Miss Dolly clucked her tongue. "There, there, General. I don't want you to worry your head for an instant about Katharine Louise. A more loyal daughter of the Confederacy does not exist. She would never betray your true identity to anyone. Isn't that so, darlin'?"
Kit tried to reply. She even opened her mouth. But nothing seemed to come out.
Miss Dolly plucked up the chicken-skin fan that dangled from her bony wrist and tapped Kit's arm.
"Tell the general that's so, darlin', this very instant. We mustn't let him worry unnecessarily about betrayal. The poor man has enough on his mind without adding to his burden. Go on, now. Tell him he can trust you. Tell him."
"You can trust me," Kit croaked.
Cain glared at her.
Miss Dolly smiled and sniffed the air. "If my nose isn't betraying me, I do believe I smell chicken fricassee. I'm more than a little partial to fricassee, 'deed I am, especially if it contains just a tiny dash of nutmeg."
She linked her arm through Cain's and turned toward the dining room. "You know, General, there's a strong possibility that we're distantly related. According to my great-aunt, Phoebe Littlefield Calhoun, her father's branch of the family is connected through marriage to the Virginia Lees."
Cain stopped dead in his tracks. "Are you trying to tell me, madam-Do you actually believe that I am General Robert E. Lee?"
Miss Dolly opened her Cupid's-bow mouth to respond, only to close it with a giggle. "Oh, no, you shan't catch me that easily, General. And it's naughty of you to test me, especially after I informed you that you could rely on my discretion. You're Major Baron Nathaniel Cain. Katharine Louise told me that quite clearly."
And then she favored him with a broad, conspiratorial wink.
Cain scowled throughout dinner, and Kit's normal appetite deserted her. Not only did she have to endure his company and the memory of their kiss, but she knew she'd planted the seed of Miss Dolly's latest madness. Miss Dolly, however, had no difficulty filling the strained silence. She chirped on about fricassees, distant relations, and the medicinal qualities of chamomile until Cain's face looked like a storm cloud. Over dessert, he came to a full state of alert when she suggested an informal poetry recitation in the parlor.
"Worst luck. Miss Calhoun." His gaze traveled down the table. "Katharine Louise has brought along some secret dispatches from New York City. I'm afraid I need to meet with her privately." One tawny brow shot upward. "And immediately!"
Miss Dolly beamed. "Why, of course, dear General. You needn't say another word. You go on. I'll just sit here and enjoy this delicious ginger cake. Why, I haven't-"
"You're a true patriot, madam." He pushed back his chair and gestured toward the door. "The library, Katharine Louise."
"I… uh…"
"Now."
"Hurry along, my dear. The general is a busy man."
"And about to get busier," he said pointedly.
Kit rose and swept past him. Fine. It was time they had a showdown.
The library at Risen Glory was much as Kit remembered. Comfortable chairs with sagging leather seats sat at angles to the old mahogany desk. The generous windows kept everything light and cheerful despite the somber leather-bound books that lined the shelves.
It had always been her favorite room at Risen Glory, and she resented the unfamiliar humidor sitting on the desk as well as the Colt army revolver that rested in a red-lined wooden box next to it. Most of all, she resented the portrait of Abraham Lincoln that hung above the mantelpiece in place of "The Beheading of John the Baptist." a painting that had been there for as long as she could remember.
Cain slouched into the chair behind the desk, propped his heels on the mahogany surface, and crossed his ankles. His posture was deliberately insolent, but she didn't let him see that it annoyed her. Earlier that afternoon when she'd been veiled, he'd treated her as a woman. Now he wanted to treat her as his stable boy. He'd soon see it wouldn't be that easy to ignore the years that had passed.
"i told you to stay in New York," he said.
"So you did." She pretended to study the room. "That portrait of Mr. Lincoln is out of place at Risen Glory. It insults my father's memory."
"From what I hear, your father insulted his own memory."
"True. But he was still my father, and he died bravely."
