by Laura Frantz
He followed her without a word as she battled embarrassment and the dread of what was to come. The strange man Lily Cate had spoken of never left her thoughts. “Lily Cate . . . she’s all right?”
“Aye.”
She’d never seen him so brusque. He took a chair, watching her as she spun about the kitchen fetching India spirits, loaf sugar, and nutmeg. Her nutmeg grater eluded her, thanks to the befuddlement of his unexpected company. She couldn’t remember where she’d put it. He removed his cocked hat and set it by the dog irons along with his gloves, gaze rising to the kitchen’s leaking roof. Mercifully he made no comment.
When she finally served him the fragrant toddy, he looked like he might laugh. He took it with an amused, questioning half smile that reminded her he hadn’t wanted one in the first place. Mortification stung her from head to toe. If she wasn’t careful, he’d know ’twas he who made her so camshauchle!
Taking the toddy back, she managed a fiery swallow, nearly scorching her tongue as she did so. He did laugh then, throwing back his head in a rare show of mirth, banishing all awkwardness between them.
He gestured to the stool beside him, as if this was his kitchen and she was in need of direction. The comforting aroma from the bake oven filled the air, as did that of the simmering soup brimming with the last garden vegetables—and a chicken if Glynnis had her way.
He gave a kick to a smoldering log. “I’m aware Captain McClintock was by here yesterday. He came to see me afterward.”
She bit her tongue. Had McClintock complained to him then? Was Seamus upset with her for refusing him? “Yes, the captain was kind enough to call and ask—” The word courting hung in her throat. “To ask if—”
“So he told me. I want you to know I was unaware of his intentions.”
She glanced down at the toddy in her hands. Could he see her relief? She’d gone half a day and all night thinking he’d been matchmaking when—
“I understand you already have a suitor.”
Her second sip went down the wrong way. Turning her head, she stifled a cough, sloshing hot liquid onto her apron as she did so. With one deft move he took the mug from her once and for all and set it on the kitchen table beyond her reach.
She put a hand to her throat. “Captain McClintock misunderstood me. I have no suitor.”
“But he said—”
“I told him my affections lie elsewhere. What I didn’t tell him is that they’re not returned.”
His gaze sharpened. “So the man you love doesn’t love you back.”
Fire scored her cheeks. “That’s the long and the short of it, yes.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Menzies. But I find that hard to believe.”
“General Ogilvy, I’m telling you the truth. I—”
“I don’t doubt that you’re telling me the truth. What I question is your would-be suitor.” His voice dropped a notch. “Is the man blind—or simply stupid?”
He is neither . . . He is you.
He leaned back in his chair. “I thought mayhap if you married this man, your troubles would resolve.”
Oh aye, no doubt.
Could he not see ’twas he who turned her inside out? The mere thought of being courted by him skewered her with longing. She loved that he was here now asking after her, concerned and wanting to fix things for her. She loved especially that he didn’t have any notion she was smitten with him.
Her words came soft. “Not everyone is meant to marry and have a family. Perhaps I’m one of them.”
“I beg to differ,” he said with less fire. “You’re meant to be mistress of your own home, have children.”
“I suppose you’re going to order someone up for me.” The teasing in her tone belied her heartache.
“Aye, I would if I could. But some matters are even beyond a rebel hero’s reach.”
More addled, she grabbed a rag, opened the beehive oven, and took out the leathery-looking biscuits. The sound of coughing drew her eye to the kitchen doorway. Glynnis appeared, eyes huge at the sight of the general’s back. Dead fowl in hand, she hurried away, any questions about the burnt smell answered.
“Your housekeeper sounds in need of a doctor,” he murmured.
“She won’t let me send for one.”
“Mayhap she’d be more willing if I was to send for one.”
“What she needs is to go to her sister in Annapolis. Glynnis’s duties here keep her from getting well.”
“I could arrange for travel. But where would that leave you?”
“I only want what’s best for Glynnis.” She spoke honestly, though the prospect of life without her longtime housekeeper was lonesome indeed. “I fear she’ll only worsen if she stays. She might recover in Annapolis.”
