A Slave of the Shadows, page 15
“I rolled out of bed looking like this,” he said, posturing. His audience gave him his expected chuckle. He wasn’t a refined gentleman and he had no mind to be.
“The plantation is so beautiful, Willow; it must have taken you weeks to do this,” Whitney marveled, surveying the main floor.
“Thank you, Whitney. It does take a lot of time and energy, but I strive to give our guests an evening of splendor.”
“Well, with the money you have, I would expect you can afford it,” Lucille said, jealousy marring her forced jocularity.
“My daddy says Livingston is like its own empire, and you could marry and be set for life,” Josephine added without malice.
I was uncomfortable with the attention and insulted by their impertinent focus on our finances. My eyes narrowed as a rebuke formed on my tongue.
Bowden stepped in, putting a halt to the conversation with, “Are you meaning to insult your hostess, ladies?”
“No, we are stating what we have heard,” Lucille replied, placing a hand on her chest as if she were the one being offended.
Grateful for Bowden interceding, I forced a brilliant smile, playing the gracious hostess. “It’s Christmas. Let’s all enjoy the evening,” I said before removing myself from the group. In no way was I going to let those two meddlesome girls ruin the evening I had worked so hard to perfect.
As the beautiful Mary Grace swept past with a tray of champagne, I reached for one. After a long sip, I blew out a deep breath and left the negative energy from the last five minutes of conversation behind me.
MY EYES SWEPT OVER THE crowd until they met Kipling Reed’s. He gave me a gracious, deep bow from across the room. Smiling warmly, I wove through the guests toward him.
“Kipling!” I said, holding my arms wide in unfettered happiness.
“Willow, always the belle of the ball,” he said, leaning in to kiss my right cheek, then the other.
“I’m so delighted you could come.”
“My sister and her husband recently moved here and they invited me to visit for the holidays, so it works out perfectly.” He smiled cordially.
I was surprised at how swiftly we’d become close friends. We’d exchanged letters weekly from the time Father tried to marry me off to him. He’d become dear to my heart, and he understood me in a way most people did not.
“Let’s get some fresh air. What do you say?” he proposed, offering his arm, which I readily grasped.
Kipling ushered me out the side doors into a patio garden that was a magical fairytale land of wintergreen and holly illuminated by the glow of numerous small lanterns.
“You outdid yourself, Willow,” Kipling said, admiring the greenery and lanterns I’d meticulously hung from the beams sheltering the garden.
I was overjoyed at his appreciation. “You are too kind,” I gushed, as heat invaded my cheeks. I veered from his compliment. “How long are you in town?”
He grinned, recognizing what I’d done, but obliged me with an answer. “I head home in a few days.”
“That disheartens me. This means we’d better make this time count.”
“As if that matters to you, Willow Hendricks. You pinned me as a friend only from the moment I met you,” he teased.
I laughed and shrugged. “But we are better off friends, don’t you agree?”
He nodded, his wavering agreement making me wonder if he wished for more. I knew I would never view him in that light, and needed to be honest to avoid giving him a false impression. “Have you made up your mind yet on making the move to New York?”
He laughed, again aware of my steering the conversation. “Yes. I don’t share the views of my fellow politicians. With the help of my father, I purchased a printing shop in New York. I figure I can use the newspaper business as a stage to make progress in the world. The plan is to put the politics aside, maybe for future use.” His eyes were aglow with the excitement of his next venture.
“Progress? What kind of progress are you hoping to achieve?” Intrigued, I turned to him.
He stopped and regarded me intently. “I’m a good old Southern boy, Willow, but my heart isn’t in the South or the way things are done here.” He tilted his head, searching my face for a reaction.
I frowned, perplexed. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? Did we share the same beliefs? “I’m not quite sure I understand what you are implying, Kip.”
He lowered his voice before he blurted out, “I’m an abolitionist.”