"There's nothing brave about death." The angular planes of his face grew harsh in the dim lamplight of the room. "Why did you disobey my orders and leave New York?"
"Because your orders were unreasonable."
"I don't have to explain myself."
"So you seem to think. I fulfilled our agreement."
"Did you? Our agreement was for you to conduct yourself properly."
"I completed my time at the Academy."
"It's not your activities at the Academy that concern me." Without taking his feet from the desktop, he leaned forward and extracted a letter from a drawer. Then he slapped it on the desk. "Interesting reading, although I wouldn't want to show it to anyone who's easily shocked."
She picked it up. Her stomach twisted when she saw the signature. Hamilton Woodward.
It is my sad duty to report that last Easter, while a guest in our house, your ward behaved in a manner so shocking, I can barely report it. On the evening of our annual dinner party, Katharine brazenly attempted to seduce one of my partners. Fortunately, I interrupted in time. The poor man was stunned. He has a wife and children, and is prominent in local charities. Her wanton behavior makes me fear that she might be afflicted with the sickness of nymphomania…
She crumpled the letter and threw it on his desk. She had no idea what nymphomania was, but it sounded horrible. "This letter's a lie. You can't believe it."
"I was reserving judgment until I had a chance to travel to New York at the end of the summer and speak with you personally. That was why I told you to stay where you were."
"We had an agreement. You can't set that aside just because Hamilton Woodward is a fool."
"Is he?"
"Yes." She felt the color burning in her cheeks.
"You're telling me you don't make a habit of offering your favors?"
"Of course not."
His eyes drifted to her mouth, forcing her to recall what had happened between them only a few hours earlier.
"If this letter's such a lie," he said quietly, "how do you explain slipping into my arms so easily this afternoon? Was that your idea of proper conduct?"
She didn't know how to defend something she couldn't understand herself, so she went on the attack. "Maybe you're the one who should explain. Or do you always assault the young women who come into this house?"
"Assault?"
"Consider yourself lucky I was fatigued by my journey," she said as haughtily as she could manage. "Otherwise my fist would have ended up in your belly. Which is what I did to Mr. Woodward's friend." He dropped his feet to the carpet. "I see." He didn't believe her. "It's interesting that you're so concerned about my behavior, but you don't seem to be giving any thought to your own."
"It's not the same thing. You're a woman."
"Ah, I see. And that makes a difference?" He looked prickly. "You know exactly what I mean."
"If you say so."
"I say you're going back to New York!"
"And I say I'm not."
"It isn't up to you to decide."
That was truer than she could bear to admit, and she thought quickly "You want to get rid of me, isn't that right? And put an end to this ridiculous guardianship?"
"More than you'll ever know."
"Then you'll let me stay at Risen Glory."
"Forgive me if I don't see the connection." She tried to speak calmly. "There are several gentlemen who wish to marry me. I simply need a few weeks to make up my mind which one I'm going to choose."
His face clouded. "Make up your mind in New York."
"How can I? It's been a confusing three years, and this is the most important decision of my life. I have to consider it carefully, and I need
familiar surroundings to do that. Otherwise I'll never be able to decide, and neither of us wants that." The explanation was thin at best, but she gave it all the sincerity she could muster.
His glower grew darker. He moved toward the fireplace. "Somehow I can't see you as a devoted wife."
She couldn't see herself that way either, but still his comment offended her. "I don't know why not." She summoned an image of Lilith Shelton as she'd held court with her opinions about men and marriage. "Marriage is what every woman wants., isn't it?" She adopted the same wide-eyed vacuousness she'd seen so often on her former classmate's face. "A husband to take care of her, pretty clothes, a piece of jewelry on her birthday. What more could a woman want from life?"
Cain's eyes grew wintry. "Three years ago when you were my stable boy, you were a thorn in my side, but you were brave and hardworking. That Kit Weston wouldn't have been interested in selling herself for clothes and jewelry."
"That Kit Weston hadn't been forced by her guardian to attend a finishing school devoted to turning young girls into wives."
