Carter whirled around rather suddenly for his usual slow and deliberate demeanor. “Fannie Madison?” He lowered his voice then and tried to appear calm. “Now why would the most beautiful woman still at the party be disappointed if I don’t return?”
Andrea saw in his eyes the same light she had seen in Fannie’s. “I just believe she would.”
“She told you that?” His dark eyes probed hers in the moonlight.
“I dare not divulge what was said in a private conversation, Major Carter,” she replied coyly, “but I believe you would not be disappointed if you were to return.”
Carter was silent for a moment as he studied her. “I think perhaps I will take your advice, Miss Evans. After all, the night is still young, is it not?” He leaped into his seat and whipped the horses out the lane at a speed Andrea concluded was neither safe nor necessary for a wagon not under heavy fire or in imminent danger of capture by enemy forces.
Smiling, Andrea stood at the bottom of the porch as she watched the wagon disappear. But the smile turned into a frown when the sound of hoof beats did not fade away. The noise from the departing wagon overlapped with the sound of a single horse galloping over the bridge. It did not take Andrea long to recognize the rider. She started up the steps with more haste as he reined his horse to a stop.
“Miss Evans,” Hunter said, dismounting. “I’m sorry you didn’t find the party to your taste.”
“I pray you did not leave the affair early to offer me your sympathy.” Andrea tried to sound indifferent as she continued up the steps. “The celebration, after all, is in your honor.”
“I didn’t come to offer my sympathy, Miss Evans.” Hunter tied his horse to a post. “I came to apologize.”
“Then I’m sorry you rode all this way for nothing.” Andrea heard Hunter’s spurs hit the steps as her hand reached the door latch.
“It won’t be for nothing.” His hand was suddenly on the door above her head, holding it closed. “I intend to be heard.”
Andrea turned and faced him. “Colonel Hunter, your time would be much better spent at the Talberts. It appears the ladies there are more interested in what you have to say than I am.” She tried to keep her voice calm, though she felt her heart beating in her throat.
“I disagree, Miss Evans.” He trapped her between his arms as he leaned both of them against the door. “I think you will be very interested in hearing what I have to say.”
Overwhelmed by the intensity in his eyes, Andrea could barely look at him. Yet neither could she look away, for his probing gaze held her there as securely as the confinement of his arms.
Swallowing hard when she felt his chest rising and falling against hers, she finally forced her gaze to the sky over his shoulder. “That statement defies reason.”
“Everything about you defies reason,” Hunter said softly. “It’s one of the many things I find so . . . intriguing about you.”
Hunter stood so close it produced a low roaring in Andrea’s ears. She was anxious to get away, yet felt powerless to break the spell that bound her. “I had no idea you found me intriguing.” She willed herself to remain strong, refusing to yield to the seductive influence of his eyes. “In fact, I find it difficult to believe you find me anything but an object to malign in front of an audience.”
“I wish to retract my earlier statement about your loyalties,” he said, his voice softer now. “And I hope you can find it in your heart to consider me, once again, a gentleman.”
“Where you and your men think my loyalties lie is of little concern to me.” Andrea spoke with cold authority. “And I hardly think your behavior tonight can be considered that of a gentleman.”
* * *
Hunter closed his eyes and banged his fist on the doorway above her head. It was as he had expected, the contemptuous enemy had returned.
“I don’t know how to rein you in,” he said with a hint of desperation.
“Perhaps that’s because you’re already holding the reins too tightly.” Andrea’s gaze continued to focus on the stars twinkling over his shoulder.
Hunter studied her intently. “Do you not think, Miss Evans, that when one is dealing with a headstrong beast, one is inclined to hold it tightly rather than give it free rein?”
Andrea brought her eyes down from the heavens to meet his, and then looked away again. “I do not know to what you allude. It has been my experience that many beasts are content only when given free rein and will behave quite admirably if their master will but have the trust and the courage to give it to them.”
