Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia (15 page)

Hunter pondered her response, wondering if she
had really answered his query.

“Likely, you will wish to forget me,” she said
then as if to prevent him from mulling over the statement. “You would perhaps
find that I am vain and overbearing.”

 “I can say that of most women.” He hadn’t meant
to say the words, but it was too late now to stop them.

“And I can say that of most of the officers in
this room,” his partner quipped. She quickly flashed him a smile, as if she too
regretted the rashness of her words. “Though, I dare say, you boast less than
others of equal military rank.”

Hunter laughed softly. “Pray don’t compare me to
them. One only need boast when his record does not speak for itself.”

“Then pray don’t compare me to most women. I
believe you will find the resemblance equally unreliable.”

“Fair enough,
Miss Marlow.” Hunter fell silent then, but his mind remained busy. He was both
bewildered by his partner’s boldness and fascinated by her charm. He found it
refreshing to speak to one who was well mannered, yet not reverent or fawning
like the others in attendance. This young lady did not seem the least bit in
awe of his power or reputation. Rather, she seemed content on disproving he was
worthy of possessing either one.

If she was
hiding something, she was doing a good job. He had never met anyone whose eyes
could be so expressive one moment, expressionless the next.

“What did you do before the war, Captain
Hunter?” she suddenly asked, as if feeling the weight of his stare upon her.
“Before you became a soldier?”

“My men and I are not soldiers. We are citizens
of Virginia defending our native soil.”

Hunter
thought he saw a hint of anger flicker in her eyes, but it quickly
disappeared—if indeed it was ever there at all. “I am a horse breeder by
trade.”

“Truly?” The vague look in her eyes turned to
intense interest. “And what bloodlines have you?”

“You really want to know?”

“Why would I not?” She appeared sincerely
confused.

“Most women are not interested in such things.”
He felt his partner stiffen in his arms, and her brows drew together. Gone
instantly was the demure ladylike demeanor and the lovely green eyes that had
seemed to dance.

“Again you presume to know me so well as to
assume I am like most women.”

Yes, the innocent, young girl had disappeared.
The chin and firmly pursed lips now clearly bespoke the strength of a lion.
Eyes that had sparked now flamed, lit from a spirited fire within.

“Pardon my presumption,” Hunter responded as he
watched her reaction curiously. “My stock is in a state of decline with the
war, but Lyonhart is my main sire.”

That cannot be so,” she replied, almost stopping
in the middle of the dance floor. “Why, everyone knows Lyonhart stands at
Hawthorne.”

“Your information is correct.”

She responded with a disbelieving stare. “You?
Hawthorne?”

“Alexander Hawthorne Hunter at your service. I
shall assume you’ve heard of my estate.”

Hunter had no way of knowing how many hours his
partner had spent in the loft above her father’s stable in South Carolina,
listening to men below discuss horses and that far-away breeding farm Hawthorne
where so many of the bloodlines originated.

“And Fearnaught—”

“Ah-h, you do know bloodlines. Fearnaught, our
original sire, lived to quite an old age.”

Hunter could tell his partner listened
intelligently, a trait he found rather unusual for a woman. “Now how would a
young lady from Maryland be so knowledgeable about Virginia horseflesh?” Hunter
watched a curtain descend upon his partner’s eyes, blanking out any clues
hidden there.

“Everyone knows of the famous sire of Eclipse,”
she said, referring to the legendary racehorse. “I just heard it somewhere.”
The smile planted on her face faded as she stared wistfully into space.

Before he could discover anything more about his
mysterious partner, the music ended. “Welcome to Virginia, Miss Marlow.” Hunter
disengaged himself from her grasp and gave a low bow with cavalier grace. “I
hope your time with us is pleasant and agreeable for a long time to come.”

* * *

A dull throbbing in her ankle as she stood
dumbfounded on the dance floor brought Andrea back to her senses. Declining a
number of requests for her dance card, she made her way to the door, trying not
to limp as the pain grew more intense. She needed a break, some fresh air, and
a chance to rest her ankle. And she needed a moment to think. Had she
unwittingly said too much? Something that would incriminate her? Everything
about the last few minutes seemed a blur.