“I’ll take care of it if you’ll prepare her.”
She met his gaze, finding it all too steady in comparison to her own. “General Ogilvy, you cannot always be coming to my rescue.”
His eyes warmed. “Why can’t I?”
“Because . . .” Her voice trailed away as her heart lost more ground.
Because it makes me more enamored with you.
He was regarding her in that intent way he had, undermining her self-control. “I’ve looked over the taxes and this leasing of the land, and I remain in your debt. Once your housekeeper leaves, I’ll send a servant over from Tall Acre to replace her, not that anyone can. But at least it will settle matters between us and hasten her to health.”
“But—”
“Just say aye, Miss Menzies.” He smiled, melting all resistance.
“Very well.” ’Twas futile to protest. Her gaze trailed to the stubborn set of his shoulders beneath his fine wool cloak. “I have good news for you too. I finally received word from Mrs. Hallam just yesterday about a governess.” She reached in her pocket and withdrew the post. “A young woman from Williamsburg is seeking a position. She’s in reduced circumstances but is quite accomplished.”
He took the letter. “You know her?”
“We shared French lessons long ago. She comes highly recommended.”
He tucked the letter in his waistcoat, and it seemed a burden lifted along with it. “I’m in your debt again,” he said as if indebtedness was a gladsome thing.
“I don’t doubt you’ll try to even the score.”
“Straightaway.” He gave her a wink and gestured toward the foyer. “Why is there no fire in your parlor?”
“Touché,” she said in resignation. “We have little wood. Henry is too gout-ridden to manage it, and I’m little help with an ax.”
He reached for his gloves and cocked hat. “What do you Scots say? Lang may yer lum reek?”
She laughed. “‘May you never be without fuel for your fire’? Aye.”
“I’ll see to your wood, then, and we’ll be even.”
Together they walked slowly to the front door. Already she was wondering when she would see him again. “I’m missing Lily Cate,” she admitted. “Is she well?”
“Aye, she’s missing you. Her favorite letter is S. She writes it over and over.”
“S stands for your name too, remember.”
“Oh?” He shot a glance at her and came to a standstill in the foyer. “And what might that be?”
She warmed to his teasing. This was the man she was unsure of. Commanding and abrupt one minute, almost playfully sentimental the next.
He smiled down at her, something sad in it. “Nearly everyone calls me General or sir. ’Twould be a fine thing to hear you say Seamus.”
Seamus. The temptation was nearly too much for her. Oh, to hear him say Sophie in turn. Tenderly. From the heart. She held firm. “’Tis rather unconventional, is it not? To be on such familiar terms?”
He shrugged. “Times are changing. Friends and neighbors shouldn’t stand on formalities, aye?” He hesitated as if waiting for her to reconsider. And then, “Good day, Miss Menzies.”
She watched him go, her breath misting the cold glass sidelight as she stood there. He un
tied his fine chestnut stallion from the hitching post and swung himself effortlessly atop the horse’s broad back, turning down the long oak-laden drive and disappearing from sight.
But not her thoughts.
And certainly not her heart.
14
Glynnis, ’tis only what’s best for you. The doctor and I agree. Your sister agrees. She’s overjoyed, in fact. You leave in the morning. General Ogilvy has kindly lent his coach for your journey, and all the arrangements have been made. Dr. Spurlock even knows of a physician in Annapolis who treats lung ailments.”
Glynnis sighed and lay back against the bank of pillows in her cramped attic bedchamber. “It may be all right for me, but what about you?”
“I’ll continue to wait for word of Curtis, see what becomes of Three Chimneys.” Sophie smoothed the rumpled counterpane, not wanting to tell her how much she’d be missed lest she start crying and not stop. “When I get fearful about the future, I look back and see how faithful God has been.”
Glynnis twisted her handkerchief. “Despite your father’s forsaking you and your mother’s dying and Curtis not coming home.”
