Honor Bound (Shades of Gray Civil War Serial Trilogy Volume II) Page 17

  At last, a sly smile began to spread across her face. “Luckily for me, Alex has always been quite indulgent with his time.” Her tone and wicked smile indicated it should be Andrea’s turn to take offense. “He has taught me many things that have nothing to do with war…Many things.”

  As Victoria then became absorbed in gulping yet another glass of wine, Andrea took the opportunity to lean over toward Hunter once again. She put her hand lightly on his and whispered confidentially. “Major, I don’t know what your lessons entailed, but I fear your time was grossly misspent.”

  “So-o-o,” Victoria said, bringing the glass down to the table none too steadily. “Since it is Alex’s wish that we get to know each other, perhaps you could enlighten me about your past.” She stared at Andrea with a malicious sparkle in her eyes. “And perhaps you would like to tell us how much money you’ve won playing poker with that boy…Johnny.”

  Victoria removed her eyes from Andrea and spoke to Hunter as if Andrea was no longer present. “Really Alex, I saw her. It was absolutely revolting.”

  Andrea hesitated in responding, trying to decide whether to remain calm and defend herself verbally, or jump across the table and choke the life out of the one who had spoken the words. After a moment of reflection, she decided against settling the issue with violence for Hunter’s sake. But she hoped he understood that her quiet, cat-like behavior was the result of her claws being slowly extracted into fighting mode—not a sign that peace was imminent.

  “You have me at a disadvantage Victoria,” Andrea replied calmly. “Your ability to draw vast conclusions from a small ill-defined premise is perhaps a trait of your superior breeding. Nevertheless, you misunderstood what you saw. I was merely giving the boy some pointers.”

  “And how would you know anything of poker?” Victoria’s gaze swept her up and down. “Why it is simply repulsive to think that a woman would have any knowledge of such a thing. But then again, you are from Maryland.” She spat the name as if it were some incurable disease. “Why, I’m only surprised you do not drink whiskey and chew tobacco as well.”

  Andrea surprised herself by remaining deceptively calm. “But I do drink whiskey, Victoria. Preferably right out of the bottle. You should try it sometime as opposed to drinking wine by the—”

  “Miss Evans!”

  Andrea looked up into eyes that demanded silence, but she ignored them.

  “Do not take offense that my education has been a little more comprehensive than yours, Miss Hamilton,” she said proudly. “Evidence suggests that, although you may be superior in social influence, you are, despite your heritage, quite deficient in a number of other areas.”

  Victoria rolled her eyes dramatically and pretended to shiver. “I beg your pardon. Are you saying that just because I don’t know how to run barefoot and drink whiskey out of a bottle that I am somehow deficient?”

  “It is not for me to determine in what you are lacking.” Andrea shifted her gaze and allowed it to rest on Hunter as if that job belonged solely to him.

  Victoria looked at Alex with a mortified expression, then put her hand to her head. “Alex, I have tried…Yes I have tried, to overlook her homespun ways and uncouth manner, but really, must we attempt to have a reasonable conversation with her? I do not believe she is capable.”

  “And you are?” Andrea raised her eyebrows. “Capable of a reasonable conversation?”

  “La, my dear. I have been tutored in the delicate nature of being a lady, a concept obviously not familiar to you.” She paused and then added with her nose in the air, “Of course, it’s not your fault that you lack the breeding and cultivation of a Virginian.”

  Andrea looked at Hunter, expecting him to put an end to the dispute, but with all his warrior’s blood, he appeared bewildered at the catfight occurring before him and seemed equally unsure of just what should be done to stop it. Andrea had no choice but take care of the creature on the other side of the table herself. She sat back in her chair and delicately patted her mouth with napkin even though she hadn’t eaten anything.

  “I must confess Miss Hamilton, I do not share in the belief that God made Virginia first, then tossed off the rest of the world as an afterthought.”

  Victoria puffed up, instantly offended, her gaze roaming from Hunter to Andrea and back again, as if she agreed that he should somehow put a stop to the conversation. She leaned forward and spoke with renewed hostility. “I will have you know that this commonwealth and its citizens are the most distinguished and respected in the entire nation.”

  “I suppose I will have to take your word on that.” Andrea cocked her head to the side and watched Victoria guzzle another glass of wine. “It’s been my experience that respectable women are not necessarily indigenous to this sacred soil.”

