Page 55 of Just Imagine
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m eating in this evening.” He put down his paper. “We have a guest for dinner.”
“A guest?” Kit looked down at her muddy gown and ink-stained fingers in dismay. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It didn’t occur to me.”
Kit’s whole day had gone badly. Sophronia had been cranky that morning, and they’d quarreled about nothing. Then Reverend Cogdell and his wife had come calling. They’d recounted all the gossip that Kit’s stay at Risen Glory without a proper chaperone was producing and urged her to live with them until someone more suitable could be found. Kit had been doing her best to reassure them that Miss Dolly was up to the task when her companion had fluttered into the room and insisted they roll bandages for the Confederate wounded. When they’d left, Kit had helped Sophronia clean the Chinese wallpaper in the dining room with bread crusts. Then she’d spilled a bottle of ink while she was writing to Elsbeth. Afterward, she’d gone for a walk.
There’d been no time to change for dinner, but since she wasn’t expecting anyone except Miss Dolly at the table, she hadn’t been concerned about the condition of her plain muslin dress. Miss Dolly would scold her, but she scolded her about her appearance even when Kit was dressed up. Again she glanced at the ink stains on her fingers and the mud on her skirt from kneeling to free a baby field sparrow caught in a tangle of brambles.
“I’ll need to change,” she said just as Lucy appeared at the door.
“Miz Gamble’s here.”
Veronica Gamble swept into the room. “Hello, Baron.”
He smiled. “Veronica, it’s good to see you again.”
She wore a stylish jade-green evening gown with an underskirt of bronze-and-black striped satin. A border of overlapping black lace trimmed the décolletage and set off the pale, opalescent skin of a natural redhead. Her hair was swept up into a sophisticated arrangement of curls and braids caught in a crescent of bronze silk laurel leaves. The difference in their appearances couldn’t have been more apparent, and Kit self-consciously smoothed her skirt, which did nothing to improve it.
She realized Cain was watching her. There was something oddly satisfied in his expression. He almost seemed to be enjoying comparing her unkempt appearance with Veronica’s perfection.
Miss Dolly swept into the room. “Why, I didn’t know we were having company tonight.”
Cain performed the introductions. Veronica replied graciously, but that didn’t ease Kit’s resentment. Not only was the other woman elegant and sophisticated, but she radiated an inner self-confidence Kit didn’t think she’d ever possess. Next to her, Kit felt callow, awkward, and unattractive.
Veronica, in the meantime, was engaging Cain in conversation about the newspaper he’d been reading.
“. . . that my late husband and I were great supporters of Horace Greeley.”
“The abolitionist?” Miss Dolly began to quiver.
“Abolitionist and newspaper editor,” Veronica replied. “Even in Europe, Mr. Greeley’s editorials supporting the Union cause were much admired.”
“But, my dear Mrs. Gamble . . .” Miss Dolly gasped like a guppy. “Surely you don’t mean— I understood you were born in Charleston.”
“That’s true, Miss Calhoun, but I somehow managed to rise above it.”
“Oh, my, my . . .” Miss Dolly pressed her fingertips to her temples. “I do believe I’ve developed a headache. I’m sure I won’t be able to eat a bite of dinner. I think I’ll just go to my room and rest.”
Kit watched in dismay as she fled from the room. Now she was alone with them. Why hadn’t Sophronia told her that Mrs. Gamble was expected so Kit could have taken a tray in her room? It was outrageous for Cain to expect her to dine with his mistress.
The thought made her chest hurt.
She told herself it was outraged propriety.
Veronica sat on the settee while Cain took his place in a green-and-ivory-upholstered chair next to her. He should have looked ridiculous on such a delicate piece of furniture, but he seemed as comfortable as if he were astride Vandal or perched on the roof of his cotton mill.
Veronica told Cain a story about a comic mishap at a balloon ascension. He tossed back his head and laughed, showing even, white teeth. The two of them might have been alone for all the notice they were taking of Kit.
She rose, unwilling to watch them together any longer. “I’ll see if dinner’s ready.”
“Just a minute, Kit.”
Cain uncoiled from his chair and walked toward her. Something calculated in his expression made her wary.
His eyes roamed over her crumpled frock. Then he reached for her. She started to back away, only to have him catch a lock of hair in his fingers near one of her silver combs. When his hand came away, he was holding a piece of twig.
“Climbing trees again?”
