Christine grinned. “Just me. I promise.”
“Emma has some special shampoo I’d love to use,” Sophie whispered.
“What’s shampoo?” Christine asked.
“Oh, it’s special soap for hair. I’ll give you some to try. It’s in that bag over there in the corner.” Sophie pointed to Emma’s carpetbag. “There’s also another bottle called conditioner.”
Christine gathered everything up and then assisted the girls with the washing and rinsing of their hair. “What’s this container made out of?”
“It’s called plastic. I don’t know when it was invented,” Sophie answered.
“Truly? Something historical and you don’t know about it?” Christine retorted.
Emma laughed out loud. “We’ll put this one in the history books. Sophie Ford does not know when plastic was invented. You miss the Internet, don’t you, Soph? Admit it.”
The girls collapsed into uncontrollable giggles. Betty came in with fresh towels and Christine quickly hid the bottles. Once Betty left, Emma found the lotion she had previously stowed, and Sophie oohed and aahed as she applied it to her skin.
“It has been entirely too long without lotion. They have oils that kind of work, but nothing as good as this. Here, Christine, try some.” Sophie handed her the bottle.
Christine breathed in the cherry vanilla scent and then wiped some on her arm. “How remarkable that it soaks into the skin. I don’t feel oily.”
Sophie grinned. “I know, right?”
Emma had no idea what she was going to wear tonight. Sophie and Christine had kept it all a big secret. All three girls got their undergarments on first and then assisted each other with the corsets. They decided to get their hair coiffed before they got into their gowns.
“We should do my hair first,” Sophie suggested.
“Won’t Emma’s be easier?” Christine asked.
“Believe it or not, no,” Emma interjected. “Sophie’s hair has always been easier to style. It’s more versatile. Long and gloriously curly. Ah, if only.”
Sophie giggled. “And I feel that way about yours. Perfectly straight and soft.”
“Very well, Sophie. Take a seat.” Christine wove burgundy ribbon through her curls and pulled her hair up at the sides, leaving her ringlets to cascade down her back.
“What are we going to do with my hair?” Emma asked wistfully.
“Oh, my sweet, sweet sister. You are in the presence of greatness. Christine can do anything. You’ll see.” Sophie quickly fixed Christine’s hair in a simple chignon and put her ribbons over her crown, leaving them cascading down her back.
Christine’s gown was deep green velvet and Emma knew the color would be perfect with her strawberry blonde locks.
“Your turn, Em,” Sophie said.
Emma sat down at the vanity as Sophie and Christine discussed what they would do with her hair. Sophie suggested they do a partial French braid design on each side of her head, bringing the sides together in a simple chignon, which they would wrap with the ribbon matching her dress and choker. They swept her bangs to the side for a softening effect, even though it wasn’t the style of the day.
The girls then pulled out the most exquisite dress Emma had ever seen. It was an ice blue silk just a slight shade lighter than her eyes. Emma gasped. “Sophie, that’s incredible.”
They helped her with her hoops and then guided the skirt over her head. The top was off the shoulder and came to a V at her waist. It was low cut and fit her perfectly. The bottom of the skirt had been adorned with a dark blue velvet ribbon, in an intricate loop pattern, and the sleeves of the top also had the design. Her slippers were dark blue velvet, which matched the ribbon.
“Come see in the mirror,” Christine said.
Emma grimaced and tried to adjust the top so not as much showed. She was fighting a losing battle. “Could there be any more Cleveland?”
“Just wait until you see mine. With the pregnancy, they seem to have grown two sizes in a month.”
Christine and Sophie climbed into their gowns. Emma couldn’t get over the opulence. Velvet? In wartime? How was that even possible?
“I thought that during the war, you couldn’t get the basics, let alone extras.” Emma said.
“That’s very true for the South. It’s much easier in the North,” Sophie answered. “This came from France, I believe. Madame has special fabrics shipped in once or twice a year.”
There was a knock at the door and Jamie poked his head in when the all clear was given. “Are you girls ready?”
Sophie motioned for him to come in and she let out a low whistle. “Baby, you look incredible.”
