Scandalous Lovers

by Diana Ballew

  Her heart ached for Lucy. There she sat with swollen, red eyes like cherry tomatoes, a nose as bright as a pickled beet, and a belly that told it all. “Wonderful,” she managed. “Just wonderful.”

  Surprisingly, Lucy had sensed Eden’s desire to leave and return to Richmond, if for no other reason than to keep as far away from the annoying major as possible in the event he did return to Hampton Manor. His hospitality would likely come with a hefty price, and she had a good idea just how the brazen major would expect to be paid.

  Without a doubt, the man was a handsome devil but also arrogant, conceited, and high-minded. She wouldn’t put it past the scandalous lout to be familiar with Lucy’s condition. Who knew how many women he had put with child?

  He’s probably an expert.

  Still, no matter how angry Rayce made her, she had to concede she felt drawn to him; drawn in a way she envisioned a man and woman should feel attracted to one another. If he ever did return, she would find the time to speak with him about Lucy’s condition, but she would be sure to keep her dignity intact, as well.

  Lucy gasped and smiled. “Give me your hand.” She snatched Eden’s hand and placed it on her belly. “Here. Feel.”

  Eden felt the gentle movement against her palm. “Why, that’s a fine kick.”

  “This babe wiggles all the time, and I haven’t seen a doctor out of humiliation. I was hoping once we were here you could help me. I’ve had this baby strapped in so tight, now I’m worried, Eden. I want to make sure everything is all right. Can you help me?”

  Eden smiled. “Absolutely.”

  She instructed Lucy to lie on the bed. With both hands, she felt the top of Lucy’s belly, making out the size and position of the baby’s head and backside. She fetched the stethoscope from the worn, leather, doctor’s bag that had once belonged to her father and listened to the baby’s heartbeat.

  Fast and strong—just as it should be.

  After the examination and some personal questions, she gave Lucy strict orders for more rest, a better diet, and to loosen her crushing stays to give the baby ample room to grow. Later today, she would go to the herb garden, pick mint and chamomile, and make a medicinal tea to help with the nausea and instruct Trinidad to bake hard biscuits for Lucy to nibble.

  “I can’t thank you enough, honey.” Lucy patted her belly. “We can’t thank you enough.”

  She stared at her sweet sister-in-law, wanting nothing more than to protect her and bring a healthy baby into this world for her and Isaac.

  “Lucy? Eden? Where is everybody?”

  Lucy swallowed a gasp.

  Eden flinched. “What about Ann—does she know?”

  “Land sakes—no!” Lucy said in a strangled voice. “Do you think I’d tell her before you? Do you think she could have kept her mouth closed about this?”

  “You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Eden rushed toward the door. “I’ll meet her in the hallway and tell her you’re not feeling well, and then you—”

  “No...no.” Lucy’s eyes dulled. “It’s only a matter of time before she finds out, anyway. Now’s as good a time as any, I suppose.”

  “Are...are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Ann knocked on the door. “Lucy. I know you're in there. I hear voices.”

  Lucy walked behind her dressing screen. “I'm going to freshen my face. Just let her in. Let's get this over with.”

  Eden cracked the door a sliver. Upon seeing Ann alone, she opened it further, pulled her in, and swiftly shut it behind her.

  “Good heavens! You almost crushed my crinoline.” Ann smoothed the garment as though it had just escaped the blades of the guillotine. “I’ve been calling you both; I have so much news.”

  “Perhaps this can wait a minute—”

  “Nonsense,” Ann replied with an impish grin. “I just received a note from Richmond. Varina Howell Davis is planning to evacuate the city if the Yankees get any closer. Of course, all polite society is deeply troubled by such traitorous behavior. Richmond is simply abuzz with the news.”

  Ann removed her riding gloves and looked up, her eyes filled with excitement. She stared at Eden. “What’s gotten into you? Did you hear a word I said? The President of the Confederacy's wife is planning to evacuate the city.” Ann scanned the room. “Where’s Lucy?”

  Lucy emerged in her nightdress, her head lowered.

