Just Imagine aka Risen Glory Read online

"Yes, it does. You're an American citizen now. You're protected by the laws of this country."

  "Protected!" Sophronia's spine stiffened with contempt. "There's no protection for a black woman except what she makes for herself."

  "By selling her body to any rich white man who comes along? Is that how?"

  She whirled around, lashing him with her tongue. "You tell me what else a black woman has to barter with. Men have been usin' our bodies for centuries and givin' us nothin' in return for it except a passel of children we couldn't protect. Well, I want more than that, and I'm goin' to have it, too. I'm goin' to have me a house and clothes and fine food. And I'm goin' to be safe!"

  He flinched. "Sellin' yourself into another kind of slavery? Is that how you think you're gettin' your safety?"

  Sophronia's eyes didn't waver. "It's not slavery when I choose the master and set the terms. And you know as well as I do that I'd have it all by now if it wasn't for you."

  "Cain wasn't goin' to give you what you wanted."

  "You're wrong. He would of given me anythin' I asked for if you hadn't spoiled it."

  Magnus rested his hand on the carved back of the rose damask settee. "There's no man in the world I respect more than him. He saved my life, and I guess I'd do about anythin' he asked me. He's fair and honest, and every man who works for him knows it. He never asks anybody to do anythin' he hasn't done himself. The men admire him for that, and so do I. But he's a hard man with women, Sophronia. I never saw one yet could bring him to heel."

  "He wanted me, Magnus. If you hadn't busted in on us that night, he would've given me whatever I asked for."

  Magnus came toward her and touched her shoulder. She recoiled instinctively, even though his touch felt strangely comforting.

  "And if he had?" Magnus asked. "Would you've been able to hide that shiver that comes over you every time a man so much as touches your arm? Even though he's rich and white, would you've been able to forget that he's also a man?"

  He'd struck too close to her nightmares. She turned away and headed blindly toward the desk. When she was finally sure she could speak without her voice betraying her, she said coldly, "I've got work to do. If you won't get the supplies for me, I'll send Jim to town."

  At first she didn't think he'd answer, but he finally nodded. "I'll get your supplies." Then he turned on his heel and left her alone.

  Sophronia stared at the vacant doorway, and for a moment she was filled with a nearly overpowering longing to fling herself after him. The instinct faded. Magnus Owen might be a plantation overseer, but he was still a black man, and he could never keep her safe.

  10

  Kit's muscles ached as she descended the stairs the next morning. In contrast to the britches she'd worn the day before, she was dressed in a demure outfit of palest lilac voile with a delicate white lace shawl tossed around her shoulders. From her fingers dangled the lavender sashes of a floppy leghorn hat.

  Miss Dolly stood by the front door waiting for her. "Now, aren't you pretty as a picture. Just fasten up that button on your glove, darlin', and straighten your skirts."

  Kit smiled and did as she was told. "You look awfully pretty yourself."

  "Why, thank you, darlin'. I do try to keep myself nice, but it's not as easy as it once was. I no longer have youth entirely on my side, you know. But just look at you. Not a single gentleman will be able to keep his mind on the Lord with you sittin' in the congregation lookin' like a piece of Easter candy waitin' to be devoured."

  "Makes me hungry just watching her," drawled a lazy voice from behind them.

  Kit dropped the lavender hat ribbons she'd been trying to arrange into a bow.

  Cain was leaning against the doorjamb of the library. He was dressed in a pearl-gray morning coat with charcoal trousers and waistcoat. A thinly striped burgundy cravat set off his white shirt.

  Her eyes narrowed at his formal dress. "Where are you going?"

  "To church, of course."

  "Church! We didn't invite you to go to church with us!"

  Miss Dolly's hand flew to her throat. "Katharine Louise Weston! I'm shocked! Whatever can you be thinking of, addressing the general so rudely? I asked him to escort us. You'll have to forgive her, General. She spent too long on horseback yesterday, and she could barely walk when she got out of bed this morning. It's made her peevish."

  "I understand completely." The merriment in his eyes made his expression of sympathy suspect.

  Kit plucked up the sashes of her hat. "I wasn't peevish." She was all thumbs with him watching, and she couldn't manage a respectable bow.

