The Rebel Bride (Civil War Brides Series, #5)

by Piper Davenport

  Did he love her? Did he cherish her? Was he her one true love? There was no doubt that he had the ability to raise her hackles like no one else. But was he the one who captivated her heart?

  She buried her face in her hands. He was. She’d known it at the dressmaker’s and that was the reason she’d panicked.

  Victoria realized she’d overreacted... albeit slightly. If she wanted things to change, she had to be willing to bend. She had to talk to Quincy. He was right. They should have resolved their argument.

  Climbing out of bed and wrapping a robe around herself, she pulled the sash tight as she rushed out her bedroom door... and smack dab into Quincy. He steadied her by wrapping his arms around her.

  “I’m sorry,” they said at the same time.

  Victoria smiled up at him. “What are you still doing here?” she whispered.

  “Where are you rushing to?” he whispered back.

  She took his hand, pulled him into her room, and then quietly closed the door and turned to face him. “I was coming to find you.”

  “I was going to wake you.” He lifted her palm to his lips.

  “Quincy, I shouldn’t have walked away from our argument. I’m sorry.”

  “And I should have talked to you first, instead of dictating. I’m sorry too.”

  “Can we start again?”

  “Of course,” he said.

  She laid her hand on his chest and gazed up at him. “I really don’t want to leave Hannah. I need to know she’s okay.”

  Quincy nodded. “All right, little rebel. We’ll try and come up with an alternate solution. I’ll speak with Christopher tomorrow... or this morning as the case may be. I can’t promise it’ll be an ideal resolution, but I’ll try.”

  “That’s all I’m asking for.”

  He tipped her chin up. “What’s this about going home?”

  “I’m sorry.” Victoria lowered her eyes. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Quincy frowned. “Tell me what you meant.”

  Victoria sighed. “I can go back if I want to.”

  His hand shook as he lowered it. “To the future?”

  Victoria nodded.

  “No.” Quincy swore. “I’m not willing to be separated from you again, Victoria, so prepare yourself to come home with me.”

  She held a finger up at him. “Dictating, Quinn.”

  Sighing, he ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t mean to dictate, Rebel. I simply need you to understand the intensity of how I feel.”

  Victoria slid her hands up his chest and around his neck. “My gorgeous man. No one would ever doubt the intensity of your feelings. Least of all me. And I have no intention of going anywhere without you. I’m here for good.” Pulling his head down, she kissed him and within seconds, she found herself on her bed and under Quincy.

  “Victoria.” He groaned and sat up.

  Kneeling, she wrapped her arms around him from behind and kissed his neck. “It’s probably a good thing we aren’t under the same roof. I really am having a difficult time not ripping your clothes off.” He grasped her waist and pulled her around his body, settling her onto his lap and eliciting a gasp from her. “Oh! It feels as though you’re having the same issue.”

  “I’m going back to Clayton’s, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She nodded and kissed him. Then kissed him again.

  “I’m leaving now, Rebel.” He stood with her still in his arms. “If I don’t, I won’t be able to.”

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  “I love you, too,” he said, and kissed her palm.

  QUINCY LEFT VICTORIA’S room and made his way next door, doubting he’d get any sleep. He walked through the foyer and back to Clayton’s office. He knew Clay had a good bottle of whiskey sitting on his desk. Quincy crept down the hall and pulled his pocket watch out to check the time as he entered the office.

  “Good morning, little brother.”

  Quincy’s head whipped up and he saw Christopher sitting by the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in his hand, the bottle on the table next to his chair. “Can’t sleep?”

  “How’d you guess?” Christopher retorted.

  Quincy chuckled and grabbed a glass.

  “How’s Victoria?”

  Quincy sat down with a grunt. “She’s fine.”

  Christopher sipped his drink. “That didn’t sound particularly convincing.”

  “Do you know anything about Bartholomew Grey?”

  Christopher shook his head. “Only that he’s working with Richard. Why?”

