As we walked along, my uncle sent a glance toward me. “Your aunt is right. You shouldn’t leave the room under any circumstances. And you don’t have to dance if you don’t wish to. At this ball, for instance, I believe over four hundred invitations were sent. But as the school year commences, there will be many cadets at the hops and not so many girls, so if you can find it in your heart, it would be kind if you could dance as many dances as you can.”
The memory of the sun lingered in the clear night sky, though the moon was already climbing to take its place. After we passed through the academy’s gate, as we walked up the long road, I could see the silhouette of the academy’s buildings.
My uncle gestured to the left, beyond them. “We were to have been given one of the faculty houses here on the reservation, but it was in such disrepair that we had to take the house in Buttermilk Falls instead. I think they must have forgotten we’re there.”
I had never seen any of the military academy’s buildings, by day or by night, but the light that spilled from the windows of one of them left little doubt as to where the dance was being held. Several dozen conveyances and their accompanying horses were waiting in front.
My uncle ushered me through them and into the building and then escorted me into a vast columned hall. It was decorated in a military fashion, with an abundance of flags. Swords and knives gleamed beneath blazing chandeliers, but it was the men who were the most decorative. Cadets wore their white trousers and gray coats, red sashes circling their waists. Older men sported blue frock coats with shining brass buttons.
Buttermilk Falls was such a small, sleepy hamlet that I could not account for all of the women at the ball. Perhaps they’d come up by boat from the city. They were wearing the very latest in fashions. I wished, and not for the first time, that I’d been able to fit all of my gowns into my trunk.
I must have paused in my step, for my uncle took my arm in his and pulled me forward. He introduced me to all of the instructors and professors and soldiers who were assigned to the military academy. I smiled and conversed and tried my best to comport myself in a manner befitting my finishing school training.
Mercy, but a uniform did wonders for a man!
I met captains and sergeants and colonels, but I could not keep them straight, and in truth did not know, aside from my uncle’s deference, to whom I ought to give the most attention. And all the while, I could feel the eyes of cadets upon me.
There was a clutch of younger girls who formed a giggling knot toward the back of the room. They were ringed, at a respectable distance, by cadets who were sending long looks in their direction, gesturing toward them with sharp nods. Some older cadets were standing near the punch table, no less aware of the girls in the room, but much less obvious in their attentions. I took a step back, away from the obstruction of my uncle’s shoulder, ostensibly to shift my feet, but I looked for those cadets I’d met at supper upon my arrival.
Mr. Conklin saw me and bowed from the waist.
I nodded.
And—oh!—there was Seth Westcott. I blushed as his gaze fixed on me.
When the music struck up a lively gallopade, Mr. Conklin crossed the floor and joined me. He nodded at my uncle and extended a gloved hand to me. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?”
I took his hand and he placed his other at my waist and swept me across the floor. He was quite proficient at the steps. As he whirled me first one way and then the other, my dress swirled about my ankles and I knew all the flounces of my skirt were being put to good use. Had Madame Mercier seen me, she would have thought my future secured.
Mr. Conklin returned me to my uncle and had just stepped away when a second cadet presented himself.
My uncle frowned, and I could see that he didn’t want to introduce me, but the cadet had a twinkle in his eyes to which I couldn’t help but respond. I nodded at him, and my uncle was forced to make the introductions. “Mr. Hollinsgworth, my niece, Miss Hammond.”
Mr. Hollingsworth crooked his arm for me, and I tucked my hand around it. “Might as well call me Deacon. Or Deke,” he said as he escorted me to the dance floor. “Everyone does.”
“Do you have aspirations for the pulpit?”
He laughed, flashing straight white teeth. “You’d have no reason to know this, but that’s what some folks might call a contradiction in terms.” The dance was a polka, which suited him. He was all high spirits and restless energy, and the music gave him occasion to put it to good use. As the dance came to an end, he had me laughing, even though I was gasping for breath.