  Ann yelped and tossed her riding gloves aside. “Oh, sweet baby Jesus! What is wrong with you?” Her wide eyes scrolled up and down Lucy's rotund figure, her mouth twisting.

  Eden rushed to Lucy and put her arm around her waist. “Leave her alone, you simpleton! What do you think is wrong with her?”

  Lucy sighed and plopped down on the bed, clearly unable to deal with Ann’s interrogation.

  Eden’s gaze bored into Ann’s. “I swear you have the manners of a goat. If you can’t be polite then just get out, but keep your mouth shut about this, you hear?” She sat next to Lucy and held her hand.

  Ann stuck her chin out and sat on the opposite side of Lucy. Without pause, she positioned her splayed hands on Lucy’s belly. “How revolting!” She jerked her hands away as if scorched by a hot oven. “It’s as hard as a honeydew.”

  Eden shot up. “For pity’s sake, leave her be!”

  “My, my, Eden, aren’t we feeling high and mighty today? I want what’s best for Lucy, too, you know.”

  “Leave her alone, Ann. This is a serious matter and Lucy needs my...our help.” The best way to keep this out of the Richmond gossip columns would be to include Ann. “She needs our help, mine and yours,” she said, the words sticking like glue inside her throat.

  Ann smiled and fluttered her lashes. “Me? You need me for this blessed event?”

  Eden wanted to slap her silly. The woman could not be counted on for any real help. She learned that firsthand when Ann didn’t lift a finger to help her own husband—a dying man. She swallowed the words forming in her mouth. Blessed event, indeed.

  Lucy cleared her throat and smiled. “Dear, it's lovely you want to help, and I do need you very much. The best thing we can do right now is to keep this a secret, just for now.” She bit down on her bottom lip and looked at the floor. “Sometimes things go wrong and—”

  “You mustn't say such a thing,” Eden interjected.

  Lucy whispered, “But, Eden, sometimes...”

  “Nothing bad is going to happen to this baby. Right, Ann?”

  Ann stared at Lucy as if she belonged in the traveling carnival alongside the two-headed cows. “Oh, yes...yes, of course,” she murmured.

  Eden sighed. “Ann, are you paying attention?”

  “Yes, I’m payin’ attention.” Ann looked up, her gaze darting between Eden and Lucy. “I was just thinking. If we’re to guard this news, how do we keep it from that spooky servant, Trinidad? I swear the woman lurks in every corner of this place.”

  Eden had to agree. There was definitely something peculiar about Trinidad. But that aside, the secret needed to be kept away from family and friends until Lucy said otherwise. The servants at the manor were a different matter. If Lucy were to receive the proper care and attention, they should be informed of her condition and summon help if required.

  Ann scooted closer and lowered her voice. “In fact, just last night during a bout of insomnia, I crept downstairs for a sip of brandy, and there, in the parlor, I happened upon Trinidad with lit candles all around. Her hair hung long and wild. Her feet were completely bare, and she was humming and dancing slowly. Why, I’ve never seen anything like it in all my days. She didn’t even notice me, and I crept back upstairs to my bedroom.”

  Eden looked at Lucy. “Surely, you know more about her?”

  “Really, I don't know much. Unlike Daniel, who’s been here since the day he was born, Trinidad's only been here since Rayce's granddaddy died. All I know is what Rayce mentioned in his letters.”

  Ann’s eyes widened. “Come now, Lucy, think.”

&nb
sp; Lucy tapped her chin. “There once was some talk...Wait. I think I remember something.”

  Ann squirmed. “Do tell!”

  “Yes, I remember now. He once mentioned that while traveling on family business he brought back a servant from the West Indies, Barbados, I believe. Yes, that's right. About two years ago, right after his Granddaddy Hampton died before the war.”

  Lucy held a hand to her mouth, stifling a giggle. “Oh, yes, I do remember. Because she was attractive and not much older than Rayce, it caused a bit of a scandal. Yes, it must have been Trinidad.”

  Eden’s stomach tightened into a knot. So that’s it. The man’s been bedding the help!

