Surrender (43 page)

“Ah, Mrs. McKenzie!”

She turned. The brunette was approaching, hand extended regally.

“Yes, how do you do?” Risa murmured, extending her hand in return.

“Divinely, thank you!” the woman drawled. “I’ve heard so much about you, yet I hadn’t expected the pleasure of meeting you this evening. Jerome had said that you weren’t attending.”

“Well, I was very tired,” Risa murmured. “He thought I wanted to rest, but … I couldn’t stay away. I’m so sorry. I’m at a disadvantage here. You know my name, while I don’t know yours.”

“Oh, dear! Everyone knows your name. You’re quite infamous, you know!” the woman said, and winked, as if her words were not meant at all maliciously.

In truth, they dripped venom.

Risa smiled. “Indeed? But
you
are … ?”

“Janine Thompson. My father is Pierce Thompson. Ah, well, you are a Northerner. He’s very important in our state’s political arena, and did—before the war I’m afraid—export the most cotton in the whole of the state.”

Janine Thompson. The woman the newspapers had hinted Jerome intended to marry. His onetime fiancée? He’d never actually explained the situation.

She felt ill. Janine was very pretty with her dark hair and perfect, snowy complexion. She spoke casually, yet
there was an underlying streak of bitterness about her that was frightening.

Risa determined she would allow no jealousy to show. “Congratulations,” she said lightly.

Janine arched a perfectly shaped brow. “Ah, but you are the one deserving the congratulations. On your marriage. And your child, of course.”

“Thank you.”

“I admit to assuming that I might be in your place … but then … how old is your child, and when did your marriage take place?”

Risa arched a brow herself. “Why, Miss Thompson, how very rude.”

Janine Thompson smiled, and moved close to her. “The truth is not always pleasant, is it? Society judges harshly, and I do hope your child does not bear your shame.”

“How dare you speak so of my child, Miss Thompson—”

Janine Thompson ignored her. “You, apparently, do not know what it’s like to lose everyone … one by one. We become rude, and truthful, under such circumstances. You misused a Southern hero, and you see, I would have loved him. I wouldn’t have betrayed him. I would have lived for him. And now I wish that I’d played your game, and planned a baby, rather than more carefully choosing my times.”

Risa determined that she was going to maintain her temper—no matter what this woman said. Because there was an edge to her voice that hinted at a disappointment so deep it was unbearable. She longed to slap Janine Thompson. She was equally tempted to burst into tears and race from the house. She forced herself to realize that Janine was in pain—and striking out at her perceived enemy.

“Miss Thompson, I cannot regret my child, I adore him. If you’ll be so good as to excuse me—”

“I can’t excuse you. I’d have cherished him each night. So handsome a man. So excellent a figure. So unique a man, down to … to that little star-shaped birthmark on his left buttock … you’d really no right. No right at all …”

Risa was stunned. A young woman of Janine’s position, North or South, talking so …

About her husband!

Did he have such a birthmark?

“Miss Thompson,” she said firmly, “I am sorry, very sorry, for whatever you have suffered. I must go now.”

She quickly started through the room. When she turned back, Janine was standing exactly where she had left her—talking to herself. But then a young man came up behind her, and she swirled around, and laughingly accepted his invitation to dance.

Risa found herself trembling, electric with emotion. When had Jerome last been with Miss Thompson? Had he entertained plans for this evening? Was that why he kept Risa away? Should she be angry, or sorry, and could she do anything at all, since she was the enemy?

As she tried to flee the dance floor, she found Varina returning with Jamie. He had spent the evening being entertained by the Davis children, and was now probably very hungry and sleepy. “Lieutenant Clark will be seeing you back to your Richmond facilities,” Varina said with her soft drawl. “Your husband still has business; he will be along shortly.” She gave Risa a quick hug. “It’s good to see you, child. Even under the circumstances.”

Risa hugged her fiercely in return, squishing Jamie a little in the process. He mewled a protest, and she and the First Lady both laughed.

Business. Jerome had business. She didn’t see him, and she didn’t see Janine, and she seethed.

