Rachel snatched her hair from his grasp and piled it on her head. Every fiber in her body warned her as his warm fingers brushed against her back and buttoned her dress. Had her cause been less dire, she would have fled in disgust. Indeed, she had to fight the urge to do so now. He seemed to take his time. “Is your delay deliberate or are you addled?”
She heard him draw a ragged breath. “I enjoy this feast so much I would not like to see it end.”
Unable to bear it longer, she sprung away from him. “You’re a fool.”
Apparently unaffected by her pronouncement, his eyes stayed riveted on her as she rubbed the brown off her face, then brushed and pinned her hair.
“No fool…growing weaker. If I’m to die now, I am fulfilled with the most wonderful fantasy.” His voice was hushed but sounded hollow.
“More like delirium.” The wagon stopped in an alley. Men shouted over the hill. “Get out,” she ordered with efficiency.
He did not answer.
“Simon!” she called to her servant. “He’s losing consciousness. Help me.”
Using all their strength, they transferred the prisoner to her open carriage and dropped him onto the floor.
“Ditching the funeral wagon and switching to my carriage will throw the Rebs off our trail.” She sat in the rear seat, her back pressed to the squabs and fluffed out her hooped skirts to conceal the prisoner. Simon hopped in the front and snapped the whip. As the horses broke off at a clipped pace, the prisoner lurched against her legs. Her face heated to the roots of her hair.
She glanced over her shoulder. A legion of men on horses with torches crested the hill blocks behind them. “Simon, turn right past the Episcopal Church, left at the capitol building…” She knew Richmond like the back of her hand, having memorized every street and alley with her photographic memory. The carriage rounded a corner on two wheels, flying past Marshall’s house, then slammed down on four wheels. Rachel smoothed her skirts and jerked white gloves over her stained hands. Where could they go?
No doubt the Confederates had a chokehold on every street. “Stop at Jefferson Davis’ house.” She hated deviating from her original plan, but it had taken precious time to load the captive into her vehicle. Seconds she could ill-afford to lose.
They parked their vehicle in front of the elegant façade of the Confederacy’s presidential mansion. Soldiers on horseback drew up beside them.Were they caught?In chest-squeezing panic, logic dictated her wits held all the power.
“I do declare, you startled me, Lieutenant Washburn. Is it truly you?” asked Rachel. The lieutenant was a stringy, middle-sized man with a froglike face and jerky movements. His whiskers did not hide his jutting front teeth.
“Yes, ma’am.” He held his head up like a woodpecker ready to strike.
“Are you just arriving at President Davis’ ball? I daresay you’re a little late. All evening I pined for your tender arms to escort me onto the dance floor, but instead I shall have to cry all night long.” She fluttered her lashes at him with practiced ease.
“Miss Rachel, I’m on military business.”
“Indeed. You never care about my tender feelings, and to think the handsomest man in all Richmond denies me. I shall never forgive you.”
“Beg pardon, Miss Rachel.” The lieutenant flushed. “You know I have great care for your feelings, but I’m looking for a dangerous spy.”
“Oh, my! A dangerous spy? I’m frightened.” She placed a gloved hand over her heart.
“Someone said they saw a carriage like yours near the wagon the spy used to get away. About a half-mile from here.”
Rachel tasted fear. “Oh, my goodness. I would have fainted if I knew he was even close to me.” She waved a hand to fan her face and leaned over, letting her shawl fall away to expose a delicate amount of bosom. His muttonchops worked up and down. She smiled, her impact well made. “Look there.” She wagged a finger at the carriages parked in front of a line of stately oaks. “Perhaps your spy is in one of those.”
It was risky business she was about. All Lieutenant Washburn had to do was question someone at the ball to find out she had left early.
“Your genius gives me pause, Miss Rachel.”
“You know President Davis dances wonderfully, and Varina appeared so lovely in her rose silk gown,” she breathed wistfully. “The whole evening was absolutely divine, but now I’ve a headache, and I’m going home.”
The lieutenant straightened in his saddle, then frowned at her. “By yourself?”
“I have Simon, my servant, to drive me, but you could make up for your lack of attentions and be kind enough to escort us.”
That earned her a scornful glance from Simon. The man under her skirts moaned.
Lieutenant Washburn looked sharply at her. “What’s that noise?”
“Why, that’s Simon.” She leaned over and whispered confidingly, her feminine weapons fully primed. “He has intestinal upset at times, purely an agony for him. If I don’t get home soon…” She held a hand to her head, capturing a dramatic pose. “I may swoon myself.”
