Eight

“How do you expect me to captivate someone as handsome and interesting as Lowell Sheffield when I am limited to wearing nothing but black?” Alexandra twirled around, her skirts swirling with her. Her dress was cut in the newest style—empire waist, narrow skirt, and short sleeves—but the black cloth was only relieved by a narrow collar of lavender lace.

Her mother’s eyebrows crowded together. “You can’t flaunt tradition by abandoning your mourning colors so soon after your father’s death. We will both have to dress in black for at least a year.”

Alexandra collapsed on her bed. She put a hand under her chin and considered. “But it’s not like we’re living in Philadelphia or Boston. It’s not even New Orleans. And you know how many compliments I receive from gentlemen when I wear brighter colors.”

“I don’t know, dear. . . .”

Part of Alexandra wished her mother would argue with her instead of sitting there, staring off into the distance. If only Papa had not—

She shook her head to clear it of the useless thought. Papa had, and the past could not be changed. The color of her dress seemed unimportant compared to the path she and her mother were being forced to take. “Come on, Mama. Let’s go downstairs. It’s too late to change, anyway. Mr. Sheffield will be here any moment.”

Alexandra’s gaze followed her mother’s as it wandered around the room that had always been her special haven during visits. The pastel colors of the draperies and spread had faded a little over the years, but they brought her a sense of comfort nevertheless. To round out Alexandra’s education, Grand-mère had paid for an expensive teacher to come from New Orleans and instruct her in the art of watercolors. If her family was to be believed, she had some talent, so her landscapes were framed and hung in the room. Now they served as an ever-present reminder of happier times.

A knock on the door was followed by Jemma’s voice. “You have a guest in the parlor, Miss Alexandra.”

“Thank you.” Alexandra bent over her mother and pressed a kiss on her cheek. “Are you coming downstairs?”

Mama patted her cheek. “Of course I’ll come downstairs.” She gathered her shawl and pulled it around her shoulders before drifting toward the door.

Mr. Sheffield whisked Alexandra out of the house in a matter of minutes, ushering her into his carriage with a flourish. It was a fancy vehicle with large wheels and a plush seat perched high above the ground. “I hope you are not afraid of my phaeton.”

“Not at all.” Alexandra looked out over the landscape, savoring the wide view. “I love the feeling of wind rushing past.”

“You are so different than most of the girls around here.” He picked up the reins and guided the horse toward the main road. “Eager to enjoy whatever comes your way.”

Alexandra cast an admiring glance in his direction. “And you are a very astute man.” She placed a gloved hand on his arm. “But I’m sure you hear that every day, Mr. Sheffield.”

His ardent glance nearly scorched her. “I wish you would call me Lowell. All my closest acquaintances do.”

Wondering if things might be progressing a little too fast, Alexandra removed her hand and shifted a few inches away from him. “We aren’t children any longer.”

“No, Alexandra, but I am beginning to think we may be destined for something more lasting than a childhood friendship.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the flirtatious tone of his voice, the usage of her first name, or the heady feeling of thundering across the countryside, but her heart seemed to be galloping faster than the horse in front of them.

The road was far enough from Natchez and the Mississippi River that they saw few other travelers, only rolling fields of hay, corn, or cotton. When they turned off the main road, she was surprised to see field after field of unpicked cotton. She had been in the area for less than a week, but the Hugheses seemed to be behind on their harvest. Grand-mère’s fields were barren in comparison.

The carriage turned around a bend in the road, and she spotted a group of slaves who were working on the far side of a cotton field. She raised a hand to shade her gaze and realized a white man was working with the slaves. Alexandra frowned. She’d never seen an overseer who labored alongside the slaves. Was that why the Hugheses were so far behind their neighbors?

As if her gaze had disturbed the man, he straightened and stared in her direction. He looked familiar, but with the distance separating them, she could not recall where she might have seen him before. Then they were past the field, turning into the tree-shaded drive that led to the Hughes plantation home, and Alexandra pushed the thought away.

The Hughes plantation was impressive, although not as large as her grandmother’s home. The two-story building had a deep porch running across the front, topped by a balcony that was equally long and deep. Old oaks shadowed a pond on one side of the front lawn. Alexandra spotted a white egret standing on the bank, watching the dark water, undisturbed by their arrival.

A slave ran toward them and grabbed their horse’s halter. Lowell climbed down and tossed the reins to the boy before walking around to assist her.

Alexandra placed her slippered foot on the wooden step for dismounting and leaned forward into Lowell’s raised hands. He swung her toward the ground with ease and set her on her feet. She thought of stumbling on purpose so he would have to catch her but decided at the last moment to step back. Sometimes it was good to be a little unattainable. “Thank you.”

He raised an eyebrow, tucked his chin, and stared at her.