  Quincy swirled the liquid in the glass. “He’s been bothering Victoria.”

  “How so?” Christopher asked.

  “I have a feeling Victoria has downplayed it slightly, but he seems to have formed an affection for her.”

  Christopher set his glass carefully on the table and leaned forward. “How does she feel about him?”

  “My rebel isn’t impressed.” Quincy smirked. “And I’m not impressed that he thinks he can put his hands on her.”

  Christopher’s eyes widened. “He touched her?”

  “Apparently so. Not overtly, but enough to make her uncomfortable. He won’t take no for an answer. I take comfort in the fact that Rocky tries to take a bite out of Grey every time he comes near him, however, he needs to be dealt with.”

  Christopher sat back, picking up his drink again. “Deal with that quickly, Quinn. If you need assistance, let me know.”

  “Thanks. I think I’ll do fine.” Quincy sipped his drink. “How’s Hannah?”

  “She’s frustrated.”

  Quincy nodded. “I can’t imagine being stuck in bed for months on end.”

  “Neither can I. Which is why I’m here alone, drinking. She’s angry with me for forcing her to do nothing.”

  “Isn’t it the doctor’s decision?” Quincy asked.

  “Yes, but she argues that she feels fine.”

  Quincy shrugged. “She probably is.”

  Christopher finished his whiskey and poured another. “Don’t you start too.”

  “Sorry,” Quincy said sheepishly.

  “She wants to speak with him about going home. She doesn’t like being separated from me.” Christopher sighed. “I don’t particularly like it either, but if Stephen says no, it’ll upset her.”

  “I just had a similar argument with Victoria.”

  “Isn’t she coming back with you?”

  Quincy’s brows puckered. “She doesn’t want to leave Hannah.”

  Christopher smiled. “And how did you react to that information?”

  Quincy swore.

  Christopher laughed. “Hannah calls me overprotective, but the truth is, if anything happened to her, I wouldn’t survive.”

  “Why didn’t we fall in love with women of our own time? Women who were easy to manage,” Quincy complained.

  Christopher let out a snort. “Can you imagine? We’d have been bored out of our minds.”

  “Yes, true.” Quincy finished his drink and refilled the glass.

  “We have to discuss the President’s issues at some point, Quincy.”

  “I realize that. I am, however, at a loss where to start. Any news from your men?”

  Christopher nodded. “Yes, it’s just as Sophie said.”

  “What did she say? I missed that conversation.”

  “Right, I forgot about that.” Christopher leaned forward, arms on his knees. “According to Sophie, and confirmed by our surveillance, John Wilkes Booth is the mastermind behind this.”

  “Who is this Booth person?”

  “He’s an actor.”

  “I believe Victoria mentioned that on the field. In between expletives,” Quincy said. “But how is it possible that a mere actor could assassinate a president?”

  “He’s more than just an actor, apparently. He has formed a group of conspirators. They’ve been developing plans to kidnap Lincoln.” Christopher rubbed his forehead. “Sophie gave me a list of the conspi
rators, but we haven’t been able to locate all of them, yet.”

  Quincy let out a quiet whistle. “How does she know all of this?”

  “Apparently, she’s what they call a Civil War buff.”

  “Civil War?” Quincy asked.

  “It’s what the future calls the War Between the States.”

  “Ah.”

  “She used to participate in reenactments and was an avid researcher of Lincoln.”

  “How much of the information does she remember?”

  “It would appear almost all.” Christopher dropped his head on the back of the chair. “The first attempt will be on March 17, 1865. The group plans to capture Lincoln when he attends a play at a hospital located on the outskirts of Washington. The president will end up not going, so the plan is a failure. I will ensure that happens.”

  “How do they succeed in the end, then?”

  “Booth visits the Ford theatre the morning of April 14. He’s told that the President and Grant will be attending a performance of Our American Cousin that evening. Grant leaves town, which probably saves his life. A man named Atzerodt is supposed to kill the Vice President at his home, but doesn’t even make the attempt. Another man named Powell is to kill Seward. He manages to stab him in the face but doesn’t kill him.”