What? No! Never would I have guessed. He’d never revealed these views before. I’d been oblivious. Unlike my amateur attempts, he’d moved forward, applying his wisdom and insight to effect change skillfully and quietly. I should take a lesson or two from him.
My voice cracked as I said, “I don’t know what to say. You have taken me by surprise, Kip. I would never have known. I mean, after all this time. In the letters back and forth, you never said anything.”
His face became reserved. “Well, one can never be too safe. Besides, I wanted to explain to you in person. So, has your opinion of me changed?” His brow knitted in concern.
I laughed wildly. He grimaced, taking my laughter as rebuke. “Quite the contrary!” I said quickly. “Let me assure you, dear Kip, in this our hearts align.”
Now it was his turn to gape in puzzlement.
“What I am saying is, we share the same perspective on those matters.”
Relief softened in his face.
We spent a few more moments in hushed whispers, until guests began streaming into the garden. “I had better play hostess and make my rounds.” I gave him a wistful smile.
He took my hand and bowed to place a gentle kiss on my fingers. “Thanks for the lovely walk, my lady,” he said in a carrying voice.
I noticed guests watching us and doing some whispering of their own, most likely wondering if we were courting. “Kipling, you have people staring.”
“Mission accomplished,” he said with a mischievous chuckle.
“Quick on your toes. I like it,” I whispered through my teeth, then giggled like a silly schoolgirl. “I bid you good evening, Mr. Reed.”
Turning slightly to put his back to the other guests, he shot me a private wink. Shaking my head, I grinned and reentered the mansion to go in search of the ever-dazzling Whitney.
My heart soared. I’d found an ally in Kip. He had connections and had agreed to be our eyes and ears.
When I found Whitney at the refreshments table, she bombarded me with questions. “Who was that?” she asked, looking in the direction of Kipling, who stood talking with Father and a few of Father’s business associates.
“That’s Kipling, the man Father intended me to marry. The one I told you about.”
“Oh, yes.” Her eyes gleamed with impishness. “Are you sure you aren’t interested in him? He seems like quite the charmer, and you two seem to get on so well.”
“No, I assure you we are only friends.”
“Well, Bowden seemed to be stirred up as he watched the two of you interact as if you were long-lost lovers.”
“Whitney!” I warned softly. “Stop.”
“I’m simply saying from the moment you left us, his eyes followed you around the room. Then his face grew serious when you greeted Kipling. When you left for the garden with young Kipling, Bowden excused himself and went out the front door.”
“Well, Bowden and I have only in recent months developed a friendship,” I retorted, but my heart picked up its pace, and tingles coursed through my body.
Ever strong-willed, Whitney pressed on. “I believe Bowden has been trying all these years to make right his past wrongs because he is in love with you.”
I squirmed with unease.
“I tried to question Knox on this, but he wouldn’t say a word,” she continued, throwing her hand up in frustration.
“Whitney, you need to keep your nose out of it,” I said through gritted teeth. “The last thing I need is more tension. We can finally, after all these years, stand in the same room with each other, and I intend to keep it this way.”
“Willow, I didn’t mean to make you mad. Honestly, I didn’t. Please accept my apology.” Remorse darkened her pretty face, and she grasped my hands.
I scowled at her before my face split with a wide grin. “I know you have my best interests at heart,” I said, and she beamed at my understanding. “But no more meddling. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” She lifted her chin, exposing her lovely long neck.
“By the way, you pull off that gown swimmingly,” I said, stepping back to admire her.
Whitney brushed off the compliment, embarrassment flushing her cheeks, but then she performed an awe-inspiring swirl of her classic black silk gown. The skirt of her gown was designed with layers of thin pleats; the bodice was modest, cut just below her collarbone. She had wisely chosen long, red silk gloves to give her a pop of color. She always had exquisite taste in fashion. Then it dawned on me that Whitney had coordinated her and Knox’s evening attire.
“Why, Whitney, I do believe you and Knox planned your outfits for my party,” I teased.