  Victoria choked the wine down successfully, and then slammed her hand on the table. “I believe Alex has made it clear to you that I am to be treated with respect. I am an honorable woman!”

  Andrea raised her eyebrows in a questioning manner, and was just about to tell Victoria she would accept the statement once the proper evidence was presented, but she changed her mind. This had gone on long enough. Instead of getting angry, Andrea felt a sense of calm indignation as she became absorbed in the notion of seeing the self-proclaimed aristocrat wantonly insulted.

  No, not wantonly insulted. Make that, shocked to the center of her prim and proper Virginia-bred soul.

  Andrea’s voice took on the conciliatory tone of one who is trying to gain an adversary’s confidence.

  “Perhaps you are right, Victoria,” she said in a soft, appeasing voice. “I admit I don’t have your delicate nature or cultured breeding.” She paused and stared down at her hands folded on her lap. “I know that you possess a distinction and superiority, which I, and others like me, can only aspire to.”

  Andrea thought she saw Hunter roll his eyes toward heaven—something uncharacteristic for him—but she did not stop. “Perhaps, if you’d be so kind, Victoria, you could answer a question about the refined Virginian culture that I…” She took a big, quivering, woeful breath. “That I know so little about.”

  “Miss Evans—”

  “Oh, stop, darling,” Victoria hushed Hunter. “The poor girl wants some advice.” She lowered her eyelashes onto her overly powdered cheeks, obviously flattered by the request.

  “Isn’t it true,” Andrea said, inclining toward Victoria to ensure she caught every word, “that women of your refined, Virginian lineage are—”

  “Yes, dear?” Victoria leaned forward as well, intent on hearing the question.

  “… are usually married by the time they reach your age?”

  Victoria’s mouth gaped open, but otherwise she did not respond. Andrea decided to strike while the iron was hot. “I was always taught that a woman’s virtue is presumed until the contrary is proved, but, frankly, the appearance you present is rather, well …” Andrea paused and waved her hand in the air. “La, never mind. I believe I’ve gone and answered my own question.”

  She barely had time to finish and lean back contentedly in her chair before the room erupted into a scene of pandemonium. Victoria looked at Alex in horror and then shrieked so loudly the chandelier overhead rattled and jingled like a wind chime being whipped by a storm gale.

  Andrea thought for a delightful moment that Victoria was going to faint dead away—as a true, quality-bred lady probably should. Instead, she got a little of the uncivilized hellcat about her and reached for the vase of flowers on the table. Andrea ducked when the heirloom sailed in her direction and heard it shatter into splinters against the fireplace mantel behind her.

  Hunter, on the other hand, stood in a rush, apparently afraid he was going to have to catch a swooning Victoria. The movement sent his chair skidding across the hardwood floor where it crashed with the sound of a massive explosion against a small serving table, sending both pieces of furniture plunging to the floor.

  Meanwhile Iz
zie, who was a little skittish anyway, saw the coming tempest, and in an attempt to make her escape before the full storm hit, ran headlong into Mattie, who was coming through the same door in a hurry to see what the commotion was about. Dishes and food went flying, some of it landing in Victoria’s hair, thereby causing her to scream all the more hysterically.

  A darker shadow of tumult could hardly have fallen on the domestic tranquility of Hawthorne had the enemy opened fire with a full battalion of artillery. Andrea sat gazing straight ahead, her hands folded on her lap, her eyes unblinking. She tried to suppress any indication that she had been the cause of this macabre disturbance, but failed to control a twitch at the corner of her mouth when she thought about the simplicity of it all. Oh, the power of words.

  But her triumph was soon erased. As Hunter helped a bawling Victoria from the room—so pale, so pathetic, so hysterical—Andrea let out a sigh of relief. The displeasing evening had at last come to an end. Knowing it was not proper etiquette for her to quit the table until the lady of the household had done so, Andrea waited until Hunter and Victoria were at the threshold before she stood to take her leave.

  “Don’t move!” Hunter’s voice from the doorway sounded so authoritative, so very convincing, Andrea deemed it advisable to comply with his command.

  And so she sat and listened to his retreating voice trying to calm the insensible and inconsolable Victoria. From what Andrea gathered from the vociferous howlings emanating from above, the gallant Hunter was having little luck soothing his fair maiden’s nerves.

