"Humph!" Esther snorted. "I would have thought she'd feel right at home. A Sultan, a concubine, a scandal; I'm surprised she didn't think of it herself."
Raymond looked toward Glee again. She sipped champagne, but her knuckles were white as she gripped the flute. "Perhaps that's why she was miffed." A change in subject was needed. "I must say, you look stunning, Esther. Those wings are quite spectacular."
She preened, reaching back to touch the glittered gossamer. "I had it designed especially this way."
"And you, Hamilton! How very dashing! Which are you, D'Artagnon? Aramis?"
"D'Artagnon, of course," the blond cavalier replied. "I think I'll get us some champagne." He reached for Esther's hand and bowed over it. "Excuse me, dearest."
* * * *
As Esther began to berate her brother for causing such a scene, Hamilton walked directly to the champagne fountain, brushing by Glee with apparent disinterest. He was waiting for the glasses to be filled by a white-liveried servant when he brushed against her again. "Miss Montrose," he said softly. "You are ravishing."
Glee stiffened and her mouth went dry. Oh, Lord! If Hamilton Cage recognized her, who else might? She turned to him and replied with a soft Turkish accent. "I am afraid you have mistaken me, sir. I am Gurup."
He ignored the champagne set before him, and focused on Glee instead. He smiled after a moment. "I am not mistaken, but I accede to your wishes, Gurup."
She lowered her eyes, relieved and frightened all at once. Why didn't he take the champagne and go away?
Hamilton took her hand and brushed his lips across her fingers very slowly. He was close enough now that she could detect wine on his breath. "You smell nearly as magnificent as you look. Tell me what it is."
Her answer was the tightening of her veiled lips. His hazel gaze roamed over her face, then dipped to her greatly exposed bosom, lower, to a point inches below her navel, then back to her face. She pulled her hand away. "Just how much champagne have you had, sir?"
He shrugged. "Enough to dull the sharpness of Esther's voice. Enough to admit my fascination with you."
"Too much."
Hamilton took her hands, holding them in a surprisingly strong grip when she would have jerked away. The long white plume in his hat waved at her as he shook his head. "Don't chastise me, pretty. I know your secret."
Glee bit her lower lip and his eyes gleamed. "I'd like to know more about you. Much, much more. Come dance with me."
It wasn't a request, it was a statement. Under the circumstances, Glee felt compelled to comply. She shot a glance back toward Raymond as they reached the crowded dance floor. He was still arguing with his sister.
Hamilton waltzed her around the floor; his hand drifted across the bare skin of her back and waist. His expression was rapt, champagne-hazy, and drifted from her face to her breasts and back again several times.
"You are holding me far too closely."
He laughed but his hold slackened so that they could drift a few inches further apart. "Did you know that I paint?"
"No, how could I?"
"I have painted portraits of all my friends, some of Boston's more influential people, and my family. Would you allow me to paint you?"
She shook her head. "I don't think so, Hamilton."
His thin mouth drooped at the corners. "Oh, but why not? You are so very beautiful. Just imagine how lovely you would look reclining on a turquoise satin coverlet, your hair loose and flowing over your bosom, your pale body-"
Glee stopped dancing and pulled away abruptly. "You go too far, sir!" She hadn't meant to say it so loudly, but several heads turned.
Hamilton flushed and smiled sheepishly at the onlookers. He pulled Glee into his arms again and forced her around the floor another time. "It is unwise to draw attention to us, dear. It may lead to exposure of your identity."
Glee trod on his foot, and smiled when he grimaced. "You're quite a fraud, aren't you, Hamilton? Playing the proper, gallant suitor for Esther and then making a pass at me when the opportunity arises."
"Of course, you would recognize fraudulent behavior, Gurup. You live in that realm, do you not?"
That stung, but Glee tried not to let it show. "What I do is for protection from lecherous fellows like yourself. What's your excuse?"
Sharp white teeth gleamed in his grin. "My parents are pressuring me to marry. Esther is an excellent choice, don't you think? She's well and gently reared, very lovely, and not very bright."
"Ah, I see. She'll not realize what you're up to when she's not looking, is that it?"
Hamilton gripped her fingers until they hurt. "I have it! If you will not sit for a portrait, then at least let me try to paint your beauty from memory. Come into the garden with me, right now, and let me see how your skin glows in the moonlight." He bent to whisper in her ear. "Tell me, are your pretty breasts tipped in pink or brown? Pink is much-"
Glee's hand connected smartly with Hamilton's face. She stalked from the floor, searching for Raymond.
Her cousin was laughing with two young men. One dressed as a western gunslinger, the other a pirate, complete with eye-patch, and all three gave Glee hot looks of admiration as she approached fists knotted by her sides.
All semblance of the slave had disappeared in her fury with Hamilton Cage and Glee barely spared Raymond's friends a glance before she demanded that he take her home immediately.
People were staring even more actively than before. One woman actually pointed and frowned as she gossiped with her male escort.
"We haven't been here but an hour, Gurup. Tell me what has happened."