“What if we did?” She popped a dessert square into her mouth and wrinkled her nose at me.
“So, you two are courting. This proves it.” I savored reversing her earlier intrusiveness as she blushed.
“You could say we are officially courting. But I will hear no talk of marriage. So don’t even go there,” she replied sternly.
Try as she might to deny it, courting led to marriage. But she could tell herself whatever she wanted to. “How exciting,” I said.
“If you say so.” She gave my arm a tug and wandered off to speak to someone who’d caught her eye.
I regarded her as she walked away, and a smile pulled at my mouth. This was Whitney’s way of shutting down an uncomfortable topic.
THE COLD AIR MADE MY breath form fluttering white clouds as I walked into the splendid moonlit night in pursuit of Bowden. I pulled my fur wrap tighter around myself as the phantom fingers of ice stroked my shivering body. Laughter and music trickled out from the mansion behind me, giving the night a magical air.
I saw his shadow stretching from him in the moonlight. I admired his brawny silhouette from afar as he leaned against an oak tree, one leg casually bent, his foot resting on the trunk behind him. His gaze was turned from me, inspecting the dark horizon.
Cautiously, I approached him, my steps light and soundless on the half-frozen ground. “Bowden,” I called softly.
He looked my way, his eyes consuming me. The usual twinkle in his eyes was absent, and that prompted a dull ache in my chest. “Evening, Willow.”
“Whitney said I could find you out here.” I paused and searched his face.
“I needed some air.”
“Bowden, I need answers.”
“Answers to what?”
“What are your intentions?” I boldly met his gaze.
“Intentions?” He appeared to be genuinely confused.
I swear, men are simple-minded when it comes to the ways of women, I thought. I blew out a breath. “How do you feel about me?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest.
“Why, Miss Willow, are you challenging me?” His eyes danced.
My eyes trailed over his clean-shaven face to the curve of his mouth. “Let’s cut the small talk, Bowden,” I demanded impatiently.
“I love you, Willow. I’ve loved you since we were children.” He sighed as if wearied by carrying an invisible weight.
My heart surged. He loved me. But how—? We had been enemies for so long. My mind struggled to grasp the thought. My heart confronted me: But, Willow, haven’t you carried the same feelings? “I don’t know what to say…” I stammered, a lump forming in my throat.
“You need not say anything. I see how you care for the young man inside.” I heard his jealousy.
Whitney’s words rang true. Bowden misunderstood my relationship with Kip.
“You misunderstand, Bowden. Kipling is the son of a friend of my father’s. We were to be married—” Anger flashed in his eyes. “Wait!” I held up a hand for him to hear me out. “Our fathers thought it was a wise arrangement and when I refused, Kipling took the matter to his father and the idea was scrapped. Though I turned down the proposal, we settled on friendship and we have become great friends. Kip knows I view him as only that, and he respects my decision.”
Bowden looked sheepishly down at me before lowering his head. “Well, I guess I made a complete fool of myself, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”
I softened and reaching out, I took one of his hands in mine. “I won’t hold it against you too harshly.” I flashed him a flirtatious smile.
His eyes rested on mine. I saw his yearning. “Willow…I wish to be more than friends.” His voice was thick with emotion. He lifted his free hand and traced the curve of my jaw with a finger that came to rest on my lips.
My heart hammered in my ears, and my body yearned for his embrace. I closed the distance between us and he lowered his lips to mine for my first kiss. Fire surged through my body and I felt limp in his arms. His lips gently captured mine. I clung to him, feeling the muscles and warmth that lay beneath his clothing. It felt right, but yet wrong at the same time. Things would never be the same between us. In this moment of passion, we had yet again changed the dynamics of our relationship.
I was the first to find the willpower to pull away from the kiss. I rested my head on his shoulder, listening to the drumming of his heart. I hoped I knew what I was doing. Could I trust a man with my heart? Trust didn’t come easily to me, and it would take a leap of faith to follow my deepening feelings for Bowden.
