“My mother taught me enough manners not to speak so rudely at the dinner table.” Tamsyn rose from her chair. “If you will excuse me. I am not feeling well.”
Tamsyn fled the room. Angry voices erupted behind her. She ran up the stairs, tears flooded down her face.
I don’t belong here.
Once inside James’s room she dropped onto the bed and sobbed.
****
“Stop by Whitaker’s,” James called to the driver.
“Who is Whitaker?”
He reached for her hand. His thumb drew soft circles on her palm. “The dressmaker’s shop.”
“James, no.” Tamsyn drew her hand away. “You’ve spent far too much already.”
“I’ve only purchased the two dresses. It wasn’t much.” The driver pulled the horses to a smooth stop. “I’d like to buy you something to wear for the dinner on Wednesday night.”
She let out a loud sigh.
“Humor me.” He stepped out of the coach and offered his hand.
She followed him out of the carriage and inside the small shop.
The dressmaker smiled at them. “Mr. Steele, it’s nice to see you again,” said an older woman with silver hair, a tape measure strung about her neck and pins gleaming in her dress. “Do you see anything that strikes you, miss?”
“They are all very beautiful.” Her gaze lingered on a pastel purple material.
Elizabeth’s favorite color.
“We hoped to see the dresses you’ve already made, Mrs. Whitaker. My parents have a dinner party planned for Wednesday evening and Ms. Moody needs something appropriate to wear.”
Tamsyn frowned.
Appropriate.
“Certainly, Mr. Steele.” The dressmaker seemed well acquainted with the Steele family. “Would you please follow me into the back?” She led them away from the rows of fabric and into a large back room.
James’s hand slid down her back to give her backside a gentle squeeze.
She swatted his hand away. James looked over at her. The pure look of raw lust he gave her sent warm waves sliding down her spine.
He’d made love to her slowly before they’d left the house after lunch. Taking his time he’d left her unable to stand afterwards. James laughed at her failed attempts to muffle her cries of pleasure.
“What color do you fancy?” the dressmaker asked with a flourish of her arm. Rows of fabric were scattered about the room, organized by color.
Tamsyn’s eyes widened.
“How about something in red?” James touched several scarlet colered gowns.
“No.” She hurried toward a sunny yellow frock. “I like the yellow.”
James wrinkled his nose.
“If I may,” Mrs. Whitaker pulled out a peach colored gown, trimmed around the bottom with white lace. “This color would look very nice on you.”
Tamsyn looked the dress over.
“It comes with a jacket.” She adjusted the second part of the dress over the first. “So that the dress can be worn during the day as well.”
Tamsyn touched the pastel taffeta and silk.
“It’s beautiful.” Tamsyn admitted with a sigh.
“We’ll take it,” James said.
“Would you like the matching shawl and gloves?” Mrs. Whitaker was a saleswoman. She whipped out the white lace gloves for Tamsyn’s inspection.
“Add them to the account.” James touched Tamsyn’s back. “We are meeting George at the train station.” He nodded to the dressmaker and moved to guide Tamsyn out of the shop to where the coach and driver waited.
James pressed the small wrapped package into Tamsyn’s arms and helped her settle into the open coach. “James, this is too much.”
“Humor me.” James winked. “One moment while I settle the account with Mrs. Whitaker.” He stepped back into the shop.
****
George grinned when he found them waiting just outside the train station in the coach. “Ms. Moody, I was afraid I wouldn’t see you again.” George handed James his carpetbag.
“Hello, George.”
George sat down in the carriage, pressing Tamsyn between the two men.
“Did you take care of Miss Tabitha?”
George laughed heartily and the coach jerked to a start. “That was some fun that night, eh? Yes, I escorted her home and explained to her mother what happened.” He clapped James on the back, then rubbed his face with exhaustion. “Where her mother promptly cornered me and offered to repay my kindness with her own special favors.”
Tamsyn gasped. The old woman never seemed the type.
“How is your family, James?” George asked.
“They are well.”
“Has Robert made an honest woman out of the neighbor? I stopped by on a short leave last year and they couldn’t stop staring at each other.” George seemed to know the family well.
“They still stare at each other.” James laughed.
