He couldn’t trust her, and he couldn’t trust himself getting too close. Who knew what would happen if he held her in his arms . . . perhaps kissed her.
“Goodnight, Josie,” he said, standing up from his seat.
Josie placed her hand on her swollen abdomen. “Good night, Travis.”
Travis shut the door from behind him, buttoning his coat around him as the brisk wind hit his face. He was free of her now. He told her what was on his mind, just enough to keep her safe.
But what needed the most protection was his heart.
Chapter Twenty
Statesville, North Carolina; Early August1872
GeneralWellingtonsatupagainst the headboard, taking small bites of ham and scrambled eggs. He chewed slowly, trying to pass the time by gathering his thoughts. One month of confinement. One month of stupid exercises that seemed to do him no good. One month since he sent word to his wife, only to receive no reply.
“I don’t know why the missus won’t write,”Mammy had said in her soft, gentle voice early that morning.“Guess she’s just busy with those young’uns. Yuh know how they be, suh.”
General stabbed his fork into his ham. Something wasn’t sitting right with him—even Mammy’s innocent storytelling. She knew something, and she wasn’t telling him. Why else wasn’this devoted wife coming home? Had she deserted him? Had she died in an accident?
Perhaps an accident would do.Josephine hadn’t been any use to him for the past seven years. Maybe this was a sign it was time to take another wife, one that was young enough to bear children and mature enough to understand her duties. That frightened little brat had been a child, but he had no problem training her up. He chuckled to himself.Fragile little thing.
In order to move on to his next bride, he’d have to confirm her death. Maybe even make it happen himself if she were still alive. That was why he took matters into his own hands by hiring the best detective he could find, Detective Albert Dalton.
General wasn’t a fool anymore. Josephine had been gone too long. The little wench up and left him. He doubted she had cousins in Wilmington. Why? Because he would have known. He knew everything about his wife, and she could never hide from him. The girl had nobody, so who was she fooling?
“Excuse me, General,” Mammy said, cracking open the door. “Detective Dalton is here to see you.”
General wiped his lips with a napkin. “Bring him in.”
The lanky man dressed in a gray striped suit and top hat entered, carrying his black leather case at his side. He removed his hat and shook General’s hand.
“It’s good to see you, Detective Dalton,” General said with a cunning smile. As he studied the man, his smile faded. He squinted. This detective looked no more than thirty. Even beneath his stubble beard, he couldn’t be fooling anyone. General’s money better be worth it, or God help the staff in this house once he took matters into his own hands.
“And you, too, General Wellington.” Detective Dalton seated himself at the desk in the corner, placing his briefcase on top. He crossed one leg over the other, so proper-like. If he had been a soldier, General would’ve made a man out of him one way oranother. “I confess I have been reading up on you. It has been an honor to work for you.”
Yeah, yeah.General wanted to roll his eyes. Detective Dalton was like any other money-hungry man, kissing up to him.“I heard you were the best, now I must be the judge of that.”
Detective Dalton chuckled softly, his cheeks reddening. “You put me in a big position, but I will try my best not to fail you. After all, your family seems to be very important. Two sons from West Point. You must have been proud.”
General wanted to burst into laughter. A proud father he was, two sons who were nothing but great disappointments to the Wellington reputation General worked so hard to create. Jared and Loyd were both ideal heirs—excellent swordsmen and riflemen with yearning for war pumping through their veins. General didn’t baby the sons like his late wife Martha did, and that was why he sent them to West Point when they both turned thirteen. He couldn’t have been any prouder when they came out on top of their class.
He was determined for them to get high rankings as soon as they joined the Confederate Army, and their accomplishments would redeem the family line, tarnished by General’s cowardly father. Instead they perished alongside two of Josephine’s pathetic brothers in the Battle of Gettysburg.
General cursed his bloodline, for his sons had taken after their grandfather, too frail for the world. He was a general—one of the best—who had two sorry excuses for sons. What a great shame they brought!
“My condolences, General Wellington,”he heard for two long years following the deaths.“Your family will be in our prayers. Your sons were heroes, and we are grateful for their service.”
Heroes? General could spit. It was a title they hadn’t earned, only fought in one battle. A war hero had a sharp mind for combat and invisible strength and courage. He wanted towring Loyd and Jared’s necks for embarrassing him. That’s why General never mourned. He never mourned for anything or anyone. Even when Martha died.
“Since you remarried, have you had any other children?” Detective Dalton asked, pulling out a notebook.
General swallowed back a growl. His muscles tensed as his hands balled into a fist. The day he saw Josephine walking towards him in white, a smile had formed on his face. She was young and fresh with the body that could bear him ten sons. Martha was useless, and he was glad to be rid of her. General had struck a deal with Stephen Callahan: he would help restore Callahan’s plantation with his inheritance of gold, but in return, Callahan’s young daughter would be required to restore the Wellingtons’ family line. The perfect exchange. However, he had been deceived.
“None,” General answered.
Detective Dalton’s brows furrowed in concentration. “How many years were you two married?”
General gritted his teeth. How many questions was this man going to ask? “Where is this going? Aren’t you supposed to find my wife?”