I moved away from the warmth of his chest; with a wavering smile, I put distance between us. “We can see where this goes,” I said.
“We can take it one day at a time, Willow,” he agreed, acknowledging my wariness.
“Thank you, Bowden. Trust is hard for me, especially when it comes to a man.”
“I understand and I’ll tread carefully and respectfully. I will win your trust, my fair lady.” He grinned. “Besides, you have a reputation for running.”
I smiled. “I need to go back inside; Father will be looking for me. After all, this is my party,” I said with a laugh. “Do you care to join me?”
He smiled affectionately at me. “I’d be delighted to have you on my arm, and to rub it in young Mr. Reed’s face.”
“Bowden!”
“One more thing before we go, Willow.”
“What’s that?”
He reached into the breast pocket of his coat and removed a beautifully wrapped gift. “Merry Christmas.”
“For me?”
“No, I’m taunting you with it,” he said sarcastically as he handed me the gift.
I glared at him but then eagerly took the present. I ripped it open and discovered inside a pair of leather riding gloves with the initials WH etched into the leather. My eyes grew wide in appreciation. “Oh, Bowden, I adore them. Thank you. But I didn’t get you anything.”
“No need for that. You have a lifetime to spoil me if this all goes well.” He pointed back and forth between himself and me.
I laughed. “Fair enough.” Placing my hand in the curve of the elbow he offered, I walked with him back to the festivities.
THE RIDER APPROACHED LIVINGSTON AT breakneck speed. Whitney and I had been visiting by the pond, feeding the swans when we saw him. Curious over his urgency, we headed for the house.
He had already slid from his horse and was speaking to Thaddeus when we arrived. “I’ll see him now!” the bearded, copper-haired man demanded.
“Very well, sir, I will tell him you’re here. If you will please wait here.”
“I will not,” the man snapped. His complexion reddened and his eyes flashed with impatience. He brushed Thaddeus aside.
“Excuse me,” I said loudly as I reached the front steps. The man appeared not to hear me. “Excuse me!” I repeated, louder.
He swiveled. Recognition filled his face and he politely bowed. “The lovely Miss Hendricks.”
“Have we met?” I evaluated the man before me. His face was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I believed him to be maybe of Irish descent. He was obviously greatly irritated over something, judging by his ill manners with Thaddeus.
“Gillies. Captain Gillies, Miss.” He managed a pained smile.
Oh, yes. Now I knew how I knew him. “Thaddeus, please inform Father of our guest.”
“Yes, Miss.” Thaddeus hurried off to inform Father as Mammy arrived on the veranda, awaiting instructions from me.
“Mammy, please bring refreshments for the captain and Father.”
“Yessum,” Mammy said and waddled back inside.
“Can you state your business with my father, Captain? Father didn’t say we were expecting company,” I added, aware I was bordering on rudeness.
Father appeared, preventing any reply. The captain, upon seeing him, bristled like a porcupine. Father looked surprised by the captain’s arrival. He attempted to conceal his shock and disapproval at the captain’s unplanned visit by running a hand through his hair, though he pressed his lips together in a tight line. “Mammy, please bring those refreshments to the study, where the captain and I will deal with whatever required him to show up on my property without a proper invitation.” He glared a rebuke at the captain.
Father turned his attention to Whitney and me. “Now, I expect you young ladies to make yourselves scarce and go about your day. Understood?”
“Yes, of course, Father.” Like a dutiful daughter, I curtsied and Whitney and I made our escape.
Our retreat stopped at the corner of the house. I looked at Whitney. “What do you suppose that is all about?”
“I don’t know. But your father seems none too happy about the captain being here.”
“Hmm…well, I say we find out.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her to the back of the house. Whitney was a willing participant.
We slipped in through the warming kitchen and crept down the back passage to Father’s study. The massive mahogany door was closed. We placed our ears to the door to listen. The thickness of the door made conversation inside difficult to hear.
