“James, really! I didn’t even get a chance to excuse myself from the table.”
“I don’t like him.” He deployed a scowl toward the table at which Mr. McCabe still sat. “I don’t want you talking to him.”
“Who are you to tell me who I can speak to?” When he didn’t answer, Valerie said, “We were engaging in polite conversation, if you must know, and you can be polite too, if for nothing else than propriety’s sake.”
James ignored the reprimand. “He’s not like us, Valerie. He’s as unrefined as a stalk of sugarcane.”
“But just as sweet.”
James’s dour expression said he didn’t appreciate the retort. “Enough!”
Valerie pressed her lips together. She smelled the bourbon on James’s breath. If he behaved anything like Father did when he drank his scotch, Valerie saw no point in attempting meaningful conversation. If so many people weren’t around, she’d end this dance with him right now. However, she’d hate to cause a scene.
A sudden smile stretched across his face. “Did I tell you how lovely you look tonight?” He tightened his hold around her waist.
She stepped back, seeking to put some distance between them.
“You’ve caught the eye of every man in this room, and—”
Glimpsing over his shoulder, Valerie hoped she’d catch Benjamin McCabe’s gaze. But he no longer sat at the table. She wished he would cut in.
“—and you’ve won my heart.”
“James, you shouldn’t say such things.” Valerie stepped back, surprised by his admission.
“Look at me.” James halted right there in the middle of the dance floor. “Ever since you’ve come home from finishing school, I—”
“James, please, not here!” Her gaze darted around. Had anyone overheard?
“You’re right. This is neither the time nor the place.”
They began dancing again. Valerie wished the waltz would end. Then before she realized what he was doing, James whirled them to the doors that led out to the balcony. Pushing them open, he escorted her outside into the chilly night air.
“I’ll catch my death out here.”
“I’ll keep you warm.”
“James, really. I should go back inside.” She inched away from him.
He ignored her request and moved toward her. “I’d like my New Year’s Eve kiss early.”
“You’ll get no kiss from me.” Valerie took another step back and bumped into the house. She could feel the cold brick of the house against her bare shoulders. “If I snag my gown because of your buffoonery, I’ll—”
James lunged at her, cutting off further reply. Holding her head between his hands, he pressed his lips hard against hers. Repulsed, Valerie thrashed until she broke free. She raised her hand and the crack of her palm meeting his cheek sliced through the thick, night air.
Flabbergasted, James could only gape at her, but it was all the time she needed to make her escape. Flinging open the double French doors, Valerie lifted her skirts and fled across the ballroom’s polished floor.
Four
Valerie’s body trembled after the incident outside. She leaned against the wall outside the ballroom and struggled to catch her breath. She’d never been so angry in all her life! Her jaw clenched. James and his insolence—just wait until Father heard about all this! He might be mourning Mama’s death in a way she couldn’t understand, but she was still his daughter. Father wouldn’t stand for it when he learned of James’s advances.
Across the foyer Valerie spotted her friend Caroline Bigby waving her into a small circle of women who were gathered in a whispering circle. She willed her shaky legs to move toward them.
“Why, Valerie, it’s so good to have you back from school!” Caroline hugged her. “Have you seen Anna Joy Harrison?” Caroline brought a gloved hand to the side of her mouth and raised her tawny brows. “She’s wearing a hideous creation.”
“I–I haven’t seen Anna Joy yet.” Valerie glanced over her shoulder to make sure James wasn’t on her heels. Reassured he was nowhere in sight, she willed her composure to return.
“Are you all right, Valerie? You look as though you’ve had a shock.” Violet Drumming took her hand. “And you’re positively pale.”
“I–I’m fine.” She smoothed the flounces on her skirt. “Everything’s fine.”
Awkward seconds ticked by, and then from the corner of her eye, Valerie spotted Benjamin McCabe. He stood near the ballroom’s entryway watching her. She smiled and waved him over.
“Ladies, I want you all to meet my father’s houseguest.”