  Taking another sip from his glass, Quincy pondered the information. “We’ll figure it all out, Chris. It’s just going to take time.”

  Christopher nodded. “I know. Yet another frustration of Hannah’s bed rest. She has been invaluable at the offices.”

  “Aren’t you concerned about her exposure to the danger?”

  Christopher shook her head. “No. I was with her constantly and able to protect her should anything happen. I felt better knowing where she was at all times and no one would attempt something with me right there.”

  Quincy didn’t comment, suddenly thinking about Victoria and her safety. Now that he was working with Christopher, he would be more high profile, which would also affect her.

  Christopher stood and squeezed his brother’s shoulder. “I’m going to join my wife and attempt to get some sleep.”

  Quincy nodded. “Good night.” He sat in the office for a long time before he forced himself to go to bed.

  * * *

  The next morning, Victoria woke before five. Frustrated that she couldn’t fall back to sleep again, she decided to get up and visit Rocky.

  Dressing quickly, she made her way downstairs and stopped next door to see if Quincy was awake, but found only the house staff bustling the halls. She left a note with the housekeeper for him and then made her way out to the stables.

  Surprised to see men in the arena working with the horses so early, she waved to Richard, who was already hard at work. He waved back and Victoria continued on to Rocky’s stall. She called for him and he poked his head out of the stall but didn’t whinny.

  “What’s the matter? Am I too early even for you this morning?” She handed him a sugar lump. He nudged her shoulder and she continued to stroke his muzzle. Rocky was agitated, but she didn’t understand why.

  “Good morning.”

  Victoria cringed when she heard his voice. “Mr. Grey.”

  He made his way over to her with a wide smile. “You’re up early.”

  “So it would appear.”

  “How are you this morning?”

  She opened the stall door and stepped inside. “I’m well, thank you.” Rocky grew more agitated with Bart standing outside his stall. She stroked her hand down Rocky’s neck. “What is it, boy?” Rocky threw his head in the air and blew out his lips.

  “Victoria,” Bart whispered

  She snapped her head up, eyes flashing in anger. “What part of ‘don’t use my first name’ did you not understand?”

  “Quincy Butler is all wrong for you.”

  “Go away,” she snapped.

  “No, dearest,” Bart crooned. “He’s not the man for you, and I intend to prove it.”

  “How do you plan to do that?”

  “You’ll soon see.”

  Victoria snorted. “You’re insane.”

  “No, sweet love,” he said. “We will be together.”

  She waggled a finger at him and seethed. “I’m going to tell you something, Mr. Grey, and I want you to hear me. There will never be a day when I’ll stop loving Quincy Butler. And there sure as hell won’t be a day I’ll love you. In fact, I would love to never see you again.”

  “I believe I can arrange that for you, sweetheart.”

  She turned to see Quincy walking into the barn in tight breeches and shirtsleeves. He’d left his jacket off and her stomach dropped as her heart beat quickly. He was magnificent.

  Victoria smiled. “Yes, honey, I’d appreciate that. This is Mr. Grey. He seems to think I’ll leave you and run away with him.”

  “Is that right?” Quincy reached the stall and Bart stared him down.

  Rocky whinnied and Victoria turned to calm him.

  “I understand you put your hands on my fiancée.” Bart didn’t respond, and Quincy continued, “I’ve spoken to Richard and your services are no longer required.”

  “You don’t have that authority,” Bart argued.

  Richard strode into the barn and frowned. “But I do, Bart, and you’re dismissed.”

  “This isn’t over.”

  “I believe it is,” Quincy said.

  Grey made the mistake of leaning over the stable door and grabbing Victoria’s arm. “We will be together, Victoria.”

  She tried to yank her arm away. “Get your hands off me!”

