Unwilling Warrior

by Andrea Boeshaar

  “Ladden, need I remind you that there is a lady present?”

  “Bah!” James threw his cigar onto the tiled floor and extinguished it with the toe of his boot. “Come on, McCabe, you can’t be that big a fool. Can’t you see she’s just trying to make me jealous?” Quite abruptly, James turned calm and collected. “You see, we’re engaged to be married. We had a little spat, and—”

  “Liar!” Valerie attempted to come around Benjamin, her fists clenched at her side, but he stepped in front of her. Benjamin’s human barricade, however, didn’t stop her mouth from shouting what was on her mind. “Get out of my house, James! Get out now or I’ll summon the authorities!”

  Adalia suddenly hurried into the room with a lamp in her hand. Its glass shade rattled precariously with her every hurried step. “What in the queen mother’s name is goin’ on in here?” She stopped short and surveyed the trio. A knowing look darkened her gaze. “Oh, dear . . . ”

  “Send Ephraim for the authorities, Adalia,” Valerie said. “James stole into our home like some petty thief.”

  “Don’t bother; I’m leaving.” He pointed a finger at Valerie. “Don’t think this matter is settled.”

  “Don’t you think it’s settled either.” She lifted her chin. “When my father comes home, I intend to tell him all about this.”

  James doubled over in laughter. “And what will he do to me in his usual inebriated state, hmm?”

  Valerie was horrified.

  Shame roiled deep inside of her until she thought she might be sick. Covering her mouth with her gloved hand, she bolted from the room, through the dining room and kitchen, and up the back servants’ stairwell, not even daring to breathe until she reached the sanctity of her bedroom.

  Closing the door, she sagged against it. Only then did she let go of the first of many gut-wrenching sobs.

  ***

  The Culvers arrived, and Ben followed them upstairs as Adalia led the way. But as they turned one way down the hallway, heading for their guest room, Ben stepped around the other way and paused in front of Valerie’s doorway. He couldn’t hear anything. He knocked.

  “Valerie, it’s Ben. Are you all right?”

  A long moment past before she answered. “I–I’m fine.” Her voice sounded weak, and Ben figured she’d been crying. He winced.

  “The Culvers have arrived.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be down for supper in a bit.”

  Not wanting to push her, he let the conversation go at that. He felt terrible about the way James humiliated her, although he’d also been impressed by her tenacity. There were moments during her confrontation that Ben wasn’t sure whom he tried to protect, her or Ladden. But in the end he was sorry he hadn’t shielded Valerie more. Ladden was a true rapscallion.

  He also regretted giving in to his desires and kissing her. Lord, forgive me. It won’t happen again. Ironically, he couldn’t help but remember how Gwyneth hadn’t allowed more than a pristine kiss on her cheek in all the time they’d been engaged. Even then, she seemed to only endure it while Valerie said she enjoyed their kiss. But I know I overstepped my bounds this evening, Lord. Reaching his own room, located down the dimly lit hallway and across from the Culvers’, he decided to get into some dry clothes.

  “This is lovely. Thank you.” Emily’s voice reached his ears, and gratefulness filled Ben. His friends would sleep far better here at the Fontaines’ home than in the back of their wagon, that’s for sure. It was nice of Valerie to offer.

  “Supper will be served at seven,” Adalia told them. “When you’re rested, you can go downstairs to the parlor. I imagine Miss Valerie’ll be there by then.”

  The maid hurried into the hallway, and Ben inclined his head politely as she passed.

  “And I’ll be needin’ those wet clothes of yours, Mr. McCabe.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Her tone left no room for argument.

  “Did you hear me say that supper’s at seven?”

  “I did.” He grinned at her bossiness. “And I’ll be punctual.”

  ***

  Valerie changed her clothes and repinned her hair. Glancing at her reflection, she determined her eyes weren’t nearly as puffy as they’d been an hour ago. The cloth that Adalia had soaked in salt water and brought to her had done wonders. As for James, Valerie hoped to never see the scoundrel again. She would, of course, inform her father of the incident. This time James had disgraced not only her but Father as well—and in front of a guest, no less.