Jamie was dressed in his full lieutenant uniform and had pulled his long hair back into a simple queue. “Not as incredible as you three. You are exquisite.”
“What time is it?” Christine asked.
“It’s six-forty. Everyone has gathered in the parlor for a glass of wine before we leave for Dr. Paxton’s.”
Emma followed everyone down the stairs and into the parlor.
Introductions abounded and Emma was handed a glass of wine. Andrew kissed her hand and Emma gave him a cheeky grin. When he’d apologized to her, she’d played the offended damsel, even though it was virtually impossible to stay angry with the man. He was so much like Luke, with his easy way and genuine spirit, Emma folded within minutes, and they’d become fast friends.
She took a sip of her wine and tried to calm her stomach. Just as she took her second sip, Daniel announced the arrival of Clayton and his guest. The Fluff walked through the door first and looked beautiful in her pink satin and lace. Emma nearly dropped her wine glass, anger surfacing at the fact he’d ignored her request to meet her at the party.
Clayton followed Rose into the room and Emma’s breath left her body. Her anger was joined by total, complete, and unadulterated lust. Was it possible for a man to be beautiful? He was so handsome in evening black and his hair was swept back from his face, rivaling that of Orlando Bloom in Pirates of the Caribbean.
Clayton made a beeline for Emma and the crowd seemed to part for him as he walked toward her. He smiled deeply and lifted her hand to his lips. “Good evening, Emma. You look beautiful.”
Emma pulled her hand away. “I thought we were going to meet there.”
The rustle of skirts interrupted their private conversation, and then, “Clayton, darlin’, we should get going.”
Emma let out a quiet hiss, and Clayton gave her a secretive smile. “Rose Johnson, may I introduce to you Emma Wellington? Emma, sweetheart, this is Rose. She is Timothy’s sister.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Johnson. I’m sorry for your loss,” Emma said graciously.
Rose stared at her strangely, but Emma saw the southern training in her surface after a few tense moments. “Thank you, Miss Wellington.”
Clayton introduced Rose to the rest of the family, leaving Andrew for last. “Rose, this is Andrew Simmonds. He will be escorting you this evening.”
Emma and Rose gasped. Rose narrowed her eyes, and if looks could kill, Clayton would have been dead ten times over.
Andrew took Rose’s hand and his fingers flexed when Rose tried to pull away. “Miss Johnson, it’ll be my honor to escort you this evening. May I say, you look lovely? That is a beautiful shade of pink.” He glanced over his shoulder at Emma and winked.
Emma smiled. The rest of the family filed out of the parlor, but Clayton held Emma back. “Shouldn’t we join them?” Emma asked.
“In a minute.”
As soon as the parlor was empty, Clayton pulled Emma into his arms and kissed her senseless. She laid her hands on his chest and grasped the lapels of his jacket, almost in a desperate attempt to keep from fainting. Finally coming to her senses, she broke the kiss. “You weren’t supposed to be here.”
“I’m not so easily deterred, sweetheart.” He kissed her again. “I have wanted to do that since the moment I walked in here and saw you in that exquisite dress.”
She smiled up at him, not altogether steady on her feet, still grasping his jacket. “Well, that makes two of us. You look entirely too handsome in formal attire.”
Clayton stroked her cheek. “I’m sorry for being insensitive today. I was so surprised by Rose’s visit, I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“Thank you for that.” Emma smiled. “I forgive you.”
Clayton lowered his gaze. “I wonder if you might need a shawl throughout the evening.”
Emma glanced down and then let out a quiet snort. “Is it scandalous?”
Clayton grimaced. “I wish I could say it was. However, you are the height of fashion, and it’s simply my own bias.”
Emma knitted her eyebrows together. “Your bias?”
Clayton rubbed her back absently. “Yes, I will not be allowed to monopolize you all evening, and I’m not looking forward to your effect on the other men present.”
Emma raised an eyebrow. “Ooh, there will be other men present?”
Clayton kissed her and was rewarded with Emma’s sigh. “If they begin to turn your head, sweet Emma, find me, and I will remind you who’s important.”
