The Bride Spy (Civil War Brides Book 3)

by Piper Davenport

  He ran his hands through his hair. “Sweetheart, please stop all of this.”

  “Why? So it lets you off the hook?” She was beyond exhausted at this point and didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. She burst into tears.

  “Hannah.” He pulled her into his arms.

  She pushed him away. “No. I don’t want to be handled or placated. I just want to be left alone.”

  “Please, Hannah.”

  “Alone, Christopher.” She pointed to the door. “That means without you.”

  Christopher quietly turned, walked out of the room, and closed the door. Hannah collapsed on the bed and sobbed.

  “Han-Han?” Emma knocked and opened her door at the same time about thirty minutes later. Hannah finished washing her face and motioned her in.

  “Can I come, too?” Sophie asked as she stepped inside.

  Hannah rushed into Sophie’s open arms.

  DOWNSTAIRS, CHRISTOPHER WASN’T having a much easier time of it.

  “So... let me clarify,” Jamie said. “You asked someone to follow Hannah, but didn’t tell her you were doing it.”

  “Yes,” Christopher said.

  Jamie sipped his drink and paced the room. “And then you tried to tell her it was for her protection.”

  “Yes.”

  Jamie grinned. “And then you apologized for assuming?”

  Christopher grimaced. “Yes.”

  Jamie flopped back onto the sofa. “You’re screwed, dude.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Christopher snapped.

  Jamie shrugged. “This had nothing to do with anything you thought it did.”

  “I’m about ready to break something,” Christopher grumbled.

  Both Clayton and Jamie chuckled.

  “Chris, Hannah’s different. She’s been trained, possibly better than many of the men on your staff. Perhaps even better than you.” Jamie smiled proudly. “She has fight training that you and your men wouldn’t have. In fact, I gave all three girls defensive training, but Hannah went further, needing it for her job.”

  Christopher rubbed his chin. “She showed me.”

  “I have a feeling she went easy on you since she loves you. Because believe me, you wouldn’t be walking right now if she were serious.” Jamie crossed an ankle over his knee and Christopher wanted to punch the smug look off his face. “The bottom line is that this has nothing to do with the fact you got someone to watch her, you get that right?”

  Christopher scowled. “No, apparently not.”

  “She’s reacting to the fact you didn’t communicate with her. If you’d told her that you were going to have someone check on her, she probably wouldn’t have cared. Unlike many women, she’s very logical. Put yourself in her shoes.”

  Without comment, Christopher left the room made his way upstairs. He let himself into the bedroom and found his sobbing wife being comforted by her friends. “Sophie, Emma, would you please excuse us?”

  The girls left the room and Christopher climbed onto the bed with Hannah. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her temple. “I am so sorry. Once again I played the all-knowing man and didn’t give you the respect you deserve. Will you please forgive me?”

  She rolled over to face him, tell-tale hiccups indicated her sobbing was over. He kissed her. She kissed him back.

  “I love you,” he said. “Please say you’ll forgive me.”

  “I don’t know yet,” she whispered.

  Christopher chuckled and then kissed her again. “What about now?”

  “I’m still thinking.”

  He kissed her again, but this time he moved his hand down her body and reached behind her to loosen her corset. He released the first three hooks on the front and slipped his hand under her chemise. “Now?”

  “Still not sure,” she said as she kissed him.

  He unhooked the remainder of her corset and pushed it from her body. “What about now?”

  Hannah groaned. “You’re beginning to make a persuasive argument.” Christopher kissed her once more and Hannah laid her hand on his chest. “You’re forgiven.”

  Christopher chuckled as she smiled up at him and kissed him. “I think you may drive me to an early grave.”

  She wrinkled her nose, her freckles dancing as if to mock him. “I might just kill you myself.”

  “Oh? And then what would you do?”

  “I’d marry me a younger man who’s a little on the dumb side. Much easier to control.”

  He stroked her cheek. “I really am sorry, sweetheart. I’ll try not to underestimate you again.”