  Valerie’s mind drifted to Benjamin. He hadn’t been far from her thoughts since she’d left the solarium. She kept remembering his gentle voice talking about love at first sight. Could that be possible? She felt an unusual draw to him. Was it love? Lord, please tell me . . . show me.

  With one last glance at her appearance and the dark brown checked gown she wore, she left her bedroom. In the parlor, she found Benjamin and the Culvers sitting near the hearth, chatting.

  “Good evening.” She stepped farther into the room.

  Benjamin came toward her. “Are you all right?” He whispered the question.

  She gave him a brief nod. He offered his arm and she took it.

  Clint Culver rose to his feet as well. “Miss Fontaine—”

  “Please call me Valerie.”

  “Valerie.” A smile inched across his whiskered face. “Em and I can’t thank you enough for inviting us to stay here.”

  “Much more comfortable than our wagon,” Emily added, smoothing the skirt of her slate-colored gown. “Your home is beautiful, Valerie.”

  “And you can’t beat the company,” Benjamin jested with a chuckle.

  Ephraim strode in on Valerie’s heels. “Excuse me, but if you’ll all be seated in the dining room, dinner will be served.”

  She turned and gave her father’s valet a quizzical look. Why had he stepped into Adalia’s role?

  As if reading her thoughts, he said, “Chastean went home, so Adalia’s in the kitchen.”

  Before she could reply, Benjamin led her through the parlor. The table had been set with a white linen cloth, two places on one side and two on the other. Benjamin helped Valerie into a chair before taking the seat beside her. Opposite them, Clint and Emily did the same.

  After Adalia brought in bowls of steaming seafood chowder, Benjamin asked the blessing before they ate.

  “How long do you anticipate staying in New Orleans?” Valerie hoped it would be a good long while. “Of course,” she quickly added, “you’re all welcome to stay here as long as you wish.”

  “Thanks, Valerie,” Em said, smiling at her from across the table. “I guess it all depends on whether the boys accept Colonel LaPorte’s offer.”

  Benjamin and Clint paused in their eating while Valerie sat by, feeling confused. She thought Benjamin had told her and Father that nothing came of the colonel’s offer.

  Emily inhaled sharply. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  The apology furthered Valerie’s puzzlement.

  Benjamin rose and shut the doors of the dining room. When he returned to his seat, he leaned in close. “Valerie, please don’t breathe a word of this—even to your father. Colonel LaPorte has asked us to stay in New Orleans and do some photographic work for the military. But it’s a covert assignment, and no one other than Clint was supposed to know.”

  “I had to tell Em,” Clint said in his own defense.

  She appeared chagrined. “Forgive me, Ben.”

  Valerie gave Emily a sympathetic glance before looking back at Benjamin. “I won’t tell a soul. I promise.”

  “We haven’t yet accepted the colonel’s offer. If we do, Clint and I will be gone during the day and, maybe, a few days on end.”

  “Emily and I will bide our time.” Valerie sensed what he hinted at. “We can go to the theater, shop—”

  “What will your father have to say about it, Valerie?” Benjamin continued his close proximity and hushed tone of voice.

  “To tell you the truth, I think he’ll say it’s all j
ust fine. Father has seemed less reticent since you arrived, Benjamin, and he told you to stay as long as you liked. I don’t believe he’ll mind that your partner and his wife are here too.”

  “If that changes,” Emily said, “let us know, and we’ll leave at once.”

  “I’ll be absolutely honest with all of you.” Valerie looked from Emily to Clint and then finally at Benjamin. “I promise.”

  Ten

  I can’t believe it!”

  “Well, it’s true.” Sitting in an upholstered armchair, Valerie’s gaze wandered as her father angrily paced his study. Books lined three of the walls of the spacious room, and a brick fireplace occupied the fourth. Heavy emerald-green drapes hung alongside each of the floor-to-ceiling windows, and beyond them, the late afternoon sun fought to shine through gray clouds. Benjamin and Clint had been gone since breakfast, and Emily rested upstairs. The house was quiet. So when her father arrived home, Valerie chose this time to inform him of yesterday’s events.

