Counterfeit Courtship (12 page)

That could not be true. “I lived in that house for years. I would have known about a giant safe that looked like a piece of wooden furniture.”

“No one knew except your father and Uncle Amos. They ordered them together, from Philadelphia. Before your father left for war, he told Miss Noreen about it, and when Uncle Amos got sick, Miss Noreen told me.”

Secrets. He didn't like it. But at least they'd had the money they needed. “I assume that's how Noreen kept the house. She paid the taxes with that money.”

“Some for daily expenses too, but she's been exceedingly frugal.”

He didn't allow himself so much as a moment to hope there was money left. “It's gone now, I'm sure.”

“Miss Noreen used the last of it to buy several hams, sacks of flour and some laying hens. I have enough to pay our workers this week. Nothing more. And I have a gold dollar in my reticule for groceries when our hoard runs out.”

Ellie gazed off into the distance as they turned into the Magnolia Grove drive.

He'd seen that look before. She was lost in her dream world, and there was no sense in trying to pull her out of it.

“I admit I haven't paid attention to the cabins all spring. Let's drive straight there and see them. Maybe we can talk to the workers too. It's so hot, everybody might have decided to stay close to home. Either that or they'll be at the river.”

“You mean you'll talk to them. I have no part in this.”

She smiled in a way that was downright calculating. “Of course you do. You're my beau, remember?”

He didn't bother to hold in his groan.

Then he remembered his vow to court her with all he had. “That's right. I am. And since I'm your intended, it's my duty to make some decisions to protect you. First, we're not paying double-eagle coins. Second, I'm not repairing any cabins. Third—”

Her giggle tinkled in his ears. “Graham, you always make me laugh.”

Laugh? “I was being serious.”

So much for courting. He had to get somebody to tell him what he kept doing wrong.

As they approached the cabins, the half dozen or so older men, lounging in the shade, stood and took off their straw hats. As soon as the carriage stopped, Graham bounded out of his seat, unwilling to sit in her conveyance a moment longer than he had to. He helped Ellie out, who helped Sugar out. The workers must have been used to seeing the dog there, since each one petted and spoke to her before she ran toward the nearest cotton field.

“Sugar always greets us before she takes off to do whatever dogs do.” The Andersons' longtime overseer, a gray-haired man in a patched, rolled-sleeved shirt, ambled their way. “You remember me, sir?”

“Moses Lark. You used to keep us out of trouble in the old days.”

“Colonel Talbot is now my intended, Moses,” Ellie said. “And we have some things to discuss with all of you—things you will like. Could you get everyone together?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He motioned for one of the younger men to ring the dinner bell by the big house.

“Ellie, let's look around the cabins to see what repairs are needed while we wait for the workers.” Graham extended his arm to her, and they started toward the cabins. They remained more or less as he remembered—small and hot, but now in poor repair. “Some of these roofs need shingles, siding needs paint.”

Ellie took a small ledger and pencil from the handbag she carried, and they stopped while she made notes, starting with the chapel.

“The wood is rotting near the foundation on this one. You'll have to replace that.”

They inspected each cabin until her page was full of her list of necessary repairs. By that time, the workers had assembled in front of Moses's house.

Ellie put away her book and pencil and gave them her attention. “I have some changes in mind that I think will benefit us all...”

A half hour later, Ellie had addressed all her issues and answered every question, except the one that kept invading Graham's mind. Where would the money come from?

“I will be here every morning as usual and will speak to anyone who wants to come to work for us.” She brightened then, in that way that always meant she had another idea. And he could tell by looking at her that she was going to announce it now rather than thinking it through first.

“Ellie, wait—”

“If we pick every boll of cotton on this plantation, everyone who has worked here for at least thirty days will receive another double eagle. Tell your friends to be here tomorrow afternoon if they want to work for us.”

Graham lowered his head, not wanting the workers to see what he was sure was in his eyes. What was she thinking? She could never pay that bonus. He started to say so, but the shouts and laughter of the workers would have drowned him out anyway.

When the roar quieted and the workers went back to their homes or the river, Ellie turned to Graham, her face flushed and her eyes sunny. “That went well. I think we gained all the workers' complete loyalty, and I'll be surprised if each of them doesn't bring a dozen friends along.”

Graham cupped her elbow and guided her toward the carriage before she could give away anything else. “How will you handle it if they do? That's a dozen double eagles for the friend and a dozen for each worker who brings a dozen more. You're going to have to sell the ground in order to pay this debt, let alone your other one.”