“Thank you. . .Lowell.”

His smile was as attractive as any she’d ever seen. “It’s my pleasure.”

She brought up her parasol and opened it to protect her complexion from the autumn sunlight. The action also gave her time to quiet the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Lowell was going to make a superb husband. Rich enough to grant her every wish and exciting enough to make any girl’s heart trip. Alexandra had to admit her grandmother had chosen the perfect man for her.

A slave ushered them into the wide entry hall common to most plantation homes. Several doors opened onto this area, and the slave led them toward one on the right. Lowell gave her both of their names so the slave could announce their arrival to Judah and Susannah Hughes.

The room they entered was somewhat smaller than her grandmother’s formal parlor, but it felt. . .cozy. The worn sofa on which Judah and his wife sat looked comfortable, if not fashionable. A scuffed, round table stood in front of it, a gleaming silver service atop it. On the far side of the table, three straight-backed chairs crowded each other, providing a place for guests to sit. Sheer curtains billowed around the tall, open windows. The breeze that moved them brushed her cheeks.

Mr. Hughes was struggling to get his crutches under his arm.

Alexandra’s heart went out to him. “Please don’t rise on my account, sir.”

“Nonsense.” He smiled at her as he pulled himself up. “What kind of man does not observe basic etiquette? Especially when visited by such a beautiful young lady.”

His wife rose, too. “It’s so nice to see you, Miss Lewis, Mr. Sheffield. Welcome to our home.”

“Thank you.” Alexandra curtsied to both of them before sinking into one of the chairs.

Mrs. Hughes sat back down, waiting until both of the gentlemen had also taken their seats. “How is your foot?”

“I am fully recovered, thanks to your kindness in rescuing me.”

Mr. Hughes shook his head. “All we did was offer a ride. It was Jeremiah who rescued you.”

Alexandra was about to answer him when the door to the parlor opened once more. She turned to see the subject of her host’s pronouncement enter. Of course! He was the man she had just seen across the cotton fields. No wonder he looked so familiar. But what was he doing in the parlor? Did he have some message for his master?

He had apparently taken a moment to rinse his face, although his cheekbones were flushed from his time in the bright sunlight. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and her gaze seemed caught by the muscles in his lower arms. Her mind flashed to the first night she’d seen him. She could almost feel those strong arms supporting her shoulders and knees.

The butterflies Lowell had caused earlier became more insistent, beating against her chest as though trying to escape. What had happened to the breeze? The air seemed to have been sucked out as this Jeremiah entered the room.

“Jeremiah.” Susannah raised a hand and the servant bowed over it. “We were just speaking of you.”

The butterflies got caught in Alexandra’s throat as the man turned his blue gaze in her direction. Unable to speak, she nodded at him, expecting him to turn from her and give some note or information to Mr. Hughes.

But he didn’t. Instead he seated himself in the chair next to hers. Whatever was the world coming to when a servant sat down to partake of tea? Her shocked gaze swept from him to the Hugheses. Neither of them looked as though anything was out of place.

“Miss Lewis, isn’t it? Are you and your mother recovered from your journey?” His voice curled around her, setting the butterflies loose once more.

Before Alexandra could voice her astonishment at his breach of manners, Mr. Hughes leaned forward. “That’s right. The two of you have not even been properly introduced. Miss Lewis, please allow me to introduce Jeremiah LeGrand, a man who has proven himself to be a courageous and devoted friend.”

As Mr. Hughes continued the introduction, Alexandra pinned a fake smile on her lips. She didn’t care if the man had single-handedly defeated the whole British Navy; he was a servant. He must be taking advantage of his master’s gratitude to insinuate himself into the society of his betters. It should not be allowed. She drew away from him, practically moving into Lowell’s lap. Not that the latter would mind.

She wished Mr. and Mrs. Hughes had not put her in this position. She wished she had not twisted her foot in Natchez Under-the-Hill. She wished this Jeremiah LeGrand had not helped her. Or that Grand-mère had sent someone to meet them. Only one of those little details would have made this afternoon unnecessary.

“Mr. . .LeGrand. You seem to be in the habit of rescuing others. Is that why you were working in the fields a little while ago?” She wondered if anyone else in the room noticed the frost in her voice. A quick glance at Mr. LeGrand’s stiff features gave her the answer. If he wanted to push his way into higher society, he would need to develop thicker skin.

“I try to follow the Lord’s bidding.” His voice didn’t sound angry, but she felt the sting of his words.

She lifted her chin and shot him an angry glance. “As do all good Christians.”

“Would you care for tea, Miss Lewis?” Susannah Hughes’s voice interrupted the staring contest between them.

Alexandra turned to her hostess and nodded, accepting the china being offered. She balanced the delicate saucer on her knee and sipped from the matching cup.

