Triumph (17 page)

Tia was aware of a piece of bread crumbling in the hands of Taylor Douglas, to her left. He did, however, maintain his poise. “I thank you for your warning.”

“They are confiscating property as well, Colonel Douglas, so I’ve heard. Perhaps you should consider some quick sales. Such things have been done in the North, as you are aware, Robert E. Lee’s wife’s Arlington House was seized—the Union refused to accept payment of the taxes from anyone other than the owner, and that poor crippled lady, forced to flee, could not return.”

“I’m afraid it was a very horrible act,” Taylor agreed, looking across the table at Ian, who had given him some signal that they would maintain peace, no matter what. “Master Robert is a great man, and a great leader of men, and perhaps it is this very recognition by his friends in the North which makes it so difficult for them to accept the fact that he’s their enemy.”

“Ah, they will hate him more when he defeats the Union,” Raymond said, shaking his head. “It’s true, however, no offense meant, sirs, that traitors should be dealt with harshly. I might be interested in purchasing some of your property, Colonel Douglas.”

“None is for sale.”

“You risk a fortune.”

“Not so great a fortune. I would make a gift of my property in the south of the peninsula to my second cousins, the James McKenzies, before selling it. And as to my home in Key West ... the Union navy is firmly ensconced there. The property south of St. Augustine ... well, at the moment, it is a no-man’s-land. But I thank you for the offer.”

“I have every reason to believe, Colonel Douglas, that European powers are ready to recognize the Confederacy as a sovereign state, and so will turn the tide of war.”

“Again, sir, I say—I will wait.”

“We run circles around you. Why, even our women drive your so-called soldiers to distraction, sir!”

“What women would that be?” Tara interrupted, her voice sweet but firm and she tried to dispel the growing argument.

“Why, madam, I’ve heard through good sources that we’ve a wild Rebel maid riding through the pines and leading the enemy astray. I heard this from Captain Dickinson’s own men. They had been sent to seize a reinforced Yankee supply wagon, and were nearly run down by the number of soldiers suddenly put on duty, when a beautiful vixen, all in the bu—”

He broke off, staring from Tara to Alaina to Tia. He flushed.

“Yes?” Tara insisted.

“Well, she’s a flame for justice, of course,” Raymond said.

“But what were you about to say?” Tara insisted.

Tia concentrated on spearing a piece of fresh tomato. She felt her own face growing red. Felt tawny eyes upon her as Raymond continued to look for the right words.

“Well, they, er, they have a name for her.”

“And that is?” Alaina insisted. “Please, Colonel Weir!

You have two women with Rebel sympathies at the table, though we respect the beliefs of others around us—my husband and in-laws included, of course! Tell us about this vixen of virtue, or whatever she may be!”

Tia stared across the table at her sister-in-law. She wondered if there was a certain wistfulness to Alaina’s question. She’d practiced serious espionage at the beginning of the war, and had she not been caught by her own husband, she might well have been executed. To the best of her knowledge, though male spies had suffered the ultimate penalty for their service to their countries, North and South, though it had been threatened, no woman had as yet been legally killed.

But Alaina was fascinated.

Raymond Weir looked across the table at Alaina. “Well, they call her ‘Lady Godiva,’ if that makes a proper explanation. Apparently, she shouted the name out at some point herself, and as it’s so fitting, it seems to have stuck.”

“Godiva—she rides around the countryside naked!” her father said, sounding angry and shocked.

Tia wanted to sink beneath the table.

“One would think that someone would stop a woman from such reckless and dangerous behavior,” Ian said. “Maybe she doesn’t realize how many men could be killed, thinking they owed it to her and all Southern honor to ride in her defense.”

Alaina coughed suddenly, and the sound ended in a little squeak. Tia realized that her brother had squeezed his wife’s hand beneath the table and that he was staring at her suspiciously.

She stared back, and though they were both trying to behave entirely circumspectly at the table, Tia could see that Alaina was furious that Ian would be suspicious.

From past history, maybe Ian had a right to his suspicions. But it was all so long ago. And of course, Alaina was entirely innocent.

“In all honesty, in many situations, the South has been quite desperate,” Tara said. “Perhaps this woman was doing all she could to divert the soldiers, in order to save lives.”