  Rayce rubbed the tight muscles along the base of his neck. It had been a long, exhausting ride. With the poor creature beneath him looking as though he could drop dead at any moment, he slowed the horse to a slow trot and scanned the area for a nearby creek. He never rode a horse this damn hard, but the closer he got to the manor, the more he longed for a good night of sleep in his own bed.

  For weeks he’d been trudging in and out of enemy camps, planting the false maps and inaccurate numbers with little sleep in between. Riding in the rain and mud, knocking back wretched coffee and hardtack; all while dodging minie balls and nobody to trust along the way. Hell, it was enough to drive any man mad.

  He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the horse’s steady trot, threatening to lull him to sleep. He saw an image of himself walking into a Yankee camp in his Confederate uniform instead of the Union garb. If such a thing were to happen, it would be a death sentence for sure. They don't think twice about hanging a man for that.

  He snapped his eyes open and shook his head, forcing the disturbing vision from his brain. Maybe the general was right when he called him hardheaded and gave the direct order. He remembered Jeb’s words and how they bothered him.

  “Look, Rayce,” he’d said, “you haven't had an ounce of sleep in over a week. Take a few days’ break while you're within a few miles of Hampton Manor. I order you to go spend some time with your family.”

  What the devil have I gotten myself into? Now I'm a family man?

  He’d been a loner far too long for that kind of crazy thinking. Sure, he's helping out some stranded women, letting them stay in his home for a spell, but that's all.

  The day grew dark. He dismounted the horse and took a good look at the pathetic, sway-backed creature. Too bad his own horse was shot out from under him two days earlier, and he had to find a quick replacement to complete the mission on time. Now, the old, stubborn animal he had to steal from the Yankee Army wasn't worth the trouble any longer.

  He searched the horizon for military movement. As soon as he reached the open marshy tidelands, he could release the poor beast and go by foot the rest of the way.

  He thought back to the beginning of the war with Mexico, when he had first met the young West Pointer, a Second Lieutenant named George McClellan. Back then, both men fought on the same side. While McClellan spent his time working his way up the ranks of the military, Rayce had been busy undercover, acquiring the skills necessary for the dangerous scouting and reconnaissance missions the military required. The best lessons came later in Texas with the Mounted Rifles, where he and Jeb Stuart became friends, and again on the western frontier. There, in the wilds of the West, he learned the techniques of the Comanche and Apache warriors, to enter and exit enemy camps undetected. Of course, back then he had no idea the entire country would be ripped in half years later, each nation fighting and killing one another. Hell, if he had known this would happen, perhaps he wouldn’t have followed those years messing about in New Orleans, gambling, drinking, and womanizing.

  He smiled. Well, maybe he wouldn’t have gambled and drunk so much.

  With any luck, the long hours were paying off, and the numbers he'd planted for Pinkerton's men were being relayed quickly to General McClellan who had always been a meticulous planner and overestimated situations. He hoped to God he had the man pegged enough to know, if McClellan felt completely outnumbered, he would not press forward for a final siege on Richmond.

  The sickening possibility of defeat had been gnawing away inside him ever since he heard the Confederates would be evacuating forces at Yorktown. McClellan would be closer to Richmond and at the very heels of Hampton Manor, as well. He wondered if Southerners really knew how close the Yanks were to seizing control of the Rebel capital. How close they all were to losing the Cause they were fighting and dying for every day. For the South to survive it was imperative the Yankee general hold off his advancement; otherwise, the war could be over in a matter of days.

  Briefly, he had thought perhaps Lucy, Eden, and Ann would have been better off if he’d left well enough alone and they had stayed at Aunt Martha’s, but talked circulated at the last meeting that put the thought to rest. Rather than give in to Yankee bombardment and invasion, the Confederate government was considering the dreadful possibility of having to burn Richmond to the ground themselves.

  He slowly shook his head and sighed. God, how Richmond had changed. The once elegant city with her simple graces no longer existed. Widespread extortion, food scarcity, displaced refuges swelling the population to twice its size, the sorrowful trains bringing in the dead and wounded. Now it resembles a place of horrors where thieves and murderers walk the same streets with the rest of the residents.

