Jack placed his coffee cup on the serving tray, wiped his hands on a napkin, and tossed it alongside the cup. “If you’ll excuse me, I have an article to write.”
A loud knock on the front door reverberated through the downstairs; the very air in the room seemed to freeze. Braham came to attention, but the corner of his lip curled, hinting at a slight smile, whether in amusement or something else, Charlotte wasn’t sure. Jack turned toward the door, eyeing it inquisitively. Elizabeth lost color in her face. And Charlotte, still jittery over visitors who carried torches, cringed and scrunched furtively into the softly cushioned chair.
Elizabeth rose slowly from the sofa, patting the neatly rolled bun at her nape. Before taking a step, she brushed the front of her blue cotton day dress with slightly shaking hands. “I suppose my neighbors are calling, wanting their silver back now they don’t feel threatened by their rescuers.”
Jack crossed the room to the window, pushed aside a corner of the lace curtain, and peered out. The breeze rattled busily among the branches of the trees and shrub. “All I see from here is a warbler sitting in an azalea bush, pouring its heart out. But whoever is at the door has come with a Union Cavalry escort. Maybe General Weitzel is calling on Elizabeth?”
Braham shrugged, his mouth spreading now into a wide grin. “Let’s go see.”
They followed Elizabeth out into the entryway, where vases belied the devastation outside with fragrant sprays of greenery mixed in with white and purple lilacs. The large bouquets filled the entry with the fresh, sweet scents of innocence and springtime. Charlotte buried her nose in one bouquet and sniffed, cleansing the lingering, stale smell of smoke from her nose.
The butler opened the door, and loud gasps mingled with the delicious spring scents. Braham strode past the others to welcome their guest. “Come in, Mr. President.”
Lincoln and his entourage quickly filled the entryway.
Elizabeth hurried forward, extending her hand. “What a glorious surprise. I’m Miss Van Lew. I’m honored you chose to pay a visit, Mr. President. Please, come in for tea.”
The president removed his hat, sniffing the air. “The fragrance of your flowers is a pleasant reprieve from the smoky air of center city.”
Elizabeth nodded, smiling radiantly. “Let me introduce my guests.” She pointed toward Jack.
“There’s no need,” Lincoln said. “I’m acquainted with the Mallorys, and owe the doctor a debt of thanks yet again. It occurred to me the major might have intentionally gotten himself captured, hoping to set eyes on your lovely countenance once more.”
Charlotte stood stock still for a moment, aware of Braham’s musky scent among the floral arrangements. A slight flush increased the heat on her cheeks. “I don’t know about that, Mr. President. I can’t imagine anyone volunteering to spend time in Castle Thunder, no matter what the reason.”
“I heard the prisons survived the fire. It’s a shame.” Elizabeth’s voice was heavy with regret.
Lincoln regarded her with a gentle expression and sympathetic eyes. “The crowd earlier this morning was of like mind, madam. But I’ve ordered they’re not to be burned. Instead, the prisons are to be used as a monument to all the loyal soldiers who suffered its horrors.” He placed his hand on Braham’s shoulder, gripping it, pulling him into a side hug. “I’m sorry for what you endured there.”
Braham nodded almost imperceptibly. “It was only a few days, sir.”
“Tea is served, Mr. President. Please come have refreshment.”
“I regret to decline, Miss Van Lew. I must get on with the tour. General Weitzel was kind enough to point out your residence, saying you were General Grant’s correspondent. I’ve come to thank you on his behalf and mine.”
“I did little for a cause so large, but I pray I did all I could.”
Lincoln tapped the breast of his coat with a gesture of satisfaction. “You did more than we had a right to ask or expect. You’re an honorable and generous woman.”
Elizabeth, a true loyalist, humble and unpretentious, bowed her head slightly in recognition of the compliment.
“Major McCabe, I’ll be returning to Washington this afternoon on the Malvern and would like you to join me. If Mr. Mallory and Doctor Mallory intend to return to Washington, there is room on the steamer to accommodate them. Now, I must go.”