She'd made her point. He reacted with a bored shrug and leaned against the mantelpiece. "It's all in the past."
"That past has molded who I am now." She took a deep breath. "I intend to marry, but I don't want to make the wrong choice. I need time, and I'd like to have that time here."
He studied her. "These young men…" His voice dropped in pitch and developed an unsettling huskiness. "Do you kiss them like you kissed me yesterday?"
She needed all her willpower not to look away. "It was the fatigue from my journey. They're much too gentlemanly to have pressed themselves as you did."
"Then they're fools."
She wondered what he meant by that. He moved away from the fireplace. "Very well. You can have one month, but if you haven't made up your mind by then, you're going back to New York, husband or not. And another thing…" He tilted his head toward the hallway. "That crazy woman has to go. Let her rest for a day, then put her on the train. I'll make sure she's compensated."
"No! I can't."
"Yes, you can."
"I promised her."
"That was your mistake."
He looked so unbending. What argument could she offer that would convince him? "I can't stay here without a chaperone."
"It's a little late to worry about respectability."
"Perhaps for you, but not for me."
"I don't think she'll be much of a chaperone. As soon as any of the neighbors talk to her, they'll realize she's crazy as a loon."
Kit rose in hot defense. "She's not crazy!"
"You could have fooled me."
"She's just a little… different."
"More than a little." Cain regarded her suspiciously. "Just how did she get the idea that I was General Lee?"
"I… might have inadvertently mentioned something."
"You told her I was General Lee?"
"No, of course not. She was afraid to meet you, and I was trying to tease her into a better mood. I had no idea she'd take me seriously." Kit explained what had happened when she went to Miss Dolly's room.
"And now you expect me to go along with this charade?"
"It won't be hard," Kit pointed out reasonably. "She does most of the talking."
"That's not good enough."
"It'll have to be." She hated pleading with him, and the words nearly stuck in her throat. "Please. She doesn't have anyplace else to go."
"Damn it, Kit! I don't want her here."
"You don't want me here, either, but you're letting me stay. What difference does one more person make?"
"A big difference." His expression turned calculating. "You want a lot from me, but I haven't heard you offer anything in return."
"I'll exercise your horses," she said quickly.
"I was thinking of something more personal."
She swallowed. "I'll mend your clothes."
"You were more imaginative three years ago. Of course, you weren't as… experienced then as you are now. Do you remember the night you offered to be my mistress?"
She slid the tip of her tongue over her dry lips. "I was desperate."
"How desperate are you now?"
"This discussion is highly improper," she managed to reply with all the starch of Elvira Templeton.
"Not as improper as that kiss this afternoon." He came closer, and his voice was low, slightly husky. For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her again. Instead, his lips curled into a smile full of mockery. "Miss Dolly can stay for now. I'll make up my mind later how you can repay me."
As he left the room, she stared at the door and tried to decide whether she'd won or lost.
That night, Cain lay motionless in the dark, one arm crooked behind his head, and stared at the ceiling. What kind of game had he been playing with her this evening? Or was she the one playing the game?
Her kiss this afternoon had made it clear she was no innocent, but was she as wanton as Woodward's letter would have him believe? He didn't know. For now, he would simply have to wait and watch.
In his mind he saw a wild-rose mouth with bruised, petal-soft lips, and desire rushed through him, hot and thick.
One thing he knew for certain. The time when he could regard her as a child was gone forever.
9
Kit was up early the next morning despite her restless night. She pulled on khaki britches that would have scandalized Elsbeth, then shrugged into a boy's shirt and drew it closed over her lace-edged chemise. She regretted the shirt's long sleeves, but her arms would be brown as a butternut if she left them exposed to the sun. She consoled herself that the white material was as thin and fine as the fabric of her undergarments and would undoubtedly be cool.
She tucked her shirttails into her britches and fastened the short row of buttons snugly over the front. As she drew on her boots, she enjoyed the way the soft brown leather molded to her feet and calves. They were the first pair of good riding boots she'd ever owned, and she couldn't wait to try them out.