Emma grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“For now, let’s enjoy the ball.” He gave her a wolfish smile. “I intend to show you off to everyone.”
CLAYTON TOOK EMMA’S hand and led her out of the parlor. They ran into Jamie as he walked back through the front door. “I’m the search party.”
Emma laughed. “We’re coming.”
Clayton assisted her into the carriage and then climbed in after her. The others had gone on ahead, so it was just the four of them. Clayton sat next to Emma and smiled as he took hold of her hand and lifted it to his lips.
As the carriage moved, Jamie leaned forward. “What happened with Rose?”
Clayton chuckled. “I spoke with Andrew earlier today. He owed me a favor.”
Sophie grinned. “Yes, I’m sure it was a huge imposition for him to escort a beautiful woman to a ball.”
“And keep her busy for the duration,” Clayton whispered.
Emma’s head whipped up. “Seriously?”
“Yes, sweet.” Clayton kissed her palm again.
Emma’s heart soared and she melted against him with a sigh.
* * *
Arriving at the Paxton Mansion faster than originally expected, Sophie and Emma were in awe as they drove up the driveway toward the house. The large brick home loomed atop a large hill, in the exclusive Allison Hill area of Harrisburg. Four white columns formed a welcoming portico, and a porch covered two sides of the home. The home and outbuildings sat on a hundred and forty acres, and had sweeping views of the Susquehanna River and Blue Mountains.
“Have you never been here, Sophie?” Emma asked.
Sophie shook her head. “I’ve never been invited.”
The carriage came to a stop and Clayton jumped out first, followed by Jamie. As Emma gripped Clayton’s hand, she took a moment to take in the scene before her. His gentle squeeze brought her focus back to him, and she caught his smile as he lifted her off the step and placed her hand into the crook of his elbow.
“This is amazing, Clay,” Emma whispered.
He leaned down with a smile. “Yes, quite.”
Emma glanced back at Sophie and then let Clayton lead her up the stairs of the porch and through the front door. The large crowd in the foyer swallowed them, and the guests made their way slowly through the receiving line. Emma saw that Christine and the Wades had arrived just moments before; they were just ahead of her party in the line.
Dr. Stephen Paxton was a surgeon at the hospital based just outside of Harrisburg. He was at the head of the receiving line, and seemed to linger a little longer than etiquette would deem appropriate when Christine reached him. He held her hand perhaps a little too long and stared at her just a little too deeply. “You are beautiful.”
Christine blushed. “Thank you, Dr. Paxton.”
“Stephen, please.”
Emma giggled quietly, especially when one of the ladies behind them cleared her throat, prompting Stephen to break contact with Christine. Emma squeezed her sister’s elbow and whispered, “Do I see a love match?”
Sophie raised an eyebrow. “Christine thinks he’s just being polite.”
Emma grinned. “How long do you think it’ll take him to make his move?”
Sophie shrugged. “Who knows? I’m still shocked by how oblivious Christine is to the whole thing, but I have a feeling he won’t wait for her to figure it out.”
“Ladies,” Jamie admonished in a whisper.
Emma was overwhelmed with the sights and sounds of the nineteenth-century ball. Little nuances of light and sound that could so easily be missed. Tonight she didn’t want to miss a thing. Aware of Clayton’s hand possessively on her back, she leaned into it more than once as they waded through the line.
After they had introduced themselves to their host, Clayton gently took hold of Emma’s elbow and led her into the ballroom. Emma gasped—again. Clayton smiled down at her and Sophie took hold of her sister’s hand. “Isn’t it magnificent?”
“Yes,” Emma whispered.
Exquisite fabrics and colors adorned the nineteenth-century ladies, while the men were either in uniform or formal black. Lit sconces lined the walls, along with strategically placed candelabras on the piano and buffet tables. The scent of fresh flowers mingled with the harvest décor, and the room was a mix of opulence and comfort Emma could have never imagined.
“Let’s find a table,” Clayton suggested and pulled the group through the crush.