When he was beside her, he bowed in a mannerly way while Valerie made the introductions.
“You’re a photographer?” Violet cooed.
“Yes, ma’am,” Mr. McCabe replied easily.
“That’s fascinating!”
“How very interesting!” Caroline added, touching a hand to his forearm lightly.
“I saw you talking to Colonel LaPorte,” Cherie’s dimples deepened with her coquettish smile. “Must’ve been something important.”
Mr. McCabe loosened his tie and his face reddened.
Valerie found his reaction quite amusing. But she also found her friends’ behavior rather simpering, and she realized she had very little in common with these young women anymore.
Before long, the other men noticed the way their escorts had flocked around Mr. McCabe. Within minutes they came, one by one, to claim their respective ladies for the next waltz.
Mr. McCabe turned to her. “I’m, um, not a dancer.” He sounded apologetic.
“That’s all right. I believe I’ve had my fill for the evening.”
“Speaking of . . . where’s your escort, Miss Fontaine?” His tone wasn’t mocking but held a note of concern.
“I have no idea.” If she never saw James again, it’d be too soon!
Mr. McCabe reached out and touched something on the back of her evening gown. “Your dress is torn.”
“What?” Horrified, she strained to look over her shoulder and glimpse the damage. The satin trim had been pulled away from the silk bodice, no doubt a result of James’s beastly behavior. “I’ll fetch my shawl and perhaps no one will notice.” She stared up into Mr. McCabe’s face and saw the compassionate slant of his eyes.
“Back in Missouri we have names for men who manhandle ladies.”
“I call them cads, plain and simple.”
His sudden grin became a chuckle. “I reckon that’s fitting enough.”
“But . . . ” She tipped her head and frowned. “How did you know?”
All traces of humor disappeared from his features. “I saw the two of you leave the ballroom through the balcony doors. When you came back in looking like a frightened doe, I knew something was wrong.” Mr. McCabe raised his brows. “Next thing I see is Ladden sporting a fine red handprint on his face. It was rather obvious.”
“I’m so embarrassed.” Valerie could only imagine the sordid whispers making their rounds at this very moment.
“Wasn’t your fault.” He inclined his head gallantly.
A surge of relief coursed through her veins. “Thank you, Mr. McCabe.”
“Please, call me by my given name.”
“Benjamin.” Valerie liked the way it sounded. Strong. Commanding. Her smile was unfettered now. “It’s refreshing to be in the company of a true gentleman.”
He extended his arm, and she threaded her hand around his elbow. He bent his head close to hers. “It’s almost midnight,” he said, “and I understand from Colonel LaPorte that the Donahues imported fireworks from China before the Union set up their blockades.”
“Yes, the firecrackers are a tradition here on New Year’s Eve.”
They strolled into the ballroom, and Valerie collected her satin shawl, slipping it around her shoulders. Arm in arm they walked to the far side of the room where other guests had gathered. The heavy burgundy drapes had been pulled back, revealing the balcony. Beyond it, although unseen in the d
arkness, lay the terrace and the rest of the Donahues’ acreage.
The rain had ceased for the time being, and those with sturdier dispositions stood outside, but Valerie and Benjamin chose to watch the fireworks in comfort from inside the house. Benjamin pulled over a couple of chairs, and together they oohed and aahed at the loud, spectacular, and sparkly display overhead.
James suddenly reappeared, and Valerie turned her back to him. She’d entertained the notion of asking the Donahues if she and Benjamin could borrow a conveyance so they wouldn’t have to abide his company all the way home.
“The carriage is waiting for us.” James took her gloved hand and bowed over it. “I promise to mind my manners.”
She sent a questioning look to Benjamin.
“I’ll make sure he behaves himself.” He gave James a stern look, which was met with a glare.
James softened his features when he gazed back at Valerie. “You can’t very well walk home.”
“All right.” It wasn’t worth the argument and the effort it would take to procure another carriage.
