Gregory, Lisa (45 page)

Katherine,
with Pegeen beside her, stepped nervously off the train. "How shall I ever
recognize her, Peg? I can't remember at all what she looks like."

"Miss
Devereaux?" A tall man dressed in livery approached.

"Yes?"

"I'm
Adam Clough, the Van der Vries's coachman. Madame is waiting for you in the
carriage. Is this your luggage?"

"Yes,
please," Katherine replied, and he picked up one of her trunks and led
them to the elegant carriage outside.

"Cousin!"
a tinkling voice cried as Katherine stepped inside the carriage and was
enveloped in taffeta and lace and crinoline.

"Cousin
Angela, how nice," she managed to murmur and settled back into her seat,
where she was able to get her first real look at her cousin.

Angela
was a little doll of a woman, pretty, blond, and fragile. In her late twenties,
there was still a girlish winsomeness to her, though her elegant coiffure and
carefully applied makeup added a certain stiffness to her looks. She was
dressed in the height of fashion, her skirts wide and her waist tiny, and a
charming little bonnet adorned her curls, the flared straw brim framing her
face. Her manner was effusive, and she leaned over to grasp Katherine's hand
several times as she poured forth her "sheer delight" at her cousin's
coming to see her, just in time for "the Season."

Angela
really was quite happy to see her, though her nose for scandal had twitched a
little when she received Josiah Devereaux's telegram. She remembered her cousin
as a rather gawky, ill-at-ease, unattractive girl, and her first sight of
Katherine in her plain brown traveling dress confirmed that. But she welcomed
the idea of having a visitor. Besides, how well her cousin's height and strange
looks would offset her own delicate beauty.

Angela
Van der Vries kept up a constant chatter as they drove through the streets of
New York, pointing out places of interest and people she knew. Katherine found
her conversation difficult to follow and soon gave up trying. New York was
noisy and active and somehow even looked freer and looser than Boston. It would
be better here, she told herself firmly, and smiled hesitantly at her cousin.

Angela's
home was a gracious red brick house bordering the Battery, and the inside was
rich, though rather ornate for Katherine's taste. Katherine was eager to go to
her room for a little rest, as Angela suggested, simply to get away from her
hostess's nonstop prattle. Her room was very pleasant and comfortable, with a
large window that looked down upon the side yard. A large oak shaded her room,
so that it was cool even in the summer. Very nice, Katherine told herself. I
will like it here, I think—but then why do I feel like crying?

Angela
gaily attended rounds of parties, dances, and teas, and went to the theater,
the ballet, and the opera, always escorted by a gaggle of officers stationed in
New York. Katherine thought, with a spurt of amusement, that her father had
certainly missed the mark when he surmised that Angela was lonely for her
husband off at the front. Katherine never accompanied her, even on her daily
round of calls. Grimly she endured the afternoon visitors to Angela's house,
but she could not bring herself to go out among people. She could not bear the
laughter and light chatter, the gaiety, the entertainment. Everything seemed
gray and flat to her; she could do nothing more than stare into space or busy
her hands with mindless knitting and needlework. Her bright new clothes were
never worn; now their very beauty offended her. Only her drab old grays and
browns and blues seemed to fit her world.

Cousin
Angela found Katherine even more of a mouse than she had remembered. She never
said or did anything, just huddled over her sewing, prim and dreary. Angela did
wish she would be more cooperative about going out; it would appear more
respectable to have Katherine along as a chaperone. Some of those obnoxious old
matrons were beginning to whisper that Angela was a little fast. Well, let them
talk—she tossed her head. But it would be better if she could just persuade
Katherine to come along with her.

It
was with this view in mind that she sat in the drawing room with Katherine one
afternoon, trying to tempt her into coming to the McFarland ball with her the
next evening. "But Katherine, you have no idea how much fun you would
have. Truly. Since the War, this town is just chock full of the most
fascinating people."

Katherine
smiled vaguely; she hardly heard Angela anymore.

"Why,
just last week, the most charming Navy commander arrived here. He is assigned
to the naval base, and really is the handsomest man I have ever seen." Angela's
eyes sparkled; she found the commander exceptionally attractive, and it seemed
to her that he had quite favored her with his attentions.

"Really?"
Katherine murmured, and Angela launched into a description of her favorite, of
which Katherine heard not a single word.

"...and
he's from Maryland," Angela was saying when Katherine stirred from her
daydream. "The most charming manner and a Southern accent. I tease him by
telling him he sounds just like a Rebel. Really, Katherine, you must meet him;
I know you would just adore him."

Katherine
felt a stab of pain. She hoped she would never meet him; she thought she would
probably die if she heard a slow, lazy drawl like Matthew's.

"What
is his name?" she asked without interest.

"I
swear, Katherine, you haven't heard a word I've said! I just told you his name.
It's Jason Forrest."

As
if on cue, the butler entered the room, a calling card on the little silver
tray. "Commander Forrest to see you, madame," he intoned.