  Bart didn’t get the chance to release her on his own. Quincy pulled back his fist and let it fly. Bart was slammed backward, but still had hold of Victoria’s arm, yanking her with him. She cried out in pain as she struck the metal bar above the stall door, Bart finally releasing his hold on her. Quinn rushed to her and let himself into the stall. “Where did I hurt you, sweetheart?”

  “It wasn’t you, honey.” She gasped as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

  “Tell me.”

  “My ribs.” Attempting to take a deep breath, she winced.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

  She took his face in her hands. “It wasn’t you, Gus. You were defending me.”

  “Let’s go back to the house and have Michael examine you.”

  Nodding stiffly, she let herself out of Rocky’s stall and looked over to where Bart was still unconscious. “How hard did you hit him?”

  “Not hard enough,” he snapped.

  “Honey,” she said with a giggle. “Ouch.”

  “Careful.”

  “Quinn, I got the wind knocked out of me. I’ll be fine.”

  He took her hand and kissed her palm. “I still want Michael to look at you.”

  She smiled. “Okay. As much as it annoys me, I must admit, the fact that you’re a tad overprotective makes me feel loved.”

  He stopped and turned to face her. “You are loved. More than words could ever express.”

  They walked back to the house, where Michael checked her over. He agreed she had a couple of bruises, but nothing was broken, and he was confident she would heal before their wedding.

  * * *

  The next week flew by so quickly, Victoria was unsure whether or not any of it was real. Her ribs healed, and the bruising went away, which she was thankful for. The thought of being naked and bruised on her wedding day ruined her idea of romance.

  Quincy’s mother and father arrived three days before the wedding. Victoria had an opportunity to spend quality time with them and enjoyed them immensely. So unlike her own family, they were warm and inviting, and she immediately felt accepted.

  Stephen gave Hannah the green light to travel home, but she would continue to be on bed rest once they arrived. That solved the dilemma of Victoria returning with Quincy, and she couldn’t have been happier.

  Victoria woke the morning of her wedding exhausted from a sleepless night and let
out a groan when an entirely too-chipper Sophie walked into her room, followed by Emma, Christine, Gwen, and Hannah.

  “Good morning, lovey!” Hannah hugged her.

  “You don’t look like you got much sleep,” Sophie observed.

  “Well, she must be horny. Lord knows I am,” Emma said.

  “Emma Justine,” Hannah admonished. “That is entirely too much information.”

  “You also had your husband in your bed last night, so he must be doing something wrong.” Sophie grinned. “Would you like Jamie to talk to him?”

  “Y’all are terrible,” Victoria said.

  The girls dissolved into giggles.

  “Are you ready for your bath?” Sophie asked.

  Victoria wrinkled her nose. “I’m ready for coffee. I need coffee.”

  “I’ll get you a tray,” Christine offered.

  “Thanks, Christine.”

  Betty came in with a tub, followed by a few of the servants carrying buckets of water. Sophie poured lavender essence to scent the water and gathered the shampoo and conditioner she’d hidden.

  They spent the next two hours preparing Victoria for her special day, and she was beyond excited to put on her gown. Madame had achieved a miracle, getting it made in record time.

  Her white satin gown would probably cause a stir, as it wasn’t in the hoop style. It fell in a form-fitting cascade, slightly flaring at the bottom, and had an overlay of mesh with tiny violet flowers embroidered in it. Her veil also had the same flowers, and Christine had made her a headpiece with real violets wrapped around it.

  Inspiration for the decorations had been taken from the color of Victoria’s eyes. Violet was the flower of the day, and it had been used in everything, including her bouquet of white roses.

  Christine suggested she leave her hair loose, with a few simple curls and each side pulled back, secured with small pins.

  There was a knock at the door and Sophie opened it to find Michael’s wife holding a velvet box.

  “What do you have there, Nona?” Christine asked.

  Nona handed the box to Victoria. “A gift from Quincy.”

  Victoria’s hands shook, but she managed to open the lid. She let out a quiet gasp. Inside was an amethyst and diamond bracelet and matching pendant.