It would all be for the best.
In time, he would forget about me.
But still, my heart pinched as Milly danced by on the arm of Seth’s friend Deacon. And it very nearly cracked as I thought about the plight of Seth’s sister and his vow to find my father. Maybe I could find an obituary. There must be one. Somewhere. And if I mailed it to Seth anonymously, maybe he would stop his search. Maybe he would stop trying to fail his classes. Maybe it would make up for what my father had done.
“Lucinda!” Milly bounced up to me, a young cadet on her arm. “I remembered them.”
I blinked. “Remembered what?”
“The dances. I remembered every one!”
“Good. That’s very good.”
“Why aren’t you dancing?”
“I . . . My head. I’m not feeling well.”
She dropped the cadet’s arm. “Do you want me to get Papa?”
“No! No. I’m fine. I’m sure it will go away soon.”
I excused myself from Milly just as quickly as I could. Walking about the outskirts of the room, I told myself that it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. What my father had done was terrible, but no one had forced Seth into ruining his grades or trying to slide to the bottom of his class. It wasn’t my fault that my father had died and that Seth would never be able to confront him. I could be sympathetic—and why wouldn’t I be—without needing to take responsibility for any of it.
I was living a new life now, and I had determined to do everything differently. The past had no hold on my present or my future. Seth had said it best. None of this was my fault.
And suddenly Mr. Conklin was presenting himself to me. “Would you care to dance?”
No. I didn’t care to. Not with him. I didn’t deserve the society of Seth or his friends. The company of men like Mr. Conklin was all that was left me. My past had left me with very few options and no chance at happiness. Not if I were to keep my secrets safe. I smiled and I tried my best to put my heart into it. “Yes. Very much. Thank you.”
38
Seth
I waited a good long time to let Lucinda get back inside before I followed. I didn’t want anyone to start any rumors about us. Not before she was able to speak to her uncle about me. I hoped she could make him understand.
Deacon saluted me as I walked back into the ballroom. “Did you talk to her?”
“I did.” I nodded out toward the dance floor, where she was locked in Campbell Conklin’s arms.
He followed my gaze, but then swept his eyes back to me. “Nothing wrong, then? She’s all right?”
“Hmm? Fine.”
“Fine is for fiddles.”
“I told her.”
“Told her what?”
“About my sister and the farm.”
Deke’s brow rose. “And?”
“And she understood. At least I think she did. She started crying saying some swindler wasn’t worth ruining my whole career for.” I can’t say I hadn’t had that same thought before. I’d just chosen to ignore it until now.
“Going to ask her to dance?”
“Can’t. Her uncle won’t let her. I’m a bad influence.” Just look at the way Campbell Conklin was holding her so tightly! “Why do girls always think he hung the moon?”
“Conklin? That’s the way it is with weasels. They look so handsome and sleek.”
“I’d like to sleek him up his—”
Deacon handed me his cup. “Have some of this.”
I took it from him and tossed it back. To my great surprise it had quite a bite as it went down. I blinked, eyes watering. “That wasn’t punch.”
“It was a little punch . . . mixed with a lot of whiskey.”
I coughed as he smiled benevolently. “Did I just drink a glassful?”
“Looks like it.”
“You know I don’t drink.”
“But if you don’t drink, you probably won’t feel like reveling in your success.”
“My success at what?
“At being the worst cadet in the class.”
I pondered that for a while. I supposed I was, in fact, a success at failure. Quite a great success, really. “I’m doing a good job of it, aren’t I?”
“That you are.”
“A fellow might even say I was born to fail like this.”
“He might.”
“I’m probably the best at being the worst that there is.”
He saluted me. “Amen.”
“I’m so good at being bad that not even my favorite professor would suspect that I’m not.” I watched for a while as the other cadets danced by, girls in their arms. Why did girls have to be so pretty? “So that means I am, right?”
“That means you’re what?”
“It means I’ve become what I was pretending to be, haven’t I?”
He smiled as he raised his own glass. Wait a second. He was raising two glasses. With the same hand.
I looked at my own glass. My hand wasn’t big enough to hold two of them, so I wondered how Deke could do that with his. “You’re not going to tell anyone about me, are you?”
“Now why would I do that?”
“I just . . . I don’t want anyone to know. Because my sister’s awful smart.” I lifted my glass to look into the bottom of it. There wasn’t anything left to drink. “She’s really smart. And it wasn’t fair that Mr. Pennilworth . . . Penneterth . . .”
“Pennyworth?”
“Him. It wasn’t right. Because my father left me in charge. I was supposed to look after her. And I didn’t do it.”
“Not your fault.”
“I should have looked after her. If anyone found out . . . can’t be charged with the lives of good men, good soldiers, if I can’t even look after my own sister. I used to think I was good. I used to think I was the best. But now I know.”
“What do you know?”
“I know I’m not. That’s what I know. I’m not the best. So it’s a good thing I’m the worst.”
