“Well, I’m starved.” Clayton stood beside her. “Shall we?”
Emma had persuaded Christopher and Gwen to stay another hour, promising an early dinner so they could get on the road before it got too dark. She’d organized a simple repast of fresh bread and soup, and Christopher was grateful the meal wrapped up quickly.
Once the housekeeper had cleared the final dishes from the table, Christopher laid his napkin on the table and stood. “All right, Gwennie, we’d better get you home. It has been a full three days.”
Gwen smiled and rose to her feet. “Yes, I am quite tired.”
Clayton and Emma walked them to the door and bid them safe travel before Christopher assisted Gwen into the buggy and they took off for home.
* * *
Arriving at their family home in Catonsville, Maryland later than expected, Christopher settled the horses in the barn himself rather than waking their groom. He’d have plenty of time to relax without commitments for the next two days, and he intended to use his time at home to reconnect with his family.
Christopher grew restless, not unusual for him at this hour of the night. He needed to move around. He’d never been a particularly good sleeper, but with the vast amount of information about protecting the President swimming in his head, his insomnia had gotten much worse. A new layer of snow on the ground beckoned to him.
The blanket of white appeared gray in the darkness, and he smiled. He loved this time of night, especially with the crispness of fresh snowfall. The stars just seemed brighter in the winter, and everything so much more peaceful.
As he gathered his outerwear, his sister walked into the foyer. “Chris? May I walk with you?”
“You should be asleep, Gwen,” he admonished as he pulled on his gloves.
Gwen rolled her eyes. “It’s barely nine o’clock.”
“Past your bedtime.”
Gwen let out a deep sigh. “I’m not a child, and I’m too pent-up to sleep. Perhaps you and Quincy have influenced my sleeping habits.”
“I thought you said you were tired when we left the Maddens’.”
“I slept in the buggy.”
Christopher didn’t really want company but found it difficult to deny her. “All right.”
Gathering their warm coats, gloves, and scarves, Christopher led Gwen toward his favorite refuge. Their parents had built a large gazebo near the barn and Christopher would go there often to think. He’d brought a few girls here to kiss in the dark as well, but he didn’t advertise that fact. They walked into the shelter of the gazebo and sat down.
“Why are you so restless, Gwennie?”
“I don’t know.” She sighed. “How is it you’re not falling over? You delivered the President to the White House late last night. I heard you come in well after midnight, and then you were up early this morning... even before I was.”
Christopher shrugged. “I had paperwork to finish. How did you know I came in after midnight?”
“I couldn’t sleep, and you have heavy feet.” She lowered her voice. “Do you think Quinn is safe?”
Christopher patted her hand. “I pray that he is.”
“As do I. I wish I knew where he was and when he’s coming home.”
Standing, Christopher slapped his gloved hands together in an effort to warm them and began to pace the small space. “He’ll come home when the war is over—or he’s wounded.”
Gwen gasped. “Don’t say that, Chris. I couldn’t bear it.”
“Sorry.” Christopher grimaced and then changed the subject. “Did you enjoy Gettysburg?”
“I loved it.” Gwen sat up, her eyes glowing. “I especially enjoyed shopping with Emma and Sophie. They’re very entertaining.”
“That’s one way to describe them, I suppose.”
Gwen grinned. “Do you not approve, big brother?”
“It’s not that. Clayton is different since he married Emma—he acts in ways I never imagined he would.”
“They are quite out of the ordinary.” Gwen chuckled quietly. “Similar to Charity, but different as well.”
Charity Short, Gwen’s childhood friend, was closer than a sister to her. Although Gwen considered her to be a forward thinker, Christopher just thought she was outspoken and opinionated.
“They do seem quite independent.” Christopher held a hand up and gave her a half-smile. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“Oh, I absolutely will! More than you could ever imagine.” Christopher gave a sigh of annoyance, and Gwen laughed. “I’m telling you, Chris, one day you’re going to meet a woman who won’t be so easily charmed, and you’ll be changed just like Clayton. A woman most certainly not like Delilah.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Delilah.”