  "Maybe you'd better tie that before she destroys the ribbons, Miss Calhoun."

  "Certainly, General." Miss Dolly clucked her tongue at Kit. "Here, darlin'. Tilt up your chin and let me."

  Kit was forced to submit to Miss Doily's ministrations while Cain watched in amusement. Finally the bow was arranged satisfactorily, and they made their way out the front door to the carriage.

  Kit waited until Cain had helped Miss Doily in before she hissed at him. "I'll bet this is the first time you've set foot inside that church since you've been here. Why don't you stay home?"

  "Not a chance. I wouldn't miss your reunion with the good people of Rutherford for anything in the world."

  Our Father who art in heaven…

  Jewel-like puddles of sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows and settled over the bowed heads of the congregation. In Rutherford, they still talked about what a miracle it was that those windows had escaped the spawn of Satan, William Tecumseh Sherman.

  Kit felt uncomfortable sitting in her lilac finery amidst the faded dresses and prewar bonnets of the other women. She'd wanted to show herself off to good advantage, but she hadn't stopped to consider how poor everyone was. She wouldn't forget again.

  She found herself thinking about her real church, the simple clapboard structure not far from Risen Glory that had served as the spiritual home for the slaves from the surrounding plantations. Garrett and Rosemary had refused to make the weekly trip to the white community's church in Rutherford, so Sophronia had taken Kit with her every Sunday. Even thought Sophronia was a child herself, she'd been determined that Kit hear the Word,

  Kit had loved that church, and now she couldn't help but compare this sedate service with the joyful worship of her childhood. Sophronia would be there now, along with Magnus and the others.

  Her reunion with Magnus had been subdued. Although he'd seemed happy to see her, the old informality between them was gone. She was now a white woman, fully grown, and he was a black man.

  A fly buzzed a lazy figure eight in front of her, and she stole a glance at Cain. His attention was turned politely toward the pulpit, his expression as inscrutable as ever. She was glad that Miss Dolly was seated between them. Sitting any closer to him would have ruined the morning.

  On the other side of the church sat a man whose attention wasn't as firmly fixed on the pulpit. Kit gave Brandon Parsell a slow smile, then tilted her head just enough so that her straw hat brim shielded her face. Before she left the church, she would make certain he found a chance to speak with her. She had only a month, and she couldn't waste a day of it.

  The service ended, and the members of the congregation couldn't wait to speak with her. They'd heard the New York City finishing school had transformed her from a hoyden to a young lady, and they wanted to see for themselves.

  "Why, Kit Weston, just look at you…"

  "And aren't you a fine lady now."

  "My stars, even your own daddy wouldn't recognize you."

  As they greeted her, they faced a dilemma. Acknowledging her meant that they'd have to greet her Yankee guardian, the man Rutherford's leading families had been so diligently shunning.

  Slowly, first one person and then another nodded to him. One of the men asked him about his cotton crop. Delia Dibbs thanked him for his contribution to the Bible Society. Clement Jakes asked whether or not he thought it would rain soon. The conversations
were reserved, but the message was clear. It was time the barriers against Baron Cain came down.

  Kit knew they'd later remark to each other that it was only for Kit Weston's sake they'd acknowledged him, but she suspected they welcomed the excuse to draw him into their insular circle, if only because it would give them a fresh topic of conversation. It would occur to none of them that Cain might not wish to be drawn in.

  Standing off to the side of the church, a woman with an air of sophistication that set her apart watched what was happening with some amusement. So this was the notorious Baron Cain… The woman was a newcomer to the community, having lived in a large brick house in Rutherford for only three months, but she'd heard all about the new owner of Risen Glory. Nothing she'd heard, however, had prepared her for her first sight of him. Her eyes swept from his shoulders down to his narrow hips. He was magnificent.

  Veronica Gamble was a Southerner by birth, if not by inclination. Born in Charleston, she had married the portrait painter Francis Gamble when she was barely eighteen. For the next fourteen years, they'd divided their time between Florence, Paris, and Vienna, where Francis had charged outrageous prices for flattering portraits of the wives and children of the aristocracy.