"Oh,
show him right in, Jenson." Angela turned to Katherine excitedly.
"What luck! Here he is; you'll have a chance to meet him."

Yes,
what luck, Katherine repeated dully to herself. She rose to her feet, thinking
madly of escape, when suddenly the doorway was blocked by a tall blue figure.
Katherine looked at him and her knitting dropped from her hands, one needle
rolling across the carpet to rest at his feet.

Matthew!

Angela
stared at her cousin; why on earth was she acting so peculiarly? Two bright red
dots stood out on her cheekbones and she was staring at their caller as if she
had just seen a ghost. And Commander Forrest was acting most peculiarly, too.
Astonishment and joy and excitement fleetingly mingled on his face and then
disappeared into his usual charming, slightly sarcastic mask. He bent to
retrieve Katherine's knitting needle and crossed the room to hand it to her.

Their
hands touched briefly and Katherine shivered. "Ex-excuse me," she
stammered. "It's just that you startled me."

"Of
course," his voice was caressing. "But, please, you must not run off
like a frightened doe."

"No,
of course not," Katherine said and giggled nervously.

She
wanted to throw her knitting up in the air and dance madly about the room, to
throw her arms around him and smother him with kisses, to laugh hysterically.
Matthew was alive! Dear God, he was alive. Who cared what he was doing here or
why he was masquerading in a Union naval uniform and assuming the name of Jason
Forrest? Just so long as he was here, alive and unharmed. It was insane, but
she could have cried with pure happiness.

Angela
felt a twinge of exasperation. What on earth had transformed Katherine? She
seemed to glow and her eyes shone with a strange light. Really, she must tell
her gawky cousin not to wear her heart on her sleeve like that; anyone could
tell she was quite smitten with the commander. It was almost indecent, the way
her eyes devoured him. And why did Jason Forrest keep his eyes riveted so on
that plain spinster? Angela had suggested very prettily that he come to charm
her dull cousin out of her shell, but there was no need for him to go this far!

The
pretty Mrs. Van der Vries tried to pull the attention back to herself by
introducing them.

"Katherine
Devereaux," he repeated, his tongue lingering over the words. "What a
delightful name. Are you French?"

"Heavens,
no. Boston born and bred," she said, struggling for a light tone. She must
gain control of herself or Angela would suspect something.

"Ah,
Boston, a lovely city," he said gravely, his eyes twinkling.

"Then
you have visited there?" Katherine responded to the devil in his eyes.

"Oh,
yes. I only regret that I never had the pleasure of meeting you."

"No
doubt you were too—" she paused, a smile twitching at her lips, "too
chained to the business at hand to do any socializing."

His
wickedly handsome smile flashed across his face. "Indeed I was, Miss
Devereaux. I was at that time, you see, requisitioning ships and
supplies."

"Commander
Forrest, you never told me you had been to Boston," Angela pouted
prettily. She felt left out, as if the other two were speaking in a foreign
language.

Matthew
favored her with his melting gaze and said, "Somehow, it never came to my
mind. When I am around you, your beauty chases all else from my mind."

"No
doubt Captain—excuse me—Commander Forrest has visited so many places,"
Katherine murmured.

He
inclined his head in assent.

"Have
you been to England, Commander?" she prodded.

"Many
times. I find it a truly charming place."

"Mm.
Gracious people."

"Such
interesting places to visit."

"Quaint
lodgings."

Katherine
felt exhilarated, as if she were floating at least ten feet in the air. Matthew
was alive and grinning at her devilishly, playing verbal games with her, daring
her to unmask him. She felt like tossing back her head and laughing as she had
not laughed in ages. She smiled at him archly, provocatively, and was pleased
to see his jaw muscles tighten. He desired her; she knew it. She was beautiful
and in control and back into the contest with him, matched perfectly with her
opponent, each win a win, and each loss somehow a win, also.

"Mrs.
Van der Vries," Matthew said, playfully accusatory, "you never told
me how lovely your cousin was. Come now, confess, why have you been hiding
her?"

"Oh,
Commander!" Angela's laugh was a trifle brittle. "The fact is,
Katherine just refuses to go anywhere. She is engaged, you know."

"Cousin
Angela, that was ages ago!" Katherine protested mockingly.

"Unhappy
man," Hampton murmured sympathetically. "But now that it has ended,
surely you will stop refusing invitations."

Katherine
smiled slowly and saw the almost imperceptible widening of his eyes in
response. "Perhaps."

"Then
allow me to urge you to attend the McFarland ball tomorrow evening."

Just
as Angela opened her mouth to say that Katherine had flatly refused to come,
Katherine said firmly, "Oh, yes, I quite plan to accept that
invitation."

Angela
gaped at her, and Katherine stifled an impulse to tell her to shut her mouth.

"Till
tomorrow, then," their visitor said, standing. "I am afraid I must
take my leave now."