Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia (14 page)

A touch on her arm by her aunt brought Andrea
from her reverie. This was not a dream—she had a duty to perform. Smiling
brilliantly during introductions to a few of Richmond’s most distinguished
residents, she found herself abandoned while her aunt sought refreshments.
Passing a large mirror, Andrea paused and stared at the unfamiliar image
reflected back at her, then jumped slightly when a man behind her placed a hand
on her shoulder.

“Pardon me, miss,” came a low, polite voice.
“Might I offer you some refreshment?” A young officer handed her a glass
without waiting for a reply. Andrea smiled, and the butterflies in her stomach
disappeared in an instant as she began to play her role with ease.

When the musicians took a break, Andrea took a
deep breath of satisfaction. The South Carolina accent she usually tried so
hard to disguise had come back to her with little effort. The slow, measured,
ladylike walk she had been forced to practice endlessly as a child almost felt
natural. This was so much easier than riding through muck and mud. Why had
Daniel and J.J. been so reluctant to allow her come?

But her feeling of contentment became one of
terror at the sight of a tall, dark-haired man surveying the crowd. Almost
spilling her drink, she ducked behind an officer who appeared pleased to find
himself the sudden focus of her attention. Peeking out discreetly from behind
him, she watched Captain Hunter stride boldly in her direction. She stood in
awe and dread as he moved through the crowd, the onlookers parting before him with
obvious reverence and admiration.

Much to Andrea’s relief the music started again,
and she became caught in the flow moving to the dance floor. Losing sight of
her nemesis, she continued to look over her shoulder, even as someone grabbed
her hand and led her onto the dance floor. She scanned the room behind her one
last time, and exhaled deeply when the dark-haired officer did not reappear.
She was safe.

“Are you looking for someone?” Her partner
pulled her to face him.

Andrea’s heart stopped beating. She forced
herself to look from the impeccably polished knee boots, past the gray trousers
and snug gray coat and finally up to the steel-gray eyes. Her heart came to new
life now, fluttering in her throat as if seeking the nearest way out.

“Uh-h, no. Well, yes.” Andrea stumbled over the
words, shocked by his sudden appearance and shaken by the light touch of his
iron hand. “Just trying to locate my . . . uh, aunt. And my dance card.” She
looked down at the piece of paper, pretending to seek the name written there.

“Ah, yes, your Aunt Adkins,” Hunter drawled the
name. “As for your dance card, I see no one here to contest my claim.”

The sound of his voice sent a shiver down
Andrea’s spine, and the feel of his hand encircling her waist almost caused her
to pant. Never had she felt such enormous physical strength. And when she
rested her hand upon his arm, she stared at it, trying to convince herself she
was not grasping a piece of steel.

Andrea raised her head slowly to meet Hunter’s
gaze. She remembered well his penetrating eyes, and tonight, this close, their
depth and intensity disturbed her even more. They were of a shade so piercing,
she became convinced of the truth of Union gossip—that a single intimidating
look from Hunter in the heat of battle could persuade his six-shooter to yield
a seventh shot.

 “I don’t believe I’ve had the honor,” Andrea
said, surprising herself at how confident she sounded. “I am—” She faltered.
His stare overwhelmed her. She could not remember the name she had repeated at
least a hundred times this night.

“Miss Maryann Marlow if my information is
correct,” Hunter finished for her in a rich, deep voice. His tone was laced
with confident sophistication, most unlike a guerrilla leader of his
reputation, throwing Andrea even more off guard. “The honor is all mine, Miss
Marlow. Captain Alexander Hunter, at your service.”

Andrea tried to look surprised and recover her
composure. “Truly?
The
Captain Hunter?”

“I see my reputation precedes me,” he said
coolly.

“’Surely everyone in this room knows your
reputation and the gallant exploits of your command.” She managed to stifle the
shiver that swept through her, but just saying the words was enough to make her
skin crawl with revulsion. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath, half of
her afraid to look at him again, the other half knowing she had to.

“You are acquainted with my aunt?” she finally
asked with the best smile she could muster.