The lieutenant saw her back to the boardinghouse, where More was waiting for her and not his young assistant. He had clearly been told that she had escaped his watch, and he was in trouble—and angry.

She didn’t try to speak with him. She quickly entered her room. She fed Jamie, slipped into her nightgown, and began to nervously walk the room. She was alternately glad that she had defied Jerome so boldly—and terrified that she had done so. She was plain furious with Janine Thompson. She practiced what she would say when Jerome arrived.

But the hours went by, and he didn’t come. And somewhere along the line, despite the tempest of emotion
that burned through her, she lay down. She reminded herself that she was a general’s daughter. She was ready for whatever war they might wage.

Then, to her dismay, she found herself crying. She tried to stop the tears. Eventually, she did. At last she fell asleep.

Jerome could not believe her audacity. In Richmond, the very heart of the Confederacy, she had come striding right up to the President’s own residence. He had completely forgotten that she most probably knew Davis and his wife, though of course both her father and Davis had long been involved with the military and politics.

In her simple dress, she had outshone them all. She was beautiful. She had moved with grace, walked with pride. She had mocked and defied him at every turn. And he was ready to strangle her … yet at the same time, he had to admit that he admired her courage.

He was bone-tired, anxious to sleep, but Davis had asked him to wait until they had a few minutes alone before leaving, since Jerome meant to start out the next morning for the North Carolina coast. He’d been offered a small ship, not up to the standards of the
Lady Varina
, but perhaps a sound enough vessel to help him steal his own ship back.

With the guests gone, Davis closed off the doors to the small room on the ground floor that was his study and his wife’s sewing room. “I wanted to let you know, sir, that I do and do not have any information regarding the strange incidents occurring in your life,” Davis told him, offering him a glass of port.

“I’m sorry, sir?”

Davis sat, rubbing his temples between his thumb and forefingers. “First off, many of your old crew members will be waiting for you in North Carolina. Your wife hired a Yankee lawyer, and somehow managed to get them released due to the fact that you were reputed to be so merciful in your dealings with the soldiers you captured on Union ships.”

“My wife—hired a lawyer?”

“She did.”

She hadn’t said anything to him about having done
such a thing. Not that he had given her much of a chance.

But did that exonerate her? Perhaps she had wanted his ship taken, but hadn’t wanted tragedy to befall his men—as so often happened at Elmira.

People did strange things for strange reasons. He knew that Magee had tried hard to keep him a prisoner,
after
he had forgiven him for abducting Risa. He had wanted to keep him out of the war, keep him alive.

“I’m grateful that my men are free.”

“Now, as to that strange happening with the carriage when your sister was here …”

“I met my father-in-law, and he absolutely denied anything to do with the threat to my sister.”

Davis nodded gravely. “As the war progresses, we discover more and more spies where we would never imagine we might find them. Recently, a soldier confessed to his physician on his deathbed that he had been the one to kill the carriage driver that night—shooting the man when he might have hit your sister. The Reverend Osby, attending the man at his demise, had little idea of what he was talking about, but he kept mentioning the White House of the Confederacy, so Osby made a point of contacting me. The soldier said he’d been paid out of Florida. So, sir, though I can’t help you more, it would seem that you have a serious enemy in your own home state. Though it seems reckless to me, you—like Robert Lee—have often managed to carry out the impossible, and we need the impossible, so I support your decision to try to get your ship back. But I beg of you, be wary. It’s enough to fear the regular fire of war; however, when there is clandestine danger to be faced as well, it’s a scary situation.”

Jerome rose, shaking Davis’s hand, and then saluting. “I will get my ship back, sir. And justify your faith in me.”

Jerome left the White House, walking slowly down the dark, deserted street. For the first time he felt a gnawing at what he had thought was righteous anger.

The Magees had not been part of Sydney’s near abduction. Perhaps Risa was not guilty of other crimes?

He shook his head, lips tightening, as he told himself
he could not fall prey so easily to such hope. She’d had the decency to try to see that his men were freed. His ship was still gone.

