your house is simply beautiful, such an improvement over the old one, although it was impressive.” Was this the reason for the contention between Julia and Papa? Julia must be jealous of Aunt Mandy’s possessions. Uncle George’s business had thrived and, though the Brown’s home had been destroyed in the war, they now lived in splendor Julia could only dream about, even if she had used all of Papa’s money trying to refurbish their Macon townhouse.

  She followed her aunt back down all three floors and out to the garden.

  Butterflies flitted over a colorful sea of summer flowers. Zinnias, petunias, bachelor buttons, sweet Williams, and daises. The gardens hadn’t changed much from those Gillian remembered.

  They sat on facing benches inside the center arbor with climbing roses shading them, and a soft southern breeze flowing through the tunnel.

  Neither the sweet fragrance nor the quiet of the peaceful setting calmed nerves churning Gillian’s stomach. The look on Aunt Mandy’s face told her she had something unpleasant to impart.

  She’d come all this way to learn the truth, but now the time had come, a strong urge made her want to take flight like the robins that scattered to the trees.

  “Have you noticed a change in your father, Gillian?” Aunt Mandy hit her most sensitive nerve.

  He would naturally be different than the father she remembered before the war. “Yes, he’s more morose and…secretive.”

  “Gilbert is not well, my dear, neither in body or mind. Julia says he doesn’t sleep and has become delusional at times.”

  Gillian hadn’t noticed anything as strange as that, though she had to admit her father kept late hours. “I think Julia exaggerates. He’s carrying on business as usual.”

  “That may be true, but something happened to Gilbert when Lynette died. He married Julia before the year of mourning was over, and then up and sold Lynwood for no good reason. Lynwood was the only profitable plantation left in the area after the war. And now it’s failing, he’s obsessed with getting it back. It makes no sense.”

  “He’s come up with a new business method of using tenant farmers. Planters from all over are coming for his advice.” Surely Aunt Mandy would agree men wouldn’t trust her father’s business sense if he were losing his mind.

  “It’s not new, Gillian. It’s the same methods your grandfather, James, brought when he first came from England. And where will he get the money to purchase Lynwood? From what I hear Julia has run through his money renovating the townhouse.”

  “All of it?” Gillian gripped the sides of the bench to keep from bounding from her seat. “I didn’t know that. I realized, of course, Papa must be hard up for money, or he wouldn’t be taking in boarders. The O’Grady sisters and Mr. Hickman, the schoolteacher, during the school year.” And Alex and Cal.

  “It’s very strange.” Aunt Mandy’s eyes narrowed. “Especially since there are rumors Gilbert hid gold for the Confederacy somewhere in the house.”

  This time Gillian’s jaw fell all the way to her chin. “What? The house on Dogwood Lane?” She couldn’t be talking about Lynwood.

  “Yes, surely you’ve heard that. Soldiers practically tore the place apart looking for it. That’s why Julia says it cost so much to repair. Nothing was found. Yet, your grandfather did build secret passages in the house. It was a safe house for runaway slaves before the war.”

  Gillian had heard that from as far back as she could remember. Her grandparents were known abolitionists, but Papa always said it wasn’t true about the secret passages. Now she wondered. How did the shooter get into the house and escape without being seen? “You know Alex was shot through the ceiling from the upstairs attic room?”

  “Yes, he told me Major Turley has gotten personally involved in the investigation.”

  Gillian rolled her lips to moisten them. She’d hoped Aunt Mandy had answers to what was tormenting Papa, but it seemed she was only raising more questions. “One thing I know for certain, Papa isn’t losing his mind. He’s overly concerned for my safety, and I think someone is threatening him, probably to make sure he doesn’t return to the legislature.”

  Aunt Mandy batted at a bumblebee. “Why do you say that?”

  “When I wanted to visit Lizzie, he insisted on going with me, and while there, he and Lizzie’s husband got into a heated debate over politics. Lizzie and I were in the kitchen, but we could hear Papa and Mr. Boyles raise their voices a few times.”