He winked. “I feel that I should tell you this liaison of ours is doomed to end in heartbreak.”
“Is it?”
“Has to.”
I was captivated by the mischief in his eyes, and I could not keep myself from smiling once again. “Now why is that? Do you think me so heartless? So cruel?”
He gave me a knowing look. “Oh, I think you could be. You could be the girl every man in this room dreams of. But, sadly, my sentiments are not so easily won this evening. I am simply an emissary for a heart much truer, much more noble than mine.”
“That’s very generous of you. But what if I’m not interested in a noble heart?”
He cocked a brow. “What other kind would you be interested in?”
I forced the smile from my face though my eyes were probably still dancing. “A respectable one.” Noble was fine for some heroines, but in novels, noble quite often happened to be paired with the adjective poor. Or humble.
He laughed once more. “Then I’m twice rebuffed. That wouldn’t be me either. But if respectability is your goal, you shouldn’t look any farther than my friend Seth Westcott.” He lifted his chin toward the opposite wall. “I think he’d like to dance with you.”
The cadet in question, however, was glaring at his friend.
“Then perhaps he should do me the favor of asking for one.”
“He’s a fine fellow . . .” Deacon leaned close, “but I need to warn you—he’s not much of a dancer.”
“I’d think I would be the better judge of that.”
“Don’t think any less of him for it, will you?”
“I wouldn’t be much of a lady if I did, would I?”
10
Seth
I’d given Deacon as much time with Lucinda as I was willing to. I could have kicked myself for pointing her out to him. If he spent any more time at her side, she’d be falling in love with him just the same as all the other girls between here and Ohio. It didn’t seem fair that a fellow who could win hearts so easily always seemed to want more of them. Not that I wanted her heart, of course. I was just . . . trying to be friendly.
I straightened my shoulder belt and checked my sash, and then I stepped out across the dance floor, glaring at several of the yearlings and second classmen who had started for her as well. They mumbled their apologies and moved out of my way.
She bent in a slight curtsy. “Mr. Westcott. How wonderful to renew our acquaintance.”
I bowed and gave Deacon a sidelong glance.
He looked at me speculatively. “I’ll wager he never told you he’s our first captain.”
“He did not. Although my uncle did, but I still have no idea what a first captain does. And I’m afraid I have to confess myself quite ignorant of uniforms and ranks.”
Deke rapped me on the chest. “It’s easy. All you got to do is count the chevrons.” He took up my arm and pointed to those I was wearing at the top of my sleeve. “The more you’ve got, the better the man. Take me for instance.” He dropped my arm and offered up his own, twisting it so we could see his sleeve. “I’ve got no chevrons at all, I’m just a private—a high private since I’ll be graduating this year, but a private nonetheless. So you can assume that I’m one of the poorest, sorriest excuses for a cadet that you’ll ever meet. Old Seth here, though, he’s got . . . Well, how many have you got?”
“Four.”
“You see? So you can just about count
on the fact that he’s one of the sharpest, smartest, most brilliant cadets you’d ever wish to know.”
She was laughing. “You’re too late, Mr. Hollingsworth. I’ve already discovered that for myself.”
The band started in on another polka and Deke looked at me pointedly. She curtsied as if I’d asked her to dance, and before I knew it we actually were.
I repositioned my hand at the small of her back. “I apologize for Deacon—for his lack of manners.”
“But all those things he said are true, aren’t they?”
“Well . . . I wouldn’t say that.”
“I would. I would say them all and then add a few more. You were very kind to me at dinner on Sunday. Thank you.”
I’d only done what any gentleman would do. Was kindness so foreign to her that my words had seemed exceptional? “I can’t imagine anyone ever being unkind to you.”
She flashed a smile. “Then perhaps I’ve discovered your only fault. I’ll have to let Mr. Hollingsworth know that you’re lacking in imagination.”
