Just Imagine (17 page)

Kit remembered her earlier agitation over all the improvements Sophronia had made to the house. Now that seemed petty, and she praised her for everything she'd done.

Sophronia drank in Kit's words. She knew the old house was shining under her care, and she was proud of her accomplishments. At the same time, she began to feel the familiar combination of love and resentment that always plagued her where Kit was concerned.

For so long, Sophronia had been the only one watching out for Kit. Now Kit was a woman with friendships and experiences Sophronia couldn't share. She was also beautiful, poised, and at home in a world Sophronia would never enter.

The old hurts began to throb.

"Don't think because you're home now you can start stickin' your nose in my business and tellin' me how to run this house."

Kit merely chuckled. "I wouldn't think of it. All I care about is the land. The fields. I can't wait to see everything."

Sophronia's resentment faded and worry took its place. Putting the major and Kit under the same roof was going to lead to trouble.

Rosemary Weston's old bedroom had been redecorated in blush pink and soft moss green. It reminded Kit of the inside of a ripe watermelon, close to the bottom where the pink meat joined the pale iridescence of the rind. She was glad the cool, pretty room would be hers, even though it was second-best to the bedroom Cain occupied. The fact that both shared a common sitting room made her uneasy, but at least it would allow her to keep a closer watch on him.

How could she have let him kiss her like that? The question she'd been trying to avoid asking felt like a fist in her stomach. True, she'd pushed him away, but not before he'd thoroughly kissed her. If it had been Brandon Parsell, she could have understood, but how could she have done such a thing with Baron Cain?

She remembered Mrs. Templeton's lecture on Eve's Shame. Surely only an unnatural woman would abandon herself like that with her most bitter enemy. Maybe there was something wrong with her.

Nonsense. She'd merely been exhausted from the trip, and Miss Dolly's chatter was enough to drive anyone into doing something irrational.

Determined not to think of it again, she stripped off her dress and stood in chemise and petticoat to freshen up at the washstand. Bathing was her favorite luxury. She could hardly believe she'd once hated it so. What a silly child she'd been. Silly about everything except her hatred for Cain.

She cursed softly under her breath, a habit even Elsbeth hadn't been able to stop. Before Cain had stormed out of the sitting room, he'd ordered her to meet him in the library after dinner. She wasn't looking forward to the interview. At the same time, he needed to understand he was no longer dealing with an immature eighteen-year-old.

Lucy had unpacked her trunks, and for a moment Kit considered throwing on one of her oldest dresses and dashing outside to reacquaint herself with her home. But she had to be downstairs soon, ready to do battle again. Morning would be time enough.

She chose a frock with sprigs of gay blue forget-me-nots scattered over a white background. The skirt was drawn up in soft folds to reveal an underskirt in the same blue as the flowers. Cain had provided a generous clothing allowance, damn his soul, and Kit had a beautiful wardrobe. Much of the thanks went to Elisabeth, who said Kit's taste was too erratic and hadn't trusted her to shop alone. The truth was, unless Elisabeth rode herd, Kit generally grew bored and settled for whatever the shopkeepers placed before her.

Impatiently she pulled out her hairpins. That morning, she'd dressed her hair in the Spanish style, parted in the center and pulled into a simple coil at the nape of her neck. With a few tendrils escaping here and there and her small jet earbobs, the sophisticated style had been perfect for her first encounter with Cain. But she couldn't tolerate the confinement any longer. Now she brushed her hair out until it crackled, then caught it back from her face with the silver filigreed combs Elsbeth had given her. It tumbled in a riot of curls that spilled over her shoulders. After dabbing jasmine scent at her wrists, she was ready to fetch Miss Dolly.

As she knocked at her door, she wondered how her fragile companion would handle sitting at dinner with a Yankee war hero. She knocked a second time, and when there was no response, pushed open the door.

Miss Dolly sat huddled in a rocking chair in the corner of the darkened room. Tears streaked her wrinkled cheeks, and she held the tattered fragment of what had once been a baby-blue handkerchief.

Kit dashed to her side. "Miss Dolly! What's wrong?"

The older woman didn't seem to hear. Kit knelt before her. "Miss Dolly?"

"Hello, darlin'," she said vaguely. "I didn't hear you come in."