“I have one idea left.”

He should have known.

Ellie twisted the ring on her right hand, then pointed to the field where a white tail waved like a flag above the cotton plants. “Sugar explored that entire field during the meeting. When she plays in the fields, I see nothing but tail.”

“Don't change the subject. If this new plan of yours doesn't work, you'll see nothing but Leonard Fitzwald standing at the altar, waiting for you.”

“I will never see that.”

No, she wouldn't, not if Graham could help it. But she needed to face reality. “Ellie, it's time to give up these schemes of yours. We need to find some way to sell this ground. I'm praying that Father will come around soon. If he does, you need to sell enough of your ground to pay off your debt to Fitzwald.”

“Let me show you my plan, and then we'll see what you think about that.” Her saucy tone almost gave Graham a shred of hope. Whatever that plan turned out to be, she believed in it, that was for sure. She started toward the carriage. “Get in and drive away from the river. Sugar, come!”

Graham obeyed, but the dog didn't. She headed toward the river instead. He'd never seen a dog with more of its master's personality than Sugar had of Ellie's. Stubborn, bound to go her own way, heedless of the words of others...and sweet. Heartbreakingly sweet.

Twenty minutes later, they left the edge of the field and drove into the woods. After another five, they stopped on the rutted dirt path and faced a barn of some sort, amid waist-high weeds and brambles. Its ridge sagged and its paint peeled, its huge doors closed tight.

“This rickety old barn is your secret weapon?” Graham tried and failed to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

“You'll see.” Ellie opened her door and descended the carriage steps before he could get there to assist her. She plowed through the weeds ahead of him.

“Ellie, wait. Let me go first.”

She paid him no mind. Rather, she fought the foliage until she reached the barn, then shoved the wooden door on its track. It budged about ten inches.

Graham wrangled ahead of her. “Let me do that.” His voice sounded like a growl, and he softened it as he tried to grab the handle. “Step to one side so you don't get hurt.”

“How do you think I did this before you got home?” She gave his arm a little push. Then she put her weight into it and got the door open wide enough for them to walk through.

Stubborn woman.
“Are you going to let me go in first to make sure it's safe, or can you do that too?”

“I can do it.” She marched into the barn and crooked her finger for him to follow.

This was what he'd been reduced to—following a woman's orders. He stepped inside as she'd commanded.

The sunlight gleamed against what must have been fifty or more giant rectangles tied in jute. Cotton bales.

Graham took a step back. Dust motes floated in the sunshine, with little specks of cotton fluff in the stifling air.

“This has to be at least five thousand dollars' worth of cotton.”

“If I sold it today, it would be worth seventy-five hundred dollars. If I sell through the Texas border to Mexico.”

He moved closer to the first bale and then rubbed his fingers over the soft cotton. “I admit it—this is an effective secret weapon.”

“I have four more loads like this scattered about.”

“Five barns full of cotton?” He'd sure been wrong about this scheme of hers. “That's enough to pay your loan.”

“And to pay the laborers. Of course, it leaves us almost nothing to live on until harvest.”

Graham pinched a bit of cotton from the nearest bale and pulled apart the fibers. He tossed it in the air and blew on it. The fluff drifted to the rafters. “I can't believe you have this. Why didn't you sell it last fall?”

“I sold three quarters of the cotton and held on to the rest, because I thought the prices would rise about now. And they did.”

“But your uncle was still able to work last fall. Why didn't he make that judgment call?”

“Because that's my job. I watch the cotton futures and trends and decide when we sell and to whom. Several years ago, Uncle Amos recognized that I have a bit of talent in that area, so he let me make those decisions.” She paused, glancing at the cotton bales. “Of course, I have to make all the decisions now.”

And she shouldn't have to, at least not alone.

“I have a lot to do these days. I'm going to hire field help and contract men to work on the cabins. I also have to check the fields every day so I'll know when to start harvesting. Lilah May needs my help at home because that big house, plus Uncle Amos, are too much for her to take care of alone. And Miss Noreen needs me to help with the baby. So I have a business offer to make you.”

“I'm afraid to hear it, but ask anyway.”

“I want you to be my broker. I'll teach you what I know about price trends and markets, but I'd like you to negotiate and decide who we'll sell to—take care of all the details.”

Graham—a cotton broker? He had to admit the idea intrigued him.

