Chapter 8
Devon stood in the parlor doorway, hands stuffed into his trouser pockets, supposedly listening to Thea plunk notes on the piano, but his gaze drifted toward the stairs.
He’d beaten LeBeau by a single notch. If anything, the patch over his left eye had proved a help, not a hindrance for target shooting.
Much different than the battlefield, where it would take away half of his peripheral vision and leave him open to attack.
His battle yesterday had been to win by the smallest margin possible.
LeBeau had begged off from having Morning Fawn join them for dinner last night. In fact, it’d been a small, informal meal, with Mrs. LeBeau and Thea away at Cedar Ridge plantation overnight. There had been no scuffles or screams upstairs. Hopefully, that meant no laudanum.
Tonight, Morning Fawn would join them. His chest swelled at the thought he’d won this for her.
LeBeau had slapped him on the shoulder and informed him he’d decided to try out Devon’s stepfather’s advice, but the rest of the conversation had centered around cotton.
No clue as to what reward he’d offered Morning Fawn in hopes of gaining compliance.
Thankfully, Devon had escaped everyone’s company today by volunteering to exercise and groom the horses.
As the music played, LeBeau lounged in a parlor chair, its thick cushions covered in cherry-bramble patterned velvet, a match to the wallpaper. Mrs. LeBeau sat at the edge of a wine-colored low-back sofa, her gaze fluttering between her husband, Thea, and the door.
Thea banged out a grand finale note to a Chopin piece Devon couldn’t name. Her parents clapped, and he willed his hands to comply. But his heartbeat picked up a notch as a pitter-pat sounded on the stairs, followed by a tromp.
Eyes downcast, Lucy hurried off the last step and halted in the foyer.
Morning Fawn followed. Head held high, she’d used a ribbon to draw her hair away from her face, but silky honey strands fell across the shoulders of her dark green dress.
The same dress she’d worn the day he’d yanked her off the horse and tumbled her to the ground.
But it’d been mended without a tear and adorned with white bell undersleeves and black lace trim.
“What’s going on?” Thea hopped off the piano stool, but he ignored her.
“I granted Beth permission to come to dinner.” LeBeau stood and tugged on his sack coat lapels.
He hadn’t told his daughter?
Another explosion from Thea, but the words escaped Devon.
Morning Fawn clomped off the last step and marched straight for him. Color enlivened her face, so much better than the unhealthy pale of his midnight visit two nights before.
Eyes narrowed and chin jutted, she whispered, “I’m not going to choose you.”
“Choose me for what?” His brow furrowed, even as a hint of rosewater tickled his nose. What the devil was she talking about?
“As if you didn’t know.”
“I-I don’t.” He sputtered, but she’d lifted her skirts and headed down the hall.
“What did she say to you?” Thea sidled up to him and curled her fingers around the crook of his arm.
Take your hands off me. He coughed down the words before they could erupt. “I have no idea.”
Mrs. LeBeau rescued him, came up on the other side of Thea and touched her elbow. “We must be charitable with your cousin, dear. Your father has decided to give her one more chance to prove she can learn to behave like a lady.”
Thea scoffed. “That’ll be the day.” Her fingers loosened.
He slipped free and hurried ahead.
Carrying herself like a princess, Morning Fawn opened the dining room door and entered, without waiting for the servants or LeBeau.
Thea latched on to Devon as his foot crossed the threshold. “You’ll sit by me, of course.”
“I’ll leave that for your father to decide.”
Lucy and two more servants he couldn’t name hurried to the sideboard where silver-plated serving dishes awaited. A fire crackled in the small hearth.
Morning Fawn shot him a look as if he were beneath contempt and pulled out a chair to the left of Mrs. LeBeau’s seat. “I don’t need any help.”
Mrs. LeBeau tsked as she arrived at her own seat. “Ladies wait for gentlemen to pull out their chair.”
Morning Fawn pressed her lips together as Mr. LeBeau strode up and helped his wife.
Thea sashayed over to the seat by her father’s end of the table and rustled her skirts as if she need remind Devon of her presence.
He seated her and sat between her and Mrs. LeBeau.
His gaze fell to the empty chair beside Morning Fawn.
They were one gentleman short, or more likely, one lady too many, the extra one being on his side of the table.
They bowed their heads as Mrs. LeBeau said the Lord’s Prayer. From what he’d seen, it was a nightly custom. He whispered his own in silence, thanksgiving that Morning Fawn was out of the attic and safe for the moment, and a petition that she’d stay that way.
As they raised their heads, hazel eyes lit with determination and something less than friendly met his as the first dish was served.
