11th Hour Rose (7 page)

Captain Curtis Langston cut an impressive figure as he pushed through the crowd. Garbed in simple tan trousers, boots that had seen better days, and a plain white shirt with sleeves cuffed to the elbows one would never guess he owned the prominent
Rebellion Shipping
company. Like Davy he had striking blue eyes though Curtis’s blond locks were sun bleached a few shades lighter—no doubt from his time at sea—and while he was not as tall as David, Curtis was considerably brawnier. Fleetingly Lilly wondered about the tantalizing tales of Curtis’s heroism during the war. Were they true?

To the captain’s left, Cadence Langston glided down the roadside, wearing a pretty day gown, her curly reddish blonde hair pulled half back and the rest left to flow around her shoulders. She appeared elfin beside her hulking husband, and one might never guess she’d been accused of murder just one year before. The couple appeared happy and comfortable, and Lilly couldn’t help but wonder if it was hard for Davy to see his younger brothers married with families.

She glanced back to Davy who adopted an easy grin when his brother stopped before him. “What a pleasant surprise to see you out and about,” Davy said. “I had planned to stop by this afternoon and meet your girls.”

“I’m sure,” Curtis replied, his tone indicating he didn’t believe Davy for a second.

David put a hand between Lilly’s shoulder blades, urging her ever so slightly forward. “Curtis and Cadence Langston, are you acquainted with Miss Lilly Hudson?”

“A little,” Cadence replied with a kind smile. “The sheriff’s daughter if I’m not mistaken.”

“That’s correct.” Lilly smiled in response. She glanced down into the baby carriage. “Oh!” She clasped her hands in delight. “They’re absolutely adorable.” Nestled in the basket, swaddled in light weight white blankets, two babies slept peacefully side by side, contentment evident on their tiny faces.

“Emmaline and Olivia,” Curtis supplied, voice thick with fatherly pride.

“Congratulations, Cadence,” Davy said. “You look lovely.” He stepped forward, kissing his sister-in-law’s cheek before shifting his attention to the baby carriage. His arm brushed Lilly’s as he peered down at his nieces. Lilly knew she should move away, but Davy’s amiable expression faltered, and for the barest instant he appeared completely haunted. However inappropriate their closeness may be, she sensed he needed her to stay right where she was. Davy cleared his throat and glanced to Lilly. She held his gaze firmly. After a moment his expression steeled. “Curtis, it’s lucky for these girls you have a beautiful wife. It’d be a real pity if they looked like you.”

“Someday you will have a daughter, and it will be my great pleasure to say the same to you,” Curtis grumbled good-naturedly.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Davy muttered.

“Just you wait,” Curtis replied with a knowing grin. He glanced between Lilly and David before turning a loving gaze to his wife. “We won’t keep you, Davy, Grandmamma Ginny is expecting us, but don’t be a stranger.”

Lilly watched Cadence and Curtis take leave, curiosity—as well as concern—piqued. She turned to David, one brow quirked. He didn’t seem to notice. He stood stock still, staring after his brother, brow folded in a pensive furrow.

“Davy, are you all right?” she asked, concerned.

He didn’t respond and Lilly could see the internal war in the lines of his face.

She touched his arm. “Davy?”

He jerked away from her hand, startled. “What? Oh…” He shook his head, washing a broad palm over his face. “Forgive me, I—I was thinking.”

“About your wife?”

He blinked in obvious surprise. “How did you guess?”

She shrugged. “Intuition I suppose.”

Davy sighed. “I’ve been avoiding Curtis for two weeks. I’m ashamed to admit it, and I’m thrilled for him, truly I am, but…”

“Is it often difficult for you to see your brothers and their children?”

“No,” he replied honestly. “Craig’s boy, Christopher, I take him fishing once a week. Or, at least I try to, but Curtis’s twins…” He paused, swallowing hard. He met her gaze, his soul totally bare to her. “It’s different, you see. They were born on the anniversary of the day my wife and newborn son died.”

Lilly gasped. “How awful.” She’d known he was a widower, but hadn’t realized he’d lost a child as well. “Childbirth?”

He nodded. “It’s just… just…” He lifted his shoulders miserably.

“Just what, Davy?”