He tilted his head and squinted at her. “Do you believe the actions of women and horses are comparable?”
This time she did not divert her gaze, and her tone rose a notch. “I believe it is natural instinct that the tighter the restraint, the harder the fight against it.”
Hunter looked at her curiously, trying to figure out if she had answered his question or carefully avoided it. “But Miss Evans, I believe it is natural instinct to try to maintain some control.”
“If that is your instinct,” Andrea replied curtly, “I suppose I will have to leave you to find your own way in taming the beast. A heavy hand has never worked for me.”
“Do you mean on you?”
“I said for me, did I not? I trust you to come to your own conclusions as to whether it works on me!”
Her tone belied intense irritation. Hunter felt like he had just slipped a rope over a horse’s head and it was backing up, getting ready to bolt and drag him off his feet. He did not know what to say, and even if he did, would have been afraid to say it. He could see by the look in her eyes she had already taken the bit in her defiant teeth and was pulling hard at the restraining hands of her tormentor.
He attempted to slacken the rope. “Indeed I have,” he said, clearing his throat, “and I would like to apologize for any embarrassment I may have caused you this evening. I believe I misjudged you. I spoke rashly and impulsively, and considering your lineage, I hardly—”
“My lineage?” Andrea looked up so quickly that she hit the back of her head against the door.
Hunter hesitated, but decided she could be no more surprised to hear what he was about to say, than he’d been shocked to learn about it.
“If I’m not mistaken, Miss Evans,” he said, never removing his eyes from hers, “you are the daughter of Olivia Evans, whose second husband was Charles Monroe.
Andrea stared at him unblinking, her lips pressed tightly together, her expression changing from poised to forced composure.
“Of course, it is no secret that your mother was from Virginia, and as such, that a considerable amount of Virginia blood flows through your veins. However—”
“Good night, Colonel.” Andrea reached behind her for the door.
“Wait.” Hunter grasped her hand. “I’m not yet finished. It has come to my attention that your mother’s first husband, Nathaniel Evans, who died just before you were born, is from a long line of distinguished Virginians.”
The silence was deafening, the tension palpable. Hunter did not know if her speechlessness was caused by what she had just heard, the fact that he knew it, or that it was something she refused to admit even to herself after all this time. He decided on the latter.
“I-I have never made that claim,” Andrea stammered.
“You need not claim it for it to be true,” Hunter said calmly. “Though you pretend to detest us, you cannot deny the inheritance of an honored line of ancestors. You possess a blue-blooded pedigree with not so much as a drop of tainted blood in your veins.” He chuckled. “I dare say there are few in Virginia who can boast flesh that is of better dust than yours.”
“Who told you this?” she demanded.
“Miss Evans, I dare not reveal my sources.”
“Then you obviously have nothing but imagination to build your case upon.” Andrea stared broodingly over his shoulder. “I suppose such interest in my affairs should be complimentary, but I find it curious that you’ve not
hing better to do with your time than attempt to trace my family tree.” She brought her gaze back to his just as the faint sound of a carriage reached their ears.
“Oh, it took no time. If you insist on knowing, one of my men has a lady friend from Unison, whose brother was acquainted with Nathaniel Evans. This brother told me—just tonight—he remembered Nathaniel marrying an Olivia Spencer. He further remembered the scandal it caused when Nathaniel was killed in an accident, and Olivia, with her husband barely cold in his grave and a child well on the way, married into a wealthy family in South Carolina. And, well, the rest is easy to speculate. You were raised as the daughter of Charles Monroe, probably didn’t even know yourself that you were not. But when you discovered the truth, you ran away, disassociated yourself from him and his name.”
Andrea met his gaze, but only briefly, as the sound of carriage wheels grew louder.
“It is not hard to surmise that you are both Virginian by birth and Southern by instinct,” Hunter continued, “and that you would rather denounce or ignore your bloodlines to allay the feeling that you have regrettably placed your loyalty on the wrong side of the rebellion.”