  The sadness in Aunt Mandy’s eyes didn’t match her smile. “How is Lizzie doing?”

  Gillian drew in a lungful of sweet-smelling air and held it for several beats. She had to be honest with her aunt. “I don’t think Lizzie is happy in her marriage.”

  “I was afraid of that. George and I tried to discourage her courtship with Lukas Boyles. You probably don’t remember, but Lukas’s father, Hubert, was one of Gilbert’s political enemies years ago. Hubert spent some time organizing a group of Klansmen after the war, though he claims to have disbanded it. Aside from Lukas being too old for Lizzie, I simply felt the family was too radical, but she feared becoming an old maid.”

  “Well, that’s not a malady I suffer from.” Gillian hoped to lift Aunt Mandy’s spirit and she succeeded.

  Her aunt laughed and reached across to pat Gillian’s knee. “Someone who rejects a nobleman? I should say not.” She sobered quickly. “As to what is worrying Gilbert, there may be another explanation.”

  When Gillian raised her brows in a question, she added, “Someone may be blackmailing him.”

  ***

  The chair creaked as Alex lay back, hands behind his head, feet on the desk. None of his positions in the army irritated him more than flunky. There was never anything of any importance to occupy his time. What really chaffed was he could be spending time with Gillian and her gracious aunt. Of course the army wasn’t paying him to dally with the pretty redhead.

  But the ladies had connections to things that would matter. Unwittingly, Gillian could further this mission to expose the corruption, which would ultimately bring peace to the South—maybe a lasting peace. On the other hand, how could he be of any use setting up appointments for General Terry?

  Knuckles rapping on the door brought his feet to the floor. “Come in.”

  A young private stuck his head just inside. “Pardon me, captain. Lieutenant Duncan wishes to see you.”

  Alex sat up straight. What was Cal doing up here? “Send him in.”

  Cal slouched into the room, hat in hands. “Bet you didn’t expect me so soon.”

  No, he’d expected a report from Cal,
but not in person. “What happened?”

  “The major wanted me to brief you in person.” He pulled a chair from the corner and scraped it across the floor in front of the desk.

  Alex scowled. “And the major wants you to report back on what I’m up to.”

  Cal laughed as he lowered his form into the chair. “You’ve learned the major well.” He propped his elbows on his knees. “He’s spending a lot of time at the Carey house, supposedly investigating the shooting, but we know he’s just snooping into Gilbert Carey’s business.”

  “I take it they haven’t found the shooter yet.”

  “No, no evidence of entry anywhere, not even any footprints—and it had rained the day before.”

  “So, he thinks Mr. Carey is the shooter. Or maybe one of the O’Grady sisters?”

  Cal slapped his knee and guffawed. “Mr. Carey may be a suspect but, more likely, Reuben Dabney. No one knows what Carey’s and Dabney’s motivation could be, but the major has a suspicion.”

  Alex rubbed his jaw. Reuben Dabney was a possibility. He recalled smelling smoke in the attic. Dabney was a smoker. “What’s Major Turley’s suspicion?” He was pretty sure he already knew.

  “He thinks Miss Carey is becoming smitten with you. Major Turley admitted that’s why he sent you up here—to get you away from the lady. He didn’t know Miss Carey would be visiting her aunt so soon.”

  “And he wants me to drop my association with the aunt and come back to Macon. I don’t know what General Terry will say to that.”

  “No, the major knows General Terry won’t agree to that. He just wanted you to be forewarned, and—”

  “And what?”

  Cal laughed. “I’m to back you up in case of trouble.”

  “Trouble with the vigilante gang or with Gillian?”

  “Both.” Cal’s mouth drew into a grim line as he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “I managed to intercept a message to Mr. Carey. I should have turned it over to Major Turley but thought you should see it for yourself.”