Page 50 of Just Imagine
Veronica Gamble was a Southerner by birth, if not by inclination. Born in Charleston, she had married the portrait painter Francis Gamble when she was barely eighteen. For the next fourteen years, they’d divided their time between Florence, Paris, and Vienna, where Francis had charged outrageous prices for flattering portraits of the wives and children of the aristocracy.
When her husband had died the previous winter, Veronica was left comfortably well off, if not wealthy. On a whim, she’d decided to return to South Carolina and the brick house that her husband had inherited from his parents. It would give her time to assess her life and decide what she wanted to do next.
In her early thirties, she was striking in appearance. Her auburn hair was pulled softly back from her face and fell in lustrous curls over the nape of her neck. Setting off its coppery hues were a pair of slanted eyes, almost as green as her fashionable Zouave jacket. On any other woman her full bottom lip would have been obtrusive, but on her it was sensual.
Although Veronica was considered a great beauty, her thin nose was a bit too long, her features too angular for true beauty. No man, however, seemed to notice. She had wit, intelligence, and the intriguing quality of watching those around her with an amused eye while she waited to see what life had in store.
She eased toward the doors at the back of the church, where the Reverend Cogdell was greeting his flock as they filed out. “Ah, Mrs. Gamble. How pleasant to have you with us this morning. I don’t believe you’ve met Miss Dorthea Calhoun. And this is Mr. Cain of Risen Glory. Where has Katharine Louise gone? I wanted you to meet her, too.”
Veronica Gamble had no interest in either Miss Dorthea Calhoun or anyone named Katharine Louise. But she was very much interested in the dazzling man who stood next to the pastor, and she gracefully inclined her head. “I’ve heard a great deal about you, Mr. Cain. Somehow I’d expected horns.”
Rawlins Cogdell winced, but Cain laughed. “I wish I’d been as fortunate to have heard of you.”
Veronica slipped her gloved hand into the crook of his arm. “The matter is easily remedied.”
Kit had heard Cain’s laughter, but she ignored it to focus her attention on Brandon. His regular features were even more attractive than she’d remembered, and the stray lock of straight brown hair that tumbled over his forehead as he talked was endearing.
He couldn’t have been more different from Cain. Brandon was polite where Cain was rude. And she didn’t have to worry about him mocking her. He was every inch a Southern gentleman.
She studied his mouth. What would it feel like to kiss it? Very exciting, she was certain. Much more pleasant than Cain’s assault the day she’d arrived.
An assault she’d done nothing to stop.
“I’ve thought about you quite often since we met in New York,” Brandon said.
“I’m flattered.”
“Would you like to ride with me tomorrow? The bank closes at three. I could be at Risen Glory within the hour.”
Kit gazed up at him through her lashes, an effect she’d practiced to perfection. “I’d enjoy riding with you, Mr. Parsell.”
“Until tomorrow, then.”
With a smile, she turned away to acknowledge several young men who’d been patiently waiting for a chance to speak with her.
As they vied for her attention, she noticed Cain deep in conversation with an attractive auburn-haired woman. Something about the attentive way the woman was gazing up at him grated on Kit. She wished he’d glance in her direction so he could see her so well surrounded by masculine company. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to notice.
Miss Dolly had been engaged in animated conversation with the Reverend Cogdell and his wife, Mary, who was her distant relative and the one who’d recommended her as a chaperone. Kit realized the Cogdells were looking increasingly bewildered. She hastily excused herself and hurried to Miss Dolly’s side.
“Are you ready to leave, Miss Dolly?”
“Why, yes, darlin’. I haven’t seen the Reverend Cogdell and his dear wife, Mary, in years. What a joyous reunion, hampered only by the recent events at Bull Run. Oh, but that’s old folk’s conversation, darlin’. Nothin’ for you to worry your pretty young head about.”
Cain must have sensed disaster, too, for he materialized at Kit’s side. “Miss Calhoun, the carriage is waiting for us.”
“Why, thank you, General—” Miss Dolly gasped and pressed her fingers to her mouth. “I—I mean Major, of course. Silly me.” With her ribbons all aflutter, she scampered toward the carriage.
The Reverend Cogdell and his wife stared after her in open-mouthed astonishment.
“She thinks I’m General Lee living in disguise at Risen Glory,” Cain said bluntly.
Rawlins Cogdell began to wring his pale, thin hands in agitation. “Major Cain, Katharine, I do apologize. When my wife recommended Dolly Calhoun for the post of chaperone, we had no idea— Oh, dear, this will never do.”
Mary Cogdell’s small brown eyes were filled with remorse. “This is all my fault. We’d heard she was nearly destitute, but we had no idea she was feebleminded.”
Kit opened her mouth to protest, but Cain cut her off. “You needn’t worry about Miss Calhoun. She’s settling in comfortably.”
“But Katharine can’t possibly stay at Risen Glory with you under these circumstances,” the minister protested. “Dolly Calhoun is hardly a proper chaperone. Why, she must have spoken to a dozen people today. By this afternoon everyone in the county will know about her. This won’t do. It won’t do at all. The gossip will be dreadful, Mr. Cain. You’re far too young a man—”