Andrea fought the urge to run toward the door as
the heat of the room grew oppressive. Sidestepping groups of women who stopped
to talk in front of her, she became increasingly frantic. Memories of a dark,
hot enclosure started to surface, causing her heart to beat in a frenzied
panic. She began nudging people out of the way—some none too politely. She had
to get a breath of fresh air, get outside, feel the night on her skin.

Finally squeezing through the door, she rushed
to the railing of the veranda, leaned over, and gulped in the cool air. But
even the veranda was crowded. Despite the pain in her ankle, she walked through
the garden until the voices from the party finally hushed to a whisper. Half
sitting in the notch of a huge oak tree, Andrea closed her eyes, leaned her
head back, and let out a long sigh.

“I see I’m not the only one who feels like a
caged animal in there.” His voice came smooth and deep from out of the
darkness. Andrea stood quickly, losing her balance when her ankle gave way. Two
strong arms caught her, and once again Andrea found herself staring into the
eyes of Captain Hunter.

“Are you all right?” He sounded surprisingly
sincere.

“Yes. No. I mean …  I’m afraid I sprained my
ankle during a … ah … riding accident.” Andrea sighed in exasperation. “And
dancing has made it worse.”

“I confess I noticed you limping and wanted to
make sure my dancing was not the cause.”

“Not at all.” Andrea began to regain her
composure. “If you fight as well as you dance then the Yankees have much to
fear.”

 “So you ride?” Hunter ignored her last
statement.

Andrea’s heart floundered in her chest again
like a fish flopping out of water. Now she knew she had said too much. “N-n-not
very well … obviously.” 

Hunter grinned slightly at the comment. “Well,
you must be quite an actress.” He continued holding onto her waist, forcing
Andrea to remain holding onto his thick forearms. The man was as solid as the
oak tree behind her.

“Actress?” She tried to sound unconcerned, but
it came out more like a fearful question.

“Yes, to be able to dance so effortlessly all
evening with an injured ankle.” He stared at her thoughtfully another moment.
“You know, you have the most unfathomable eyes. They seem only to show what you
want to be seen.”

“Is that not the way for every woman?”

Hunter did not return her smile this time. “I
can tell what most women want at a glance.”

“And you find that most women want something?”

He did not answer with anything other than his
eyes, which appeared eerily blue-gray in the moonlight and seemed to betray a
suggestion of disdain toward the subject.

“Then again, sir, I hope I stand apart.”

Silence stretched between them, yet neither
turned away until another couple came walking toward them. “My aunt will be
worried.”

Hunter looked at her intently again, tipped his
hat, and nodded. “Yes, and I’m afraid I’ve made myself late for a train.”

“You are leaving Richmond?” Andrea feared her
voice sounded too relieved. “I mean … I do hope you have a safe trip, Captain.”

“And I do hope your ankle feels better, Miss
Marlow.”

Andrea gave
him a quick nod, then picked up her skirts and turned toward the house. She
controlled the urge to run, despite feeling the stabbing effect of his
penetrating gaze until she was well beyond his view. It was then that Andrea
compared her evening with riding a hundred grueling miles under punishing
temperatures and wind-driven rain without benefit of sustenance or water or
rest.

And she
wondered why she had ever thought this night was going to be easy.

Chapter
14

“From the first moment I beheld thy face,

I felt a tenderness in my soul towards thee.”

– John Endicott

Fredericksburg

November, 1862

Andrea sat with gloved hands clenched together
in her lap, trying to maintain her balance in a carriage that careened
violently over a rutted road. She blamed her trembling hands and banging heart
on exhaustion and nerves, not on the fact that in a few minutes she would be
standing in front of Colonel Daniel Delaney for the first time in several
months, and not on the fact that he had no idea she was coming.

