The Bride Star (Civil War Brides Book 6)

by Piper Davenport

  “What are you doing, Rayne?” Sophie asked as she peered over Rayne’s shoulder.

  Rayne held a candle at an angle and dripped wax onto a saucer. “I’m trying to figure out a way to make wax.”

  Christine frowned. “You’re trying to make wax out of wax?”

  “Now?” Emma squeaked.

  Rayne sighed in frustration. “I have to do something before my legs begin to resemble a werewolf’s.”

  Sophie giggled. “Your legs are as smooth as a baby’s butt… what are you talking about?”

  “Now, but what about in a few weeks? Sam quite likes me this way, and I’d like to maintain it.”

  Emma shook her head. “That wax won’t work… plus, it’ll burn your skin.”

  Sophie laughed. “Of course you would know that.”

  Emma shrugged. “Desperation is the mother of all invention.”

  “Necessity is the mother—”

  Emma waved her hand dismissively. “Same diff.”

  Rayne blew out the candle and set it back in the holder with a groan. “What do you do then?”

  Emma raised her skirt. “I just let it be.”

  Rayne shuddered. “Okay, well I cannot just ‘let it be.’”

  “Would someone please explain to me why you would put wax on your skin?” Christine asked.

  Sophie smiled. “In our time, we shave or wax our legs—”

  “—and other things,” Emma said.

  “For the purpose of this discussion, we’ll stick to the legs.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “Anyway, we shave in order to get smooth-feeling skin.”

  Christine blushed. “I can’t imagine.”

  “Show her, Rayne,” Emma suggested.

  Rayne made her way to Christine and raised her skirt. “See?”

  Christine puckered her brow.

  Rayne grinned. “You can touch my leg, Christine. It won’t bite.”

  Christine reached out. Her gasp echoed off the wall. “My word.”

  Emma rolled a stocking up her leg and grimaced. “I need to figure out something. I can’t stand it anymore.”

  Rayne smiled. “After the party, we’ll put our heads together and see what we can come up with.”

  Sophie glanced up at the clock on the bureau. She then moved Christine to stand in front of her. “If we don’t get a move on, we’ll be late for the party. Let’s shelve this discussion, shall we?”

  “Sounds good,” Rayne agreed.

  “How did they get these darn things to stay put?” Emma grumbled as she tried to pin a wig to her head.

  “Here, let me try,” Christine offered.

  “You can’t, Christine. You’re not ready yet,” Sophie said as she tried to tighten her corset. “Your costume doesn’t quite fit!”

  “Well, it should,” Christine argued. “They’re the same measurements Madam has had for years.”

  “You’re spilling out,” Sophie complained. “Everywhere.”

  “I don’t spill anywhere, Sophie,” Christine said. “For goodness sake!”

  “Have you looked at yourself lately?” Sophie asked. “Your boobs are particularly huge.”

  Before anyone could comment, Christine rushed for the bowl on the bureau and heaved.

  “Oh!” Sophie squealed and jumped up and down. “You’re pregnant!”

  Christine groaned. “No. I’m. Not,” she said pointedly.

  “What does Stephen say?” Emma asked.

  Christine didn’t answer.

  “Teeny,” Sophie pushed, using Christine’s family’s childhood nickname.

  “What?”

  “You’re pregnant.”

  Christine let out a loud sigh, her hand at her mouth. “Yes, I’m pregnant.”

  Sophie let out another excited squeal and the rest of the girls gathered around Christine with hugs and congratulations.

  “Is he beside himself?” Sophie asked.

  “He might not be,” Christine said. “But I am.”

  Sophie wrapped an arm around her. “He must be so excited.”

  “Babies die,” Christine whispered.

  “You’re going to be fine,” Sophie assured her and then laid her hand on Christine’s belly. “And so will your baby.”

  “Remember, three boys and two girls,” Victoria said.

  Rayne frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  Victoria smiled. “You haven’t seen it yet, but their mansion lasts well into the future. There are tours and reenactments. One year, my junior high class came for a few days for a class trip. We did Gettysburg and also a visit to the Paxton Mansion.”