“No, I’ve never had the pleasure.”

“But you knew her name.”

“Miss, every man in this room with eyes in his
head knows that you are Miss Maryann Marlow, lately of Maryland, and that you
are in Richmond visiting your Aunt Abigail Adkins.”

“Indeed? I
had no idea I was so popular.” Andrea tried hard to relax.

“Indeed,” was his simple response as he led her
expertly around the dance floor. His eyes, though focused over her head,
revealed that his mind was alert and observant. He was aware of her every move.

Andrea’s
heart began racing again like an out of control racehorse.
If he discovers
my identity, will he kill me on the spot?
Her gaze wandered down to his
holster where he carried but one revolver tonight.
Or will he wait until
sunrise and hang me?

Clearing her throat, Andrea tried to sound more
composed than she felt. “So, Captain, what brings you here? I was under the
impression that a dance in which gunfire furnishes the music is more to your
liking than a ball.”

“Were I a gentleman, I’d say I’m present to see
all of the patriotic Virginians here assembled.” He looked disdainfully at the
women along the edges of the room chattering like magpies.

Andrea smiled. “And since we can presume you are
no gentleman—”

“Ah, you do know my reputation.” Hunter’s gaze
remained moodily upon the crowd. “I suppose you could say I’m here scouting for
enemy forces.”

“Here?” The words creaked out like a seldom-used
door. “Tonight?”

“Spies.” He looked straight into her eyes.
“There are those among us who are not as they appear.”

Andrea
inhaled sharply. She assumed she had awakened no memory of their earlier
encounters, but now she was not so sure. “I-I-I cannot imagine such a thing.”
Deigning to look at his face again, and trying to keep her eyes from landing on
the bulging biceps that lay beneath her hand, she tried instead to focus on
imaginary objects in the air. But she could feel the heat of his eyes burning
into her, could sense he was staring.
Would the music never end?
It
seemed they had been dancing forever. The brightly colored ball gowns and
glowing candles reflected in the mirrors around her began to make her dizzy.

Stop it, Andrea. You cannot fail. Not now.

Bit by bit she managed to push his fearsome
reputation and ominous threats from her mind. Truthfully, he was not nearly the
roguish-looking man she remembered. Shaved clean of the stubble that had
shrouded his face when last they met, he appeared like a Virginian aristocrat.
Indeed, Andrea decided she could picture him as easily sitting on a throne as
sitting on a horse, so courteous and polite did he seem tonight.

“So what brings you to Virginia, Miss Marlow?”

The way he looked directly into Andrea’s eyes
gave her the uncomfortable feeling he was attempting to read her thoughts
before she had the opportunity to lie about them.

“My aunt invited me to stay with her. As I’m
sure you are aware, Maryland is quite, um, undecided about the war.”

“And you?” Hunter quickly asked.

Andrea blinked, not knowing his meaning.

“And you are decided about the war?”

“Oh, yes, quite,” she said, biting the inside of
her cheek so hard it bled. “I am loyal.”

Hunter did not appear to notice she did not say
to whom her loyalty referred. “You and your aunt are close?”

“Yes, of course.” Her heart banged again as she
tried to decide if she’d heard a trace of suspicion in his voice.

“So your visit will be a lengthy one?”

“So long as it is pleasant and agreeable, I
believe I will stay.” His inquiries began to agitate Andrea. If he knew who she
was, or suspected it, why did he not just say so? Her heart pulsed with new
resolve to shield herself from his barrage of questions.

“Well, tell me,” he continued in a voice
pregnant with arrogance, “in a state with such mixed loyalties as Maryland, how
is it that you decided to cast your allegiance with the imperial South?”

Andrea’s heart pounded, but no longer with fear.
Imperial South indeed! She suddenly felt the urge to tell him and all the regal
Rebels within earshot and a long ways beyond what she thought of the imperial
South.

But remembering her promise to J.J., she
suffered in silence, hoping her face was not red from the suppression of
intense emotion. She answered his question with a question and did not lie.
“Why, Captain, how can you ask such a thing? I would not be in Richmond but for
the Confederacy.”