Outside, a damp chill lingered in the night air as they climbed into the landau. James swung himself onto the padded bench beside her. Valerie cringed at his boorishness. Benjamin seated himself across from them, and while she would have preferred to sit next to him, Valerie decided from this vantage point she could study him undetected.
He lazed back on the leather upholstery. “Nice party.”
James replied with a derisive snort.
Valerie ignored him. “We’re glad you came, Mr. Mc—” She paused. “Benjamin.” James tensed at her side. She suppressed a grin. Served him right for being such a rake!
The carriage pulled up and parked in front of the Fontaines’ townhouse. James jumped out and helped Valerie alight.
He held onto her hand longer than necessary. “Valerie, honey, how ’bout I come up and keep you company for a while?”
“I don’t think so.” She pulled free from his grasp and made her way to the front door. Behind her she heard the two men’s voices, although she couldn’t discern what they said. She hoped Benjamin was versing James on the basics of being a gentleman.
In the end, James went on his way.
Adalia greeted Valerie at the door, her green eyes wide with curiosity. “Did you have fun tonight?”
“Well, except for one, um, unfortunate incident—” Valerie pulled off her cape and placed it in the maid’s waiting arms. “—I had a perfectly lovely time.”
“What happened, dearie?”
“James behaved like his old self. Need I say more?” Valerie shook her head. “I thought he’d changed. He hasn’t.”
“The little monster,” Adalia said. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. I’m fine now.”
“That’s a relief.”
Benjamin entered the house.
“Good evening, sir. Did you enjoy yourself at the Donahues’?”
“Sure did.” He closed the door behind him. “The company was unforgettable—” He inclined his head toward Valerie. His gaze locked on hers for several long moments before he looked back at Adalia. “And those firecrackers were something to behold.”
“They were something to be heard as well.” Adalia sent a glance upward. “Shook the whole house, they did!”
As they ambled toward the parlor, Adalia continued her tirade. “I’ll never know why that Charles Donahue has to blast those things off every year.”
“It’s a tradition,” Valerie said.
“Bah! It’s a wonder those Yankee ships darkening our horizon didn’t start firing back.”
“Hmm, good point.” Benjamin shrugged out of his dress coat.
“Well, Colonel LaPorte was in attendance.” She removed her gloves. “He wouldn’t have allowed any fireworks if there was a danger to the city.”
“Another good point.” Benjamin chuckled, folding his coat over his arm.
“If you say so, dearie, but those things nearly shattered y’ mama’s good crystal.” Adalia lifted a brow and changed the subject. “Would y’ like some of your special nighttime tea before retiring?”
Valerie nodded, and after Adalia sauntered off, she turned to explain to Benjamin. “The tea is a blend of herbs my mother grew in her garden and then dried. When brewed, they make for a very soothing mixture that helps a body relax and sleep.”
“Thank you, but I won’t need anything to help me sleep. In fact, I’d best say g’night right now.”
Valerie felt a stab of disappointment.
He walked toward her and took her hand. For a good half minute he looked deeply into her eyes, and Valerie thought he intended to take her in his arms and kiss her. She wouldn’t have minded it a bit either. But instead he brought her hand to his lips. “Miss Fontaine . . . ” He placed a kiss on the backs of her fingers. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”
“Y–you’re very welcome.” His touch sent tingles up her arm and straight to her heart.
“I’ll look forward to seeing you in the morning.”
He strode from the parlor just as Adalia returned with the polished silver tray and matching tea service. After setting it down, she regarded Valerie askance. “I’d say you’ve got ‘smitten’ written all over y’ pretty face.”
Valerie released an audible sigh. “There goes a gentleman of a most valiant kind.”
“Mm-hm, I was right.” The maid put her hands on her ample hips. “S.M.I.T.T.E.N.”
***
Ben awakened to slivers of sunshine seeping through the wooden slats of the tall shuttered windows. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth when he realized the rain had ceased.
