You have to be more careful, Liv,” Hudson Wallace scolded his sister as he folded their mother’s treasured quilt. “What if one of the guests saw it hanging off the balcony and knows what it means?”
“When did you turn into a handwringer?” Liv grabbed the blanket out of his hands and refolded it. “And if anyone asks, we’ll tell them it had just been washed and was hanging out to dry. As if anyone would dare.”
“Still, be careful. You know the penalty for helping runaways escape.”
“I know, and I will be more careful, I promise.” She laid the quilt on the edge of her bed then turned back to him. “We really need to get downstairs. Pa will be calling up the South Carolina Regulars if we don’t put in an appearance soon.”
“You go on.” Hudson strolled over to the double doors leading to the balcony. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
Liv gathered her hat and gloves from her dresser and headed for the door. “Don’t be too long. Mama’s invited most of Abbeville today. I think she’s hoping you’ll fall in love with one of the local girls and settle down.”
“I would’ve figured every woman of age in Anderson County would be under lock and key given my reputation.”
“You and I both know you’re using your ‘reputation’ as a disguise.” She leaned against the doorframe. “If any of these women knew what you were doing, they’d fall at your feet and pledge their eternal love.”
Hudson scoffed. “I highly doubt that, considering I’d be tarred and feathered if not dead.”
Liv pulled the door open then turned back to him. “Dear brother, you simply haven’t met the right kind of woman yet.” She gave him an affectionate smile as the door closed behind her.
His sister and her romantic tripe. Didn’t she realize it was all a lie? Hudson stared out the balcony window at the growing crowd below. Look at them, the pinnacle of Anderson County society trampling through his mother’s beloved rose garden, only here to see if the rumors were true that the wayward son had come home.
He took a sip of the warm lemonade Amos had brought him when Father had sent his man to fetch him. Hudson knew his father’s reasons for calling him home. Yes, Mother could use a bit of sea air after her brush with pneumonia last winter, but more importantly, they were to organize a sea escape for runaway slaves through the Port of Savannah. A dangerous undertaking to be sure, but his parents were up to the challenge. He and Liv would “conduct” former slaves through their “station” while Father and Mother were gone.
But it couldn’t be out of the family home anymore. Running the operation out of Mount Paran was too dangerous. He would inform the conductors that he would be moving the operations to his property at Thorndike Hall.
A glimpse of honey blond curls below caught his attention, but she was gone before he could discover who it was. He only knew one person with that glorious shade of hair. Jorgine Emerson. His heart sped up at the thought of her. She’d been seventeen last time he’d seen her, tall and slender with an air of girlish innocence about her. The memory of that afternoon seeped through him. She’d come to give him her heart, and he’d ripped it to pieces like a page of thick parchment. Even now, all these years later, he could see he’d had no other choice.
A light knock on the door startled him. Someone looking for his sister? Or maybe a quiet place to escape the crush downstairs? Hudson walked across the room. “If you’re looking for the ladies’ salon, it’s downstairs in the ballroom.” He opened the door to find himself staring into a pair of familiar violet-blue eyes. “Jor…I mean, Miss Emerson.”
She looked as surprised as he felt. Her cheeks were flushed, and her full pink lips parted in a slight O. “Mr. Wallace. I wasn’t expecting to find you here.” She glanced down the hallway then back at him. “I thought this was Liv’s room.”
“It is.” He hesitated slightly then turned toward the balcony. “I’ve always liked the view from her room.”
When he turned back, he found her staring at the folded quilt on the chair. “I was looking for your sister. I need to speak to her on an urgent matter.”
That spiked his interest. “What kind of matter, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Her eyes snapped up to meet his. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
This wasn’t good. Any minute now, someone could discover them, and then what? Jorgine’s reputation would be left in tatters. But he had a part to play, a disguise of carefree rogue. Hudson threw open the door and stepped aside, almost daring her. “As you can see, my sister isn’t here.”
Instead of turning tail and running like he had hoped, Jorgine walked inside.
This isn’t the same girl who offered me her heart. Unsure what to do, Hudson closed the door. “Dear heavens, woman, have you gone mad? If someone were to catch you here with me…”
“Calm down. No one’s going to see me.” Her gaze caught on the quilt again, and she walked over to the chair. “Liv and I used to play hide-and-seek in this room when we were children.” She picked up the corner of the blanket. “I think I could find a way to conceal myself.”
Tarnation! Jorgine was a bright woman. If she put two and two together, his days of helping runaway slaves would be numbered. Best to scare her off. Walking toward her, he gave her a wolfish smile. “A gift from a widowed lady in Atlanta. She thought it might keep me warm at night.”