  “I simply cannot believe it. James’s behavior is despicable.” Father seemed to be raging aloud more than assuaging her doubts and fears. “Arnold Ladden will hear about this, that’s for sure.” Father shook his head. “And he has a lot of nerve, entering my house like a common thief!”

  “Does that mean you no longer think James is a good match for me?”

  Father stopped and flicked a glance over her. He clasped his hands behind his back. “You have someone else in mind?”

  Valerie blushed at her father’s retort. “To be honest, Benjamin and I have both agreed we would like to get to know each other better.” She shifted, averting her gaze and adjusting her hoopskirt.

  “Hmm . . . ”

  “Is it all right if he and the Culvers stay with us awhile? Emily Culver and I have become good friends.”

  He thought it over. “Yes, I suppose it’s fine.” Father moved to his large mahogany desk. “I imagine Mr. McCabe and Mr. Culver have business here in New Orleans, hmm?”

  “I imagine so.” Valerie knew she couldn’t divulge any details.

  “Did they mention if they’re working for Colonel LaPorte?”

  “No.” She wasn’t lying. How could she know whether Benjamin and Clint accepted the colonel’s offer?

  “They’re not intending to sit around my home all day doing nothing, I hope.”

  “Of course not.”

  Father’s dark gaze settled on her.

  Valerie shrugged, hating that awkward middle ground between keeping her promise to Benjamin and lying to her father.

  “I’ll ask them myself.”

  “Yes, do.” She sighed with relief. “And do I have your solemn promise that you’ll speak with Mr. Ladden and James about yesterday? I hope never to see James again.”

  Father pursed his lips as something akin to contempt mixed with disappointment wafted across his features. “Yes, I’ll take care of the matter. But I would suggest that you forgive and forget. James has always been a prankster, right?”

  “Father, I don’t want anything to do with James.”

  “He’d make a fine husband. He’ll provide for you. I won’t be here and—”

  “Where will you be?”

  “I, um . . . well, I’m speaking hypothetically.”

  Valerie tipped her head, regarding him.

  “Then, again, I might like another trip to France. You know how much I travel.”

  She did. He’d been away much of her childhood. She only had bits and pieces of recollections of him.

  “So you will be taken care of if you marry James.”

  “No!” Valerie stood, her arms at her sides, her fists clenched. “Father, please don’t make me marry him. Please!”

  His expression was unreadable. “We’ll discuss this another time. Now, why don’t you run along?”

  Valerie bristled. “Please don’t speak to me as though I’m a child.”

  “Forgive me, ma fille.” Father closed his eyes, looking suddenly weary. She wondered what sort of business had been keeping him away from home so often these past weeks. “I’ll do my best to remember you’re a young lady. Seems like just yesterday you were a little girl, sitting on my knee, and your mother was—” He choked on unshed emotion.

  “Oh, Father . . . ” Valerie stepped toward him and reached for his hands.

  He stiffened and turned away.

  A wave of hurt crashed over her. Why did she ever think this man, who’d always been a distant figure, could ever play a major role in her life? She watched as he strode to the shelf behind his desk on which his bottle of scotch stood. “You can’t drink away your sorrow over Mama’s death.”

  “And you, ma fille, can’t run from it,” he shot right back. “Is your pain any less here than it was at school?”

  “No. In truth, I’ve found little comfort in this house.” She glanced around the study before looking directly at her father again. “Or with you,” she added softly.

  He paused in filling his crystal tumbler and eyed her speculatively. Then shrugged.

  It was then that Valerie realized her terrible mistake. She’d run to him, her earthly father, when instead she should have sought the arms of God, her heavenly Father. “Looks like you were right all along—I should have stayed at school.”

  “A lesson that’s come too late for us both.” He muttered the reply.

  Valerie didn’t quite hear the reply. “What?”

