by Karen Ranney
“YOU’RE NOT welcome here,” Glynis said.
“My feelings would be hurt, Glynis, if I thought you were serious.” He peered beyond her. “Aren’t you going to invite me inside?”
“No.”
“What a pity. I didn’t get a chance to meet your mother.”
“Go away, Baumann. Away from my house. Away from Glasgow. Away from Scotland.”
His smile dipped only for an instant. His mustache was almost a living thing, quirking with his smile, leveling out when he was serious. She’d often found herself staring at it as if to gauge his mood.
“A very prosperous city, your Glasgow. Nothing like London or Paris, however, but it has its charm.”
“Perhaps you would feel more comfortable at home in London or Paris, Baumann. I, for one, would be more than happy if you were to take yourself off.”
“And deprive me of the opportunity to see you?”
His smile gnawed at her restraint.
“Why are you here?”
“To get information. You know about my quest for information.”
“No.”
He didn’t look the least bit unsettled by her refusal.
“This isn’t Washington,” she said. “I don’t owe you anything.”
“Our relationship was never about debts, Glynis. Instead, it was a reciprocal one.”
She laughed mirthlessly. “Is that what you tell yourself, Baumann? Do you believe it? If so, you’re a fool. I had to keep providing you information or you threatened to tell the British Legation why I’d come to you in the first place.”
“Were you afraid of being sent back home in disgrace? Your husband should have been, Glynis, you know that as well as I.”
“I have no intention of talking to you anymore, Baumann,” she said, stepping back.
He slapped his hand against the door when she would have closed it in his face.
“I need information about Cameron and Company.”
She looked at him, feigning a calm she didn’t feel.
“And you think I’ll assist you?”
“I graduated from West Point, Glynis. Have you heard of it?” When she shook her head, he continued. “It’s a university for the military. I expected to get my own regiment and prepared to go to war. Instead, my superiors sent me to Washington, for a different kind of war.”
“Are there different kinds of war?”
That comment garnered a laugh from him. “You should know more than most women,” he said. “There is the war of ideas, of the need to keep a country together. There’s the subterranean war, with one side trying to figure out what the other is doing before it’s done.”
“So you’re here involved in a subterranean war,” she said. “Trying to figure out what the Confederacy is doing?”
“I know what the Confederacy is doing, Glynis. I know what Cameron and Company is doing as well. My brother is a ship’s captain, Glynis. Cameron is providing ships to the Confederacy, putting him and others in the Union in jeopardy. Extending the war, too.”
She studied him, limned by the morning sun. Why did he explain himself? Did he think she cared? He’d never before tried to justify his actions and it was too late now. She knew him too well. He charmed when he wished but he threatened when it served him. He was not unlike a spider, patiently waiting for something to fall into his web.
“There are a great many people who believe in your cause in Scotland, Baumann,” she said. “Just as there are many who believe in the cause of the Confederacy.”
“You don’t need to help me. Unless, of course, you want your friends and family to know you helped me in Washington. What would that make you, Glynis? Oh, yes, a spy. Just imagine their reaction.”
She didn’t have to imagine. She knew. Duncan would look at her as if she’d grown another pair of arms. Her mother would find some way to justify Glynis’s actions but her eyes would be filled with disappointment. And Lennox? She couldn’t bear to think what Lennox would say.
“What do you want to know?”
He extracted a piece of paper from his inside pocket and handed it to her.
“My address,” he said. “I want to know everything you can discover about the newest ship in their yard. The Raven. They’re due to turn it over to the Confederates soon.”
Her affinity for numbers had served her well in Washington. She remembered details easily, especially measurements.
Did he plan on sabotage? She suspected he did, because his next question had to do with security for the ship. How many watchmen were assigned? Where were their posts?
He bent close to her, much too close for propriety’s sake.
“Oh,” he said softly. “You’re wearing the perfume I love. It smells so much of you, Glynis. Earthy and mysterious all at once.”
She held herself still, the practice of the last seven years coming to her aid.
“Step away, Baumann,” she said.
To her surprise, he did as she asked.
“I can’t do this,” she said.
“But you must. We have a bargain, you and I.”
“And what’s my part in this bargain?”
“Peace,” he said instantly. “Once my duty here is done, I’ll leave Scotland, or at least Glasgow. I shan’t see you again, my dear.”
She didn’t believe him. He’d said similar things to her before, words designed to assuage her anxiety, but he’d always reappeared.
Wasn’t there a saying about supping with the devil? You needed a long spoon. Whatever he said, or how charmingly he said it, she couldn’t afford to believe him.
If she gave in this last time, the ramifications would be more disastrous than any information she’d passed him in Washington.
She couldn’t allow him to hurt Lennox.
She tucked the paper into her pocket and said, “I’ll do what I can. Give me some time.”
His mouth thinned; his face fell into stern lines. “That’s the only thing I don’t have. I need the information within the next day or two.”
Then she would have to act quickly. She nodded, forcing a smile to her lips.
A carriage slowed in front of the house. She knew that carriage with its anchor lights and ebony finish.
