The Quaker and the Rebel (27 page)

Emily waited until both ladies were seated on a bench before handing them their drinks. Because the bench was only large enough for two, she plopped down on the grass at their feet…and noticed their shocked expressions too late. The back of Emily’s stiff hoop caught beneath her, causing the front to tip up and display her lacy petticoats and the bottom of her pantaloons. Mrs. Bennington merely chuckled, but the lady with the monstrosity of a hat almost fainted. Because the dress was so snug, Emily was trapped on the ground, unable to get the hoop out from beneath her.

Then, without warning, two strong hands hooked under her arms to hoist her upright, free from the clothing. “There you go, Miss Harrison. Did you lose your balance and take a tumble? Nasty things—hoops. You really can’t sit down in them, can you?” Alexander steadied her with one hand and brushed grass off her backside with the other, adding to the shock of Mrs. Ostrich Feathers.

“Thank you, Mr. Hunt, for assisting me.” Emily slapped his hand away from her dress. “Yes, I lost my balance, but I’m fine now.” She desperately tried to recover her dignity. He was so close she could smell his shaving soap.

Alexander rested his hand on the small of Emily’s back. “Wasn’t it a Yankee who invented the hoop, Aunt Augusta?”

“No, I believe the gentleman was a Parisian. Please take Miss Harrison to get something cool to drink. She looks a bit peaked. And remember what I told you about tormenting people.” His aunt smiled fondly at him.

“It would be my pleasure.” He winked at her and then bowed to the other woman.

“Excuse me, please, ma’am.” Seething, Emily bobbed her head and retreated to the house with Alexander on her heels.

“Emily, hold up there before you take another tumble. You had better spend the remainder of the picnic in my company. That way I can be certain you won’t throw yourself prostrate into the clover and not be able to get up. That fetching new dress came all the way from Paris, didn’t it?” He sounded quite amused with himself.

She stopped and gazed down at her attire, still dotted with bits of grass. “Your mother ordered this gown from France? I’m shocked by such an expensive gift. I had no idea.”

“Yes. She respects your wish not to wear anything made by slave hands, even if most of our household help are now free workers.”

“Why would she do such a thing and pay such a dear price for a gift to her sister’s governess?”

“Maybe because she suspects you are more to
me
than her sister’s governess.” Alexander leaned over and kissed her lightly on the mouth.

His kiss was more like a caress than a kiss, but the bottom fell from her stomach just the same. “Please…someone could see us.” Emily glanced around. Sure enough, several young women strolling between the house and pond had witnessed the kiss. A middle-aged couple stopped in their tracks and stared openly.

“And what if someone does? I am their host. My behavior is above reproach.”

“I forgot you’ve had more experience with these types of theatrical performances.”

He crossed his arms. “I’m no thespian. That kiss was an honest expression of my affection for you.”

“But you’ve shocked the guests with your forward behavior. Kisses on the lawn without benefit of a parasol for privacy must be curtailed.” Emily tried to infuse merriment into her words.

Alexander glanced toward the pond and then the house. He spotted
the women watching them and whispering behind their fans. “I see what you mean, Emily. You have captured the competition’s attention. Soon we’ll have ladies throwing themselves down on the lawn in great numbers in hopes of being rescued by their host.” He laughed with amusement.

“Then they would be mistaken, because I’m nothing more to you than your aunt’s governess. And I assure you, Mr. Hunt, that is all I ever will be.” Her cheeks flushed as she remembered her behavior a few minutes ago.

She then walked away with a swiftness that belied the constriction of her attire. She lost herself in a sea of guests milling down the portico steps onto the lawn. For some inexplicable reason, she would have given anything not to look silly in front of his refined friends. How she appeared to these vapid aristocrats had never mattered to her before. But it mattered dearly to her now. Her knees felt weak and tears prickled her eyes, but she held them back.

The last thing she needed was to start crying.

“And I assure you, Emily Harrison, you will become much more than that, and maybe as soon as tonight.” Alexander muttered under his breath.

Why he kept chasing after a woman who continued to spurn him remained one of life’s mysteries. He had wealth, success in business, and the respect of men from the highest level in the Confederacy. Almost any belle present would welcome his attentions and be happy to allow him to court her. But it was this prideful Yankee’s esteem he coveted and couldn’t seem to earn. She remained an elusive mystery beyond his reach…one that could very well lead to his undoing.

Admittedly, Emily adored the new gift from Mrs. Hunt. Back in the refuge of her room, she took off the dress to pick off the remaining blades of grass and dab at a small stain with a damp cloth. The beautiful garment was a confection of white organdy dotted with blue flowers, with a wide white collar at the neckline and a matching sash at the tightly fitted waist. It was the dastardly hoop that had caused trouble. Emily hung the dress back in her meager wardrobe and stretched out on the chaise by the open window. It felt strange to be back at Hunt Farms. They had packed their belongings and Dr. Bennington’s medical equipment into two wagons and the carriage and left Martinsburg within two days of Alexander’s visit.

He had left immediately after the agonizing dinner, according to the report by the self-appointed spy, Lila. Alexander had noticed Lila peeking from the curtains and waved farewell. He had tipped his hat and called, “I’m sure William will join us in welcoming your return to Hunt Farms.”