She took a
deep breath to calm herself when the carriage began to slow. The wearying ride
across an endless succession of ruts and potholes rattled her nerves, causing
her to question the decision to embark on this journey. She possessed no pass
to cross into Union territory. And though the soldiers at the last outpost had
been kind enough, the officer of the guard sent along an escort to ensure that
Colonel Delaney could vouch for her character. Andrea hoped he would not be too
disturbed by her sudden appearance to do so.

The sound of shouts and the clatter and clank of
horses and artillery warned Andrea that she neared her destination. The road
became even more crowded with soldiers, horses, and caissons, forcing the
carriage to slow still further. Loud voices and music joined the sounds, and a
large mansion came into view. Andrea stared at the magnificent home, lit from
top to bottom, inside and out, with every conceivable size and shape of
lantern.

“This is the Lacy house, miss.” A soldier held
out his hand and helped her out of the carriage. “Who did you say would wish to
see you?”

Andrea gazed at a two-story porch that
overflowed with officers and soldiers. Suppressing the urge to run, she cleared
her throat. “Colonel Daniel Delaney.”

As the soldiers escorted her toward the house,
Andrea gazed around. There were soldiers everywhere. Some talked and laughed in
small groups, while others appeared to be departing or returning from a nearby
field of campfires.

“Might you know a Colonel Delaney?” One of her
guards questioned a group of soldiers holding a discussion under a walnut tree.
An officer nodded toward the river. “There he comes now.”

Andrea pulled her full-length cloak more tightly
around her against the chill as she watched Daniel stride purposefully in her
direction with true martial poise. His gaze was locked on the ground, but he
nodded his head occasionally, apparently in serious conversation with the officer
beside him.

Andrea turned away, the sight of his tall, manly
form causing a strange sensation of fear and excitement to engulf her. She had
no idea what she planned to say.
What if he does not wish to see me
? She
heard muffled voices and knew the guard had approached him. Although actual
words were lost in the breeze, she could tell from Daniel’s tone he was
irritated by the interruption. Her face grew warm. Her hands trembled.

“Miss?” His voice from behind her made her jump.
Andrea took a deep breath and turned.

“I’m Colonel Delaney. You asked to see me?”
Daniel looked curiously from her, to her escorts, and then back again, waiting
for someone to speak.

Andrea could not bring herself to look into his
eyes. Instead, she stared at his broad shoulders and powerful build, and then
his boots. “I am … Maryann  Marlow.” She mumbled the name she had used to get
across the lines, then glanced at Daniel to see his reaction. There was not a
hint of recognition on his face.

“What can I do for you, Miss Marlow?” he asked
somewhat impatiently. “We are extremely busy here as you might imagine—”

Daniel stopped in mid-sentence when Andrea
raised her gaze again and his blue eyes locked directly onto her green ones.
Without moving his head, his gaze perused her body, moving from her face,
slowly down the length of her gown, inch-by-inch to her toes, and then just as
slowly back up.

“Sir, we need
to know if you are acquainted with this woman,” one of the escorting soldiers
asked. “She didn’t have a pass to come through the lines and was traveling from
the direction of Richmond. She says you will vouch for her.”

Daniel did not remove his gaze. “Yes, I can
vouch for her character. Thank you for escorting her here safely. You are
dismissed.”

Daniel
continued to stare, though whether the look was an approving one, Andrea could
not tell. What she
could
tell was that his eyes were not the blue,
laughing ones she remembered. They looked strained and tired.

“What are you doing here?” He pulled her into
the shadow of a tree.

“That is not
exactly
the greeting I had
hoped for.” She laughed to hide her nervousness.

 “That does not
exactly
answer my
question.”

Andrea looked down at the ground, upset at his
cold tone. “I have information to report, Colonel Delaney.”

“I believe we have an established method of
communicating that does not require you crossing the lines. You might recall
that was part of the agreement with Colonel Jordan.”

“But I wished to see you.” Andrea could not
bring herself to look into his eyes.

“Why?” There was not a hint of warmth in his
voice.

Andrea raised her head, disappointment and
regret turning to anger. “I was not aware that I needed a reason.”