Glee's spine stiffened. She darted meaningful glances toward Raymond's companions, and her cousin took the hint.
He excused them and led her to the large doors which led to the gardens. Cool air took some of the heat from Glee's anger and she relaxed a bit.
Patiently, Raymond led her around the English-patterned garden, through yew walks, past a large central fountain sculpted to resemble a Grecian maid, one breast bared as she carried a large overflowing water vessel balanced on her head.
The sound of tinkling water was peaceful, and Glee hesitated along the way, but Raymond compelled her onward. As they passed a fragrant stand of wisteria, they heard rustling and soft moans, followed by a sharp gasp. Glee pulled back sharply and started toward the wisteria bower to help the injured person, but Raymond shook his head. Glee opened her mouth to protest, but Raymond's fingers covered her lips and he motioned with his head to follow. They stepped around the wisteria to peer through the floral enclosure.
Moonlight, scanty from a crescent overhead, just barely illuminated a young couple embracing passionately at the far end of the bower. To Glee's utter shock, it was Esther and Hamilton Cage. She shot a glance at her cousin and saw his surprise followed by a wry grin. She was doubly shocked to watch Hamilton peel down Esther's bodice as his lips sought the tender brown nipple he exposed. The gossamer fairy wings on the girl's back folded and surrendered. Glee yanked Raymond's hand, feeling like the worst kind of voyeur, but he stubbornly stood there.
In the harem, Glee had seen more shocking sights than this, she reminded herself. But soon, she had learned to push her own prejudices and biases aside and accept what she saw as a normal part of a very limited way of life. She'd even taken copious notes which she had intended to pass to her father for inclusion in his book. But she had refrained from going to the hamam during the busiest bathing times when the most shocking behavior was most likely to take place. In this, she supposed with a twinge, she was very much a product of her colonial heritage.
A growl followed by a high giggle brought Glee back from her reverie. The two were teasing each other, Esther feigned a giggling resistance and Hamilton growled and snapped at her exposed flesh like a tiger.
"Come on," Raymond whispered. "Let's get to the gazebo before they start a serious game of slap-and-tickle."
Glee was pulled away toward a small vine-hung structure, which sat with pi
cturesque beauty on a rise overlooking the garden. She smelled the last of the season's roses, which climbed the gazebo's side trellises alternating with sharp-sweet honeysuckle. Two steps upward and they were enclosed in their fragrant envelope, with only the sound of crickets and the occasional pale moonbeam for company.
Raymond plunked down on a wooden bench and patted a place to his left. "Now tell me what blistered you."
Glee eyed the wooden bench, knowing how pleasant it would be to sit near her cousin and be warm, but she was still irked by Hamilton Cage's rough and insulting treatment, and additionally flustered by finding him only minutes later with Esther. She walked to the wooden trellis nearest her, touching white honeysuckle with trembling fingers. "Shouldn't you ought to do something about Esther and Mister Cage?"
Raymond laughed. "What would you have me do, cuz? Esther is nineteen. Old enough to know better. If she and Hamilton want to-"
"The man's an utter cad, Raymond!"
"Oh, ho! So that is where the wind blows. I saw you dancing with him. I take it he was less than gentlemanly."
Glee's rolled her eyes as she turned. "Lord, what an understatement! He wanted to paint my portrait. Naked, no less."
Raymond chuckled.
"What's so funny? It's despicable, I tell you. He's practically engaged to Esther, and he made a proposition to me!"
"Now, now, my dear…" He rose and put his hands on her shoulders. "Gad you're cold!" He pulled her into his arms and held her against his chest. "Here, warm up."
Glee snuggled into her cousin's warmth for a moment before he went on.
"I'm sure the poor boy could hardly help himself, Glee. Try not to take it so personally. Undoubtedly he thought you fair game, dressed as you are. Probably thought you were hired for the evening, or-"
"That's the worst of it, Ray. He knows who I am. Called me Miss Montrose, so I'm sure."
He tensed. "Hmm... That could present a problem." Raymond stroked the length of her hair as he considered.
"If he tells anyone, I'll never be able to return to Boston. Not even Aunt Ulalie and Uncle Martin would allow me into their home. Lord, what a mistake this was."
"Don't worry about Hamilton Cage, cuz. I'll take care of him. I know a thing or two about him that I'm sure he would prefer to keep mum." Raymond pushed her away and looked at her face. "Forgive me for getting you into this predicament?"
She nodded, feeling bleak. "If you get me out. Have you made train reservations?"
"I have. You and your entourage are scheduled to leave Boston on Monday morning at seven o'clock. I hired you a private car. Thought you might be too conspicuous with your Turks and all." He cupped her chin. "Don't go, cuz. Life is so dull when you're away."
His entreaty touched her. "I've got to. And, besides, Missus Harriet Pfeiffer will be jealous if you spend all of your time with me."
Raymond sighed dramatically. "Harriet's a demanding woman, it's true." He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "That's what I like about her."
Glee smacked his shoulder. "Oh, really!" Laughter overwhelmed her. "You are incredible, simply incredible!”