  Father gupled down his scotch. “Nothing, ma fille. Nothing.”

  ***

  Ben noticed that Valerie seemed unusually quiet throughout dinner. Her actions as she ate appeared mechanical. Her replies were polite; however, she said nothing to contribute to the small talk flittering around the table. It bothered Ben to see her troubled, so when Valerie disappeared while they transitioned to the parlor, he went looking for her.

  He found her standing outside the solarium and purposely let the door creak open then slam behind him so he wouldn’t give her a start.

  “Kind of chilly out here—” He stepped toward her. “—but warmer than last night.”

  “Yes . . . ”

  “Everything all right?”

  Valerie sighed audibly and crossed her arms. “I just needed some air.”

  Ben half sat on the nearby wrought iron railing. “I hope whatever’s bothering you doesn’t have to do with your present company.”

  “You? No, of course it doesn’t.” A smile laced her tone as she turned to face him. “I’m sorry I gave you that impression. It’s . . . well, my father . . . ” Her voice trailed off.

  “You’re concerned about his drinking?”

  Valerie’s nod seemed timid at best.

  “I can assure you that neither the Culvers nor I stand in judgment. Instead you can count on us to pray.”

  “Thank you.”

  “If it’s any consolation, your father has been nothing but cordial tonight. I know I speak for all of us when I say we’re mighty grateful for the hospitality.” In the darkness, he saw her smile, and, not for the first time, he noticed how soft her hair looked as it framed her face.

  His eyes melded with her gaze, and he longed to hold her in his arms and kiss her again.

  He turned away and cleared his throat along with his thoughts.

  A few moments laden with silence passed. Finally Valerie spoke again. “Mama and I were so close. She’s the one who made this house a home. She loved and respected my father even though he was hardly ever here. But Mama somehow made me feel like he was, so when I returned from boarding school I naturally assumed I had a relationship with him. But the sad truth is I don’t. It’s all very disappointing.”

  “I’m sure.” Ben took Valerie’s hand. It felt soft and fragile. “And I’m sorry this is happening between you and your father.”

  “Thank you, Benjamin.”

  “Well, look on the bright side. He seems to have a protective nature. He approached me before dinner and said he planned to talk with James about yesterday’s incident. He
seemed quite indignant about it.”

  “Of course he is, but it has nothing to do with me.” Again Valerie sighed. “Oh, perhaps I am making too much of the situation and my expectations of Father far exceed his capabilities.”

  Ben pushed out a rueful grin. “I know all about those far-exceeding expectations.”

  “You do?” She searched his face in the darkness. “You’re thinking of your brother right now, aren’t you?” Valerie moved closer to him until they were only inches apart. “You have high expectations of finding him.”

  “Yes, I do. But is that so wrong? To have high expectations and believe God will do above and beyond what I think is possible?”

  “Of course not.” She shivered. “Perhaps my faith is weak.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Ben touched silky strands of her hair, then caressed the side of her face. She leaned into his palm and, a heartbeat later, stepped into his arms. Her fragrance filled his senses, and he wanted to say something consoling, but all he could think of was how good—and yes, how right—it felt to hold her. Lord, she’s the one, isn’t she?

  Then Valerie placed a kiss on his jaw. Ben knew they trod on dangerous ground. “You must be freezing.” Even though it took every ounce of his will, he pushed her gently back. “I think we best go inside.” When she nodded, he stood and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I don’t want you catching your death out here. Besides, your father and the Culvers are probably wondering where we are.”

  “You’re right on all accounts.”

  Together they walked into the house. Ben released her as they made their way to the parlor. He realized his feelings for Valerie surpassed anything he ever felt for Gwyneth, and they went beyond mere physical attraction. A friendship had formed, a kindred spirit existed, and Valerie respected his work and him. And she loves You, Lord.

  They reached the parlor, and Clint stood when Valerie entered the room first.

  Edward Fontaine got to his feet also, but only so he could walk to where his scotch stood on the polished sideboard. “Would you like a drink, Mr. McCabe?”

  “No, thank you.”