She blushed to the roots of her blond hair yet pushed on. “Why was it hanging from the window?”
A good question, one he had a ready answer for, but Jorgine muddled his thoughts. Turning the questions on her would give him time to think. “Why do you think it was there?”
Jorgine hesitated, almost as if she were weighing her response. Finally, she straightened slightly, her chin tilted in that stubborn little way of hers. “Papa told me of a group of people who use quilts as signals to help slaves travel north. I was hoping Liv might be able to help me with that.”
“Why?” The question was out before Hudson could stop himself. Though he knew of Jorgine through Liv, his sister had never mentioned Jorgine’s thoughts on slavery.
“I need to get Sally away from here.”
“Sally?”
“My maid,” she whispered, then added almost as an afterthought, “My friend.”
She spoke with such sincerity, Hudson almost believed her. But a conversation he’d overheard between his father and Elliott Emerson, especially the part where Emerson had refused to free his slaves because “it would hurt Jorgine,” still weighed heavy on him. Had she truly had a change of heart concerning slavery? Or was she one of those trying to stop Miss Tubman’s work?
Hudson folded his arms over his chest. “Why her?”
“I’m to be married in a month.”
There was no hint of excitement in her voice, no longing. Only dull acceptance. Something about it didn’t sit right with him. For all her faults, Jorgine deserved to be happy. “Congratulations. Who is the lucky man?”
“Win Wakefield.”
No wonder she seemed to dread her wedding. The Wakefields held power in Columbia and were wealthy as Midas, but their riches were built on the backs of slave hunters who trapped runaways like animals for a bit of coin. And Win? There were tales of illegitimate children among his slaves attached to his name. “A state senator, no less. Your father would be proud.”
“Papa would be appalled,” she bit out then pressed her lips tighter. “He never would have allowed this to happen if he’d lived.”
“I see.” Though he didn’t, not really. “His death freed you to make your own choice of a husband.”
“My choice?” Her voice strengthened. “Whenever does a woman have a choice, Hudson? Her entire life is managed by men.” She drew in a deep breath. “I just want to make sure Sally is safe.”
Dear heavens, had Jorgine heard the rumors about her intended? How could she marry such a man? “Does she have family in the North?”
She shook her head. “I just feel with my impending marriage, Sally might be happier away from here.”
“You mean away from Win?”
Color infused her cheeks again, but her gaze never faltered. “Yes.”
“You know your fiancé’s reputation yet you’re going through with the wedding?” Hudson wanted to shake some sense into her. “Are you that desperate for social standing?”
Her head snapped back as if he’d physically slapped her, but there was a fire in her eyes that Hudson found appealing. “You’re one to speak on the matter. Look at how your behavior has affected your family’s reputation. Why, poor Liv hasn’t had a male caller since you left for Atlanta.”
Hudson fought to keep from laughing. “Really, Jorgine. I can understand why Win would press for a quick wedding. You look positively magnificent when you’re in a snitch. I hope Win realizes what a prize he’s won.” He gave her a slight bow. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have guests waiting downstairs.”
Jorgine grabbed his arm as he turned to leave. “Please.”
There was a vulnerability in her voice that made the muscles around his heart clench. She’d never been one to ask for help. None of the Emersons did. Too much pride, his father had once said. Yet Jorgine was here, begging not for herself but for her servant girl.
He shouldn’t do this, not with so many lives hanging on his every decision, but he couldn’t help himself. “I might be able to help you.”
Hope lit in her eyes. “You will?”
For some strange reason, he felt a swell of satisfaction that Jorgine Emerson needed him. “You remember the large blueberry bush at Thorndike Hall?”
“Miss Lucille’s place?” Confusion wrinkled the smooth skin between her brows. “It’s been deserted for years.”
A perfect station for Hudson’s work with the underground. “You and Sally will go berry-picking tomorrow morning, so bring a bucket.”
“I don’t know, Hudson. What about Liv?”
He shook his head. No sense landing them both at the end of a rope if this was a trap. “Meet me at nine tomorrow morning in the lane outside the big house.”
Jorgine looked ready to stamp her dainty foot. Well, let her pitch a fit if she wanted, but she’d abide by his rules. After all, it wasn’t just his freedom at stake. She gave him a terse nod. “Fine, but you’re playing games with me.”
“I could say the same for you.”
Her lush mouth flattened. “I’ll be there at nine.”
He nodded as he stepped aside for her to pass. She was halfway to the door when he called out, “Jorgine?”
Her skirts rustled softly as she turned around. “Yes?”
Hudson gave her his most wicked smile. “Don’t forget the bucket.”