Obviously, his removal of the nails and his part in getting her invited to dinner were insufficient penitence for prior offenses.
And who knew if LeBeau had mentioned Devon’s role in her reprieve from the attic?
Steam drifted up from the potato soup, and the scent of freshly baked bread caused his stomach to rumble.
Morning Fawn broke eye contact and inhaled. Her spoon was in her mouth in seconds. Had she been afraid to eat in the attic, concerned her food might still be tainted?
Thea touched his hand. “Lieutenant, you must tell us more about your adventures.”
Her father cleared his throat. Over the touch?
Morning Fawn clinked her silverware against her china bowl.
Devon scooted his hand free and reached for his glass of water. “I’d rather hear something about Morning—Beth’s travel.”
Everyone but Thea stopped chewing. Not a good topic?
Thea splayed her fingers across her fichu-covered cleavage. “I’m sure it’d be very informative to learn how to coat one’s self and hair in bear grease and how to properly skin a buffalo. However, I don’t believe recalling such details would aid in the civilizing of Cousin Beth.”
Morning Fawn flipped her hair off her shoulder. “I’m sure you’d rather burn to a rosy crisp beneath the sun on the plains. The only question would be whether you’d die from the heat or starvation first.”
“I wouldn’t be fool enough to be stranded in such a predicament. Unlike some—”
“One could only wish.” Morning Fawn sliced a chunk of bread from the loaf near her and took a bite.
“At least I know how to conduct myself with lady-like deportment and demeanor.” Thea lifted her nose. “Should I fetch the dictionary for you—”
“Girls.” Mrs. LeBeau snapped her napkin. “Thea, why don’t you tell the lieutenant about Robson’s Castle? I’m sure he’s never heard of such a wonder in Texas.”
“Castle?” His eyebrows quirked up. Anything to avoid a fight at the table.
“Oh, you’d be amazed.” Thea glowed. “Colonel Robson is from Scotland. I believe he’s a duke or lord, or something like that.
He came to America in search of adventure and found his way to Texas, of all places.
He built a castle on the shores of the Colorado River in Columbus.
Three stories of granite. You should see it. ”
“Limestone.” LeBeau waved a servant over.
“A real castle?” Devon shifted in his seat.
Morning Fawn slurped her soup and glowered.
Thea smirked across the table. “It has a moat and a drawbridge. A rooftop garden. And the ballroom with its chandeliers and the carpets, and champagne dinners… Why, I feel as if I’m visiting the Queen of Scotland when I go there.”
“I read that they chopped off her head.” Morning Fawn’s voice rang with a touch of amusement.
“Speaking of heads...” LeBeau drew his carving knife through the ham the servant had given him. “I heard news today that the Yankees have moved farther up the coast. They took Mustang Island, and it’s rumored they’ll try for Matagorda Island next.”
Mrs. LeBeau gasped. “That means there’s nothing between them and Corpus Christi.”
“I’m sure Amy is on her way to Austin, Judith.” LeBeau exhaled and handed Thea a plate with a thick slice of ham. “Harris wrote that he’d made all of the arrangements.” He nodded to Devon. “Amy is our oldest daughter. Her husband is a major serving at the capital.”
Mrs. LeBeau gripped the table edge. “I will not rest assured until I receive a letter confirming she’s there safe and sound. Why didn’t you tell me this earlier, Robert?”
“I didn’t want to worry you.” LeBeau dug his knife into the thick, juicy meat again. “Amy should have plenty of time to escape. The Yanks won’t waste their forces on the city when they need every man they can muster if they plan to head for Fort Esperanza.
“Remember Sabine Pass? Forty-two Confederates held off a fleet of Yankee gunboats and troop transports. Did you hear about that battle, Reynolds? It was something.”
“Forty-two Confederates?” Devon choked on his peas.
That wasn’t the way he’d heard it, but the troops who had drug themselves off the transports back into New Orleans had been in no mood to talk.
Thankfully, he wasn’t part of the mission.
There’d been no fleet of gunboats. That much he knew.
Reb newspapers had probably filled the citizens’ heads with propaganda.
LeBeau showered them all with the glorious details as the servants added stewed tomatoes and buttered squash to the ham-laden plates.
Thea pressed her palms together at the end of the rendition.
“Papa, maybe we should evacuate and head to Austin too. You know that’s where our men will hole up.
I’ve heard the horrors of New Orleans. General Butler threatened to treat respectable ladies as women of the street plying their trade.
I swear he must have horns under his hat. ”
Devon dropped his gaze to his food to hide the roll of his eyes.