“But it’s an interesting situation, isn’t it?” Taylor Douglas said suddenly. His fingers rode over the rim of his wineglass and he stared down at it as he spoke. Then his eyes suddenly met Tia’s. “To take soldiers by surprise at first might gain a few a reprieve. But few men, North or South, are entirely fools. I imagine the next time this Godiva appears, she could be in grave danger indeed, since men will know that she is out to do nothing but mislead them.”

“It’s amazing how stupid men can be at times!” Alaina announced.

“I’d not cast aspersions upon your gentle sex, Mrs. McKenzie, but one might say the same of women as well—since we do have this Rebel spy running around as naked as the day she was born.”

“You seem to speak from experience!” Raymond said. “Sir, were you diverted from some quest by this fair Rebel? Do you have knowledge of this vixen that I do not?”

Tia stared at Taylor, praying her face wasn’t a dead giveaway. He hesitated.

She thought her heart would stop.

“I believe I saw her,” he said gravely after a moment; “Yes, I admit to being a victim of the lady.”

“Victim!” Tia muttered, then hastily bit her lip.

“Did you know her?” Alaina asked. “Did you know her—personally?”

He looked at Alaina. “Why would I know her?”

“Sir, you’re from this state. Surely you attended some balls and barbecues, and would know if she was the daughter of a planter, a politician, or, say, a Florida botanist?” She stared hard at Ian, referring to her own father with the last.

Taylor Douglas smiled. “The child of no botanist I knew as a child. The lady I came across was definitely not at all blond.”

“But she could have disguised herself, and acquired a wig,” Ian suggested.

“No,” Taylor said flatly. “I assure you, she was not blond. She did not wear a wig.”

“How could you be so certain?” Alaina demanded, then her face flooded with crimson as she realized what his answer would have to be. “Oh!” she gasped in embarrassment.

“Did you know her, sir?” Raymond demanded harshly.

And again, Tia waited, her heart stopped, her lungs on fire. She couldn’t bear it any longer. If he didn’t answer, she’d scream and leap to her feet, and they’d all think she was crazy, and her father would know ...

“I have been gone from the social arena of the state for quite some time. It is unlikely that I would have recognized the lady as the daughter of any one man,” he said at last.

Tia felt as if she could pass out right into her plate. He wasn’t going to betray her.

Not now anyway.

“Cigars and brandy, gentlemen?” Jarrett said. “It’s such a balmy night, I thought we might enjoy our after-dinner drinks outside on the porch.”

“As you wish, sir. Ladies ...” Taylor rose, bowing to the women at the table, and followed his host out of the house.

“Ladies ...” Ian echoed, rising, bowing politely, and following suit. Raymond Weir did the same.

“That went fairly well,” Tara murmured. “No swords were drawn.”

Tia didn’t stay long in the salon with her mother and Alaina. Restless and needing to calm her nerves, she exited the house by the way of the back door and walked slowly around the verandah until she neared the front. She could hear the men speaking.

Eavesdropping, her mother had always warned her, was rude—and it often exposed one to things one would rather not hear about. The men were discussing Godiva—a topic she definitely did not want to hear about—but from the subdued tone of their conversation, it was clear that Taylor had not betrayed her secret.

Fortunately, their conversation did not last long. Tia heard Taylor thank her father for his hospitality, then she listened to footsteps entering the house, and muffled voices from within as the men met with her mother and thanked her as well for the evening.

Then after a few moments, she heard nothing more. She walked around the verandah, and was startled to find that Raymond Weir was still there, standing on the porch and looking out into the night.

“Tia,” he said softly. She smiled, approaching him, yet wishing she did not feel so uneasy.

He inclined his head, his eyes pleasantly raking the length of her, his smile flatteringly appreciative.

“It’s really good to have you here, Ray.”

“If only this were a loyal household. How wonderful it would be, Tia, if your father would only realize that he must cast his fate with his state!”

“He loves the state, Ray, adores it.”

“You, Tia, are all that is good in our life, in our state, in our being!”

She smiled. “Very poetic, for a solider, sir.”

He reached out, taking her hands, drawing her to him. His hands covered hers. “Tia, marry me.”

She didn’t answer. How strange. She had joked about there being no men left to marry. He was the perfect mate. A rebel soldier, a brave man who led well and fought hard. Smart, handsome, passionate ...