  “Wow,” Rayne said. “Who owns it in the future?”

  “Their family. In fact, one of the descendents lives in it. The story that was told on my tour was that an elderly woman deeded it to a young doctor when she died. He married and he and his wife had three boys and two girls.”

  “I can’t wait to hear the rest of that story,” Rayne said.

  “It’s quite remarkable,” Sophie said. “We’ll tell you this weekend for sure.”

  Christine forced them all back to the tasks at hand. Tandy knocked on the door just as the last pin was put into Emma’s wig. “It’s time to stand at the door, Missus Powell.”

  “Thank you, Tandy,” Rayne said and turned to her friends. “We’ll meet you in the ballroom. Don’t wait too long, there’s amazing food downstairs.”

  She left the group to join her husband in the foyer.

  “You look exceptionally risqué this evening,” Sam said as he greeted Rayne.

  “And you look very proper,” she said with a giggle as she ran her hand over her wench costume.

  Sam was dressed as a Revolutionary-period naval officer, complete with tricorn hat and medals. He looked adorable. She couldn’t wait to peel every piece off him.

  “Do we have some time to find a broom closet?” she asked. At that moment, the doorknocker sounded, interrupting her thoughts. “Apparently not.”

  They spent nearly thirty minutes greeting guests, all dressed to the nines and obviously completely into the fun of the evening. Jamie and Stephen hadn’t shown up yet, and their wives came looking for them just as they walked through the front door.

  Sophie gasped and then started to giggle. The men were dressed in full English redcoat costumes and white wigs.

  “What?” Jamie said. “Too soon?”

  “It’s been almost a hundred years, I’m sure everyone is over it by now,” Stephen said.

  Christine laughed. Suddenly, her eyes widened, and her hand went to her mouth as her face turned a pale green. Stephen rushed to her side and pulled her off to a side room for some privacy. Jamie looked at Sophie, who just smiled her secret smile.

  When the Paxtons returned, Sophie and Jamie followed them to the ballroom and left the Powells to their guest-greeting duties. Sam was just closing the door as a couple of stragglers walked up onto porch. Hearing Sam’s quiet curse, Rayne looked at him in concern.

  “Jimmy Atwood,” Sam said tightly.

  “Samuel Powell,” Jimmy said smugly at the same time he pulled a young woman roughly forward. “May I introduce my wife? Alice, this is Mr. Powell and his missus.”

  Jimmy focused on Rayne. A shiver went down Rayne’s spine as he leered at her. In particular, her well-endowed breasts emphasized by her costume. Sam stepped in front of her, obviously noticing the same thing.

  Jimmy’s wife, Alice, was clearly frightened of him, but recovered enough to smile and shake their hands. She had a mask that covered the majority of her face, and if Rayne didn’t know the look of abuse, Alice might have been able to fool her. Almost. There was a bruise under her eye, and the purple peeked out like a red flag.

  Rayne scowled. She squeezed Sam’s arm as they followed the newest arrivals toward the ballroom. “Who invited him?” she asked in a whisper.

  Sam responded with a growl. “I have no idea, Angel, but I intend to find out.”

  The couple donned their masks and Sam led her in
to the ballroom. Rayne let out an audible gasp. The room was transformed into something out of a dream. The costumes were magnificent and with everyone wearing masks, there was a semblance of mystery, especially with the low light.

  “Tandy outdid herself,” Rayne exclaimed.

  The crowd suddenly went quiet and Jamie was at their side in an instant. “Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to introduce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Powell.”

  The crowd erupted in applause, but Jamie shushed them. “Please enjoy your evening. Perhaps if you’re lucky, Rayne and Sophie will treat you to a song or two.”

  Emma whooped from somewhere within the crowd and laughter ensued.

  “Thank you all for coming. Please make yourselves at home. Rayne and I are honored that you have joined us to celebrate our marriage. Please eat and drink until you can’t eat and drink anymore,” Sam announced.

  He motioned for the band to start a song, and they started a quadrille. The guests filed onto the dance floor and Sam led Rayne to their exclusive table set up in the corner.