For once, she had been speechless, and Emily had a good laugh at her expense. At first they both had been so happy to be back with the Hunts, but now Emily wasn’t so sure. She wasn’t strong like her mother. She could easily fall prey to Alexander’s attentions. Though she knew she could never mean anything to him, she was drawn to him like a bee to nectar. Here in his Front Royal plantation, she felt like a guest, not an employee. And Mrs. Bennington, for some odd reason, seemed to encourage that. She rarely let Emily read to her anymore or help with dressing or lend a hand with personal correspondence. With so little for her to do, she begged Dr. Bennington to allow his daughters to return from Europe. Their recent correspondence indicated they missed their parents sorely. And the endearing letters they sent to her attention made her heart swell with joy. She needed something to occupy her time when not helping refugee slaves along their path to freedom. Too much time on her hands allowed only one thing: daydreaming about Alexander, a man who could never be her husband, no matter how tender his kiss or how soothing his touch.

“What are you doing lounging around in your petticoats?” Lila flounced into the room delivering her ball gown, freshly ironed.

“Growing restless and ravenously hungry. I plan to load my plate with every delicacy we sampled down in the kitchen.” Emily fanned herself in the airless room.

Opening the French doors, Lila pulled the filmy muslin drapes for privacy. “Why didn’t you eat at the picnic?” She arched an eyebrow.

“After delivering drinks to Mrs. Bennington and her friend, I sat down in the grass and couldn’t get back up. I’d forgotten about the hoop and had to be hoisted to my feet by Mr. Hunt.” Her throat tightened with the memory of her humiliation.

“Pray tell me you’re teasing.” Lila stared with round, disbelieving eyes.

She shook her head. “I made a spectacle of myself and worse, I ran away from the picnic without a single morsel to eat.”

“That is so like you—worrying about your stomach instead of your dignity.” Lila rolled her eyes as though disappointed with a naughty child. “I’ll draw you a bath.”

“I was embarrassed, true enough, but I refuse to allow anyone’s opinion of me interfere with getting some good vittles.” Laughing, Emily felt the afternoon’s tension drain away. “I intend to dance at the ball tonight and have a delightful time.” She waltzed around the room with an invisible partner. “I will eat my fill of everything I want. After all, I don’t give a fig what these Southerners think of me.”

“Who are you trying to convince, me or you?” asked Lila, reentering the room. “And who are you dancing with? Have you gone addlebrained from the heat?”

“I am dancing with myself. And don’t fear for my sanity. I feel it returning as we speak.” She whirled around Lila several times.

Lila furled a suspicious brow. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing, but I’m starving. What do I wear to partake of supper on the terrace? Do I stay in a day dress or put on my gown? Goodness, because the sun is starting to set, perhaps I must start in the day dress and then run back upstairs and change the moment the sun slips below
the horizon. These aristocrats certainly have complicated rules dictating the sun’s progression.”

Lila peered around the room. “Have you been quaffing spirits? Let me smell your breath.” She grabbed Emily’s wrists, leaned close, and inhaled deeply.

Emily sniffed. “Lila, I am sober as a Quaker preacher, who would never approve of that gown.” She placed her hands defiantly on her hips.

“But you must wear the ball gown to supper. Don’t worry about the location of the sun when you make your entrance. Just try not to fall into the punch bowl because I’ll be too busy to pull you out and dry you off.” She turned her back to Emily to shake out the pleats in the gown.

Emily grabbed her around the ribcage and squeezed. “What will you be busy with? Tell me, tell me.” She shook Lila like a rag doll when the girl remained mute.

Finally Lila faced her. “Seeing that today is William’s day off, and I’m finished after helping with supper, we’re going to take a wagon ride and have a picnic down by the river, just him and me.”

“Just he and I will picnic,” Emily corrected, enjoying every minute of this. “Does your mother know?”

“No, but Papa does because William asked his permission.” Lila’s face glowed in the lamplight, radiating joy.

Emily hugged her again. “This sounds serious. Don’t you run off and get yourself hitched before I get back from the ball.”

Lila giggled like a schoolgirl but then sobered. “Quick, jump into that tub I poured for you. I want to help you into this gown, hurry down to the kitchen, and then get out to William before he changes his mind.” Both girls broke into fits of laughter.

Emily was very pleased for her friend. At least one of them had a bright future.

As pretty as the dress was for the picnic, the ball gown took her breath away. It was pale peach brocade embossed with tiny cream-colored rosebuds. A dropped waist formed a V-shape in front with a
bustle in back with layers of silk. The tightly fitted bodice made the dreaded corset a necessity. The skirt flowed out from a hundred tiny pleats at the waist with a small, discreet hoop. A beautiful cluster of fabric roses accented the neckline, and the lace sleeves, lined with peach silk, ended in points at her wrists.

She felt like a princess when Lila laced her into the gown. Though it must have cost a fortune, she hadn’t considered refusing the gift for even a moment. Pride was one of the deadliest of sins. Emily shook her head to forget her preacher’s warning.
Just for tonight, I want to feel beautiful.
Inside the dress box were matching copper-colored slippers and grosgrain ribbons to weave through her hair. Lila pinned some of Emily’s thick hair into a cluster of curls atop her head and then let the remainder cascade freely down her back. This was not the fashion, not the accepted style, but Emily liked the effect when she stared into the pier glass. She dabbed a touch of russet rouge to her lips and cheeks and almost didn’t recognize her reflection.