  When her husband had died the previous winter, Veronica was left comfortably well off, if not wealthy. On a whim, she'd decided to return to South Carolina and the brick house that her husband had inherited from his parents. It would give her time to assess her life and decide what she wanted to do next.

  In her early thirties, she was striking in appearance. Her auburn hair was pulled softly back from her face and fell in lustrous curls over the nape of her neck. Setting off its coppery hues were a pair of slanted eyes, almost as green as her fashionable Zouave jacket. On any other woman her full bottom lip would have been obtrusive, but on her it was sensual.

  Although Veronica was considered a great beauty, her thin nose was a bit too long, her features too angular for true beauty. No man, however, seemed to notice. She had wit, intelligence, and the intriguing quality of watching those around her with an amused eye while she waited to see what life had in store.

  She eased toward the doors at the back of the church, where the Reverend Cogdell was greeting his flock as they filed out. "Ah, Mrs. Gamble. How pleasant to have you with us this morning. I don't believe you've met Miss Dorthea Calhoun. And this is Mr. Cain of Risen Glory. Where has Katharine Louise gone? I wanted you to meet her, too."

  Veronica Gamble had no interest in either Miss Dorthea Calhoun or anyone named Katharine Louise. But she was very much interested in the dazzling man who stood next to the pastor, and she gracefully inclined her head. "I've heard a great deal about you, Mr. Cain. Somehow I'd expected horns."

  Rawlins Cogdell winced, but Cain laughed. "I wish I'd been as fortunate to have heard of you."

  Veronica slipped her gloved hand into the crook of his arm. "The matter is easily remedied."

  Kit had heard Cain's laughter, but she ignored it to focus her attention on Brandon. His regular features were even more attractive than she'd remembered, and the stray lock of straight brown hair that tumbled over his forehead as he talked was endearing.

  He couldn't have been more different from Cain. Brandon was polite where Cain was rude. And she didn't have to worry about him mocking her. He was every inch a Southern gentleman.

  She studied his mouth. What would it feel like to kiss it? Very exciting, she was certain. Much more pleasant than Cain's assault the day she'd arrived.

  An assault she'd done nothing to stop.

  "I've thought about you quite often since we met in New York," Brandon said.

  "I'm flattered."

  "Would you like to ride with me tomorrow? The bank closes at three. I could be at Risen Glory within the hour."

  Kit gazed up at him through her lashes, an effect she'd practiced to perfection. "I'd enjoy riding with you, Mr. Parsell."

  "Until tomorrow, then."

  With a smile, she turned away to acknowledge several young men who'd been patiently waiting for a chance to speak with her.

  As they vied for her attention, she noticed Cain deep in conversation with an attractive auburn-haired woman. Something about the attentive way the woman was gazing up at him grated on Kit. She wished he'd glance in her direction so he could see her so well surrounded by masculine company. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to notice.

  Miss Dolly had been engaged in animated conversation with the Reverend Cogdell and his wife, Mary, who was her distant relative and the one who'd recommended her as a chaperone. Kit realized the Cogdells were looking increasingly bewildered. She hastily excused herself and hurried to Miss Dolly's side.

  "Are you ready to leave, Miss Dolly?"

  "Why, yes, darlin'. I haven't seen the Reverend Cogdell and his dear wife, Mary, in years. What a joyous reunion, hampered only by the recent events at Bull Run. Oh, but that's old folk's conversation, darlin'. Nothin' for you to worry your pretty young head about."

  Cain must have sensed disaster, too, for he materialized at Kit's side. "Miss Calhoun, the carriage is waiting for us."

  "Why, thank you, General-" Miss Dolly gasped and pressed her fingers to her mouth. "I-I mean Major, of course. Silly me." With her ribbons all aflutter, she scampered toward the carriage.

  The Reverend Cogdell and his wife stared after her in open-mouthed astonishment.

  "She thinks I'm General Lee living in disguise at Risen Glory," Cain said bluntly.

  Rawlins Cogdell began to wring his pale, thin hands in agitation. "Major Cain, Katharine, I do apologize. When my wife recommended Dolly Calhoun for the post of chaperone, we had no idea-Oh, dear, this will never do."