"You've been crying." Kit clasped the woman's bird-frail hands. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing, really. Silly memories. Making rag babies with my sisters when we were children. Playin' under the grape arbor. Reminiscence is part of old age."

"You're not old, Miss Dolly. Why, just look at you in your pretty white dress. You look as fresh as a spring day."

"I do try to keep myself pretty," Miss Dolly acknowledged, straightening a little in her chair and making a dab at her wet cheeks. "It's just that sometimes, on days like today, I find myself thinkin' about things that happened a long time ago, and it makes me sad."

"What kind of things?"

Miss Dolly patted Kit's hand. "Now, now, darlin'. You don't want to hear my ramblin's."

"You don't ramble," Kit assured her, even though only a few hours earlier, that very habit had been driving her to distraction.

"You've got a good heart, Katharine Louise. I knew it the moment I set eyes on you. I was so glad when you asked me to accompany you back to South Carolina." Her ribbons dipped as she shook her head. "I didn't like it in the North. Everybody had such loud voices. I don't like Yankees, Katharine. I don't like them at all."

"You're upset about meeting Major Cain, aren't you?" Kit rubbed the back of Miss Dolly's hand. "I shouldn't have brought you here. I was only thinking of myself, not of how it would affect you."

"Now, now. Don't you be blamin' your sweet self for a silly old woman's foolishness."

"I won't let you stay if it's going to make you unhappy."

Miss Dolly's eyes widened in alarm. "But I don't have anywhere else to go!" She pushed herself up from the rocking chair and began to cry again. "Silly foolishness… that's all this is. I'll—I'll just freshen up, and then we'll go right downstairs for dinner. I won't be a minute. Not a… not a minute."

Kit rose and embraced the woman's frail shoulders. "Calm yourself, Miss Dolly. I won't send you away. Not as long as you want to stay with me. I promise."

Hope flickered in her companion's eyes. "You won't send me away?"

"Never." Kit smoothed the puffy white sleeves of Miss Dolly's gown, then gave her powdery cheek a kiss. "Make yourself pretty for dinner."

Miss Dolly glanced nervously toward the hallway that lay beyond the safe haven of her room. "All—all right, darlin'."

"Please don't worry about Major Cain." Kit smiled. "Just pretend you're entertaining General Lee."

After ten minutes of primping, Miss Dolly decided she was ready, but Kit was so happy to see the older woman's spirits restored that she didn't mind the wait. As they descended the stairs, Miss Dolly began fussing over her. "Hold still a minute, darlin'. The overskirt on your pretty dress isn't caught up properly." She clucked her tongue while she adjusted the garment. "I do wish you'd be a little more careful with your appearance. I don't mean to be critical, but you don't always look quite as neat as a young lady should."

"Yes, ma'am." Kit assumed her most docile expression, the one that had never fooled Elvira Templeton but seemed to do the trick with Miss Dolly. At the same time, she made up her mind to murder Baron Cain with her bare hands if he did anything tonight to frighten Miss Dolly.

Just then he came out of the library. He was dressed informally in a pair of black trousers and a white shirt, his hair still damp from his bath. She relished the fact that he was too boorish to dress for dinner, even though he'd known there'd be ladies at the table.

He looked up and saw them coming toward him. Something she couldn't decipher flickered in his eyes.

Her heart began to pound. The memory of that lunatic kiss washed over her. She took a deep breath. The evening that lay ahead would be hard enough. She had to forget what had happened and keep her wits about her. Cain's appearance was going to terrify Miss Dolly.

She turned to soothe her, only to see the old woman's lips curving in a coquettish smile. Miss Dolly extended one lace-encased hand and made her descent into the hallway as gracefully as a debutante.

"My dear, dear General. I can't tell you what an honor this is for me, sir. You will never know the hours I've spent on my poor knees, prayin' for your safety. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine I'd have the honor of meeting you." She thrust her tiny hand into Cain's large one. "I'm Katharine's chaperone, Dorthea Pinckney Calhoun, of the Columbia Calhouns." And then she dropped a deep curtsy that would have done any Templeton Girl proud.

Cain stared in bewilderment at the top of her frilly cap. She bobbed back up, her head barely coming to his middle shirt button. "If there's anything, anything at all, I can do to make you comfortable during your stay here at Risen Glory, General, you need only ask. From this moment, this very
instant
, consider me your devoted servant."