“That may be up for debate.” Gwen sighed. “It’s just always so easy for you and Quinn.”
“Easy?”
“Yes. My whole life I’ve grown up with the big brothers everyone loves. Other than Charity, I’ve never had a friend who didn’t fall in love with one of you.”
Christopher chuckled. “I think that might be a bit of an overstatement.”
Gwen shook her head. “It’s not and you know it. You walk into a room and the ladies swoon.”
“Gwen.”
She slapped a hand on one of the beams. “It’s true. Remember the church picnic last year? You walked over to greet me and Gertrude Harris fainted. Right in the middle of all those people.”
Christopher waved a hand dismissively. “She was overheated. It was August, after all.”
“Christopher, she was not overheated. She grabbed my hand and sighed, then made a strange sound in the back of her throat. When you smiled at her, she fell over. I don’t think we can call that anything other than a lady swooning in your presence.”
“Where do you get your ideas from, little sister?” Christopher crossed his arms. “Perhaps spending so much time with Mrs. Madden isn’t a good idea.”
“Is that an order from Christopher the Big?”
Gwen and her brothers had given Christopher his nickname when Christopher had reached six feet... at the age of fourteen. He’d always been the moral compass for the siblings, and with his size, people tended to leave the Butler children alone.
Christopher groaned. “Gwen.”
Gwen let out an inelegant snort. “Whether you choose to acknowledge what I’m saying or not, it’s the truth, and I know you’re aware of what you’re doing, because you only smile at unattached ladies in that way.”
“What way?”
Gwen leaned against the railing. “You do this thing with your eyes, where they crinkle in the corner, and then you smile very slowly and wait for their reaction.”
“I do not,” Christopher argued.
“You do. Quinn does it as well, although his smile is less like a tiger after his prey than yours.”
“Gwendolyn! This conversation is unseemly.”
“Why? Because it makes you uncomfortable? Perhaps you should be uncomfortable for once. No one ever stands up to you, especially women. And certainly not Delilah. She wants your good name and position in society. She’s willing to do anything to get it.”
“You have quite the opinion, I see.”
Gwen pulled her scarf closer to her chin. “I think you need to marry a woman who is smart and independent. Someone who wants you, not your money or social standing. And someone who will talk back to you. If Emma’s taught me anything, it’s that.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You can be quite superior, Chris. You’re an important man, which adds to that superiority, but you’re frightening sometimes. Clayton can be as well, but he tempers his authority with humor. Your humor seems to have disappeared. You hardly smile anymore... unless it’s to a woman you want to affect. And I think Delilah is a horrid woman.”
Christopher narrowed his eyes. His sister had never spoken to him so plainly before. He wasn’t certain where she’d gotten the sudden courage to do so, but he didn’t lik
e it. “Where is all this coming from? Delilah has done nothing to you.”
“But she’s done something to you... or at the very least, added to whatever has been going on... and I don’t like it.”
“Nothing has been ‘going on,’ Gwen.” Christopher stared into the darkness. “And not that it’s any of your business, but the truth of the matter is that I enjoy Delilah’s company. I believe you’re wrong about her.”
Before Gwen could comment, a loud crash echoed inside the barn. The horses whinnied in fright. “What the devil was that?” Gwen stood quickly.
“I don’t know.” Christopher jumped the gazebo railing and ran toward the stables.
“Chris?”
“Stay there,” he called.
Stepping over the threshold of the barn, he grabbed a lantern, lit the wick, and then walked inside with his gun drawn. He worked to calm the horses as he continued further into the interior. Reaching the second to the last stall, he noticed a crumpled form in the corner near the tack room. He slowly walked toward it. As he got closer, he noticed the shimmer of long dark hair and realized it was a woman. He slipped his gun back into its holster, knelt down beside her, and gently swept her hair away from her face. She wore strange blue breeches and a large puffy coat made of a material he had never seen before.