“By necessity or choice?”

The feeling of loathing and aversion at having
to tolerate his infuriating Southern pride became so strong that Andrea could
no longer conceal it.

“Sir, is this an interrogation or a dance?” She
cocked her head to one side and looked into his eyes defiantly. “Because had I
been aware that your intent was a military grilling rather than the privilege
of a waltz, I most certainly would have declined the
honor
.”

Andrea watched the corner of Hunter’s mouth turn
up unexpectedly as he threw back his head and laughed. The effect knocked her
off guard. She had never seen such an engaging smile radiate from a man before
and never dreamed it possible from this one. The lifting of his lips revealed
straight, white teeth, and exposed two small dimples that completely changed
the look of his usually stern visage. And those eyes—those cool, stern eyes,
now literally twinkled with amusement.

“Miss, I apologize. You were, however,
forewarned that I am no gentleman.”

Hunter’s voice was warmer now, his face much
less severe. But the smile quickly disappeared as if he was not accustomed to
wearing it.

“I was beginning to wonder about your motives
for dancing with me,” Andrea said boldly. “To my knowledge, I’ve asked you to
divulge no military secrets. Yet you seem to think me a spy.”

“On the contrary. It’s my understanding that you
are new to Richmond, and I wanted to make you feel welcome.”

Andrea gave him a coquettish smile. “And you
conceive it your duty, Captain, to make the young ladies of Richmond feel
welcome?”

“In some cases, yes. In this particular case,
not my duty, my privilege.”

Andrea felt the color rise in her cheeks. She
could feel her resolve almost melt away at the sound of his rich, persuasive
voice. She forced herself to remember who he was.

“I so seldom attend events of this nature, I
merely wanted to dance with the belle of the ball,” he continued. “Be assured,
you have nothing to fear from me.”

Andrea laughed inwardly at his last statement,
but responded to the former one. “Me? The belle of the ball? You know what they
say about flatterers, do you not?”

“No. What would that be?”

“Flatterers look like friends, as wolves like
dogs.”

Hunter’s face broke once again into a smile.
Well, not quite a smile. Only one side of his mouth took part this time in a
half-cocked grin that was somehow even more captivating. “Perhaps in Maryland,”
he finally answered. “But Virginian women love to be flattered.”

“Is that why they all know you so well?” Andrea
nodded toward the women staring with open admiration at their dashing hero. “It
would appear my notoriety among the men is matched only by yours among the
ladies in the room tonight.”

Hunter shook his head and locked his eyes on
hers. For a moment she wondered why she had thought them so frightening before.
They were nothing but sparkling and brilliant and full of expression now.

“The ladies here, I can assure you, are familiar
only with my reputation on the battlefield.”

* * *

Hunter felt
strangely content matching wits with his new dance partner, as opposed to the
endless banter with which he had been deluged the rest of the evening. Most of
the women in the room seemed utterly devoid of intelligent thought, yet amused
themselves by buzzing into his business and annoying him like so many
bothersome bees. To converse with a woman whose intellectual capabilities were
equal to the task was enjoyable. But something about this young stranger
troubled him.

For one, her eyes revealed a strong suggestion
of cleverness, mixed now and again with something that definitely resembled
contempt. He studied the vibrant, green orbs once more and tried to decipher what
lay in their depths. Although they appeared calm and serious in their
expression at the moment, something within them gave him the impression they
could erupt into flames if driven to anger or excitement. He sensed, even if he
could not see, a soul with deep feeling. He wondered what lay hidden beneath
the mask.

“Do not
accept as fact what in fact is not,” his grandfather had told him once in
reference to horseflesh. But even with the warning, Hunter did not envision
that the gown that swished so alluringly against his legs concealed muscles
that were nearly as strong as his own. That they could, in spite of fatigue and
fear, carry their owner into streams, and even bareback over stone walls, if
circumstances required.

“Are you certain we’ve never met before? You
seem strangely familiar to me.”

His partner laughed a bit nervously. “I’m
certain, sir, any encounter with you would be inexorably branded in my mind.”