“Thank ye, sir,” Braham said. “We’ll depart for the dock shortly.”
The president and his entourage departed as quickly as they had arrived. Elizabeth and Jack went inside, leaving Charlotte and Braham on the portico to watch the caravan, bathed in rays of golden sunlight, travel down the street. Five minutes of the president’s time were more valuable than the missing Confederate gold. And no nonmilitary Unionist deserved those minutes more than Elizabeth. It must have taken a creative scheduler to make time for her.
Charlotte glanced at Braham. His hand rested on the hilt of his saber. He wore the smug look men get when they know they’ve made a lady happy. Guessing his secret, she smiled and rubbed a light hand over his arm. “Asking the president to visit Elizabeth was a lovely gesture.”
He laughed, and the sound was rich and sensual. “Ah, lass, I thought it would please ye, too. I didn’t know ye were on such good terms with Mr. Lincoln.” He stroked his thumb across her chin and along her jawline. “Are ye ready to return to Washington?”
His warm breath fanned her cheek. As if she were under his spell, her eyes were drawn to his lips, parted and full. “As long as you don’t let him talk you into another assignment right away.”
“I’ve promised ye a few uninterrupted days in Georgetown. I won’t let him have those. They’re for us.” Braham’s eyes were dancing now, and she felt suddenly sheepish, and at the same time melting with desire.
64
En Route to Washington City, April 1865
When the president decided to remain in City Point, Braham booked the second leg of their return trip to Washington on the only other steamer available, the Thomas Powell, a ship loaded with some three hundred wounded soldiers. Charlotte volunteered her assistance, explaining to the surgeon in charge she had worked in a Washington hospital. When he asked her for references, she told him she didn’t have any with her. Braham intervened and told the supervising doctor two of Charlotte’s references were President Lincoln and General Grant. It proved to be her ticket to surgery, where she spent most of the day. She found some irony in treating wounded who were chiefly from Sheridan’s Cavalry. If “Little Phil” made an appearance to check on his men, she wasn’t sure what she would say other than thanking him for threatening her. No, she would simply smile and say it was nice to see him, and he’d likely wonder who in the world she was.
By the time the ship arrived in Washington she was exhausted, but glad to be back. Mostly she was looking forward to Braham’s promised getaway. He had strolled past her several times during the day, and each time he’d kept his eyes fixed on hers for several beats before moving on. His glances were titillating, and desire for him flooded her every time, turning her disposition from focused to wanton with only a lift of his brow.
Neither of them had mentioned their plans to Jack, and while she didn’t think he would care or be surprised, she was still a bit anxious about telling him. Would he scold her and say getting involved with Braham was the same as dating an unavailable and sure-to-break-your-heart married man? If so, he could save his breath, his energy, and later, his I told you so’s.
Braham hired a barouche to take them to the townhouse. Since the air was balmy, the driver lowered the collapsible hood. She and Braham shared the seat facing the driver, while Jack and Gaylord shared the rear-facing seat. Each twist and turn of the vehicle jostled her and Braham into closer physical contact. Each time her arm brushed his, the touch was erotically charged. Tingling excitement saturated her, burning hot and promising.
Braham whistled and twitched his long, slender fingers against his thigh as if playing the finger buttons on a trumpet to the beat of the
tune blowing through his lips. Of course, it made her think of kissing. Wanton. She was becoming a wanton, and she loved the sensation. She couldn’t take her eyes off his hand, imagining the pads of his fingers stroking her in sensitive places. She touched her mouth, the cool, smooth skin of her lips, thinking about what an excellent kisser he was. Or maybe they were excellent kissers together.
The sun suddenly broke out from behind a rain cloud, and she had to shield her eyes against its brilliance. It was then she noticed the bunting and flags draped around the harbor, which brought her lusting to an abrupt halt. “There seems to be a national festival taking place. If the fall of Richmond causes this kind of a celebration, what will happen when Lee surrenders?”
Jack had his notebook and pencil in hand, jotting down observations. “The city will go nuts.”
