Less Than a Gentleman (8 page)

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

C
aroline was relieved the next morning when Haversham did not appear at breakfast. Simply thinking about him made her heart thud wildly in her chest. She hardly knew the man, yet she had conversed with him at length, alone in a bedchamber. Wearing nothing but a thin nightgown that was much too short.

She’d allowed him to hold her. She’d confessed her true identity. Was this madness, or something else? She slanted a look at her sister across the breakfast table. There had been times when Ginny was falling in love that Caroline had thought her sister was behaving irrationally. Even recklessly. Was she doing the same?

Could she be falling for Haversham? She couldn’t deny feeling attracted to him. The man was extremely handsome. But was she simply reacting to the first available man she’d met in months who fit her criteria? Single, healthy, and not involved with the war. Those were good things, but they hardly constituted a basis for a serious relationship.

He’d wanted to kiss her. She was almost certain of it. Every time the memory crossed her mind, her heart pounded. And her face grew warm.

Sleep had been nigh impossible last night. She’d been tormented with the memories of how handsome he had looked in the moonlight. Without a jacket or cravat, he’d been dressed simply in tight breeches and a homespun shirt. His dark hair had been wet and loose about his shoulders. His shirt had outlined every muscled contour of his broad shoulders. Dark whiskers had shaded his strong jaw. He had looked dangerous. Strong. Exciting.

And he’d wanted to kiss her. Her cheeks grew hot again. How much sleep had she lost, imagining what might have happened if she hadn’t jumped away?

“My dear, are you all right?” Jane asked. “You seemed flushed.”

She stiffened and pushed her eggs around her plate. “I’m afraid I’m not very hungry this morning.”

Jane nodded. “The heat affects my appetite, too. Did you not sleep well?”

The memory returned—Haversham’s hands on her shoulders, pulling her closer as he leaned in for a kiss. “I—I have a great deal on my mind.”

Jane gave her a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry, dear. It will all work out for the best.”

“Thank you.” Caroline wondered for the hundredth time if she’d made a mistake trusting Haversham. But if Jane trusted him, then he had to be dependable, didn’t he?

Where was he this morning? Perhaps she should see him after all. It might help her make sense of the confusing thoughts and feelings that had plagued her all night.

When Betsy returned to take their dishes to the kitchen, Caroline insisted on helping.

The kitchen was full of the enticing aroma of freshly baked bread. But no Haversham in sight.

“Have you seen the butler this morning?” she asked.

Dottie chuckled as she wrapped some loaves in squares of cotton. “I suspect he’s gone to the stable. But he’ll be back for this bread before he leaves.”

Caroline swallowed hard. “He’s leaving?”

Dottie smiled. “Don’t you fret, child. He’ll come back. He’s just feeding the hungry today.”

The tightness in Caroline’s chest dissipated. Surely he was a good man if he was engaged in charitable works. “Have you known him for very long, Miss Dottie?”

“All of his life.” Dottie’s eyes twinkled with humor. “Have you taken a liking to him?”

Caroline’s face heated with a blush. Even Betsy looked amused. “I wouldn’t phrase it that way. I’m simply . . . curious. I was wondering how trustworthy he is.”

“Then maybe you should ask him.” Dottie motioned to the door.

Caroline whirled about.
Good Lord
. How long had he been standing in the doorway?

He bowed his head. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” With her face downcast and burning with heat, she slipped around him and headed out the door.

“Miss Munro, will you take a walk with me?”

She hesitated. “My sister might need me.”

“I won’t take much of your time. I was hoping to say good-bye before I leave.”

She ventured a quick glance at his face. He looked so sincere with his angelic blue eyes. Last night in the moonlight, his hair had appeared black, but now, in the sunlight, she could see it was actually a rich shade of brown. “I can spare a few minutes, I suppose.”

“Thank you.” He motioned toward the kitchen garden and led her down a path between two rows of carrots and parsnips. “I’m not sure I apologized properly for barging into your room last night.”

“ ’Twas an accident.”

“We seem to have those often.” He smiled.

Her heart squeezed in her chest.
Don’t think about how handsome he is. Remember how little you know of him
. “Why are you leaving?”