Miss Dolly's eyelids batted at him with such alarming speed Kit was afraid she'd blind herself.

Cain turned to Kit for enlightenment, but Kit was mystified. He cleared his throat. "I believe—I'm afraid, madam, that you've made a mistake. I'm not entitled to the rank of general. Indeed, I hold no military office at all now, although some still refer to me by my former rank of major."

Miss Dolly gave a trill of girlish laughter. "Oh, my, my! Silly me! You've caught me like a kitten in the cream." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I forget that you're in disguise. And a very good one it is, I might add. No Yankee spy could ever recognize you, although it's a shame you had to shave off your beard. I do admire beards."

Cain's patience snapped and he turned on Kit. "What's she talking about?"

Miss Dolly pressed her fingers to his arm. "Now, now, no need to fret. I promise when we're in company I'll be very discreet, and only address you as Major, dear General."

Cain's voice sounded a warning. "Kit…"

Miss Dolly clucked her tongue. "There, there, General. I don't want you to worry your head for an instant about Katharine Louise. A more loyal daughter of the Confederacy does not exist. She would never betray your true identity to anyone. Isn't that so, darlin'?"

Kit tried to reply. She even opened her mouth. But nothing seemed to come out.

Miss Dolly plucked up the chicken-skin fan that dangled from her bony wrist and tapped Kit's arm.

"Tell the general that's so, darlin', this very instant. We mustn't let him worry unnecessarily about betrayal. The poor man has enough on his mind without adding to his burden. Go on, now. Tell him he can trust you. Tell him."

"You can trust me," Kit croaked.

Cain glared at her.

Miss Dolly smiled and sniffed the air. "If my nose isn't betraying me, I do believe I smell chicken fricassee. I'm more than a little partial to fricassee, 'deed I am, especially if it contains just a tiny dash of nutmeg."

She linked her arm through Cain's and turned toward the dining room. "You know, General, there's a strong possibility that we're distantly related. According to my great-aunt, Phoebe Littlefield Calhoun, her father's branch of the family is connected through marriage to the Virginia Lees."

Cain stopped dead in his tracks. "Are you trying to tell me, madam—Do you actually believe that I am General Robert E. Lee?"

Miss Dolly opened her Cupid's-bow mouth to respond, only to close it with a giggle. "Oh, no, you shan't catch me that easily, General. And it's naughty of you to test me, especially after I informed you that you could rely on my discretion. You're Major Baron Nathaniel Cain. Katharine Louise told me that quite clearly."

And then she favored him with a broad, conspiratorial wink.

Cain scowled throughout dinner, and Kit's normal appetite deserted her. Not only did she have to endure his company and the memory of their kiss, but she knew she'd planted the seed of Miss Dolly's latest madness. Miss Dolly, however, had no difficulty filling the strained silence. She chirped on about fricassees, distant relations, and the medicinal qualities of chamomile until Cain's face looked like a storm cloud. Over dessert, he came to a full state of alert when she suggested an informal poetry recitation in the parlor.

"Worst luck. Miss Calhoun." His gaze traveled down the table. "Katharine Louise has brought along some secret dispatches from New York City. I'm afraid I need to meet with her privately." One tawny brow shot upward. "And
immediately
!"

Miss Dolly beamed. "Why, of course, dear General. You needn't say another word. You go on. I'll just sit here and enjoy this delicious ginger cake. Why, I haven't—"

"You're a true patriot, madam." He pushed back his chair and gestured toward the door. "The library,
Katharine Louise
."

"I… uh…"

"Now."

"Hurry along, my dear. The general is a busy man."

"And about to get busier," he said pointedly.

Kit rose and swept past him. Fine. It was time they had a showdown.

The library at Risen Glory was much as Kit remembered. Comfortable chairs with sagging leather seats sat at angles to the old mahogany desk. The generous windows kept everything light and cheerful despite the somber leather-bound books that lined the shelves.

It had always been her favorite room at Risen Glory, and she resented the unfamiliar humidor sitting on the desk as well as the Colt army revolver that rested in a red-lined wooden box next to it. Most of all, she resented the portrait of Abraham Lincoln that hung above the mantelpiece in place of "The Beheading of John the Baptist." a painting that had been there for as long as she could remember.