It was funny the way Deke’s mouth was hanging open like that. I laughed.
He frowned. “For being so tall, that liquor sure is hitting you awful fast.” Deacon put a hand to my chest. “I wouldn’t try to go anywhere right now if I were you.”
“What do you mean?” And why was Deke’s face suddenly upside down?
The next thing I knew, I was waking up. Had I been asleep? I must have been. I sat and banged my head against something. Ouch! There was music playing somewhere. I wasn’t in my room. But if I wasn’t in my room, where was I?
I put a hand to my head and felt a rising bump.
Deacon had something to do with this. His face was the last thing I remembered before everything went black. I put my other hand out and touched . . . cloth? That was odd. Something hard above my head and cloth to the sides. I rolled to my knees.
Bad decision. My head felt as if it were going to wobble right off my shoulders.
“Psst!”
I squinted toward the sound. “Deacon?”
“You’re awake.”
“Wish I were asleep.”
He crawled over and squatted beside me. “Feeling better?”
“Better than what?”
“Sorry. Guess I gave you too much whiskey.”
Is that why my mouth felt funny? “Where are we?”
“Here?” He glanced at the board above our heads. “I’d say we’re right beneath that platter of little cakes everyone keeps eating.”
Footsteps scuffed against the wood floor. They stopped beside us, on the other side of the cloth.
“Has your uncle said anything about assignments?” That was Campbell Conklin.
“Assignments?” Lucinda’s voice. “Assignments to what?”
“To our posts. After graduation. He’s on the academic board. They’re the ones who will make the decisions.”
“He rarely mentions the academy at home.”
“But surely he must speak of it sometimes. It’s quite important.”
> “Why don’t you ask him about it tomorrow when you come for dinner? I’m sure he can put your mind at ease.”
“I’d hate to seem too pushy. I wouldn’t want him to think poorly of me.”
“I’ve never heard my uncle say anything bad about you. Is there anything bad about you?”
Sure there was! I could think of at least a dozen things.
Deke held a finger up, warning me not to say anything.
“Me? I should hope not! How could there be? I’m first in my class. My father graduated from the Point, you know. And his father, my grandfather, advocated for the establishment of the academy. I just want to make them proud. They have expectations, you understand. I’m sure your father had the same for you.”
A glass hit the floor and shattered. Thankfully the tablecloth prevented its contents from soaking us, but glass shards skittered beneath the cloth toward us.
“I’m so sorry!” Lucinda’s voice swooped toward us as the hem of her dress pooled on the floor.
Deacon and I looked at each other and froze.
“Don’t trouble yourself.” Campbell’s voice was dismissive. “One of the stewards will clean it up.”
The skirt moved away as her reply faded into the music.
I collapsed back to the floor. I really had ruined everything.
39
Lucinda
Saturday’s hop left me shaken. The more I tried not to think about my father swindling Seth’s sister out of her money . . . the more I actually thought about it.
How I wished I could be the honest, upstanding citizen everyone assumed me to be!
I went about with my tongue clamped between my teeth, fearing that it wouldn’t take much to make me admit to every swindle I had ever taken part in. I so desperately wanted not to feel guilty anymore. Not that I would ever be innocent. Not that telling my secrets wouldn’t make me feel even worse. But in this town of cordiality and respectability, I just wanted to fit in. I was tired of being myself.
Feigning the need for air one mid-November afternoon, I grabbed my mantle, pulled on my bonnet and gloves, and took to the streets of Buttermilk Falls just before supper. The air was bracing and the wind was chill, but still there was a cluster of people coming up the hill from the river landing. I nodded at Mr. Dusenbury, smiled a greeting at Mrs. Parry, and then my gaze traveled beyond them to—
“Lucinda!” Walking up the street toward me was one of the most distinguished men I’d ever seen. Dark haired and green eyed, from the top of his flared hat to the tips of his highly polished shoes, he was the very picture of respectability. The gold-tipped cane he carried only added to the illusion.
I blinked. Hard. But when I opened my eyes, he was still there.
“Lucinda. My dear.” My father approached me smiling, arms extended, as if proposing that I embrace him.
In times past, I would have, but things had changed. I was an orphan now. I was a Hammond. And I didn’t want anything to do with him. His presence would ruin everything.
Galvanized by the danger, I stepped toward him, linking my arm with his, pulling him away from the others. “What are you doing here?” I queried him under my breath even as I smiled at the passing townspeople.
“What are you doing here?”
“I asked you first!” My words came out in a hiss.
He frowned, though his eyes still twinkled. “You don’t look very happy to see me.”
“You’re supposed to be dead.”
“Dead?”
“That’s what the letter said.”
“It said Mr. Pennyworth was dead.”
I raised a brow.
“I had to improvise. I was in jail, you see, and—”
“Jail!”
“I thought you would be able to read between the lines. Mr. Christopher Barnett was taking over Mr. Pennyworth’s affairs. I’d thought that was quite clear.”