His eyebrows lifted as if he were caught off guard. “Do you ask because you’re simply curious? You’re wondering how trustworthy I am?”

She winced as he repeated the words she’d said earlier. “It has occurred to me that I don’t know you very well.”

“You trusted me last night. Have I changed since then?”

No, of course he hadn’t. Why was she having second thoughts? The answer hit her hard enough to make her stumble.

“Are you all right?” He grabbed her by the elbow.

She gave him a wary look. Last night, she had trusted him with her identity. Today, she was wondering if she could trust him with her heart. It was a frightening thought. “Why are you leaving?”

He paused. “Business.”

“You attend to matters of business for Mrs. Thomas?”

“Yes.” He led her into the orchard. “I’ll be gone for a few days.”

“I see.” She would miss him.

“Will you miss me?”

She gasped. Was the man a mind reader? She pivoted, surveying the rows of trees. “What a beautiful place.”

“You should see it in the spring when the trees are in full bloom.”

She nodded. “I’m sure it is lovely.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t recall a—”

“Are you lying again?” he asked softly, his eyes twinkling with humor.

She scoffed. “You might find this hard to believe, but I am not a habitual liar.”

“But what if that was a lie? Perhaps I should be concerned about how trustworthy
you
are.”

She huffed. “I’m a paragon of virtue.”

“You called me a demented buffoon.” He gave her an injured look. “Three times.”

Her mouth twitched. “You kept count?”

“Aye. I was wounded to the core.”

She snorted. “Look who’s lying now.”

“You bit me, too.”

“Only once. Do you have a habit of accosting women in their beds?”

“Only once.” He grinned. “Only you.”

For some odd reason, she was happy to hear that. “You’re the only person I’ve ever bitten.”

“I’m honored.”

She bit her lip to keep from smiling.

“Admit it. You’ll miss me.”

With a shrug, she sauntered down the path. “Perhaps.”

“Vixen,” he muttered behind her.

She grinned. She might not know a great deal about Haversham, but she did enjoy his company.

He ran to catch up with her, and they strolled side by side for a while.

“Are you going to tell Mrs. Thomas the truth today?” he asked.

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “Wish me luck.”

“You’ll be fine. Mrs. Thomas likes you.”

“Did she say that?”

He nodded, smiling.

Caroline smiled back, then wandered into the shade of a peach tree. Her father had planted five of these at home. Was he alive? How would she ever find him? How was Mama surviving each day, not knowing if he would ever return? How could Ginny endure each day, wondering if her babe would be born without a father?

Caroline’s fleeting moment of happiness crashed around her as reality returned. Tears burned her eyes, and she turned away so Haversham wouldn’t see. She had to stay strong, no matter what. And she had to count her blessings. How fortunate she was to have found this piece of heaven on earth.

“Is something wrong?” he asked behind her.

She blinked away the tears. “I cannot tell you how relieved I am that my sister can give birth here, and my nephew and niece have food to eat and real beds to sleep in. The war has taken a terrible toll on them.”

“I’m sure it has.”

“And Ginny’s been so worried about her husband. We haven’t heard from him since last April.”

“He’s a soldier?” Haversham rested a palm against the tree trunk. “What’s his name?”

“Quincy Stanton. He’s a blockade runner. But with the British in Charles Town, I’m afraid he’s been cut off from us.”

Haversham frowned. “That’s a dangerous business he’s in.”

Caroline sighed. “We know.”

“His name sounds familiar. Is he involved with Stanton Shipping?”

“Aye. You’ve heard of it?”

Haversham nodded. “This plantation transported indigo with Stanton Shipping before the war.”

“I see.” Caroline glanced up at the canopy of green leaves above them. “I feel so helpless sometimes. All I can do is hope and pray. Will all three survive?”

“All three?”

“Ginny’s husband; our brother, Fergus; and our father. With so many to worry about, I’ve made a vow never to involve myself with a soldier.”

Haversham stiffened. “But they’re fighting for freedom.”

“And some are dying.” Like poor Roger. She closed her eyes briefly. If only she had kept her mouth shut. “You asked if I’m a habitual liar. I’m not, but I do have a terrible tendency to say the wrong thing at the wrong time.”