Andrea’s mouth opened, then snapped closed, but he gave her no time to respond.
“You are made of Virginia soil, my dear, and will be made of it forever. You can never unmix.”
Andrea’s eyes turned darker than he had ever seen them. “Allow me to do some speculating of my own,” she spat, nodding her head toward the approaching carriage. “It would be my guess that your mistress has noticed your absence and has come to seek you out. She will, no doubt, be ecstatic to find you waiting up for her. Good night, Colonel.”
Andrea reached behind her with a swift movement of one hand, opened the door, and backed in, closing it in his face. Revealing nothing.
Hunter put his head against the door in exasperation and sighed. Who are you, Andrea Evans? And why are you determined to be my foe?
The carriage rolled to a stop, and Victoria’s high-pitched voice shouted from within, “Alex! Dar-r-ling! How sweet of you to wait up for me!”
Chapter 44
“Water and words are easy to pour and impossible to recover.”
– Chinese Proverb
Andrea sat on the front steps watching a small dust cloud move and hang in the air, while a larger one followed along behind. From the size of the moving mass, Hunter was likely among them. Andrea could not help herself. She smiled.
The Colonel, after the turbulence of the ball, made no further comment about her suspected heritage. In fact, he had been surprisingly charming and mannerly as of late. Andrea found herself trying to separate enemy from man—admiring the latter and respecting the former. Yet she still found it hard to admit they were one and the same.
Once the lone rider had approached and crossed the bridge, Andrea saw it was not Hunter. When she did identify the figure, well nigh coated with sweat and powdery dust, she greeted him cordially. “Lieutenant Pierce.”
The officer’s mouth twisted into a confident smile as he interpreted her look as one of obvious admiration. “Miss Evans—” He bowed after he dismounted. “It’s Captain Pierce, now.” He paused and tied his horse to the porch. “I apologize for my untidy appearance.”
Andrea’s gaze remained on his horse for a moment, making it clear it was the animal with which she had been enthralled, not the soldier who’d been mounted upon him.
She dragged her eyes over to Pierce. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Are you looking for the Colonel?”
“Uh, no. The Colonel is behind me about a mile with the men, bringing in some horses I captured today. I rode in advance to … get some water, if I may?” He took off his hat and swiped dirt and sweat from his brow with his dusty shirtsleeve.
“Of course.” Andrea grabbed his arm and led him up the steps, even though it was obvious to her he had seen an opportunity to arrive before his commander and nearly ridden the legs off his horse to do it. “How impolite of me. Come rest in the shade on the porch.”
The long-legged soldier followed her eagerly up the steps with a considerable rattle of spurs and reposed himself on the vine-mantled banister while she went inside.
When Andrea returned with a pitcher of water a few minutes later, Pierce held his hand to his eye. “Captain? Is something wrong?”
“Oh, I seem to have gotten some dust in my eye.” He blinked hard. “Nothing to worry about.”
Andrea poured some of the water onto a handkerchief and looked up at him. “Goodness. You’re so tall. If you’ll move that stool over, I’ll try to clean it for you.”
With one eye closed, Pierce moved a footstool over to the banister and sat back down upon the railing. Andrea stepped onto the stool between his legs and wiped away the dirt around the eye.
“This is very kind of you,” he said, staring into her eyes. “I hope you’ll permit me to repay the favor. I never neglect my duty to a lady.”
“Don’t talk,” Andrea said. “I’m liable to poke you in the eye. Now lean your head back a little.” Pierce obeyed, putting his hands on Andrea’s waist in the process for balance. “I don’t really see anything.” Andrea leaned forward, her face just inches from his.
“Are you certain?” he asked huskily, looking straight into her eyes.
Andrea was concentrating so hard that she did not notice the other horses coming in until they were right in front of her. She jumped at the sound of spurs clanking angrily up the porch steps.