“You've always been interested in planting, and you have a mind for numbers. I can't help thinking how much more profit we'd make with you as our broker—someone with a personal interest in this farm.”

He lifted his gaze from the cotton bales and took in the beseeching look in her eyes. She was right—he had an interest here. And he used to love working with Father on their two plantations. If he hadn't gone to West Point, he'd have taken over operations on his own ground, Ashland Place, and eventually Ammadelle, his father's property, too.

“I'll spend some time praying about it.”

Her blue eyes glowed. “Don't wait long to decide. Prices are high now, and I want to get this cotton on a boat as soon as I can.”

They exited the barn and Graham pulled shut the door as Sugar bounded up to them. Then she suddenly stopped at the door and growled at who-knew-what. Graham glanced around and saw nothing. The dog probably smelled a tortoise.

Ellie had been right about one thing—this hoarded cotton would pay for the labor, even enough to get the new crop in. Graham wasn't sure he would have been smart enough to have saved this much of the crop last year. But as sure as he was about this good move of hers, he was equally certain of another fact—that Leonard Fitzwald was not going to sit idly by and watch him ship Ellie's cotton down the river. If he sensed God leading him to take this job, part of his work would be to anticipate the weasel's next move.

Chapter Twelve

T
he river at sunset, a string quartet playing, a nice breeze—the perfect setting to court a pretty woman. As Graham and Ellie approached the gathering at Joseph's palatial home that evening, Graham glanced around at the other picnickers, especially noting the courting couples. This time, he'd get it right. He'd not give Ellie reason to laugh at his attempts again.

“I can't remember the last time we had a picnic at the river bluff.” Her honey-colored hair glowed in the waning light—at least the part that wasn't covered by her little white bonnet.

He did remember. She'd worn a soft yellow dress that made her skin look creamy and her eyes sparkly. “It was the first weekend in September. Aunt Ophelia made me set up all those tables in that same spot under the oak.”

Holding his arm, Ellie turned to look toward the tables. Graham dodged her white parasol to keep it from knocking into the brim of his hat. In so doing, he felt his elbow connect with someone's ribs.

Susanna Martin. With Leonard Fitzwald at her side.

Of all the people to jab. “Susanna, forgive me. Are you hurt?”

“Oh, I don't know...” Her syrupy voice sounded like that of a melodramatic actress.

“Colonel, you need to watch what you're doing.” Fitzwald's scowl, along with the eye patch, made him look like a villain.

“I'd advise you to let this drop.” Graham kept his voice as low and calm as he could.

“You're in no position to advise me about anything.” Fitzwald stepped closer, edging nearer to Ellie.

As Graham stepped up to put a quick end to it, Ellie laid her hand on his arm, stopping him. “Leonard, we all know you're upset with me, not Graham, because I won't agree to your terms about the loan. This has nothing to do with that, so let's forget about it. An elbow in the side certainly didn't hurt Susanna.”

Graham kept his gaze solidly on the weasel, although he would have liked to have seen Susanna's expression. Ellie shouldn't defend him—it was
his
job to take care of
her
. “Just move along, Fitzwald. Ellie, let's get something to drink.”

He drew her closer to his side as they left those two behind. It was just like Fitzwald to ruin the evening for them. The evening he'd intended to show Ellie that he wasn't a complete chowderhead when it came to courting.

Well, he was a complete chowderhead about that, but tonight he wanted to rid himself of that description in her mind. “That man is determined to make us miserable.”

“He tried, but he couldn't do it.” She hugged his arm and turned her face upward, giving him that sweet smile of hers.

The combination nearly knocked the ground out from under him.

Oh, Ellie.
She had no idea what she still did to him. No matter how he fought it.

She shifted her gaze to the table. “Since it's early, the punch might still be cold.”

“Chatham Artillery punch as usual?” he asked as he tried to regain his composure.

“Yes, without the alcohol, of course. Which means it's mostly tea, orange and lime juices, sugar, and lots of citrus fruit and cherries.”

Graham poured two glasses of punch. “I need to find a place where I won't have to look at Fitzwald's sorry mug for a few minutes.” And a place where he could get all those emotions under control.

“The swing?”

“It must have rotted away by now.” But he headed in that direction anyway.

“I was here last fall, and someone had painted it and repaired one of the arms.”

If he remembered right, the swing was just upriver, hanging from a live oak branch. A short walk would do him good.