And he’d still spent months imprisoned. He had an enemy in Florida. That did not mean his enemy was not his wife. And yet …

He returned to their rooms, nodding curtly to the embarrassed young guard on duty who had apparently been the one to let her escape. He entered the room, and in the darkness found his way to the bed. Moonlight filtered through the windows, and he looked down at her, sleeping with her arm carefully curved around Jamie. She was wearing a thin white nightgown, chaste with its high buttons, yet in the moonlight it allowed him to clearly see and appreciate every lush curve of her body. Instant arousal overtook his senses, and he stepped away from her as if he had been burned.

Why not? Why not move his sleeping child, slip in beside the woman who was his wife, and ease the fires of hell that plagued him? God knew, it had been one hell of a long time.

Did it matter, in the middle of the night, if she had betrayed him or not? When all he sought was a moment’s solace and hunger’s satisfaction. Come morning, he could walk away.

But he couldn’t. There were subtle snares she had tied around him. She was proud, she was strong, she was defiant. She didn’t falter at the worst of times, and yet she could move around a dance floor among her enemies with sheer elegance and grace. She had never pretended to embrace his cause, and yet her faith and belief in the Union had been unwavering, while sometimes he doubted his own wisdom, and the righteousness of the South. Yes, states had rights, yes Florida had seceded, and yes, he was a Floridian. And God knew, he loved his home. Loved it passionately, believed even in the godforsaken swamp that crept upon his land.

But slavery was wrong. The Yankees weren’t so almighty great—they wanted the slaves freed, but they weren’t quite ready to see them educated and given the same opportunities as the whites. The peculiar institution of slavery should end … just not all at once.

They would pay for this war, he was suddenly certain. For decades, perhaps centuries, to come.

How could he condemn her? He had fallen in love with her, and he had begun to believe that they could create a life, that their love could grow. And yet, while he had been falling in love …

She had been planning. And she had brought him down.

But he wanted her. It had been forever since he had seen her, held her. Touched her, made love. His senses cried out in a wild fury, his body burned.

He clenched his hands into fists at his sides.

What difference did it make?
he mocked himself.
Have what you want now, for this is Southern territory, and you cannot be betrayed here. There are no soldiers to come in the night, there is no chance of being taken as a fool. Have the night, take the night, seize the bloody moment now, it had been long, so long, so damned long
…

He was about to reach for her, in anger.

But Jamie suddenly stirred, kicking out his little legs. She shifted. The baby began to cry softly. She didn’t exactly awaken; she shifted again, unbuttoning her gown. Her eyes barely opened before they closed again as she drew Jamie closer, instinctively leading him to her breast. He hungrily began to nurse as she gently cradled him to her.

Jerome stood still. He touched his son’s cheek, and delicately traced a blue vein in his wife’s breast. She was soundly sleeping again, and didn’t move.

He frowned, touching her cheek. It was damp. She had cried herself to sleep.

He turned and walked away, left the room, and went down to the den of the boardinghouse. A fire burned low in the hearth, shadows crept gently around the room. He poured himself a brandy, and stared at the flames for a long time.

Then he determined his course of action.

T
o Risa’s dismay, she woke to find her husband gone. He had left her a letter, curt and to the point. He was putting to sea as quickly as possible. Lieutenant More was to escort her south by rail through Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, and into the northern part of Florida, where state troops could meet her. They would bring her to Julian and, as soon as Jerome was able, he would meet her at his cousin’s camp.

She was deeply disappointed, and angry, having been ready to confront him after the party. He had been in the room, she knew, because his belongings that had been there were gone. Jerome hadn’t told her where he was going, but she was more upset to learn that Pierce Thompson and his daughter had departed Richmond as well. She told herself that Jerome was going off to sea, that he was going back to the war. The fact that the Thompsons had left at the same time meant nothing. Janine was a sad creature, broken by the war.

Yes, but she was a creature familiar with Risa’s husband’s buttocks. And Risa couldn’t help but burn with jealousy at the very thought of the other woman near him. Especially when … when he wanted nothing to do with herself.