1862. This year he would find Luke!
A knock sounded, and he pushed himself up on his elbows. “Yes?”
The door creaked open, and the slim, well-dressed man he’d met last evening entered the spacious room. “It’s me, sir. Ephraim, the valet.”
“Of course. Please, come in.”
“I’m here to draw your bath.”
“Appreciate it.” Ben combed his fingers through his thick hair, thinking he hadn’t experienced such lavish treatment since leaving Boston. He could sure get used to it, but as soon as he met his obligations here and at the Elliots’, he’d visit that nearby regiment with Clint and Em and continue his search for Luke.
A good hour later, after he’d soaked in a tub of hot water, he felt like a new man as he dressed for the day. Since the War Between the States began, Ben, his partner, Clint Culver, and Luke had been living out of two wagons that doubled as portable darkrooms. They had taken many a cold bath along riverbanks and washed up with water heated over open campfires.
He smiled. Clint and Em were probably enjoying their time alone together at one of the local hotels. They’d been praying for time alone, so they decided to treat themselves to a stay at the St. Charles Hotel. Pricey, but Clint and Em deserved it. Besides, it’d be two nights there tops.
Collecting the worn leather-covered Bible from the nightstand, Ben made his way to the dining room. During his growing-up years the day always began with a reading from the Scriptures. Sometimes duty or crisis only allowed for a few verses, but he knew from experience that God’s Word held him firm—even kept him sane in these turbulent times.
“Good morning, sir.” The plump maid straightened as he entered the dining room. “Miss Valerie will be down shortly.”
Anticipation surged through him. He’d noticed something fragile and vulnerable about her. Those qualities drew upon his protective nature—of course, his protective instincts hadn’t helped Luke any . . .
He shoved aside the guilt that seemed a constant companion ever since Luke’s disappearance.
“Breakfast is at eight o’clock.”
Ben checked his pocket watch and saw it was fifteen minutes past seven. “I don’t mind the wait.”
“I appreciate it, sir. In the meantime, might I fetch y’ some coffee or tea?”
He pursed his lips in mom
entary thought. “Would that be real coffee?”
“All the way from South America.” She winked at him. “Or so I’m told.”
He grinned. “Is that right?” Ben thought of the troops he’d been traveling with. They typically used more chicory root than roasted coffee beans in order to stretch their supply. He had a hunch Sergeant Smith, the cook, often threw in a handful of dirt too. Tasted like it, anyhow. “I’d welcome a cup of good strong coffee. Thank you, ma’am.”
She nodded and bustled from the room. Ben took a seat at one end of the long, white linen-covered table and turned his Bible to the Gospel of St. Matthew. Minutes later the maid appeared carrying a silver tray that held a polished coffeepot and porcelain cup and saucer. As she poured out some of the steaming brew, Ben savored its rich aroma.
“There y’ be, sir,” she said in her British clip.
“Again, my thanks.” He sipped. “Mmm . . . I haven’t tasted coffee of this quality in a long time.”
“Oh, it’d be the best.” Adalia pulled her thick shoulders back, a proud expression on her face. “The master of the house is quite selective. He personally oversees his incoming shipments.”
“I’m glad to be the beneficiary of his diligence.”
The maid’s green eyes danced with amusement.
At the mention of his host’s name, he couldn’t help asking, “Will Mr. Fontaine be joining us for breakfast this morning? I’m looking forward to meeting him.”
“Ah . . . ” Humor fled her features. “Well, y’ see, the master’s a busy man, but he might drop in. There’s no tellin’ with him. Now if you’ll excuse me, sir.”
“Of course.” Ben watched the woman scurry from the room then returned his attention to the Bible, turning to the New Testament to mark the New Year. He drank leisurely from his coffee cup and occasionally paused to pray.
By the time Valerie entered the dining room, he’d nearly finished the sixth chapter.
“Good morning.” Her voice sounded as bright as the sunshine.
Unwilling Warrior Page 4