“Ma’am? Can you hear me?” He stroked her cheek and spoke softly. “Ma’am, wake up.”
HANNAH CAME AWAKE as she felt a touch on her face. She reached up to rub her forehead and took a deep breath, grimacing at the sudden smell assaulting her nose.
“Ma’am, are you all right?”
Is he talking to me? He has such a nice voice.
“Ma’am?”
“Why are you calling me ma’am?” Hannah opened her eyes and stared up at the man from the painting. “Holy shit, it’s you!”
“I’m sorry?” He frowned. “Have we met?”
“Eh?”
“Have we met before?” he asked. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t recall.”
Hannah shook her head. “No, no, we haven’t met.”
“Let me help you sit up.” The man slipped his arm behind her.
Hannah stared up at him as he steadied her and his strong arms flexed as he lifted her from the ground. Her head barely reached his chest, and she was certain if she touched him, it would be like touching granite. She could feel his strength and took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of leather and horses. Better than any cologne she’d smelled before.
“Christopher?”
Hannah turned her head to find a beautiful young woman inching her way into the barn.
The man frowned. “Gwen, I told you to stay in the gazebo.”
The woman stalled. “Who is that?”
He scowled in Hannah’s direction. “I don’t know who she is.”
Hannah surveyed her surroundings in confusion. “Am I in a barn?”
“Yes, ma’am, you are in my parents’ barn.”
“What am I doing in a barn?”
The man shook his head. “I’m uncertain, ma’am.”
Her eyes swept the space. “How did I get here?”
“What do you remember?”
Wrinkling her brow in thought, Hannah tried to retrace her steps. “I was in my studio and I got locked in the stairwell, so I went upstairs to try and get out. You were there.”
“I was?” His eyes widened. “Did you hit your head?”
Hannah put her fingers to her forehead. She squeezed her eyes shut. “I mean, there was a portrait of a man who looked like you.”
“Strange.” He let out a deep breath. “I’ve never sat for a portrait.”
“I don’t know how I got here, though.” She tried to take a step forward but grew dizzy quickly, her head pounding in protest. She put her fingers to her temples. “Ow.”
The man wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Did you bump your head?”
“I must have. If you could just help me to my car, I’ll be on my way.”
He looked at her strangely. “Ma’am?”
“Why do you keep calling me ma’am?” she snapped, a little irritated with him and the headache at the same time.
He glanced at the woman, who moved closer, with her hand out in greeting. “We didn’t see a horse and cart in the vicinity.”
“Well of course not! We’re in the city. Why would there be a horse and cart in the vicinity?” Hannah sighed. “Unless it’s one of those romantic ones, I suppose.”
“I really do think you may have hit your head, ma’am.”
She glared up at him. “Stop calling me ma’am!”
The woman grinned and quickly covered her mouth with her hand. She moved closer to Hannah, pushing the man out of the way. “Please excuse my brother. My name is Gwendolyn Butler, and this is Christopher. You are in our parents’ barn in St. Leonard.”
“Where’s that?”
“Maryland, ma’am,” Christopher said.
She shot him a dirty look. Turning back to Gwen, Hannah took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. “I can’t possibly be in Maryland. I was just in Chicago.”
“You have an accent. May I inquire where you’re from?” Gwen asked.
“New Zealand.”
“Is that part of England?” Christopher asked.
“Seriously?” Hannah hissed. “Where am I really? Is Kevin playing a joke on me?”
“Who?”
“He’s here, isn’t he? Kevin!” Hannah peeked her head over one of the stalls. “Come out, you bloody criminal.”
“Who is Kevin, ma’am?”
“You really need to stop calling me ma’am.” Hannah scowled at him over her shoulder. “It’s starting to hack me off.”
“May I ask your name?” Gwen asked.