Chapter 6
St. Joseph, Missouri, Autumn, 1852
"Oh, no. It's just too incredible." Glee groaned. She slumped into the hard wooden chair the army corporal was quick to push toward her.
"I'm sorry, Miss Montrose. It's a darn shame that you missed the wagons by so short a margin. Why, had you arrived here on Saturday or Sunday, I'm sure they'd have been pleased to include you and your escort." The sandy-haired young man pushed a few papers around on his desk, obviously uncomfortable to have disappointed the woman before him.
Glee's bespectacled gaze rose from the hands in her lap to the corporal's sincere brown eyes. "Today's only Thursday, Corporal Linghan, and they left on Monday. That's but three days. If I left right away, might I not catch up with them?"
He shook his head. "Afraid not, ma'am. They're probably seventy, seventy-five miles away by now, and they'll continue that pace. Winter comes early on the plains and they're pushing just ahead of it. 'Sides, you'll need two or three days just to buy a wagon, oxen, horses, provisions." He shrugged. "Looks like you'll just have to wait until spring."
"Oh, bloody hell," she mumbled. The corporal flushed. Glee adjusted her spectacles and got up from her chair. "Thank you for your assistance, Corporal Linghan."
He stood. "I'd be pleased to walk you back to the stage office, Miss Montrose," the young man offered.
"No, no." She tried to smile, but it felt like a show of teeth rather than a pleasant expression. "My people are waiting just outside. Thank you."
He nodded. "Ma'am."
Glee left his little office with a sense of defeat. Only three days late. What was she to do now? She couldn't return to Boston. She should never have let Raymond convince her to attend the Soutraine’s masquerade ball as a Turkish slave-girl. Boston society wasn’t quite ready for her scandalous attire. It really hadn’t seemed so shocking to Glee; almost everything had been covered, after all. Nonetheless, once she’d been revealed and word began to spread, Aunt Ulalie and Uncle Martin had made it clear that a long trip to the continent might be appropriate.
Glee wasn’t interested in Europe. Finding the deed to her father’s long-forgotten ranch in Monterey, California, was providential. California was a long way away from Boston. It would be a perfect place for her to finish writing her father’s last book and then begin on some ideas of her own. Right now, she had nothing but getting there on her mind.
Fortunately, Raymond had helped her get the train tickets to St. Jo.
Lord, she was going to miss Raymond. He’d been a best friend during her uncomfortable stay in Boston. But, the scandal was very much her own fault. It had been more than a little foolish to dig out the silks and veils she'd obtained while in Constantinople and attempt to remain incognito at the Soutraine's ball. She could only blame her social ineptitude on her unusual upbringing: living with her author father all over the world, trying to stay out of his way and inconspicuous. It didn’t give one much experience from which to draw when faced with Boston society.
As Glee rounded the hallway and made for the exit from the government offices, she was surprised to hear the sharp sounds of an altercation echoing through the quiet corridors.
"Damn it, Wainwright, I tell ya I'm good fer the money!" a deep, scratchy voice insisted.
"You ain't good fer nothin', Fletcher," was the surly reply. "I ain't fergot that ten dollars ya owe me from last time ya drifted through St. Jo. I ain't financin' no trip 'cross the country! If ya can't afford the supplies, ya'll jus' hafta get a job."
"But it'll take me months ta earn that much! And, 'sides, I got me a fella that's worth five thousand right now." The man was practically whining.
"Sure, sure. I ain't got time ta listen to yer sob story. Now get out, an' don't come back without that ten dollars!"
A door slammed with finality. Not long after, Glee heard boot heels thudding down a nearby hallway, accompanied by mumbling and an occasional curse. She bit her lip then squared her shoulders as a quick decision steadied her nerves.
A filthy, short, barrel of a man careened around a corner and into the hallway where Glee had paused. "Damn gover'ment paper-pushers," he muttered.
Glee could hardly believe she was about to do this. It took quite a force of will just to keep from pressing her scented handkerchief to her nose within five feet of the pale-haired man. "Excuse me."
"Huh?" He stopped and turned back to look at her. "You talkin' ta me, lady?"
She nodded and tucked a stray strand of hair back under her silk turban. In all her travels and after meeting hundreds of people, Glee didn't think she had ever met a man so repulsive. His pale hair hung from beneath his hat, grease-limp and straggly past his shoulders, his nose was skewed toward the right at an odd angle, and his left eyelid was droopy, giving him a decidedly crazy, dangerous appearance. His beard was darker than his hair, and matted with food. She was talle
r than he, by an inch or so, but his girth and nearly overwhelming odor made him seem much, much larger.
Her throat was dry, but she forced herself to speak. "I beg your pardon, but I couldn't help but overhear your, er, conversation of a moment ago."
His mud-colored eyes scanned her from head to toe, and, insultingly, seemed to find her wanting. "Yeah, so?"
Glee's straightened her shoulders as she went on. "I, too, am frustrated by an inability to get across the continent. My problem is that I need a guide. An experienced escort, who can safely lead my party and myself to California. Would you, by chance, know of such a person?"
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