She stared back at Lennox as he looked at her from the carriage window, his face revealing nothing.
The seconds stretched thin. Her stomach felt hollow, the moment important and desperate.
She expected him to drive away, but to her surprise he left the carriage, stalking toward her with his expression giving no doubt of his feelings.
Lennox was enraged.
“I would leave if I were you,” she said to Baumann, still looking at Lennox.
Baumann didn’t look the least distressed, which was only one sign of his foolishness. The other was to turn and smile at Lennox.
She could have predicted what happened next.
Lennox grabbed Baumann by his jacket and hauled the surprised man up against one of the pillars.
She always thought of Baumann as a large man, but next to Lennox he was almost diminutive.
“What the hell are you doing here, Baumann?” he asked, his words as calm and measured as a parlor meeting.
Baumann was evidently beginning to realize the depth of his danger because his eyes widened.
“Let me go, Cameron.”
“Not until you tell me why you’re here. Why you’re bothering Glynis.”
“I’m an old acquaintance.”
Lennox glanced over at her. “Did you invite him?”
She shook her head.
“Do you want him to remain?”
“Not particularly, but do let the man go, Lennox. I don’t need you to pummel him for me.”
Baumann’s eyes widened even more. Good, it was about time the man experienced a little discomfort. She almost wanted to beg Lennox to hit him once or twice.
He let go of Baumann enough so the other man slid down the pillar slightly, then managed to straighten his jacket and his
dignity.
“What are you doing here?” Lennox demanded.
“None of your concern,” Baumann said.
Lennox turned and looked at her.
She only shook her head. If he expected more from her, she couldn’t give it.
“I think both of you should leave,” she said.
“As you wish.” Lennox’s tone was clipped and there was an expression in his eyes she couldn’t read.
Baumann left first, both of them watching as he followed the path to his carriage. He didn’t look back, didn’t give her any further instructions, but she knew he expected her to fulfill his request. Otherwise, the whole of Glasgow would know about Washington.
The words almost tumbled from her lips in the moments she and Lennox were alone. The confession, however, would damn her in his eyes. He wouldn’t understand. How could anyone? Or he would understand and despise her for her actions. In seconds he was gone, leaving her to stare at his departing carriage.
She shouldn’t have come home, but it had been too difficult to stay away. She could always leave Glasgow, but how did she leave herself?
Chapter 18
Lucy sat at her vanity and stared at her pale face. In days, only days, she’d be expected to get on that horrid ship and sail halfway across the world.
A wife must go where her husband goes and do so without a word of complaint. Never mind everything she cherished would be left behind. Her own mother had traveled from Cornwall to reside in London, but it wasn’t the same, was it? She had been transplanted from London and forced to spend months in this ghastly country.
Gavin would take possession of the Raven in days. He couldn’t stop talking about that idiotic ship. Her speed . . . her ballast . . . her depth . . . her hold—he talked as if it were alive.
“Ships are female,” he said, when she’d asked why he always referred to the Raven as a she.
He’d come too close, nuzzling her ear and disturbing her arranged hair. She had no maid and she’d wanted one. When we finally settle in America, Gavin said. Just one more disappointment she suffered in a dissatisfying marriage.
Gavin’s blond attractiveness was pleasant and his voice wasn’t as grating on her as a Scottish accent. When she first married him she’d been happy, especially since it was all too evident he worshipped her.
Who else could have charmed her parents into allowing them to marry so quickly? Her mother had adored him. Her father had respected him.
She’d never considered Gavin could love her too much. He always wanted to touch her. Each night when she retired, he forced her to tell him she was indisposed, or he would have been endlessly cuddling up to her.
Gavin was as licentious as Lennox Cameron.
In the future, should anyone mention Cameron and Company to her, she would tell them her husband had gone on and on about the quality of the ships they built but she was unimpressed with the character of the company’s owner. Lennox Cameron, to her disappointment, had proven himself to be a man of no morals. He had been almost as satyrlike as her own husband. Imagine, groping a woman in a garden where anyone could see them.
Glynis Smythe was no paragon of virtue, either. She had acquiesced without a protest. In fact, from where she stood, Glynis might have even initiated the kiss.
The people of Glasgow should know about their leading citizens.
Only a few more days and she would be quit of Scotland forever. She would never find another reason to come back to this barbaric place.
She had no knowledge of Nassau, and whenever she asked Gavin, he only told her not to worry—he was sure she’d love it.
While she was very certain she wouldn’t.
ONCE HE made it to the yard, Lennox sent Tim to his physician with a request to call on Garrison.
He entered his office, greeting the draftsmen already perched on their stools. One by one he inspected the newest changes to the ship still in the idea stage, answered questions, and praised the efforts of one young man, barely seventeen and new to Cameron and Company.
Allan had been the brunt of jokes ever since being hired a month ago, but he’d gradually stopped blushing and started responding in kind.
Gavin Whittaker was seated at Lennox’s desk in the corner. When he approached, the man stood, looking up from the plans.
“I’m damn sorry I won’t be here to see you build this ship,” he said.