Mrs. Hughes served tea to the others in the room and the conversation became more general.

Lowell was the perfect gentleman, answering questions about his parents and sharing amusing anecdotes of local parties and hostesses. Then he coughed and leaned forward. “I regret my parents would not allow me to join you fellows in New Orleans. I would have enjoyed fighting next to Old Hickory.”

The man on the other side of her grimaced. “I thought General Jackson had an impossible task, but God stepped in.”

“What do you mean?” Alexandra couldn’t stay out of the conversation. “I was in New Orleans. General Jackson was nothing short of brilliant. My papa said he was everywhere, tireless even though he was not well.”

Judah Hughes put his teacup on the table in front of him. “I don’t think Jeremiah would disagree with you, would you?” He waited until Jeremiah nodded before continuing. “Very few people would dare disparage the Hero of New Orleans.”

The smile that turned up the corners of her mouth was so brittle she was surprised it did not shatter. “In that case I apologize, Mr. LeGrand.” She also placed her teacup on the table, glancing at Lowell as she did so.

He followed suit, standing and holding a hand out to her. “I believe we should take our leave, Miss Lewis. We have taken up too much of the Hugheses’ time.”

Alexandra stood up and put her hand on his arm. The other two men stood up, too.

Susannah reached for the bell pull. “It was so kind of you to come and see us. I hope you will visit again soon.”

“And you must come to Tanner Plantation. Grand-mère mentioned it specifically when I told her my destination. She said you have not been to visit in quite some time.”

“Yes, I have been rather busy, what with the harvest and then the arrival of my wonderful husband.” Susannah glanced toward him, her love written plainly across her face.

For a moment, Alexandra was jealous of the woman. As handsome as Lowell was, she could not see herself experiencing the kind of devotion Susannah felt for Judah. Then she caught herself. This poor woman was tied to a cripple, a man who would always struggle to climb stairs, a husband who could never again partner her at a ball. It was a tragedy. Susannah was a woman to be pitied, not envied.

Judah smiled at his wife. “Now that things are returning to normal, I’m certain we can arrange for you to spend some time visiting families here. If we can keep Jeremiah out of the fields, all three of us can go.”

“I doubt I’ll have much time for that.”

A shiver ran up Alexandra’s spine as his deep growl sounded behind her. “What a shame.” She swung around wondering what game he might be playing now. “I’m surprised you do not see the advantage of being introduced to my family. But perhaps as a servant, you are not aware they are some of the most prominent people in the territory.”

Susannah gasped at her words. “What?”

Jeremiah’s gaze narrowed on Alexandra’s face. “Don’t tell me you still think I’m a servant?”

Alexandra could feel the blush starting somewhere in the vicinity of her heart. It rose with all the insistence of an incoming tide, heating her face and ears as if someone was holding a hot iron to them. “What do you mean?”

Judah moved awkwardly toward her. “Jeremiah is not a servant. His uncle is one of the wealthiest men in the country. He has no need of any acquaintance to make his way in our society, here or anywhere else for that matter.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and wished the floor would swallow her up. But then her anger turned against the man who had deceived her. Why had he let it go this far? He knew, but he said nothing. Now she would have to apologize. “I am sorry, Mr. LeGrand.”

“It’s my fault.” His blue eyes, so lacking in condemnation, eased her shame. “I should have told you the truth on the night we first met.” He shrugged. “But you seemed to have so many more important issues to deal with that evening, and I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Alexandra was as embarrassed as the day she had discovered she was being shunned by Nashville’s elite because of her father’s actions. She was relieved when Lowell offered his arm, but she could feel Jeremiah’s blue gaze piercing the back of her neck as she was escorted out of the house and long after they had left the Hugheses’ land.

The ride home was quiet. She supposed that was her fault. She couldn’t think of much to say. Her mind was spinning from the implications of what she had learned. What kind of man worked when he did not have to? What kind of man had so little concern for his reputation that he would allow her to continue misjudging him? She could make no sense of it. Jeremiah was not like any other man she’d ever met.

She filed away her questions for consideration later and turned her attention to Lowell. Perhaps he would appreciate her reticence. He was probably much more used to women who gushed, giggled, and prattled endlessly.

They had almost arrived at her home before she thought to compliment his driving skills. “You are very kind to spend your afternoon squiring me around.”

His gaze was so different from the irritating man they had left at the Hughes plantation. His brown eyes were warm, kind, and intelligent. Although there had been warmth in Mr. LeGrand’s eyes, they held none of the eagerness she saw in Lowell’s. “Spending time with you is quite pleasant.”

The words were spoken with as much ardency as she could wish. But where were the butterflies? Had her time in Mr. LeGrand’s presence killed the budding romance? Nonsense. All she had to do was concentrate, and they would return. Wouldn’t they?