I guided her forward into a chassé, and we completed one of those turning hops that made the polka one of the most favored dances at the academy. “I’d like to apologize for your uncle’s behavior too.”
“He’s not your responsibility. I’m the one who’s related to him.”
“But he’s my favorite professor, and I have to tell you that the man you saw that night is not the man I know.”
She glanced over my shoulder, and as we turned I saw she’d been looking at him. “Perhaps he was only trying to protect his family.”
“From you?” That didn’t make any kind of sense.
“I’m a stranger to him. To all of them. I’d never met them before.”
“But you’re family.”
“Imagine I had showed up on your doorstep, unannounced. You might have felt the same way.”
I was certain that I wouldn’t have—I would have thanked God for my great fortune—but I had sense enough to know saying so would only have embarrassed a lady like her. “Will you be staying in Buttermilk Falls?”
“I will.”
I hadn’t known I’d been holding my breath until she answered. “Your father would have been relieved to know you’re with them. My sister was left alone after my mother died. She was supposed to have traveled to stay with family as well.”
“Supposed to have? You mean she didn’t?”
Maybe I’d said too much. But if anyone could understand, it would be Lucinda. “She’s at Fort Laramie. I just found out. I thought she’d already made it to Kentucky.”
Concern clouded Lucinda’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Seth.”
“I wish . . . I just wish I could do something.” I was doing something, or planning to in any case. I just wished I could do something more immediate. “Or at least be there with her.”
“Is there not some way? I don’t mean to pry, but could you not bring her here? There must be a boardinghouse where she could stay.”
“I’ve my pay, from being here for the past three years, but the treasurer keeps it for us. I can’t have any of it until after graduation.”
“Then I’m doubly sorry. To have the means without being able to do anything for her . . .”
That china-doll mouth of hers had gone pensive. And suddenly, right then, what I wanted more than anything was to see her smile. “She’s surrounded by soldiers, she’s probably safer at Laramie than she ever has been.” At least her person was. I hoped her virtue would be too.
Lucinda smiled.
How could she be so impossibly pretty? And why had I been willing to tell her so quickly what I’d wanted to hide from my friends?
We executed another chassé. It was one thing to dance at the academy dance master’s command, but another thing entirely to dance with her. If I could just fall into those green eyes, I’d happily drown. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe if I stopped looking into her eyes as I danced, I’d be able to remember the steps.
She came toward me at the same moment I stepped toward her and collided with my chest. I pulled her close to keep her from reeling away. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine.” She smiled up as she leaned into me, her earrings shimmering in the candlelight.
I couldn’t help smiling in return. There was an advantage to not being the best of dancers. And I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy it, feeling her small, warm hand against my chest, holding her close. Her perfume was a kind I wished Otter’s mother would use. It smelled like . . . gravy and cinnamon.
When the song ended, I kept hold of her hand. “I hope we have the occasion to dance again at the next hop.”
“I would be honored to dance with you anytime, Mr. Westcott.”
I had to let her dance with some of the others. It wasn’t polite to keep a girl to yourself. So I watched with Dandy as the better part of the corps of cadets swept her across the dance floor that night.
Otter and Deke walked over, saluting us with cups of punch. “If I was looking for a girl, I think I’d try for her.” Otter nodded in Lucinda’s direction.
Deke answered. “Too late. Seth already met her. And now he’s gone completely soft in the head.”
“That’s good, then. Real good.”
I eyed Otter. “What would Mother say about a girl like her?”
His brow folded in irritation. “That’s Mrs. Ames to you. But . . . I suppose . . . she’d probably say some girls smell like roses and some girls are roses. But you oughter pay attention. Roses come with thorns.”
Deke grunted.
I ignored him. “But . . . do you think she’d mean that in a good way or in a bad way?”
“What do you mean good or bad? Thorns just is. You oughter figure out where they are before you grab hold of one—that’s all.” He sighed. “You can take it from me.”