He jerked his hat off and yanked his fingers through his hair. “God has a cruel sense of humor to give my brother everything I lost on the same damn day.” The anger in his expression dissipated as quickly as it had come, leaving his eyes empty with sadness. He turned, shoulders slouched and ambled into the grass field away from the festivities.

Unsure what else to do, Lilly followed.

Davy leaned against the trunk of an ancient maple tree and slumped to the ground. He twirled his hat on his fingers before flipping it into the grass a few feet away.

Lilly drew a tentative breath, lifted his felt hat from the grass and moved slowly back to him. Quietly she sank to the ground beside him. “What was her name?”

“My wife?” he asked without looking at Lilly. “Laura.”

“And your boy?”

“Cullen. Cullen Timothy Langston. He would have been eight.”

Lilly nodded, unsure what more to say, but unwilling to leave him alone. She suspected he was alone with his thoughts of loss far too often. He put on a good show for his family, but she’d glimpsed beneath the jovial exterior he portrayed for their benefit to the pain beneath. She set his hat beside her and smoothed a palm along the skirt puddled around her.

“Every time my brothers announce their wives are with another child I feel physically ill. All I can see is Laura that day—” he stopped short, and Lilly laid a gentle hand on his arm. “I never want them to go through what I did.” Davy opened his eyes, finally meeting her gaze.

Lilly froze, trapped in his eyes. In that instant the world did not exist save for the two of them. All she knew was the silver rim around the blue of his irises, and the heat of his bicep where her fingers lingered. She was transported back to the night Susannah Jensen died, to the moment behind the carriage when she’d
seen
the broken heart in his eyes. She wanted to take it away, help him heal. Lilly was no stranger to loss. The sadness never completely went away, but one
could
move on. She slid her hand down his arm, slipping her fingers into his palm.

“How long were you married?” she asked, half-expecting him to shut down her questions.

“Three years,” he replied readily. “I was gone for most of it.”

“Oh?”

He nodded, closing his hand around hers. “You may not know, but I was an officer in the U.S. regulars before the war. Went to
West Point
and everything.”

Lilly did know this, but chose not to interrupt. It wasn’t often David Langston spoke so freely.

“I was very driven about my career and felt it best she stay in Charleston with her family. I only meant to protect her.” He gave a wry snort. “How ironic that in the end I was responsible for her death.”

“Oh, Davy, you cannot believe that,” Lilly implored.

He shrugged. “Her family certainly did.”

“Do you still see them from time to time?”

“Not for several years. They were staunch Union supporters, and did not approve of my decision to resign my commission.”

Lilly knew all too well how bitter the rift must have been between Davy and his in-laws, and if they blamed him for Laura’s death as well… She squeezed his hand in friendly reassurance. “You mustn’t let their blame affect you so. All women know the risks of childbirth and
choose
to endure it anyway. Gladly so. You cannot blame yourself for circumstances beyond your control. I’m certain the last thing Laura would want is for you to blame yourself for her death.”

“No she wouldn’t,” he said slowly. “But then she wasn’t the type to blame anyone for anything.”

“I’m sure she was lovely.”

“She was. Beautiful and sweet. She rarely spoke a cross word.” Davy flashed Lilly a crooked half smile. “She was certainly nothing like you. You are… feisty.”

Lilly flushed but chose not to take his words as an insult. His gaze remained companionable and steady with a little twinkle relighting his eye. She glanced away, her stomach giving a little flutter. “Few women are.”

Davy laughed then, the sound light despite their heavy conversation.

Lilly gazed down at their entwined hands resting comfortably on her brown skirt. Comfortable. She was
comfortable
with David Langston, surprisingly so. When exactly had that happened?

“Are you going to the festival dance tonight?” His question interrupted her thoughts.

“Yes.” She made a face. “I spent seven hours baking pies yesterday, I will be there to eat some of them.”

“Good.” Without warning he leaned forward, completely invading her space, and reached around her with his free hand to snare his hat. Her heart jumped into her throat. She could feel the heat emanating from his chest and when he inhaled the broad expanse nearly touched her. Rather than pull back he let his free palm rest in the grass, his handsome face mere inches from hers, his arm and shoulder cris-crossed over hers. Lilly gulped. He was interested in her. She’d never known him to take a vested interest in any woman. Davy gazed down at her, expression soft and oh so boyishly innocent her insides turned to mush.