  Hannah sat at the table next to them, but when she tried to stand up to hug her, Christopher put his hands on her shoulders.

  “I’ll come to you,” Rayne said as she reached the couple, leaning down for a hug.

  “Ta.” Hannah hugged her and glared at her husband, who did nothing but raise an eyebrow at her. “I wish I could dance.”

  “No dancing,” Christopher said quickly.

  “I know that, Knight. I was simply stating that I’d like to. You need to stop with all of this,” Hannah snapped. “Why don’t you get me some punch, or whiskey or something.”

  Christopher groaned.

  “You know that was a joke, Knight. I don’t actually want whiskey… well, I do, but I’ll refrain until this one pops out.”

  “She is not to move,” Christopher said pointedly to Rayne.

  Rayne saluted him, which made Hannah giggle.

  “I’ll join you,” Sam said to Christopher, and they left the girls to find refreshment.

  “Why is he so uptight tonight?” Rayne asked Hannah.

  “I had some bleeding and cramping last night,” Hannah whispered.

  “Oh, Hannah. Are you okay?”

  “Absolutely fine! Stephen examined me today and the baby’s heartbeat is strong.” Hannah huffed. “Knight’s just overreacting.”

  “He’s worried about you.”

  Hannah shrugged. “You say tomayto, I say tomahto.”

  Rayne grinned as Christine, Sophie, and Emma made their way through the crowd, their husbands following. Emma’s face was flushed and she looked slightly green.

  “Sit down, sweet.” Clayton pulled the chair next to Hannah out for her. “I’ll get you some water.”

  Emma flopped into the chair and smiled up at him. “Thanks.”

  “Sick?” Hannah asked.

  “Ugh. Yes,” Emma said. “Pregnancy sucks.”

  “I’m with you, lovey. I’m not doing it again anytime soon,” Hannah said.

  Stephen held a chair for Christine, and kissed her cheek before following Clayton to the refreshment table.

  Sophie glanced at Jamie. “Do you think Junior’s okay?”

  Jamie chuckled. “He’s with the nanny, sweetheart. He’s fine. She promised to get you if she needed you.”

  Sophie nodded. “You’re right, you’re right.”

  Jamie grinned. “Always. I’ll get you some wine.”

  “A big glass, please.”

  Jamie rolled his eyes and made his way to where the other men were standing.

  Emma took Hannah’s hand. “I miss dancing with you.”

  “Me too.”

  Rayne glanced into the crowd. “Where are Charity and Gwen?”

  “Dancing the night away,” Emma grumbled.

  “Look at Charity. Actually, look at Richard. He’s so in love with that girl,” Sophie said with a smile.

  “She certainly brings out the best in him,” Emma said.

  “How are you feeling, Christine?” Rayne asked.

  “Better. It comes and goes. Stephen makes me eat dry bread when I’m sick, which does actually help,” she said with a smile. “He keeps some in his pocket at all times.”

  The men returned en masse it seemed, which made the girls laugh.

  “I think we have the hottest group of husbands ever seen,” Sophie quipped.

  “Totally,” Emma agreed. “Especially mine.”

  Amelia was being pulled behind Sam, and the scowl on her face was evidently pointed in his direction.

  “I was wondering where you were,” Rayne said as she stood to greet her sister-in-law. “Why do you look like you want to kill my husband?”

  “I was conversing with someone,” Amelia said.

  “Oh, really?” Rayne asked with a smirk. “Is that someone on his way over?”

  “He won’t be if he knows what’s good for him,” Sam snapped.

  “I’m going to start referring to you as “mother,”“ Amelia threatened.

  Sam let out a sigh of annoyance. “Don’t push me on this, Meely.”

  Rayne pulled Amelia toward the table. “Come and join us, Amelia. Ignore your brother.”

  Amelia glared at her brother. “If only that were a permanent option.”

  Rayne giggled and raised an eyebrow at Sam. “And you told me she was quiet and unassuming.”

  “Excuse me,” Sam said.

  “Sam, do not embarrass me,” Amelia ordered.

