“I might need help carrying the bucket.” She glared at him with bloodshot eyes.
He shook himself. She wanted to talk privately. The gentlemanly thing to do would be to accompany her outside and apologize. But he’d already said everything he could. He exhaled and stayed in his seat. They needed distance, not privacy.
She yanked off her apron and shouldered her way out the door like a steam engine ready to run over anything in her path.
Devon sank down in his chair a notch.
Dr. Schramm tapped his coffee cup. “Ve should go soon. I told the league eight p.m.”
“All right. I want to finalize the details of the attack. I assume tonight it’ll only be those who have volunteered to help?”
“Frederic, Gunter, Jarvis and his brothers.”
“Good men. I spoke with them during my initial meeting with the league.” Devon nodded. “Tomorrow night, I’m rendezvousing with Captain Carson and digging up the supply of guns I buried when I first arrived in the area. My recommendation is that you and Frieda don’t leave town on Christmas. We can ask the league if someone could volunteer to hide you for a few weeks until everything settles down. The Rebs will scour the roads after the attack. I don’t have confidence you could outrun them.”
“Sound plan.” Schramm leaned forward. “I have a request. I know it’s a lot to ask. But I’ll ask it, anyvay, because my daughter is all I have left in this vorld except for my practice and my faith, and I’m getting ready to give up my practice, at least for now.”
Devon braced himself.
Schramm fingered the rim of his coffee cup. “If anything happens to me, or if for some reason Frieda is in danger, I’m asking you to look after her and do vhat you can to protect her.”
Devon’s lungs deflated in a stream that emptied out hisstamina in addition to the air. Just how long of a commitment was her father asking him for?
Morning Fawn pressed her sweaty palms to her skirt as she stood in front of her uncle’s desk. Cigar odor stung her nose. Nick had called on her uncle earlier in the day without a word to her. She’d been relieved to have not spent the afternoon acting, but why had he come? Did it have something to do with Devon? Her uncle’s summons had jolted her further.
“Have a seat.” LeBeau motioned to the high-back, cushioned chair on her left. His crimson cravat covered his neck in a flourish all the way to the pointed beard on his chin.
A fire crackled in the fireplace. The weather had taken a turn.
She settled on the edge and clasped her hands in her lap. “You asked to see me?”
“I’ve been pleased with recent developments.” He pushed his ledgers with their pages of pencil scratches and numbers aside. “Especially your courtship with Nick. Wise decision. That man may end up owning a tenth of the state someday.”
Suited her just fine if the Yankees put Nick in his place someday. Confiscated all his property. “It’s only a courtship, an opportunity to become better acquainted.”
His ice-blue eyes glistened. “It’s much more than that, my dear. You’ve succeeded beyond my dreams. Nick made you an offer of marriage today.”
“He what?” She teetered on the edge of her seat.
“Proposed marriage. We plan to announce the engagement at the Christmas Ball.”
“He…he never said a word to me. I mean…not an outright proposal. Not since we started courting.”
Her uncle leaned back in his padded leather chair. “He showed me the particulars of his holdings, even provided references—not that I would have asked for them. It’s a matter best decided between men.”
“I’m the one he wants to marry. It’s my life. My decision.”
Her uncle glowered. “There can only be one possible answer when a staunchly loyal Confederate of means and character with a brilliant future proposes to my niece.” He shifted forward, elbows on his desk. “Any other answer would be completely unacceptable and risk my wrath.”
“I can’t?—“
Her uncle stood, his brow as contorted as a bull preparing to charge.
“We’ve only officially courted for three days.”
“What were you doing when he gave you the horse? You’ve been courting for weeks. I’m not about to give you a month or two to disillusion the man. He’s ready to marry you. All I have to do is name the time and place.” LeBeau slapped his palms onto the desk surface. “The first few weeks of marriage will be a perfect time to get to know each other better.” A sliver of his slicked hair dared inch toward his forehead. He swept it back with a force that could have laid a regiment low. “As for Reynolds, put him out of your head. I have questions about that man’s character and his means. You’ll never have my permission to court him, let alone be his wife. I’m dismissing him from my services by the end of the month.”
She pressed her lips together. If she said much more, she’d get herself locked in the attic until further notice. The proposal, the engagement,—none of it mattered. She’d be leaving here Christmas night. With such a fate hanging over her head, Devon would surely take her away with him the night of the attack. They’d rendezvous somewhere?—