Sophie nodded, refusing to let despair do its dark work. “Despite all that, yes. General Ogilvy has been more than generous, and then there’s Lily Cate . . .” She bit her lip against the rush of emotion she felt whenever she thought of her. Lily Cate had brought life and color into her very monotonous world. Their time together was nearing an end too, but till then she’d savor every second.
“You’ll write to me.” Glynnis’s own eyes shone. “Tell me everything.”
“Oh aye!” She took one of Glynnis’s gnarled hands in her own. “You’ve been devoted to our family for so long. ’Tis time for you to rest and enjoy your sister’s company. I’ll come visit.”
Thankfully, Glynnis put up less of a fuss than she’d expected. Now that she was nearly eighty, her strength was spent. Sophie didn’t know how she’d weather the long trip to Annapolis, but the general had thought of that too, even hiring a nurse to accompany her.
“I owe you,” she whispered to him when the coach came round.
He smiled down at her, but it was edged with concern. He understood her feelings. When the groom opened the door, Lily Cate stepped out, chasing the shadows away. “Papa said I could come play.”
Together they stood and waved as the coach rolled down the drive, all her years with Glynnis along with it. “Well then, shall we have tea? Warm up in the morning room where there’s a fine fire?” Thanks to Seamus, they had wood enough to last through spring.
“All of it!” Lily Cate squeezed her hand, hurrying into the house. “My governess comes on the morrow. I wanted it to be you, but Papa said you’re a lady.”
“Governesses are often ladies too.” Sophie helped remove her cape and hat. “I hope you’ll like Miss Townsend very much.”
Her face held a worried cast. “I don’t want to like her better than you.”
Sophie touched her cheek. “You can like many people all at once. Your governess can have a special place in your heart, same as me.”
“Does Papa have a special place in your heart?”
Did Lily Cate sense her feelings? “Your father is a kind, generous man. He knows how fond I am of you, and so he shares you with me.”
“Don’t you want a little girl of your own? You told me so.” Without waiting for an answer, Lily Cate skipped into the morning room and knelt before the dollhouse. “What? A baby?”
Sophie dropped down beside her. “Henry carved it for you as a Christmas gift.”
Delight filled her pale face. She took the tiny figure from its cradle almost reverently. “We must name him.”
“So ’tis a he?”
Lily Cate nodded. “Boys are better. Aunt Charlotte told me I should have been one, that Papa didn’t want a girl.” The callous comment had obviously lodged like a splinter in Lily Cate’s tender heart.
“But God made you a girl. And God makes no mistakes.” Sophie gestured to the doll in Lily Cate’s palm. “What shall we christen this wee one?”
“Moses. Last night Papa read the story to me about baby Moses in the bulrushes.”
Surprised, Sophie tried to picture it—Seamus reading, Lily Cate listening, both washed in firelight. Her heart twisted anew. Despite the obstacles, he was trying to be a good father. He was a good father.
Lily Cate gathered all the dolls up. “They shall be a happy family.”
A happy family, something Lily Cate longed for. Was she even aware of the trouble in Williamsburg? She’d said no more about the strange man watching her window. The mere thought raised goose bumps. Perhaps the trouble had blown over.
But some nagging, unwelcome presentiment told Sophie it had only just begun.
He’d expected a governess. He just hadn’t expected one so young. Or so comely. Weren’t governesses supposed to be older and matronly and staid? Not fair and voluptuous and fashion conscious? For a moment Seamus felt Sophie had played a trick on him. Indulged in some secret matchmaking in hopes of winning a mother for Lily Cate. He was glad he was leaving on business and Sophie was coming to stay. By the time he returned, Lily Cate, Sophie, and the governess would have everything in hand.
“Your quarters are to your satisfaction, I trust.” He nearly winced at sounding so gruff. As if he was speaking to a junior officer, not a governess. “I suppose I should say your rooms.”
Miss Townsend smiled at him as if she found his slip amusing. “Oh yes, the adjoining sitting area is lovely, and I’m glad of the river view.”
“And your supplies? Everything in order for schooling?”