  Mary Cogdell's small brown eyes were filled with remorse. "This is all my fault. We'd heard she was nearly destitute, but we had no idea she was feebleminded."

  Kit opened her mouth to protest, but Cain cut her off. "You needn't worry about Miss Calhoun. She's settling in comfortably."

  "But Katharine can't possibly stay at Risen Glory with you under these circumstances," the minister protested. "Dolly Calhoun is hardly a proper chaperone. Why, she must have spoken to a dozen people today. By this afternoon everyone in the county will know about her. This won't do. It won't do at all. The gossip will be dreadful, Mr. Cain. You're far too young a man-"

  "Kit is my ward," he said.

  "Nonetheless, there's no blood bond between you."

  Mary Cogdell gripped her prayer book. "Katharine, you're an innocent young woman, so I'm sure it hasn't occurred to you how this will look to others. You simply can't stay at Risen Glory."

  "I appreciate your concern," Kit replied, "but I've been away from my home for three years, and I don't intend to leave again so quickly."

  Mary Cogdell looked at her husband helplessly.

  "I assure you that Miss Dolly is a stickler for the proprieties," Cain surprised her by saying. "You should have seen her fussing over Kit this morning."

  "Still…"

  Cain inclined his head. "If you'll excuse us, Reverend Cogdell, Mrs. Cogdell. Please don't trouble yourself any further." He took Kit's arm and led her toward the carriage, where Miss Dolly was already waiting.

  Rawlins Cogdell and his wife watched the carriage drive away. "There's going to be trouble there," the minister said. "I can feel it in my bones."

  Kit heard the crunch of gravel and knew Brandon had arrived. She rushed to the cheval glass to check her reflection and saw a proper young lady in a riding habit gazing back at her. There were no boy's clothes for her today, and no Temptation, either. She'd resigned herself to a sidesaddle and poor Lady.

  That morning, while the sky was still the pale, soft pink of the underside of a seashell, she'd raced across the fields on Temptation. The wild, exhilarating ride was much different from what she could expect this afternoon.

  She had to admit her new riding habit was flattering, no matter how much she disliked the idea of wearing it. Made of crimson broadcloth trimmed in black
braid, the jacket fit her snugly in the bodice and accented her waist. The full skirt fell in graceful folds to the hem, which was decorated with a deep border of black braid in a swirling pattern that looked like a chain of script L's.

  She checked to make certain there were no hanging threads or hooks that had escaped her notice. The four black frogs that held together the front of the jacket were all fastened, and her hat was on straight. It was black, a feminine version of a man's stovepipe, but with a lower, softer crown and a wisp of crimson veiling trailing from the back. She'd fastened her hair in a neat bun at the nape of her neck and even polished her boots.

  Satisfied that she looked her best, she snatched up her riding crop and left the room, giving no thought at all to the black kid riding gloves lying in her glove box. When she reached the hallway, she heard voices coming from the piazza. To her consternation, she saw Cain standing in the drive talking to Brandon.

  Once again she was struck by the contrast between the two men. Cain was much bigger, but that wasn't all that set them apart. Brandon was properly dressed in hat, coat, and trousers, with a bottle-green four-in-hand showing above the top of his vest. The clothes were old and no longer of the most fashionable cut, but they were neatly pressed, and he wore them well.

  As for, Cain, he was bareheaded and wearing an open-collared shirt rolled at the sleeves and a pair of muddy trousers. He stood in an easy slouch, one hand stuffed into his pocket, a dirty boot propped on the bottom step. Everything about Brandon indicated culture and breeding, while Cain looked like a barbarian.

  Her eyes lingered on him a moment longer before she clutched her riding crop more tightly and walked forward. Lady waited patiently next to the mounting block. The old sidesaddle Kit had found in the attic rested on the horse's back.

  Kit gave Cain a cool nod and Brandon a smiling greeting. The admiration in his eyes told her that the efforts she'd taken with her appearance hadn't been in vain. Cain, however, seemed to be enjoying some private joke, one she quickly realized was at her expense.

  "You watch yourself today, Kit. Lady can be a real handful."