“Hester?” George leaned his head against the back of the seat.
Tamsyn wrinkled her nose at the mention of the bitter woman.
“Still Hester.” James smiled at Tamsyn. “Abigail has a suitor.”
“Little Abby? She isn’t old enough to be courting.” George shook his head and laughed. “She promised to wait for me.”
“She has to be fifteen years younger than you.” Tamsyn’s mouth clamped closed.
Ben was fifteen years older than me.
George smiled at her. “Fifteen years isn’t so bad.”
“There are fifteen years between my parents.” James nodded. “Abigail still blushes whenever your name is brought up.”
“Ah, I might still have a chance with her then?” George grinned.
“You jest.” Tamsyn couldn’t believe the two men. “She has a suitor. A young man who seems very nice. They seem smitten with each other.”
Both men laughed. They had a secret they weren’t willing to share with Tamsyn.
James leaned against her ear. “By the end of the dinner party tomorrow, George will have Abby wrapped around his finger and she’ll forget all about Edward the Irishman.”
“An Irishman?” George asked. “Ah, Abby. Was no one keeping an eye on her?”
The carriage stopped in front of the Steele town house. “Does she know I’m coming?” George asked.
“No.” James grinned over Tamsyn’s head. “No one but Father knew I was fetching you from the train station today.”
George grinned before stepping out. He offered a hand to help Tamsyn out and James followed.
“Watch this,” James whispered.
“Abigail Steele!” George bellowed in the street.
If Tamsyn hadn’t just sat next to him on the ride over from the station she would have sworn he was drunk.
An unmistakable squeal came from inside the house. James wrapped his arm around Tamsyn and pulled her close, away from George.
When the front door opened James’s sister ran out. “George!” Abigail dove the last few feet into George’s arms.
“Well, she didn’t react to Edward’s arrival yesterday like that.” Tamsyn giggled.
“Come along inside.” James tugged her.
Tamsyn allowed him to pull her along. “Your parents seemed so certain her new beau was the one.” Tamsyn recalled the comments. “They said she was different.”
“Lars and I suspect it’s because she didn’t think George was coming back.” They walked through the parlor. “Lars said in the past year that all of her friends have gotten married.”
“She felt left out.”
They stepped into the dining room where the family gathered for a light supper.
“James, don’t leave those two in the street.” Mrs. Steele rolled her eyes.
“George will drag her in.” James pushed Tamsyn’s chair under the table. “He’s been on the train all day. He’ll be eager for your coffee, Mother.”
“The neighbors will be talking by morning for sure,” Hester grumbled, settling into her chair, across from Tamsyn.
Everyone ignored her.
“George! Put me down!” Abigail’s voice carried into the room ahead of them. George appeared in the doorway with Abigail tossed over his shoulder.
“George, please put her down.” Mrs. Steele motioned for the meal to be served, the hint of a smile played on her lips.
The hair on Tamsyn’s neck prickled and she found Hester’s cold stare on her.
Hester’s lips curved and she turned toward the head of the table. “Mrs. Steele, where will George sleep tonight? Ms. Moody already occupies the guest room.”
Everyone seemed to stop eating at once.
George raised an eyebrow in James’s direction and coughed. “James and I can bunk up, Mrs. Steele.”
“Hester,” Mr. Steele growled over his soup. “I’ve had quite enough of your trying to stir up trouble in this house.”
Hester’s spoon clattered to the floor and her jaw opened with shock.
“You will sit here quietly and enjoy this meal, or you can retire to your rooms for the night. You’ve insulted our guests enough.” Mr. Steele turned back to his soup.
Tamsyn dropped her gaze to her hands in her lap.
“How can you all sit here? Eat here, with this traitor?” Hester’s voice went up a notch, anger reddened her face. “You know, she was caught as a spy.” She threw the information out. “Now you do nothing while James carries on with this rebel whore over your heads.”
A hot tear slipped down Tamsyn’s cheek and landed on her knuckles.
Whore.
Lars threw his napkin onto the table. “Hester, be quiet.”
“No. I will not be quiet!”
“Hester! Enough!” Lars’s chair knocked against the wall when he stood.
Tamsyn choked back a sob. The family erupted around her.