Strolling along the edge of the river bluff and upriver, they soon approached the swing. Sure enough, it was painted and looked big enough to hold both of them, plus Ellie's skirts. The tree was as he remembered, its Spanish moss swaying in the breeze and its branches stretched low to the ground.

Ellie settled onto the swing and arranged her skirts as he eased down beside her. She still held that renegade parasol over them, blocking both the sun's rays and his view of the party downriver. He leaned forward and gazed around it. From this distance, he could barely see the people, let alone tell which one was Fitzwald. He handed a glass of punch to Ellie and took a drink of his own. It tasted just as it had eight years ago at this spot. Well, not right at this spot. He hadn't been able to talk Ellie into sitting on the swing with him that night.

In the quiet of the river, the violin music carried along the water and played softly for them, flavoring the air with its high, poignant notes. “This is better.”

“I'd rather have a restful evening on a swing than a boisterous one at a party.” Ellie sipped her drink and then faced him. “It's a picnic. You didn't get anything to eat.”

“I'm fine. Are you hungry?”

“No.” She sat with her back straight and her skirts gracefully arranged around her like the belle she was. Just as a Southern gentleman didn't offend a lady, a Southern lady didn't sit like a man—or act like a man. Unless she was driving her carriage to the plantation she managed. Or checking the cotton fields. Or making plans to keep that plantation running...

Or providing work for her old childhood friend in a way that let him still feel like a man.

Graham chugged the rest of his drink. The wind shifted then and carried with it the sweet scent of her perfume, as well as an even sweeter strain of a song he didn't recognize.

Ellie continued to sip her punch, watching the river, then watching him. The breeze tickled his neck, and the cicadas sang their own melody as he caught his reflection in her blue, blue eyes. Eyes that saw straight through to his heart, and always had.

Something about the peaceful look on Ellie's face drew him as never before. She had to be terrified about the future—Graham sure was, and he had less to lose than she did. Her poise was as natural as a society princess's, and she had the beauty of a pampered heiress, but she chose to be neither. And at this moment, he'd give what little he had left in this world if he could take more of the burden from her.

He took her glass and set it with his at their feet. The violins hushed for an instant, then played the opening strains of “Aura Lea.”

The song he and Ellie had danced to the first night he was home... The song of the maid with golden hair...

Not giving himself time to think, he cupped his hand behind her neck and let his gaze drift to her lips.

“Ellie...” He gently pulled her toward him and kissed her.

She tasted of cherries and sunshine, warmth and lemon. And when she slipped her arm around his waist and kissed him back, a portion of the stoniness of the years washed out of his heart. His finger traced her jaw, the smoothness of her cheek.

Ellie. Sweet, smart, generous Ellie, the girl he'd loved so long ago. The one face he always saw when he awoke in the night—the girl of his dreams and the woman of his future—

The future.

No. He pulled away. There was no future. He had no future.
No, no, no.

Graham opened his eyes to see the shock on her face. He cradled her cheek in his hand. “Ellie, forgive me. I shouldn't have done that. I made you a promise.”

“Graham—”

“I'm a bum. I'm worse than Fitzwald.” He turned from her, suddenly unable to look into those big eyes that held—confusion. Not affection, not even surprise. Confusion. He heaved a sigh that came from his gut. “At least he's offering to marry you.”

Standing, he kicked their empty glasses to one side. He turned his back to her, faced the river. The swishing of her skirts told him she had stood too. Then he felt her take his hand.

Ellie heaved a huge breath. “Graham. It's all right. We'll pretend it didn't happen. Just don't think about it.”

Don't think about it.
Like he hadn't thought about it at West Point, through the whole blamed war and every waking moment since he came back to Natchez? He'd dreamed of kissing her, longed to hold her, wanted to touch her face for eight years.

Don't think about it.
He'd never kissed her. And now he had, and she wanted him not to think about it.

Why had he done it? He always said Ellie needed to start thinking things through before she acted. Well, she surely had the right to hang that over his head now. He'd kept his sanity through thirty-one battles during the war. Never lost control. But give him one golden-haired, blue-eyed beauty who was smarter than him and more courageous than him and he was a goner.

He turned to her, beside him, those big eyes of hers looking right through to his heart. “I'll leave town. I'll find somewhere to go, and I'll leave tonight.”

“Who will provide for Betsy if you do? Your whole family needs you.”

