Page 6 of Caught in Time
“It’s lovely to meet you, Major.”
Her head titled slightly as she faced him, allowing her hair to cascade over a shoulder.
She beamed up at him, the gesture friendly and totally genuine.
It was easy to smile back at her, her delightful voice and crisp accent refreshing after the scores of women whose words had been deliberately sweetened for the purpose of husband catching.
“You say you are from Atlanta, but I detect a bit of a northern accent.
Instantly her face clouded, and he feared having erred. She watched him closely before answering, as though searching for malice in his inquiry.
“I lived in New York as a child,” she replied after a moment. “I moved to the south when I was but ten years old.”
Spencer watched the light drain from her captivating light green eyes, and her shoulders slumped sadly.
“My mother died of consumption when I was five and my father died from a massive angina pectoris attack just before General Sherman evacuated us from Atlanta. I’m afraid that aside from Aunt Annabelle I am very much alone.”
“I’m sorry.” He spoke quietly, silently kicking himself for his lack of tact. No doubt they had perished during the burning of Atlanta and that was why she had come to live with her aunt.
A single tear trickled down her cheek and she turned away as if to conceal the evidence of her distress. It was too late—Spencer saw a teardrop splash onto her lap and his heart ached for her. The war had taken a cruel toll on so many people, bitterness almost consumed Spencer. A desperate need to take Charlotte’s pain away gripped him, and on impulse he slipped an arm around her slender shoulders. He knew it was not proper for a gentleman to touch a woman he wasn’t acquainted with in such a way, but he should never leave a crying woman without consolation either.
An audible sigh rushed past her lips as she leaned into his embrace, laying her head upon his shoulder.
An unexpected thrill of excitement surged through Spencer. By damn... He hadn’t had this reaction to a woman in, well ...ever.
“Doctor Abbott. You made it.” Annabelle’s cheerful voice shattered the tender moment.
Guiltily, Spencer snatched his arm back and jumped to his feet.
“Yes, Miss Beauregarde. I, uh ... am pleased to see you again,” he stammered.
“Oh, where are my manners!” Annabelle exclaimed. She reached for Charlotte. “Major, I see you’ve already met my niece.”
“Yes, I have indeed.”
Even though she was a Southerner, Spencer Abbott could not deny the fact that he was looking forward to the opportunity to get to know Charlotte Liddell better.