“We all do that occasionally.”

She shook her head. “Not as badly as I.”

“May I ask where you were headed when you ended up here at Loblolly?”

“We were traveling down the Black River, in hopes of finding my father with Sumter’s army. But then I learned they were defeated. I don’t know if my father . . .” Tears blurred her vision.

Haversham muttered a curse and strode away a few steps. “Bloody hell,” he whispered, then turned to her. “I . . . I know a few soldiers in the area. I could ask if they know anything.”

Her breath caught. “You could?”

“Aye.” With a grimace, he clenched a fist. “ ’Tis the least I can do.”

“Oh, thank you!” Caroline rushed toward him. “His name is James Munro, a major.” She touched his shoulder. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it.” Haversham bowed abruptly. “Good day, Miss Munro.” He sprinted back to the kitchen.

“Good day,” Caroline whispered. What had happened? He’d run off as if the devil were on his heels.

M
atthias cursed himself all the way back to the camp on Snow’s Island. He should have realized she’d be as worried about her father as her father was about her. She’d been battling tears, fearing that her father was dead.

He could have relieved her fears. He could have told her he had met her father. But how could he admit he was in the army when she was determined never to involve herself with a soldier? And if he admitted his true identity, she would know he was the heir to the plantation. Dammit, he liked being Haversham, the penniless servant. It was the only way he could be sure that she liked him for himself and not for his wealth.

He pushed those thoughts aside. Why was he concerned whether she liked him or not? He’d made his own vow not to marry as long as the war continued. Caroline was right. It was absolute folly to become romantically attached during these perilous times.

And it was dangerous for him to allow a woman to distract him from his work. If he lost his focus and let his emotions reel out of control, he could end up dead.

It was better this way. His guilt would serve a purpose by forcing him to put some distance between them. After a few days away from her, he’d forget the pain that glimmered in her eyes. He’d forget his desire to protect her and comfort her.

He was a soldier first.

He groaned. He was an ass.

A
ll day long, Caroline waited for a private moment with Jane so she could confess her true identity. It was difficult, though, with the children always underfoot. Even now, they were chasing each other around the reflecting pool while she helped Jane in the garden.

As she knelt in front of a flowerbed, Caroline realized this might be her best opportunity. She wrenched out a weed growing next to a rosebush. “I cannot thank you enough for the kindness you have shown us.”

“Posh, my dear. I am the grateful one.” Jane cut off a long-stemmed rose and added it to her basket. “You and your family have brought me great joy. And I’m very excited over the prospect of having a newborn babe in the house.”

Caroline nodded. “I’ve been very concerned about my sister.”

“No need to fret. You will be relieved to know that Dottie is an excellent midwife.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Caroline took a deep breath. “But I must admit there is another matter that has been weighing heavily on me. I’m afraid I—”

Charlotte’s scream interrupted her confession. She jumped to her feet just in time to see Edward fall into the reflecting pool with a noisy splash.

“Edward, of all the silly things to do.” Caroline frowned at him as he sat in the water, grinning.

Jane laughed. “He reminds me of Matthias. I cannot tell you how many times my son landed in that pool.”

Water dripped from Edward’s clothes as he scrambled out of the pool. “Give me a hug, Charlotte!” He made a grab for her.

Charlotte squealed and dashed around the corner of the house with her soggy brother in pursuit.

“Excuse me.” Caroline followed them, wiping her dirty hands on her apron. As she came to the front lawn, she noticed the children had frozen in their tracks.

Down at the wharf, a barge had docked. Three British soldiers stood on the pier. Their red coats clashed with the pastoral scene as if an artist, bored with peaceful shades of green and blue, had splashed angry red marks across the canvas.

A chill ran down Caroline’s back in spite of the late afternoon heat. She should have known. There was no escape from the war.

Their paradise was lost.

The children gazed at her, their eyes saucer-wide. Charlotte’s bottom lip trembled.

“Come.” She reached for them, and they ran into her arms. She ushered them quickly to the back of the house. “Jane! We have visitors.”