“Captain, may I see you a minute.” Hunter stormed up the steps, eyes blazing with indignation. Not stopping to wait for an answer, he pushed his way through the front door with the strength of a hurricane wind and disappeared into the house.
Pierce stood quickly to obey and in the process kicked the stool from beneath Andrea’s feet. He held her body against his before letting her slide slowly to the porch. “Thank you, miss. I feel much better.”
* * *
Hunter turned at the sound of Pierce’s spurs in the doorway of the library. “The order still stands, Captain Pierce. I did not withdraw it.”
“The order, sir?”
“The order to leave Miss Evans alone.”
“You jest.”
Hunter’s jaw tightened, making it clear he was not joking. “Miss Evans is a guest in my home. I have a duty to protect her.”
“Protect her from what? Anyone else courting her?”
Hunter stomped out from behind his desk to the door, slammed it shut, and turned back to Pierce. “I have never liked you, Pierce, as you well know. Yet, I have promoted you because you are deserving. For the good of the Command, I demand you stay away from her. It stems from no personal interest on my part, I assure you.”
Pierce snorted. “The good of the Command? How so? If you have no desire for her, why should you have no desire for anyone else to have her?” He looked Hunter straight in the eye, taunting him. “It appears to me she is of an age capable of making her own decisions. And I dare say that age is closer to mine than yours.”
“She will not become one of your conquests, Captain Pierce. Not while she’s residing under my roof. Let me make that perfectly clear.”
“But she will become one of yours?”
Pierce took a step backward at the look in Hunter’s eyes. “Colonel, it is clear to me she is a lady of integrity. Are you telling me I may not call on her?”
“Not so long as you are a member of this Command.”
This silenced Pierce, but only for a moment. “May I go on the record as stating that I do not believe it is fair of you to use your military status in this regard?”
The two men stood glaring at each other, both pulled up to their full heights. “You may go on the record,” Hunter replied, his voice perfectly composed, “but the order still stands.”
He turned away and went back to his desk. “You are dismissed.”
Pierce remained glowering at him as if contemplating some action, then saluted and turned for the door.
“Ah, Captain.”
Pierce stopped with his hand on the doorknob.
“I’ll need a report on your other activities today as soon as possible. I’m sure to hear from Richmond about it—and Washington—when word gets out.”
Pierce did not turn around. He nodded, placed his hat on his head, and opened the door.
“And Pierce, report the reasons and results, not the details.”
His response was the slamming of the door.
* * *
Andrea was standing by the paddock gate when she saw Pierce come out of the house. He appeared to be somewhat angry, if the dust rising from his boots was any indication. Seeing Andrea, he nodded stiffly in her direction, mounted his horse in one fluid movement, and spurred it down the lane.
“What’s wrong with him?” Johnny asked from over her shoulder.
“Don’t know.” Andrea watched Pierce thoughtfully. “Colonel Hunter didn’t seem too happy about something.”
“Yea, I got the same feeling,” Johnny said. “Something happened today. Haven’t figured out what.”
“What do you mean?” Andrea turned to face him.
“See this?” Johnny pointed to some blood matted in the mane of one of the horses.
Andrea nodded and Johnny’s voice got low. “Didn’t bring any prisoners in with these horses today.”
Andrea swept her eyes over the animals, all of which were still wearing saddles. “Seven equipped horses and no prisoners at all?”
“No, ma’am,” he said, walking into the herd to begin removing the tack.
Andrea watched him, absorbed in trying to come up with a suitable explanation for what had become of these horses’ riders. She was still leaning on the fence when she caught sight of Hunter out the corner of her eye making his way to the barn. She hurried to catch up with him. “I heard you brought back no prisoners today.”
Hunter stopped in his tracks and stared at her with distant, gray eyes. “That is correct.” His manner, his icy stare, and his expression sent a chill up her spine.
“But those horses all had riders, did they not?” She nodded toward the paddock.
Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia Page 34