Why did she have to be right? “We'll sell the house. We'll move to the other side of—”

“Graham.” Her voice was firm but soft. “You're talking foolishness. I know you can't marry me. You know I won't ever marry. We still have our promise, and we'll just call this a slipup. A mistake.”

Did he imagine it, or were her eyes showing him that she felt as he did—that it was not a mistake? Had she enjoyed their kiss as much as he had?

“I didn't think I'd ever know what it was like to kiss a man. It was nice.” Her eyes twinkled in the last rays of the sun. “It was—really nice.”

She had never kissed a man? He'd look even more the fool to her now if he told her how many women he'd kissed—zero—since that fateful evening when he asked her to be his wife. She probably wouldn't believe this was his first kiss too.

“If what you're saying is true, Ellie, neither of us will ever forget this day.”

The sad thing was, he knew he was right.

* * *

If only Ellie could get home and be alone with her thoughts. Thoughts of that kiss.

Leaving Joseph's party with Graham, she fought through a bone-weariness she hadn't experienced since the early days of Uncle Amos's stroke of apoplexy.

“Ellie, is that you?”

Leonard. At the sound of his raspy voice, she clutched her reticule tighter.

Graham drew her closer and turned toward the unwelcome sound. “What do you want, Fitzwald?”

“I couldn't let you leave the party before I had a chance to speak with you.” His Confederate uniform clean and starched stiff, Leonard hastened toward them with Susanna Martin on his arm as if they were a courting couple.

What were they doing together? Had Susanna stopped pursuing Graham? And, more important, had Leonard given up his interest in Ellie?

“I told you to call her Miss Anderson.” Graham gave him a look as hard as his voice.

“I only want to let Ellie know that my offer still stands. I assume you'll visit our attorney tomorrow to get the details about my proposed agreement. At least, that's what I would do in your position. When you're finished at his office, I'm confident that you'll want to visit mine.” Leonard ran his finger along the scar on his cheekbone. “In fact, you might want to speak with me after you get back to the colonel's house tonight.”

“I haven't changed my mind about your offer, Leonard.” Ellie worked to keep her voice steady. Something about his words sounded ominous, dark. But she didn't want him to know how much he was scaring her.

“You will.”

His tone now frightened her more than his words. She instinctively backed away from him.

“Fitzwald, stay away from Ellie.” Graham pulled her closer, his eyes seething with his anger, every inch of him a warrior, every breath a threat.

“Colonel Talbot, must you speak so harshly to Captain Fitzwald?” Susanna batted her long lashes at Leonard. “He's a Confederate veteran and one of our city's wealthiest men.”

“If he's got so much money, why doesn't he buy a suit? It's time to stop impersonating a soldier, Fitzwald.”

“I'll have a lot more money two weeks from now.” Leonard's smirk revealed the guile in his heart. “Yes, I'll soon be a richer man, one way or the other. I'm getting a real gem.”

“The only thing you're going to get is a black eye. Ellie, let's go, before I'm obligated to give it to him.”

They started down the sidewalk at a pace so fast, Ellie was hard-pressed to keep up. However, the faster they could get away from Leonard, the better. “We should have taken the landau instead of walking tonight.”

“The last thing I need now is for that weasel to goad me about driving your carriage.”

“Leonard knew we were going to see Joseph tomorrow.”

“He merely guessed.”

“No, I think he knew how confused I would be about that railroad. That's what this whole mess is about, I'm sure of it.”

“It seems that way.” Graham glanced behind them, no doubt to make sure Leonard didn't follow them. “If he's so set on marrying you, why would he court with Susanna? And why would she have anything to do with him? He's a coward, he's mean and he's not the best-looking man in town either.”

“He's rich, that's why. Susanna is after a man, but if the handsome, poor man won't have her, she'll take the ugly, rich one.”

Having left Leonard far behind, Ellie pressed Graham's arm to slow his stride. “I can't keep up with you.”

Graham eased off into a stroll, giving Ellie a chance to catch her breath. When they reached a shady spot under a magnolia, he stopped and faced her. They probably looked like any ordinary courting couple. Except for the fact that Graham looked extraordinary in his uniform. No wonder Susanna had her heart set on him.

“I hope he didn't upset you too much,” he said. “Are you all right?”

Ellie held fast to his arm, looking up into his eyes, and the tenderness there took her breath. How quickly he'd changed from fierce to gentle. If only things had been different, if she were different, she could let herself get lost in that gaze—