She arranged her hair in a single long braid at the back. Tendrils curled at her temples and in front of the tiny silver ear studs she'd fastened in her lobes. To shade her face, she'd bought a boy's black felt hat with a flat brim and a thin leather cord that fastened beneath her chin.
When she finished dressing, she frowned at her reflection in the cheval glass. Despite her masculine dress, no one could mistake her for a boy. The soft material of the shirt outlined her breasts with more definition than she'd anticipated, and the slim cut of the boy's britches clung to womanly hips.
What did it matter? She intended to wear her unorthodox outfit only when she rode on Risen Glory land. Anyplace else, she'd wear her new riding habit no matter how much she detested its confinement. She grimaced as she remembered that she'd also have to ride sidesaddle then, something she'd done only on occasional outings in Central Park. How she'd hated it. The sidesaddle had robbed her of the sense of power she loved and left her feeling awkward and unbalanced.
She let herself out of the house quietly, passing up breakfast and a morning chat with Sophronia. Her old friend had come to her room last night. Although Sophronia listened politely to Kit's stories, she'd volunteered little about the changes in her own life. When Kit had pressed her for details, she'd relayed neighborhood gossip that revealed nothing of herself. Only when Kit had asked her about Magnus Owen did she seem to be the Sophronia of old, haughty and snappish.
Sophronia had always been an enigma, but now she seemed even more so. It wasn't just the outward changes produced by pretty clothes and a good diet. Sophronia seemed to resent her. Maybe the feeling had always been there, but Kit had been too young to understand it. What made it even more puzzling was that, beneath that resentment, Kit felt the old, familiar force of Sophronia's love.
She delicately sniffed the air as she walked across the open yard behind the house. It smelled exactly as she remembered it, of good, rich earth and fresh manure. She even caught the faint s
cent of skunk, not altogether unpleasant at a distance. Merlin came out to greet her, and she stopped to scratch his ears and throw a stick for him to fetch.
The horses weren't yet in the paddock, so she let herself into the stable, a new building erected on the foundation of the one the Yankees had burned. The heels of her boots clicked on the stone floor, which was swept as cleanly as when Kit had attended to it.
There were ten stalls, four of which were currently filled, two with carriage horses. She inspected the other horses and dismissed one immediately, an old sorrel mare who was obviously gentle but had no sparkle. She'd be a good mount for a timid rider, but Kit wasn't timid.
The other horse excited her. He was a midnight-black gelding with a white blaze running down the center of his head. He was a large, powerful-looking animal, nearly eighteen hands, and his eyes were alert and lively.
She reached out a hand to stroke the long, elegant neck. "What's your name, boy?"
The animal whinnied softly and tossed his powerful head.
Kit smiled. "I have an idea we're going to be good friends."
Just then the stable door opened, and she turned to see a young boy, perhaps eleven or twelve, come in.
"Are you Miz Kit?"
"Yes. Who are you?"
"I'm Samuel. The major told me if you came to the stable today, I'm's'posed to tell you he wants you to ride Lady."
Kit looked suspiciously toward the old sorrel mare. "Lady?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Sorry, Samuel." She stroked the gelding's silky mane. "We'll saddle this one instead."
"That's Temptation, ma'am. And the major was most particular. He said for you to leave Temptation alone and ride Lady, and he said if I let you leave this stable on Temptation, he was goin' to have my hide, and then you'd have to live with that on your conscience."
Kit fumed at Cain's blatant manipulation. She doubted he'd see through on his threat to hurt Samuel, but the man still had the heart of a marauding Yankee, so she couldn't take the chance. She gazed longingly at Temptation. Never had a horse been better named.
"Saddle Lady." She sighed. "I'll talk to Mr. Cain."
As she'd suspected, Lady was more interested in grazing than racing. Kit soon gave up trying to urge the mare beyond a sedate trot and turned her attention to the changes around her.
Just Imagine aka Risen Glory Page 12