“Oh, right, sorry. My name is Hannah Nelson.” Hannah reached her hand out in greeting.
“Nice to meet you.” Gwen shook the proffered hand. “May I call you Hannah?”
“You can call me anything as long as it’s not ma’am.” She shot a pointed look in Christopher’s direction. He raised an eyebrow at her but didn’t comment. Hannah looked up at him. “Are you guys going to a fancy-dress party?”
“Pardon me?”
“Sorry, I mean a costume party?”
Gwen frowned. “Costume party?”
“Yes, you’re dressed in period clothing.”
Christopher glanced at his sister. “Period clothing?”
A chill went up Hannah’s spine, and she didn’t think it was solely from the cold. Growing increasingly nervous, she gathered her coat closer and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Are you really going to repeat everything I say? Look, if you’d just take me back to my studio, I’ll be on my way.”
“Are you a painter?”
A groan escaped through her gritted teeth. “What’s with the twenty questions? No, I am not a painter. I’m a dancer.” She turned to Gwen. “Please, would you help me get home?”
“Hannah, I’m uncertain what to tell you. There are no neighbors for several miles, and the closest city is Washington D.C.”
Hannah started to laugh a little hysterically. “Please take me home. I don’t know who you are or what you have in mind, but I just want to go home.”
Gwen rushed to her side and laid her hand on Hannah’s arm. “Hannah, no one here will harm you. I think you might be a bit confused. Perhaps because of a bump on your head?”
“I’m perfectly lucid, and I want to go home.” Hannah turned to walk out of the barn. She didn’t get far.
Christopher caught up to her. “Miss Nelson, you really shouldn’t travel alone.”
“If you people would just take me home, I wouldn’t be traveling alone, now would I?” she snapped.
Gwen held her hand out. “Why don’t we go up to the house and we’ll have Nanny prepare some tea? It’s late, and there’s really nothing we can do now, so I’ll loan you some clothes and we can figure everything out in the morning.”
“Who is Nanny?”
“She’s our maid,” Gwen said, quite matter-of-factly.
Of course they have a maid.
Deciding that a hot cup of tea would probably hit the spot and get her warmed up for a later escape, Hannah nodded her head slowly and let Gwen lead her up to the house. As they made their way toward the back porch, Hannah’s eyes widened.
If the back is any indication, then “house” is a huge understatement. This is a freakin’ mansion. I wonder what the front looks like. Probably like one of Sophie’s old plantation homes she was so obsessed with.
Hannah’s thoughts shifted to her missing friends. She and Emma used to call Sophie “Scarlett” when she went into history lesson mode. She was a wealth of information about things that almost no one really needed to know.
Hannah stumbled slightly as they stepped onto the porch and Christopher grabbed her elbow to steady her. She smiled up at him in thanks as he led her into a spacious kitchen. He held a chair for her and once she sat, she met Nanny, a large black woman, who prepared and served the tea.
“Chris, you might want to tell Daddy and Mama what’s going on,” Gwen suggested.
With a slight frown, he went off to do Gwen’s bidding, and Hannah took a few minutes to look around the kitchen. Several candles and oil lamps were lit, but she saw no evidence of overhead lighting. She looked in each corner of the room and noticed there were no electrical outlets, no phone, nothing to indicate modern plumbing or even modern life. Just a large fireplace, with a couple of bulky iron hooks inside, where a black pot hung.
Where am I?
Before she could find out the answer, an older woman bustled into the kitchen. She had dark red hair, slightly graying throughout and pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. She was also dressed strangely. “Gwennie?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Christopher said you found a young lady in the barn.”
“That would be me,” Hannah muttered under her breath as she raised her hand.
“Yes, Mama. Hannah had an accident and found her way to the stables.”
“My word!” the woman exclaimed, hands flying to her chest before she sat down and placed her hand on Hannah’s arm. “What happened?”
The Bride Spy (Civil War Brides Book 3) Page 2