A man who might want a woman such as Godiva, but never marry her!

She was startled, but did not pull away, when he leaned down and pressed his mouth softly to hers. A kiss ... she waited. For passion, for feeling ...

What was she expecting? It wasn’t as if she was experienced. And yet ...

Yet she was. She’d felt a kiss before, filled with passion, boldness, a spark, a flame, a fire, a threat, a warning, and a promise ...

Taylor. Taylor Douglas.

She pulled away from Raymond.

“I love you, Tia.”

She shook her head. “Not ... not now, Ray. The ... the ... war. My father, my own—well, I have my own duty within it.”

“I love you,” he repeated.

“And I ...”

She what?
She didn’t know what she felt. Attraction? Disappointment? “Ray, when the war is over ...”

“I can’t wait for the war to be over.”

“Maybe there will be another time.”

“There will always be another time. I will take any time, Tia, that you give me. You, in any manner, in any way you wish.”

He stepped back, bowed with a flourish, and headed back into the house. Tia walked out on the lawn. The fog had lifted. The night was beautiful. The curve of the moon was naked in the sky.

“Good night ...” she murmured aloud.

“Good night, Godiva!” a voice replied.

She turned quickly, looking up—the voice had come from the upstairs balcony. There he was, Taylor Douglas. He had shed his frockcoat, and in the cool evening, he stood in only a white cotton shirt. It, and the dark tendrils of his hair, were being lifted slightly by the breeze.

“Don’t say that!” she whispered furiously.

“Good night!” he repeated, and smiling, he turned and disappeared.

Cold.

Christmas Eve, and it was so damned cold.

Well, at the least, Brent McKenzie thought, hunkering down by the fire at the small house near the hospital he had taken for his quarters, his situation had changed somewhat.

He’d been called back to work on soldiers coming in from the battlefront.

There were so many of them.

Tonight, he wondered why he had wanted to be a doctor. From surely the strangest duty in the war—trying to help soldiers with syphilis and educate what seemed like an entire army of camp followers on how not to spread venereal disease—he was back helping men whose bodies had been shot, stabbed, sliced, and bombed to bits. Either way, it seemed a bitter detail. Even on Christmas Eve, men were coming in, wounded in encounters beyond the city. Grant had been put in charge of the entire Union effort. He had made his own headquarters with the Army of the Potomac, and he’d ordered Meade to take Richmond. Lee’s weary soldiers did their best to clock the army movements made by a man whose motto was that war should be as terrible as possible—that way it would end.

Brent was tired, he was worn out, and he was cold. He hadn’t even gotten used to Christmas away from home. Christmas usually meant a crisp, cool day—but with the sun shining, his home surrounded by the blue of the sky and the sea and the green of the grass and the foliage. And flowers. His mother loved plants, herbs, and flowers. Teela always had flowers for Christmas. A wealth of them.

It was late. He’d been invited to dinner by a number of officers, but he’d had a boy come in with possible gangrene—and he’d refused to wait even a day to see the wounded young soldier, knowing how quickly infection could flourish. He’d taken the leg, something he had been very sorry to do. But while he was a good surgeon—a damned good surgeon who usually attempted every possible miracle to save a limb—he knew when to take a limb as well. The gangrene had been serious. He could only hope it hadn’t spread through the boy’s system.

Last Christmas, he reflected, he’d been far from home. Sydney had been with him. And actually, Sydney had been to see him not so long ago, but he had known, what seemed like a very long time ago now, when he’d treated Jesse Halston after the Union cavalry man had taken five bullets, that his sister had been falling in love with him. Sydney had gone to Washington to arrange for prisoner exchanges, wound up helping their brother escape instead—and marrying Jesse Halston. He was glad. He liked Halston, and he’d been glad to save his life. Now Sydney was back in Washington, waiting. Hopefully, Jesse Halston had enough rank and power to make it home for Christmas.

Hopefully, he wasn’t lying dead on some forlorn battlefield.

Brent picked up the poker, stoked the fire, and reflected on the war. Strange. He’d hated being sent to deal with the prostitutes and the men with their sexual diseases. Giving lectures on the use of condoms. But after a while, he hadn’t hated the duty so much. The prostitutes had been people, many of them warm, sad, caring, funny, wild individuals.