The driver took them past the throngs gathered in the Capitol grounds, all clearly enjoying the bands and festive atmosphere. The men sported ivory-headed canes and women carried gay parasols, which were twirling in the breeze. On crowded Pennsylvania Avenue patriotic mottoes embellished the State Department, flags smothered the War Department, and the Navy had hung up a large model of a full-rigged ship. After the fires and smoke in Richmond, Washington’s charged atmosphere made Charlotte imagine Glinda, the Good Witch from Oz, was waving her wand to banish the unsettling power of Charlotte’s horrifying memories.
The carriage stopped in front of the War Department building, and Gaylord hopped out, but before the driver snapped the reins, Gaylord passed a note to Braham. Braham unfolded the paper, read it, and handed it back. His face took on a set and absent look, as though he had forgotten where he was.
Gaylord thumped the side of the vehicle, signaling the driver. They pulled away, heading around the corner to the townhouse. The carriage parked, and Braham helped Charlotte down. Her eyes rested on the paneled front door. A warm, cozy feeling of being home settled in the recesses of her heart, similar to what she experienced every time she drove up the plantation’s driveway. How odd to realize she had become so attached to this house. But was it really the house, or the man who lived here?
Edward, dressed in his neatly pressed day livery, opened the front door with a flourish. “Welcome home, sir.”
Braham handed over his hat. “How’s the household, Edward?”
Edward closed the door after accepting Jack’s hat. “Fine, sir. And welcome back, Mr. Mallory and Miss Charlotte. Hasn’t been the same here since you left.”
Charlotte swept off her cape and handed it to the butler. “Thank you, Edward. Have you been out to enjoy the festivities?”
“Yes, ma’am. I was out earlier this morning. Fine day in Washington. Just fine.”
Braham shook his head briefly, as if dispelling some thought, and said, “I’d like a bath and a light meal. See to my guests. I’ll be in the study.”
She met Jack’s eyes straight on, and they stood there in puzzled silence, looking at each other. Charlotte’s eyes widened. What was going on? Other than raise his brow, Jack didn’t answer her unvoiced question. He didn’t know either. Braham’s brusque behavior must have something to do with Gaylord’s note.
Did the secretary of war intend to send Braham out on another mission? To do what? The war was within days of ending. And where had Gaylord gotten the note? If he’d had it prior to boarding the carriage, why didn’t he give it to Braham earlier? If he didn’t have it earlier, where in heaven’s name had it come from? She frowned when a vague memory came to mind. While locked in traffic on Pennsylvania Avenue, a man bumped into the carriage. Did he pass a note to Gaylord? If so, why the secrecy?
She was too hot, too sticky, and too hungry to waste much energy trying to understand Braham’s clandestine activities. Maybe he had decided a romantic interlude with her was a bad idea? If so, she’d go to the hospital and see patients, and that would be the end of it. She flinched at the thought, and her heart hammered in her ears. Feeling rejected wasn’t an easy emotion to master.
“I’m going to have a bath and rest. Are you staying in?” she asked Jack.
He shook his head, looking troubled. “Since Braham’s using the study, I’ll work in my room. I have outlines for several articles I’d like to sell this week. If you need me, send me a—knock on my door, I guess.” His mouth curled up in a wry smile over his almost-slip.
She gave him a thumbs-up and marched up the stairs, an indomitable soldier off to do battle.
After a bath, she cleaned and sorted her medical kit and added a few notes to her journal. She didn’t write much, but she did jot down descriptions and insights which should trigger her memory when she was ready to recall certain events and people.
Another band had started playing outside the White House. She watched from the window with her hands braced against the frame and peered down into the street. An uneasy feeling settled over her. In a few days, Lincoln—
A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. “Come in.”
Braham entered, closed the door, and came to stand next to her. “What’s gotten yer attention?”
She lifted up on tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the lips, breathing in the scent of tobacco. He didn’t smoke around her now, but she always knew when he had indulged in his favorite bad habit—a cigar.
“What’s happened? You shut down after you read the note from Gaylord, and you appear troubled now.” With a stroke of her finger, she combed back strands of hair dangling across his brow, concealing the only part of his forehead without scratches or cuts.