“There is one small matter, General. Will you allow for a dancing master in future?”
“Isn’t my daughter a little young for dancing?”
“She’s nearly six, is she not?”
“Nearly. Well, in August, aye.” Or was she almost seven? Out of his depth regarding dates, he cast about for something else to say as he took stock of the woman before him. “I suppose ’tis never too early to learn to be a lady.”
“Well said, General.” She looked about the room as if taking Tall Acre’s measure. “With your consent, the dancing master will lodge here for a few days to teach the local children. He’ll be making the rounds to neighboring plantations, and it would give Lily Cate an opportunity to be with others her age. He’s well known to Miss Menzies.”
Seamus let go of the paperweight he was fingering and met her gray eyes. “Well known?” Was she implying some intimacy? Might this be Sophie’s love interest? Why did he feel on tenterhooks when Miss Townsend hesitated?
“Yes. Master Parks was Miss Menzies’s dancing master at Mrs. Hallam’s, and mine as well. He’s quite proficient if rather old.”
Seamus relaxed. He liked old. Old was good.
“I must say I’m glad to have civility resume at war’s end.” She sighed, wistfulness in the words. “’Tis truly a crime what the war has done, sweeping all gentility away. But for your benevolence I don’t know where I’d be.”
Probably in some wealthy lord’s drawing room. Miss Townsend was, sadly, too highborn for a governess, and far too lovely. He lapsed into silence, wishing Sophie would come in and he could make ready to leave. He glanced at the mantel clock and felt the tick of anticipation. “Miss Menzies should join us shortly.”
“Miss Menzies . . . here?” Her confusion underscored the strangeness of his and Sophie’s relationship.
“Miss Menzies is a favorite of my daughter. She’ll be staying at Tall Acre while I’m gone.”
Her smile returned. “’Twill be like old times, then. I haven’t seen her in years.”
Turning toward the largest window, Seamus sent his gaze down the alley of cherry trees, relieved to see someone coming up the drive on foot. He would have sent a coach round, but the independent-minded Sophie wouldn’t hear of it.
Miss Townsend joined him at the glass, a surprised catch in her voice. “Oh my, she’s much changed.
I hardly recognize her.” Her gaze slid down his coat sleeve to his maimed hand, which he’d forgotten to hold behind his back. “But the war has brought irreparable changes to us all.”
The mid-January day was cold, ice imprisoning each branch and bush. Tall Acre was beautiful in any season, but winter seemed to give it a special polish, highlighting every elegant brick and frosty pane. Sophie stepped lightly in her boots, passing beyond Tall Acre’s open gates with anticipation. Later Henry would bring her valise once she found out how long she was to stay.
A maid let her in, showing her to an unfamiliar parlor where a fire crackled noisily in the grate. For a moment Sophie stood on the threshold and held her breath. Cream and azure brocade covered the lavishly carved walls rather than simple paper. Beneath a glistening glass chandelier, a tea table was agleam with crested china and silver. She took a breath, savoring the moment. The stillness. The sheer perfection of the room.
Where was Seamus? She shooed the thought of him away, then took it back. No matter what she did or didn’t do, nothing toppled his standing in her head and heart. He’d even overtaken Curtis in thought.
“Sophie?”
The almost forgotten voice pulled her back to the doorway. “Amity?”
They stood looking at one another for a few appraising seconds, then embraced. The scent of violet water wrapped round Sophie, unleashing a host of lost memories. Amity Townsend was alarmingly pretty, fair-headed and lush of figure, and wearing a decidedly ungoverness-like gown of lilac silk.
“I must thank you without delay for my position here,” she said as Sophie linked arms with her and they passed into the room.
“Think nothing of it. You came well recommended. ’Twas Mrs. Hallam’s doing.”
“I’m glad you’ll be here while the general is away. He told me that I’m to come to you with any concerns or questions about his daughter.”
Had he? A quiet pride suffused Sophie at his confidence. “Lily Cate is like sunshine to me. I think you’ll find her every bit as delightful.”
“She’s at a riding lesson, the general said.”