  Hannah nodded. “Just talk to me, okay? That’s all I ask. I’ll even accept partial information, but no information doesn’t work for me.”

  “All right, sweetheart.” He sat up. “Now, we should probably join our friends downstairs for dinner.”

  Christopher pulled her off the bed and, after fixing her clothing, he led her downstairs to join the rest of their friends who were playing cards in the parlor.

  * * *

  Emma stood and walked over to give Hannah a hug. “Are you okay?”

  Hannah nodded. “I am now.”

  Emma took her hand and led her into the room.

  Jamie drew Hannah’s focus as he sat next to Sophie. “Did you show Christopher a few things, Han?”

  Hannah nodded. “Yes.”

  “Did you kick his ass?”

  Hannah giggled. “Of course.”

  Jamie laughed. “Good girl.”

  Christopher stood in the corner, arms crossed and a frown on his face. Hannah closed the distance between them. “No glaring, Knight. I schooled you and you need to take it like a man.”

  “Is that another family saying?”

  Hannah smiled. “You could say that, yes.”

  Christopher grinned down at her and pulled her into his arms. Leading her over to one of the high-backed chairs, he pulled her onto his lap as he sat down.

  “This is public, Knight,” she whispered.

  “No, this is friends and family.” Hannah giggled and relaxed against his chest. Christopher shifted slightly and then groaned. “Where are your shoes?”

  “Upstairs, I would imagine.”

  He rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue.

  “Dinner is served,” Mrs. Putnam informed from the doorway.

  The group filed into the dining room, but hadn’t been seated for more than five minutes when Mrs. Putnam interrupted them. “Mrs. Ford, ma’am. There’s someone here to see you. A young lady.”

  Sophie laid her napkin on the table. “Me? Really? No one knows I’m here.”

  Jamie pushed his chair back and stood. “I’ll see to this.”

  “She said young woman, Jamie. I doubt she’s packing.”

  “Sophie.”

  “Fine... lead the way, big man.”

  Jamie led Sophie out of the room.

  Hannah frowned when Christopher and Clayton stood and made their way to the door, effectively blocking access to her and Emma. Hannah stood and peeked around Christopher.

  “It’s Christine,” he said and stepped back.

  Hannah and Emma rushed to the foyer. Christine was in Sophie’s arms, sobbing.

  Sophie rubbed her back. “Christine, it’s all right. What happened?”

  “I just had to get away.”

  “Did you travel alone?” Jamie asked.

  Christine pulled out of Sophie’s embrace and shot him a glare over her shoulder. Hannah helped her with her coat and hat.

  Jamie narrowed his eyes. “Christine Martin, did you travel all the way from Harrisburg without an escort?”

  She turned to face him. “I am perfectly capable of riding alone on a train.”

  “Does Andrew know... or Stephen?” he snapped.

  Sophie touched her arm. “Does anyone know where you are?”

  “No.”

  Jamie swore. Christine crossed her arms. “I came here for respite from overbearing men, James. I thought you, of all people, wo
uld have applauded my independence.”

  “Not when you put yourself in danger.”

  “Well, you are not a brother, father, or husband, so you have no say.”

  “Christine!” Sophie admonished.

  Christine burst into tears again. “Oh, Jamie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  Jamie chuckled and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay, Christine. As much as I don’t like the fact you traveled by yourself, I’m impressed with the backbone you’re forming.”

  She smacked his arm. Sophie took her hand and squeezed. “Let’s get you freshened up and then you can join us for dinner.”

  “First door on the left, Sophie. I’ll send Mrs. Putnam up with fresh water,” Hannah said.

  Once Hannah had given the housekeeper the message, she joined the rest of the group back in the dining room. Sophie and Christine returned a few minutes later, Christine looking much more composed.

  The friends enjoyed a leisurely and animated dinner, but decided not to stay any later. Emma promised Hannah that she, Sophie, and Christine would come by in the morning and they would spend the day together. When everyone left, Christopher took Hannah back up to bed and spent the night making everything up to her.