Deke and I exchanged a glance. Otter had never talked about any girl in particular that I could remember. Deke nudged him with an elbow. “You have some fun down home during furlough, Otter?”
He put up a hand to ruffle the hair at the back of his neck. “Oh . . . I should say so.”
Deke slapped him on the back. “Good for you! Any girl in particular?”
“I should hope so!”
Deke blinked at the vehemence in Otter’s words. “Just asking.” He turned his attention to me. “You going to go ask Professor Hammond about seeing Miss Hammond during recreation on Saturday?”
“I don’t know.” I wanted to.
“You don’t know? You’re his favorite student!”
And he was my favorite professor. But would that favor extend beyond the classroom? “These things take time. Let me just . . . I have to think about it.” A good campaign took planning. No soldier ever wished for less time when it came to doing something important. Mostly, I had to figure out how to approach Professor Hammond. I would have had plenty to say to him if the subject were geometry or calculus, but I didn’t know how to get from mathematics to the topic of his niece.
“No one ever won any wars by sitting back and thinking about anything. Wars are won by doing. And if you don’t do something soon, you might just end up having to surrender to Campbell Conklin.”
As I followed Deke’s gaze, I saw Conklin talk himself into a second dance with Lucinda.
“Maybe I’ll just go give Professor Hammond my regrets . . . er, my regards.”
Deke was trying hard not to laugh. “You got a handkerchief?”
“Sure. Why?”
“Going gets rough, you just hold that up like this”—he waved his hand in the air—“and I’ll send the cavalry to your rescue.” He doubled over in laughter, and Otter joined him.
11
Lucinda
Mr. Conklin asked me to dance a second time. Though I would have preferred a second dance with Seth Westcott, he hadn’t asked me for one. So I accepted Mr. Conklin’s arm, and he escorted me out to the dance floor. There was nothing wrong with him, he was really quite impressive. And quite imp
ressed with himself. But he just . . . wasn’t Seth. That didn’t mean, however, that he couldn’t still be useful.
“It’s so kind of you to ask me for a second dance, Mr. Conklin. There are so many women here, you would never have to dance with the same one twice.”
“Some might like variety, but why take a chance when you like what you’ve found?”
“Ah. So you’re a proponent of a bird in the hand?”
“Being worth two in the bush? Do you not believe in romance, Miss Hammond?”
“I do. But I’m more inclined to admire expediency.”
He laughed. “My grandfather would like you very much. He’s a senator down in Washington, and he admires the very same thing.”
His grandfather was a senator? That was a whole different higher level of society than that for which I’d been aiming. Just the possibility of marrying into such a family made my feet stutter in their steps. But that was silly. I wasn’t the kind of person that I had been. Mr. Conklin didn’t know anything about my father and he never would. “And what do you admire, Mr. Conklin?”
“A graceful dancer.” He turned us in a circle. “And an engaging smile.”
“You’re easily pleased.”
He laughed at me. “And you’re easily baited.”
I couldn’t exactly say the man was charming. He was too much in possession of himself. Those who deployed charm as a weapon usually cared what others thought of them. But he did radiate power and privilege.
After the dance, he escorted me back to my uncle, who was speaking with Seth.
My uncle paused in his conversation, nodding to us.
Mr. Conklin bowed and took his leave.
My uncle addressed himself to me. “We were just speaking of a theorem of geometry. Mr. Westcott has done exceedingly well in his studies. I suppose it’s no secret that I have high hopes for him.”
As did I.
But as I stood listening, as the dance swirled on without us, my heart sank. Despite how attentive Seth had been during our dance, he didn’t seem to have any interest in me now. For a while, I tried to follow their conversation, but I didn’t understand the mathematical principles of which they spoke, and really, it was all quite dull. I glanced about the room, hoping that one of the other cadets would ask me to dance—at least that would have been diverting—but not even Mr. Hollingsworth would let me catch his eye.
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