  * * *

  Sam ignored his sister as he moved to intercept Jacob Butler, who was making a beeline for the table. “A word, Jacob.” Sam didn’t wait for Jacob’s acquiescence as he moved out of the ballroom.

  Sam made his way to the library and waited for Jacob to join him. Jacob raised an eyebrow as he stepped into the room. Sam closed the door and began to pace.

  “What did you need, Sam?” Jacob leaned, quite nonchalantly, against the fireplace mantel.

  “What are your intentions with my sister?”

  Jacob shrugged. “Any intentions I might have toward your sister will be discussed with your father.”

  Sam had always seen… and still saw… Jacob as the baby of the Butler family. He crossed his arms in frustration. “She will be living with us, so perhaps you should reconsider that statement.”

  Jake chuckled. “Your father has not passed, so I will discuss it with him first.”

  “He’ll never allow it.”

  Jacob nodded. “I’m aware of the potential issues that may arise. However, if I decide that a courtship is appropriate, I will deal with them.”

  “She’s unaware of any of the issues, Jacob.” Sam frowned. “Am I clear?”

  Jacob nodded again. “You’re clear. Anything else?”

  “Not for the moment,” Sam said.

  “Good. I have promised your sister the next waltz.”

  Sam stood in stunned silence as Jacob walked out of the room.

  SEVERAL MINUTES AFTER Jacob returned to the ballroom, Rayne went looking for her husband. She found him in the library staring out one of the windows. “Sam?”

  He turned and held his hand out to her.

  She made her way to him. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded.

  Rayne smiled. “Then, why do you look like you just lost your best friend?”

  “Because I believe I may have lost my sister,” he said with a frustrated sigh.

  “Oh, baby, what happened?” Rayne sat in one of the chairs by the fireplace and patted the chair next to her.

  Sam took his seat and relayed his conversation with Jake.

  Rayne smiled gently. “Don’t think Amelia doesn’t know what’s going on, Sam.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s the one who stopped me from introducing her to Jacob.” Rayne squeezed his hand. “I would imagine she knows more than she’s letting on.”

  Sam sighed. “That’s probably true.”

  Rayne chuckled. “I h
ate to say it, but I told you so.”

  “I was hoping you might be wrong,” he admitted.

  “If he’s anything like his brothers, Sam, he’ll be a good match for her.”

  Sam ran his hands through his hair. “They have so much against them.”

  Rayne cocked her head. “Don’t we all? If it’s meant to be, they’ll work it out.”

  Sam groaned.

  Rayne giggled. “I hope we don’t have girls.”

  “Convents,” Sam averred.

  Rayne raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re not even Catholic.”

  Sam shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. If they look like you, I’ll send them to the nunnery before they turn five.”

  “By then, we will have prearranged marriages for them with the Butler boys.”

  Sam narrowed his eyes. “You have an evil streak, don’t you, Angel?”

  “Only with you.” She rose to her feet. “Now, let’s join our party.”

  Sam stood. “And keep an eye on Jacob Butler.”

  “Whatever,” she said with a laugh. “Before that though, I need a moment to freshen up.”

  Sam kissed her quickly and then opened the door. “Don’t be long.”

  Quick footsteps on the hardwood floor revealed Victoria making her way toward them. “Hi, you two.”

  Rayne smiled. “Going my way?”

  “I’m thinking, yes.”

  “I’ll see you in a moment,” Sam said and headed toward the ballroom.

  Victoria and Rayne made their way to one of the rooms they had set aside for the ladies to have some privacy. The girls opened the door to the receiving room and heard a sharp intake of breath. Alice Atwood was on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor, blood running from her nose, and a fat lip that matched the color of the bruise under her eye.

  Rayne rushed to her. “Alice?”

  “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Powell,” Alice said in obvious fear. “I can’t seem to stop my nose from bleeding and I’m afraid I have gotten it on your rug.”

  Rayne wrapped an arm around her shoulders and lifted her from the floor. “Forget the rug,” Rayne directed. “Stand up.”

  Victoria handed Alice a handkerchief. “Sweetie, tip your head back. That’s right, now hold this right here.” She helped Alice position the pressure in the right place on her nose.