He took both her hands and kissed her palms, not a quick kiss like she had given him but a lingering one, filled with promise. “There’s something I have to do this afternoon, but I’ve arranged a carriage to take ye to Georgetown. I’ll join ye there for a late dinner, and we’ll stay until Friday. I promised ye time together. I won’t disappoint ye. I’ll be there tonight.”
She caught her lower lip between her teeth, not realizing how much she’d worried he might cancel. Greatly relieved, she sighed. “I was afraid you had changed your mind about going to Georgetown. I understand emergencies. Do what you have to do, and come when you can. What time will the driver pick me up?”
He studied her face, his shoulders relaxing a bit, and his eyes grew less troubled. “Cancelling our plans never occurred to me. The carriage will be here at three o’clock. Can ye be ready?”
“I have only a few things to pack.”
He glanced at her bed, where she had laid out traveling clothes. “Ye won’t need much.”
Heat rushed up her neck toward her face. Rarely, if ever, had she taken the time to plan a tryst with a lover. All she’d had time for was hit and miss sex, squeezed into a complicated life and a full surgery schedule. She did have sexy clothes, although not with her. Well, there was the one thing she had packed at the last minute, a red stretchy chemise trimmed with scalloped lace and a matching thong. “How about a suitcase full of short and sexy things?”
His eyes brightened into brilliant emeralds. “Short and sexy. I saw a picture of a woman on Jack’s Facebook page dressed in a”—Braham put his hands on his chest and slid them down to his groin—“short, black lacy undergarment which stopped at the top of her legs.”
She bit back a smile. She didn’t have the kind of enhanced body Braham would have seen posing in slinky black lingerie on Jack’s Facebook page. If Braham had those expectations, he’d be disappointed. The sexy red thing might not make it into her travel bag after all.
“You’re too jaded now. I don’t think you’d like my—”
He nudged her chin up, kissed her, and their open mouths fused hungrily. There were no playful nips and licks, but a full-on siege. Then he stopped and took a step back, breathing heavily. “There’s isn’t anything about ye I don’t like. Ye’re beautiful. I don’t care if ye wear a short sexy thing or nothing at all.” He put his hands behind her head and kissed her roughly. “I’ll be there late tonight.”
She stood there gulping, watching
him hurry out the door. The moment she dropped to the stool in front of her dressing table, touching her bottom lip, slightly swollen now from his bruising kiss, Jack gave a cursory rap on her door and sauntered in without an invitation, as usual. When he noticed the clothes on her bed, he gave her a raised eyebrow look. “Going somewhere?”
“Oh.” Distractedly, she continued playing with her lower lip, otherwise not moving.
“Charlotte? What’s wrong?” He knelt in front of her and put his hands on her arms, squeezing gently. “Talk to me.”
The squeeze broke through her temporary trance. “What?”
One corner of his mouth curled wryly as he pointed to her lip. “Do I see a kissing bruise?”
She shook her head, licking the tender spot carefully with her tongue. “I guess we got carried away.”
“I’d say so.” He got back to his feet, scratching his chin whiskers. “Does your bruise have anything to do with the clothes piled on your bed?”
“Sort of. Braham and I are going to Georgetown for a few days. Alone.”
“Really?” Jack took a seat in the wingback chair by the fire, stretching out his long legs. “Are you sure it’s a good idea?”
She turned to face him, hands resting on her knees, fingers tapping rhythmically as she had seen Braham do earlier. Now she understood why. The beat matched the rapid pulse of anticipation. “I don’t know how good an idea it is, but it’s what I want.”
He slouched in the chair and crossed his ankles. His feet flopped back and forth like two adversaries getting up into each other’s faces, then backing off and going at it again. “It’s going to hurt later, you know.”
She watched his moving feet, mesmerized. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
She pointed a finger, waving toward his feet. “Your dueling feet are driving me nuts. Stop it.”
He smirked and uncrossed his feet. “My feet aren’t the issue. How you’re going to put your life back together later is what we’re talking about. Comprende?”
The Sapphire Brooch Page 42