“You were in jail?”
He glanced about. “If you could speak a bit more quietly . . . ? They let me out several weeks after I wrote you that letter. For good behavior.” He swept his hand into a flourish. “Behold . . . Mr. Christopher Barnett. I’ve left Pennyworth behind me for good.”
“Is that supposed to make me happy?”
His smile dimmed. “Why wouldn’t it? I had quite the time trying to determine where it was that you went. But then I thought about what I used to say. How when everything looked grim I would propose that we just go back to Buttermilk Falls . . . and here you are!” He sent another glance about. “We’re back in business. So tell me, what’s the lay of land?”
“The . . . the . . . ?” I couldn’t breathe.
“Lucinda?” He gripped my arm as my steps faltered.
Mrs. Parry joined us, a worried tilt to her brow. “Miss Hammond?”
My father’s brow peaked as he mouthed, “Hammond?”
“Are you quite all right?”
My father replied before I could. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m afraid I surprised her. Lucinda’s my daughter, you see, and—”
The world swirled as I grabbed at him.
My father’s grip tightened, nearly lifting me off my feet. “She’s fine. That wind is terribly brisk, isn’t it? Quite bracing.” He squeezed me like a vise and pushed me forward, back onto my feet.
I tried to smile. “I’m fine, Mrs. Parry. Truly I am. Please tell your daughter I’ll see her tomorrow afternoon for lessons.”
Mrs. Parry regarded me with concern. “If you’re sure? You look so peaked all of a sudden. . . .”
“It’s just . . . It’s the cold. I wasn’t expecting it to be so cold.”
As she walked off, my father examined me with a worried frown.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t care what he might think of me or what he might say. I was worried about what my uncle would say. Or do. “You can’t come home with me.”
“Why not?”
“I’m staying with my aunt. And I have cousins and they have friends—”
“Your aunt? Your mother’s sister?”
I nodded. “And my uncle.”
“Who’s your uncle?”
“Richard Hammond. Your old roommate. He’s an instructor at the military academy now. And he doesn’t approve of you.”
“That didn’t bother me when I was at the academy, and it certainly doesn’t bother me now. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. Where is the house?” He was looking off up the street with an air of impatience. Never one to subject himself willingly to the elements, he was more at home in ornate steamboat saloons than the out-of-doors.
“I don’t think this is something you can take care of.”
“I’ve been in more difficult binds than this.”
“I’m staying here. In Buttermilk Falls. I’m not coming with you this time.” I couldn’t. Not after what he’d done to Seth and his sister. I wasn’t going anywhere with him ever again.
He looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. “I didn’t come to take you anywhere.”
“What did you come to do, then?”
“I came to stay.”
“Stay?” Did he say . . . Had he said stay? My whole body had suddenly gone numb.
“For a while, at least. Seems to me you’ve found the perfect place to operate. All these respectable people.” He winked at me. “Just ready for the fleecing, wouldn’t you say? On the way here, I came up with a scheme for the city, but it will work even better if I stay here while I’m doing it. Won’t have to worry so much about being found out. I can just take the steamboat down the river when I need to.” He nodded as he glanced about. “This is even better than I had planned.”
“But they know you here. Everyone knows you. Even the cadets know about John Barns.”
“I haven’t been John Barns for quite a while now.”
“They’ll recognize you!”
“Here? Where cadets come and go every year? I have a beard now. Who would connect me with John Barns?”
“I w
ish you hadn’t come east.”
“And I wish you’d stayed out west.” There seemed to be a sort of warning in his eyes. “Seems to me neither one of us got what we wanted. So let’s make the best of it, shall we?”
“They won’t want you.”
“They might not want me, but I can guarantee you they’ll have me.” His smile had disappeared. “And it will all be thanks to you.”
As we walked toward the house, I tried to think of all the reasons I could to get him to leave. “They’re decent people. All of them here in town. Hardworking. Honest.”
“That’s the best kind. The easiest kind. What do I always tell you? The easiest people to dupe are respectable people. Once you help them admit to their secret hopes and dreams, they can hardly give you their money fast enough!” He was looking up and down the street as if taking the town’s measure. He shook his head. “Hasn’t changed much. At least it’s close to the city.”
“Do you really think the family is going to accept you? After you ran off with mother?”
“As I recall, she ran off with me.” He chuckled. “They may not want to accept me, but they’re going to have to.”
I stopped walking, trying to gain some time. “There are quite a few of them in the house. They’ve four children. I have to room with the oldest.”
“What’s wrong? Are you worried?”
More than worried. I was deathly afraid. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Then you should have left before now. Though I have to say I’m glad you didn’t. I’d hate to have to chase after you again. It was hard enough tracking you here. Although I did come into a bit of a windfall on the railroads.” He hefted the satchel he held in his hand. “I played a lot of three-card monte. Can you believe no one else is operating on the trains?”
Flirtation Walk Page 20