Although he acted like a dilettante with his walking stick and his drawl, Gavin was at his core a seafaring man. He knew ships.
“Will it be the equal of the Raven?” Lennox asked, waving the man back to his chair while he took the one beside the desk.
“Nothing will ever equal the Raven,” Gavin said with the pride of a captain soon to take possession of a Cameron and Company ship.
For a few moments they discussed the plans spread out on the desk. Lennox took note of Gavin’s comments on the slope of the deck and the placement of the forecastle.
He had orders for two more blockade runners, vessels that would not only outrun the Union ships but carry eighteen hundred bales of cotton on the outbound journey. Inbound? He could just imagine the cargo the Raven could carry. Ammunition and guns, foodstuffs, and all the other necessities of life becoming scarce in the South.
He moved to stand at the window, staring down at the Raven. She’d passed her sea trials with no corrections or reservations. The boilers and side wheels had been inspected and the vessel’s seaworthiness wasn’t in doubt.
Tomorrow he would turn over the ship to Gavin. In a few days he’d watch as Gavin piloted the Raven down the Clyde and out to sea. He’d be relieved to say good-bye to Lucy Whittaker but couldn’t say the same about Gavin.
There had been too many deaths along the Clyde in the last six months. Even the smaller shipbuilders were feeling the tension, as if the Americans were fighting their war up and down the river.
A Union colonel, ostensibly employed by a company in London, had been killed a week ago, the news relayed to him a few days earlier. Evidently, the victim had fallen from a ship, struck his head and drowned. The fact no one had seen the accident was suspicious. Nor was the man supposed to have been aboard the Mary Anne.
That made four Americans to perish near Glasgow in the last year.
Had the dead man been an associate of Baumann’s? The question brought him full circle.
Why was Glynis involved in conversation with a Union spy?
According to her own words, she didn’t want to see the man again. Then why was Baumann at her home?
Perhaps the most important question was: what did he do about this feeling of betrayal?
Was she working with the man? Was Glynis a Union operative? If so, was he her assignment? Was she supposed to seduce him? Confuse him? Confound him until he was incapable of speech, let alone building ships? Was that what the kiss in the garden was all about?
Was it her intention to ensnare him? If so, she rated a perfect score. He’d been fascinated from the first, watching for the woman who held herself so still to revert to the girl he’d known. At times he thought he’d spied her, but the glimpses lasted only a few seconds. Her eyes would sparkle at him with a dare and then she’d change back into being the proper Mrs. Smythe.
Damned if he knew what he was going to do about Glynis.
Chapter 19
The rain had begun at midnight, with no sign it was going to let up anytime soon. Glynis wanted to pull the covers over her head and tell herself the weather was too awful to venture outside. But that would have been the action of a coward, and after yesterday she had to demonstrate a little more courage.
She had to explain to Lennox.
After dressing, she slipped from the house and made her way to the stables. Once there, she sought out one of the drivers.
“I would like to go to the yard, please, Thomas. To Cameron and Company.”
The man only raised one eyebrow, but he didn’t move to open the carriage door.
The stable smelled of wax
and a hint of kerosene. Did he use both to keep the body of the vehicle shiny?
“It’s Sunday,” he said, softening the words with a small smile.
She nodded. The one day Lennox would be alone at the shipyard. She wasn’t going to be foolish enough to return to Hillshead. Nor did she wish to call on him when he was surrounded by other people.
She had a confession to make and she didn’t want any witnesses.
“I’ve known you since you were a little girl, Miss Glynis. And now you’re a woman, well-traveled and all. But I care for my horses and the carriages your family lets me drive. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t have the same concern for you? The yard is not a safe place for you in the best of times. On a Sunday it’s doubly dangerous.”
She had Richard’s Derringer, now tucked into her reticule. Beneath her bonnet was a hat pin the size of a dagger. Nor should anyone discount her determination.
“Thomas, I can assure you, I’ll be safe.”
He shook his head.
“Then I shall walk,” she said. “It will only take me an hour or two.”
She didn’t anticipate walking the distance through the rain, but if she had to do it, she would.
“Aye,” he said. “You’d do it, wouldn’t you? A stubborn little thing, ever since you were a girl.”
That obstinacy had gotten her into trouble more than once. Perhaps this was another example, but she had to talk to Lennox. Her conscience gnawed at her. For good or ill, he had to know the truth.
Thomas sighed heavily. “It’s dull we were around here without you, Miss Glynis.” He grinned at her and she couldn’t help but smile in return.
At last count there were more than twenty shipyards near Glasgow. Although the yards were downriver, the foundries supplying the material were located in the city itself. Each day they spit out copper and brass fittings, boilers and engines, all components for the new iron-hulled ships. Consequently, the air hanging over Glasgow always smelled of smoke.
The farther downriver they traveled, the clearer the air.
The shipyards were unworldly in the silence of a rainy Sunday. On this dark afternoon the shop lights on the wharf were reflected on the wet cobblestones. The air carried the scent of the rain and the Clyde, the smell of home and one she’d forgotten for so many years.