“No.” Hester’s shrill voice carried over the noise. She met her husband’s anger with anger of her own. “I refuse to stay here with my children while
she
is here.” Her hands clenched at her sides. “Lawrence, take the boys and I to my mother’s.”
Silence fell.
“Gather your things, Hester,” Lars ordered. “Leave the boys. They can stay here, with me.”
“What?” Hester stepped back. “The boys will not stay here—”
“The boys are asleep.” Lars’ face showed no emotion. “Gather what you need. I’ll have you to your mother’s.”
The family sat in silence, gazes following Lars and Hester’s retreating figures.
“Tamsyn, I apologize for my daughter-in-law’s outburst,” Mrs. Steele said.
Tamsyn nodded.
Whore.
James’s hand slid to cover her own.
“Her two brothers were killed during the first year of the war. She is…bitter.”
Chapter Fifteen
Wednesday, April 26, 1865
James slept. His face, clean shaven and relaxed, appeared boyish in his slumber. The tick in his jaw gone.
Hester’s outburst the night before left everyone in the family emotionally drained. The rest of supper had been spent in silence.
Tamsyn slid against him. A chill crept into his room at night. Heat radiated off his body, warming her, and she sighed. Laying her hand on his chest, she pressed a kiss to his shoulder.
A wicked smile played on her lips.
Tracing her fingertips down his chest and across his stomach. Hesitating only for a moment, she continued to trail her fingers further down his stomach.
“Good morning.” His voice was deep with sleep. Reaching up, he grasped her hand, stilling it just below his belly button. He turned and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Smiling, she tried to press her hand lower but his grip kept her immobile.
“Something wrong?” She bit her bottom lip and glanced up at him through her lashes.
“I have to meet with my father this morning.” James cleared his throat.
“Oh.”
He pushed the coverlet aside and sat on the edge of the bed. Reaching for his breeches, he glanced at her over his shoulder. “Go back to sleep.”
She frowned but pulled the coverlet around her shoulders. “Will the dress be delivered in time?”
He remained silent while pulling on his clothes.
“James?”
“What?”
She stared at him. The steady tick in his jaw brought her to her knees in front of him. She brushed her fingers across his jaw. “Is everything all right?”
“I’m sorry, Tamsyn.” He smiled and tucked the white shirt into his breeches. “Yes, yes. The dress will be here on time.” James nodded. “I don’t wish to be late.” He pulled the jacket off the straight-backed chair.
“When will you be back?”
“I’m not sure.” He huffed a loud sigh. “Surely you can entertain yourself for the day.”
Her heart sank and she drew the coverlet around her.
“Your dress should be delivered this morning.” He slipped into his shoes. With those words he slipped out of the room.
The door clicked behind him.
She sat in shock.
****
Tamsyn leaned back in the garden chair, a book open on her lap. He’d been gone the entire day.
The ladies of the house kept busy with last minute preparations for the dinner party. Feeling out of place, she’d taken one of the books off James’s shelf and slipped out to the garden to read. She’d flipped through the book. His distant behavior left her uncertain.
Whore.
Hester’s words still rang in her head.
“Tamsyn, a package arrived for you,” Mrs. Steele called from the doorway, pulling Tamsyn from thoughts. “I left it on the bottom step.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” She closed the book. It must be the dress. The dressmaker sent word earlier in the afternoon that would be ready with just enough time left for her to dress before the party.
Tamsyn waited until Mrs. Steele returned back into the house before she ventured inside. She bit her bottom lip and she picked up the brown paper package. Tears rushed upon her and she sucked in a deep breath.
I want to go home.
“Tamsyn, is it your dress?”
She looked up to find Abigail at the top of the stairs. Already dressed for dinner, the girl radiated beauty.
“Abigail, you are stunning.” She climbed the steps to the second floor. The creamy beige would never have looked right on anyone else. On Abigail, it shone. “The color, it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Abigail smiled. “Do you think George will like it?”
Tamsyn raised an eyebrow at the girl. “What about Edward?”
Abigail ignored the question and grabbed Tamsyn by the hand. “Would you like me to help you into the dress? I’m dying to see it. Come in my room, I have a mirror.”