Christine’s mother took the seat closest to the window and smiled up at them. “I’m going to sit things out tonight, I think.”
“Are you certain, Mama?” Christine asked.
“Yes, dear. I’m happy to watch you young people enjoy yourselves.”
Sophie sat next to Miriam and patted her hand. “Well, I can’t dance worth a lick, Miriam, so I’ll sit with you, if that’s all right.”
Emma chuckled. “That’s an understatement, don’t you think?”
“We’ll just tell people you’re sitting it out because you’re pregnant,” Jamie whispered.
Sophie grinned. “Thank you.”
The musicians started to play “Les Lanciers,” and Clayton pulled Emma onto the floor for a Lancers Quadrille. He assumed, of course, that she could dance, because what nineteenth-century woman couldn’t?
This was an area Emma excelled in, and even though her expertise was not in these types of dances, she had learned them all at one point in her training, and could fake it if necessary.
Emma saw Rose corner Jamie by the refreshment table, and by the frown on Jamie’s face, he didn’t seem pleased by whatever it was she was saying. As the song ended, Clayton led Emma from the dance floor and she guided him towards Jamie.
They arrived to see Rose lay her hand on Jamie’s arm. “Bless your heart. I would love a glass of champagne.
Jamie pulled away from her and handed her a glass then excused himself. “I promised Mrs. Simmonds a glass of champagne.”
Andrew showed up a few seconds later and apologized profusely. “Forgive me, Miss Johnson for my inattention. I was pulled away by an old friend. It won’t happen again.”
Rose wrinkled her nose and didn’t comment.
* * *
Clayton escorted Emma onto the dance floor one more time, and when the song was over, he went to find champagne for them. On his way back from the refreshment room, Rose cornered him. He scowled. He was going to have to have a conversation with Andrew.
“Clayton, darlin’. I didn’t think I would ever get you alone.”
“You don’t have me alone, Rose.” He moved to walk away. “I must get back to Emma.”
Rose scowled. “Emma, Emma, Emma,” she snapped.
Clayton rolled his eyes. “I’ll speak with you later, Rose.”
She grabbed his arm. “Clayton, wait. I need to speak wi
th you about Timmy. He gave me a message just before he died.”
“And you’re telling me now? Here? You’ve had plenty of time to tell me before tonight. Why now?”
“Clay,” she whined.
He turned slowly to face her. “What did he say, Rose?”
“Let’s just step in here, and I’ll tell you.” She pulled him inside one of the side rooms that appeared to be a library of sorts.
Clayton shifted, his senses on alert. “What’s the message, Rose?”
He didn’t want to be in a private room with this woman. He didn’t want to be in a private room with any woman other than Emma.
Rose indicated one of the chairs in the small office. “Sit, Clayton, this might take a little bit of time.”
He shook his head. “I’d prefer to stand, thank you.”
“You just have to make everything difficult, don’t you, Clayton? And to think, we’ve always seen you as the amiable one.” Rose stroked her hand down his chest.
“Rose, do you have something to say, or are you trying to keep me away from Emma?”
Just then, Andrew walked through the door. “Well, there you are, Miss Johnson. I thought I’d lost you.”
“Apparently not,” Rose hissed slightly under her breath.
“Some soldier you are,” Clayton whispered for his ears only.
“Slippery like an eel, this one,” Andrew retorted.
Andrew escorted Rose out the door and back into the ballroom. Clayton returned to Emma and pulled her out on the dance floor for a waltz. He wanted any excuse to get her into his arms and hold her close.
Emma frowned up at him. “Is everything all right?”
He pulled her a little closer. “Rose just tried to corner me in the library. She said she needed to pass on a message from Tim, but I think that was a lie.”
Emma shuddered. “She’s up to something. I don’t know what, but there’s something not right about her.”
“I think she’s simply mourning the loss of her brother.”
“Watch her.” Emma frowned. “I’d hate to have to hurt the perfect little princess. But, I swear, if she continues to touch you as though she’s entitled to, I may just have to.”
The Bride Found (Civil War Brides Book 2) Page 14
