She shuddered. “Shall we?” She waved the men to her side parlor and fluttered to a single chair. “Do sit down, gentlemen.”
Captain Johnson leaned against the white mantel of a brick fireplace. How like an animal he looked, not a bold lion, nor graceful like a deer or a decent horse, but sly, cruel and shifty. He was an animal for certain, but what kind?
“What honor do I have of receiving both of you today?” Her face tightened. She suffered Captain Johnson gazing down her bodice. Rising, she crossed the room and pulled back the velvet drapes and then chose a chair opposite him. What were his vague responsibilities, his unexplained disappearance, and sudden reappearances? She licked her lips. Why had he been in the warehouse interrogating Colonel Rourke?
“Do tell me news of Richmond. Have they caught the spy?”
Captain Johnson ran his finger over the neck of a china figurine of a woman. With one flick of his finger he could decapitate the valuable piece. “What was that noise upstairs?”
“Noise? Yes, of course, the noise. I lost my brush and turned a chair over in my search for it.” She twirled a frond of hair around her finger to reinforce her plausible explanation and wished Colonel Rourke to perdition for placing her under suspicion. She turned her full attention to Lieutenant Washburn. “You were saying, Lieutenant?”
“I came to call on you and ran into Captain Johnson a quarter-mile up the road,” said Washburn. He did nothing to hide his irritation.
To play the enmity between the two men came to light as a healthy strategy. “You don’t think the spy is in the vicinity, do you?” She clutched her throat in horror.
“No, ma’am. We have reliable reports he’s been seen in Stafford County.”
“Thank goodness. To think of Yankees loose in Richmond. How dreadful!” Rachel smiled inwardly. Her people covered her tracks well, spreading eyewitness accounts of Colonel Rourke’s description over northern Virginia. A gun exploded upstairs. Her heart in her throat, Rachel flew to the stairway, blocking the lieutenant and Captain Johnson before they could ascend. Simon arrived at the top of the stairs, a revolver smoking in his hands.
“Miss Rachel, I sorry to give you a fright. I was cleanin’ the gun like you told me, and it went off. I promise it won’t happen again.” Simon went back into the room and slammed the door. Rachel cursed beneath her breath. There was not a hell hot enough for Colonel Rourke.
She turned to her guests. “Good heavens, I should hope so. I swear it is by sheer providence I do not swoon.”
“I’ll catch you, Miss Rachel, if you do,” offered Lieutenant Washburn, his arms ready.
“This reminds me of the time…” Her voice dropped to the low admonition she used to tell one of her fearful stories as she maneuvered both men away from the stairs, and then stopped. “Oh dear! In all the excitement, I forgot my manners. Would you like some lemonade?”
“No, Miss Rachel,” Lieutenant Washburn said, again pained by Johnson’s presence. He cleared his throat. “Could I have a private moment?” Rachel darted a glance at Captain Johnson who glared at his competitor.
“If you don’t mind, Captain, could you wait in the parlor?” she asked sweetly. His eyes narrowed, his lips thinned as he removed himself. She smiled even as his expression chilled her.
Lieutenant Washburn quickly said, “I must return to my duties posthaste. Would you be so kind as to honor me with your attendance at the Rutherford ball in two weeks?”
“Why, of course. How could I reject a hero of the Confederacy?” Rachel linked her arm in his and led him to the door. How fortuitous to receive an invitation to the Rutherfords’. To worm her way into Rutherford’s office. Everyone knew how close he was to President Davis. To study war documents? She smiled prettily for Lieutenant Washburn, his muttonchops working up and down.
Emboldened by her acceptance, the lieutenant said, “There is something more pressing.”
Rachel knew what was coming and could only imagine Colonel Rourke and Simon, listening to every word. Washburn knelt and took her hand. “Miss Rachel, you are the most wonderful, endearing and beautiful creature upon this earth. My cup runneth over with love. I must tender a proposal of marriage.”
“You impress me with your gravity, sir. You are so brave.” She brought him to his feet. “I shall have to think it over.”
“It must be very soon, Miss Rachel, for I’m suffering for want of you,” he said, disappointed.
Rachel gave her tale of rejection with drama and color. As her story climaxed on a high point, she added a dash of guile and flattery, overwhelming the dull-witted lieutenant with promises of possibilities.
She had become accustomed to proposals and had become so swift and sincere in her refusals that half of Richmond still stood in line. At times, she felt pricklings of remorse, like she did now. Still, Rachel reminded herself of her goal where circumventing southern slaveholders had become the passionate fabric of her life. No one would stand in her way.
Standing in the doorway, she said her farewells and good wishes that would have done a snake oil salesman proud. Mollified for the time being, Lieutenant Washburn mounted his horse. She waved goodbye, wishing Captain Johnson was gone as well. Her fingers dug into the folds of her skirts, thinking of how she’d deal with him.
When she turned around, he trapped her between his arms. Apparently Johnson was no fool to the games she played.
A pain shot to her jaw from clenching her teeth. Revolting in every way a cockroach of a man could be, she wanted to beat his face with her bare hands until his eyes swelled shut and bloody spit drooled from his slack jaws, until he lay foul in his own fluids. She prayed she’d not betray her fury. “I declare, Captain Johnson. You will remove yourself promptly from the premises, before I hail Lieutenant Washburn.”
Her knees shook. Washburn was long gone.
A ferret! He’s a true ferret with the pointed face of the crafty animal, the stunted ears, and the long sharp nose and shifty eyes.
“Why don’t you let me make a decent woman out of you, and marry me?”