  * * *

  The next morning, Hannah made Christopher move the furniture around in the parlor, the largest room they had, even removing a few of the unnecessary pieces and storing them in his office. She’d planned an elaborate meal for their friends, followed by dancing after dinner.

  “It’s not permanent, Knight.”

  “Sweetheart, I can barely get to my desk.”

  Hannah shrugged. “I don’t intend on letting you do any work tonight, anyway. Let’s move the chairs to the walls, and you’ll barely know they’re in here.”

  When Christopher grudgingly agreed and did as she asked, Hannah stood in the doorway of the parlor and clapped her hands in glee. The space was much larger than she’d imagined. “I remember Sophie reading something to me in one of her books.”

  “Oh?”

  “It said that the Victorian parlor was usually overstuffed with unnecessary furniture.” Hannah settled her hands on her hips. “The author wasn’t kidding. We don’t really need any of the stuff we moved out of here. We should just keep it this way.”

  Christopher smiled. “You like it better this way?”

  “Most definitely. Don’t you?”

  He lifted her to his height and kissed her quickly. “I love you.”

  She looped her hands around his neck. “So you approve?”

  “I do. But Gwen and mama decorated the lower floor, insisting it had to be this way.”

  Hannah frowned. “Oh. Well, maybe we should keep it the other way. What would I know?”

  “You know your husband and how to make him happy.”

  Hannah giggled. Leaning down, she kissed him deeply. “Yes, I do.”

  He lowered her back to her feet and they finished their redecorating. After checking with Mrs. Putnam to make sure everything was under control, Hannah forced Christopher from his office—he’d snuck in when she’d gone to talk to the housekeeper—and dragged him upstairs to change.

  The small group arrived en masse just before six. Once outerwear, hats, and gloves were discarded, they gathered in the newly decorated parlor.

  “Oh, Han, the room is magnificent,” Emma said and spun in a circle. “Plenty of room to dance.”

  Sophie nodded. “I’ve never understood the need to cram so much furniture into one room.”

  Hannah laughed. “I know what you mean. We’re thinking we might keep it this way.”

  “You should,” Emma agreed.

  “What would everyone like to drink?” Christopher asked.

  Before anyone could put in their requests, a banging at the front door had them on alert. Christopher rushed into the foyer and guided Mrs. Putnam into the parlor. “Stay here.”

  Clayton and Jamie followed him back into the foyer, while Hannah sidled up to the door. Christopher opened the front door, and an angry Stephen Paxton stood on the porch. “Is Christine here?”

  Jamie slid his gun into the back of his trousers and held his hand out to him. “Yes, Stephen. Come in.”

  Once Stephen stepped inside, Christopher closed the door and took his coat.

  Hannah turned from her place at the doorway. “Your man doesn’t look so happy, Christine.”

  Christine grabbed Sophie’s hand, her eyes wide with panic. “My man?”

  Stephen barreled into the parlor. “Christine, I’m about to lose my mind with you. You need to stop running away.”

  Christine crossed her arms, seemingly uncomfortable with her own bluster. “And I’m sick of you hovering.”

  Stephen stepped toward her. “How long do you expect me to do this?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said defensively.

  “Teeny!” Sophie admonished.

  “Don’t be obtuse, Christine,” Stephen snapped.

  “Don’t be overbearing, Stephen,” Christine countered.

  Hannah leaned back against Christopher as they watched the scene unfold around them.

  Stephen shrugged. “Fine. We’ll always have Harrisburg. Have a nice life.” He turned to walk out the door.

  “Wait! What did you just say?” Sophie asked.

  He faced Sophie. “I’m leaving.”

  “No, not that.” Sophie raised an eyebrow. “Tell me... if I said something to you like ‘you’re gonna need a bigger boat,’ does that mean anything to you?”

  Hannah glanced at Stephen and then at Sophie.

  “Should it?” Stephen asked.

  “If it did, would you tell me the truth?” Sophie asked.

  “You can’t handle the truth,” he retorted.