  He guided the reins through the dark, dense woods. In an attempt to forget how cold and wet his feet were, he thought about the good night’s rest awaiting him at home while he waited for further instructions. He cleared the woods, slogging through the moonlit open marsh, his narrowed gaze scoping the region for any Union advancement.

  “They haven’t made it up this far yet,” he muttered. “Good luck, ol’ boy.” He tucked the worn leather reins into the saddle. With a firm smack to the beast’s hindquarter, he set the horse free. “Yah!”

  He wiggled his numb toes against the inside of his boots. The image of his warm bed, rather than what he had been forced to doze under lately, looked better with every mile he hiked. The very idea of Hampton Manor lying within a combat zone if the Yanks advanced, felt like a huge pit wedged in his gut. Hell, then again, with all those damned women housed together under one roof, who knew what he could be walking into?

  Chapter 8

  The fragrant magnolia bathwater had cooled. While it was earlier than her usual time to retire, Eden was more than ready for bed after the long day. Her arms felt heavy and weighted as she slowly eased herself from the tub and reached for the plush towel.

  The large hearth held a warm fire, but the sudden rush of air cooled her damp skin. She slid on a satin chemise and pulled the tortoiseshell pins from her hair, combing the small tangles with her fingers. Welcoming sleep, she slipped between the smooth bed sheets and pulled the quilt high, tucking it beneath her chin.

  Just as she felt herself drifting to sleep, she heard heavy footsteps on the front portico, just below her windows, followed by a swift slam of the front door. The footsteps advanced with determination, their movement barely stifled by the thick oriental carpets leading into the parlor.

  She knew that walk. Rayce was home.

  Weeks had passed since she had last seen him. With each day, the respite had lulled her into assuming she would not have to face running into him again. Despite the hot bath, an icy chill worked its way along the base of her spine.

  The swift movement of footsteps stopped abruptly; replaced with exaggerated, muted words. She sat up like shot, tossing the covers aside, and listened.

  More hushed tones.

  She tiptoed to the bedroom door and pressed her ear against the thick wood.

  Heavy boots. Pacing. Hushed whispers. More pacing. Did she hear crying?

  She quickly slipped into her satin wrap and clutched it shut. The moment she nudged open the bedroom door, the voices became clearer. As she expected, the deep voice belonged to Rayce. The other soft, muted voice was harder to make out, but
clearly female.

  “No, Rayce, you mustn’t. I beg of you,” the woman pleaded, “I need you.”

  She inched open the door and tiptoed down the dark hallway. With each measured step, the tiny bones in her feet crackled like the snapping of small twigs on a frosty day. She inhaled short breaths, her fingertips brushing against the wood paneled wall, guiding her, until she reached the top of the staircase.

  “How can you ask that?” Rayce questioned. “My God, woman, you know how much I care for you, but do not ask this of me.”

  The woman emitted a deeply pained sigh. “You know I cannot help it,” she whimpered. “You of all people know I cannot help how I feel.”

  A slow thunder pounded inside her chest. With catlike precision, she slithered down the wide steps, her heart beating like a heavy drum inside her ears with each careful step. With any luck, she would steal a peek around the corner and witness the confrontation.

  As she neared the bottom step, the stairway suddenly groaned, echoing off the polished wood. The voices paused in mid-conversation, and a charge of panic swept through her, freezing her in her tracks. Her heart stopped for a moment, only to resume with a giant thud against her chest.

  Common sense told her to get out of there; to flee as fast as she could up the steps and seal herself in her room—feign sleep if need be, but instinct led her to stay frozen in step.

  Moments later, the voices resumed, and she breathed a shallow sigh as she tiptoed down the last remaining step.

  “Please, listen to me,” the woman pleaded. “You know I love you, yes?”

  A heavy sigh. “Of course, dear,” he replied. “But you don’t understand.”

  Dear?

  She slid her hands along the smooth wood molding keeping her balanced and slowly inched her way toward the entrance of the softly lit parlor. With trembling fingers, she gathered her long hair and craned her neck. Just then, a body came scurrying around the corner, careening right into her, practically knocking her off balance.