“I… Of course,” she whispered, the response entirely too breathless for her liking.
Oh, dear… I’m in trouble.

11
^th
Hour Rose

Six

Despite the roiling undercurrents of the city, the outdoor festival dance had a significant turnout. People had donned their best for the party and many couples danced merrily to the music or enjoyed punch and pies. In one corner several children laughed and played. Colorful bunches of Indian corn adorned every table, and fresh squash and pumpkins lined the dance floor. Brightly colored ribbons hung beneath the lanterns. Even sunflowers stood around the pavilion as though waiting for dance partners of their own.

Lilly found herself humming to the music, caught up in the cheerful atmosphere, and more than a little nervous. She’d taken special care with her appearance tonight, wearing her hair only half back in a braid that wrapped over the top of her head and leaving manicured curls to tumble along her back and shoulders. Lavinia had assisted, weaving a pale green ribbon through the braid to accentuate Lilly’s eyes. Lavinia had also insisted on loaning Lilly a gown. Made of pretty calico, a modest ruffle splashed along the bodice and sleeves that sat low and off the shoulders. Lilly smoothed a hand over the full skirt, more than a little self-conscious in the revealing dress.

David Langston wants to dance with me.

Excitement blossomed in her breast though she tried desperately not to dwell overly much on the fact. In truth he may not even come tonight. An hour ago she’d learned that he’d received a wire from the U.S. Marshal’s office in Washington regarding a Massachusetts murder very similar to the cases in Charleston. It was entirely possible he’d follow up on the lead and skip the dance altogether.

Even so, Lilly found herself scanning the crowd for him. Davy would be difficult to miss towering over most men in Charleston, and if he came would he seek her out?

“Good evening, Miss Lilly,” a male voice rumbled from behind her. “Would you care to dance?”

“Oh!” Lilly startled and shied away from her thoughts of Davy. “Mr. Brady.”

“In the flesh.” Marcus Brady flashed the irresistible grin that nearly every woman in Charleston was a-gawk over. Lilly found it a little disconcerting that her heart that fluttered when Davy smiled at her, but did nothing in response to Marcus.

She smiled in return. “I’d love to dance, Mr. Brady.” It would certainly distract her from waiting for David—who may not even come—though he would be furious with her for ignoring his warning about staying away from Marcus. A trickle of unease slithered down her spine as she took Mr. Brady’s hand. Could he be responsible for the brutal murders? She glanced up into his eyes. Kind eyes. Good humored eyes. Surely not… What a silly unfounded notion on Davy’s part. Perhaps he’d been jealous to find her in the company of another man.

Lilly allowed Marcus to lead her onto the dance floor, easily following him through the first few steps of a waltz. “You’re a very accomplished dancer, Mr. Brady.”

“Surprised?”

Lilly felt her cheeks grow hot, Marcus walked with a noticeable limp. “No, not at all. I mean—”

“It’s all right,” he winked. “I find the limp rather dashing don’t you?”

With a laugh she inclined her head. “Very much so. Did it happen in the war?”

“Sadly, the cause of my injury is not as dashing as a war wound. I was thrown from a horse when I was ten years old.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said automatically.

“Yes, well, after twenty years I’ve learned to live with it. During the war I was passed over for military service and instead became a reporter.”

“How fascinating.”

“I felt I was doing my part, but other men did much more,” he replied solemnly.

Lilly nodded.

After a moment’s pause Marcus continued, “Reporting is actually what I’d wished to speak with you about earlier today.”

“Oh?” Confused, Lilly met his gaze, interest piqued.

“I understand you have some legal education.”

“I do, yes.”

“Have you ever considered writing a column for the newspaper?”

Genuine surprise filled Lilly. “Well, no. I mean… I… What would I write about?”

Lilly never heard the answer. Across the pavilion her eyes locked with David’s. She gulped. She was in trouble, and not metaphorically. Fury gilded every line of his handsome face.

*              *              *

“I don’t believe this,” David muttered, eyes riveted on Lilly twirling in the arms of Marcus Brady as though she had not a care in the damn world. Well, he would give her something to care about. Without another thought he strode purposefully across the dance floor, not caring who he disrupted or who might see.