  Hannah widened her eyes, and she and Emma shared a look of shock.

  Sophie smiled. “You had me at hello.”

  “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

  Hannah gave a quiet chuckle. “Uh... Mrs. Putnam, would you be so kind as to set another place for dinner?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Apparently, no one had remembered the housekeeper was in the room, and Hannah felt Christopher stiffen behind her. Mrs. Putnam left the room and Hannah pulled the door shut. Christopher raised an eyebrow. “Is this conversation going where I think it’s going?”

  Hannah nodded.

  “You’re not from around here, are you?” Sophie asked.

  “Neither are you,” he said.

  “No, neither am I. Neither are Jamie, Emma, and Hannah.”

  Stephen’s eyes widened. “Really?”

  Sophie nodded. “When did you get here?”

  “1859”

  “When did you leave?”

  Stephen sighed. “1997.”

  Christine gasped. “You’re from Sophie’s time?”

  “You know?” Stephen countered.

  Christine nodded, her face paling.

  Sophie wrapped an arm around Christine’s shoulders. “There are a few who know, Stephen. Clayton and Christopher know, obviously, as does Christine... and Andrew.”

  Stephen glanced over at Christine, his expression softening.

  “Where were you when you disappeared?” Sophie asked.

  Stephen focused back on Sophie. “The library of my parents’ house.”

  Hannah gasped. “In Portland, Oregon?”

  “Yes.” He sounded utterly confused.

  “Portland?” Jamie asked.

  Hannah let out quiet squeal. “Oh, my... Sophie, he’s the med student who disappeared in 1997.”

  “Med student?”

  “Yeah, remember me telling you about the house. Your house? The people who owned it before you? They could only get renters in after he disappeared because no one would buy it. Everyone thought it was haunted.”

  “No way!” Sophie turned to face him. “You’re him?”

  Stephen ran his hands through his hair. “You live
d in my house?”

  A collective nod was given by Jamie, Sophie, Emma, and Hannah.

  “Wow. This is surreal.” He paced for several minutes but then turned to Christine and took her hand. “I intend to explore this all further, but for now, let’s focus on you. This has to stop, you realize that, right?”

  Christine blushed. “What has to stop?”

  “Christine!” Sophie groaned.

  “I don’t want to have this conversation in public,” Christine whispered, glaring at Stephen and Sophie simultaneously.

  “Too bad.” Stephen kissed her palm. “This constant game of cat and mouse has to stop. I love you, but if you’re not willing to face your feelings, then I’m going to leave tomorrow and I’ll never bother you again. I’ll ask for a transfer and be out of your life.” Christine burst into tears and he stood for only a moment before pulling her into his arms and tipping her chin up. “Sweetness, you need to listen to me, okay? I’m not going anywhere, so you don’t need to be afraid, and if you don’t want to have children, we don’t need to.”

  Christine shook her head. “I can’t lose another child, Stephen.”

  “You won’t. I promise.” He cupped her cheek and leaned down to kiss her. “I’m going to marry you, Christine. You have one week to decide when.”

  Christine wrinkled her nose. “You’re so bossy.”

  “I have to be with you, apparently.” He handed her his handkerchief. “Now dry your eyes.” Stephen turned to Christopher. “Could I please get a drink?”

  Christopher handed him the one he’d poured for himself and Hannah chuckled. “Maybe we should all have something stronger than wine.”

  Hannah went to work pouring whiskey into glasses and she and Christopher handed them to everyone but Sophie. “Sorry, Soph.”

  Sophie sighed and laid her hand on her stomach. “It’s fine. I’m baking something important here.”

  Hannah smiled. “Half-baked wouldn’t work, would it?”

  Sophie laughed. “Half-baked was a movie about pot, not whiskey, but good effort in bringing that around.”

  Hannah giggled. “You know that at some point in the coming years, I’m going to combine modern day kiwi-isms with nineteenth-century lingo and really screw the pooch.”

  Sophie wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “And we’ll love you for it.”