  Andrea tried to initiate a conversation with Izzie and Mattie as they cleaned up the mess on the floor, but to her great surprise, they avoided her side of the room as if she had just been stricken with some fearfully contagious disease.

  Occasionally they threw anxious glances in her direction as if to see what other calamity she was going to impart on their beloved master, but mostly their looks consisted of angry glares and apprehensive scowls.

  So Andrea sat pouting, her elbows on the table in a most unladylike fashion, waiting for her host to return. No matter what direction she cast her eyes, the impact of her work was evident, causing her to almost shiver with suppressed laughter.

  But her sense of satisfaction disappeared in an instant when it suddenly grew quiet upstairs. Andrea stirred uneasily in her chair, finding the silence more disturbing than the noise. And when she heard the unmistakable fall of Hunter’s heavy boots coming down the stairs, she decided there was something infinitely worse than the silence.

  Izzie and Mattie apparently had the same evaluation and made a mad rush for the kitchen door.

  Chapter 33

  If you ever again try to interfere with me or cross my path, it will be at the peril of your life.

  – Confederate General Nathan Bedford Forrest

  Instinctively Andrea’s heart began to pick up its pace at the thought of the impending interview with Major Hunter. The fun part of the evening was over. The aftermath of the battle of wits was about to begin. And if the angry tread of footsteps was any indication, it was not going to be nearly as pleasant or as entertaining as the previous engagement.

  Andrea held her breath as Hunter apparently stopped at the door behind her, presumably taking in the scene of destruction. She felt his eyes penetrating the back of her head and wondered if the intensity of that glare would blind her if she turned around.

  She did not have the nerve to find out.

  “Miss Evans.” He strode across the room in his usual dashing style, his boots echoing loudly across the wood planked floor. Andrea saw out of the corner of her eye that he had removed his coat in his absence, and was now rolling up his sleeves and shaking his head, the way men often do when they are anticipating a long, drawn out battle.

  “Yes, Major?” She gazed up at him innocently with her chin planted on her hands.

  “Tell me, is this your idea of a truce?” Hunter’s eyes flashed with a look that could halt a lightning bolt in mid-strike.

  “She fired the first shot.” Andrea focused her attention on a painting over his shoulder.

  “She fired the first shot?” Hunter hit the table with his fist so hard it made Andrea jump and caused the chandelier to jingle again. “Had you a gun in your hand in place of your wicked tongue, I’ve no doubt not a soul in this room would have been left standing!”

  The thought of such a scene tickled Andrea so that she snorted trying to suppress a laugh. She covered her mouth with her hand to hide her amusement from his gaze.

  “It is not funny! This is a monstrous affront to my hospitality!”

  “Hospitality?” Andrea grew instantly serious, and blinked in surprise. “I thought I made it clear I would prefer crawling into bed with a nest of rattlesnakes than accept the invitation.”

  Andrea again tried to conceal a grin with the back of her hand, but the attempt did nothing to screen her mirthful eyes.

  “You think this is great fun, don’t you?” Hunter waved his hand at the mess. “Is there no deviltry to which you will not stoop? Are you driven by some mad inner force to do whatever you should not?”

  Andrea looked around the room, surveying the devastation thoughtfully. Broken glass and dishes were strewn across the room, and a chair and small table lay overturned against the far wall. Something red had splashed on the floor and against the door where Izzie and Mattie collided, looking for all the world like a massacre had occurred there. The room could be likened to a small-scale Armageddon. She looked up at Hunter. “One would not think such carnage could be created without gunpowder, would one?”

  Hunter put his hands on his hips in a threatening manner. “And yet you are no doubt proud to have created such havoc armed only with your wit and tongue!”

  “No, I am not proud. I simply attacked at the weakest point, which is to say her mind, a strategy with which you are not altogether unfamiliar, I am sure.”

  Hunter scowled at her attempt to be clever. “Yes, the tongue has no bone, yet it crushes. And I dare say yours yields more punch than a bloody frying pan.”

  Andrea smiled triumphantly, interpreting his slur as a compliment, causing him to erupt again.

  “This is an outrage. We had a truce. How dare you disobey.”

  “That is not true.” Andrea’s smile vanished in an instant. “You demanded a truce. I did not submit to it. I would never submit to a truce with a conniving, manipulating she-Rebel. Didn’t I warn you that this was the inevitable outcome of your ill-conceived scheme?”

  “Warned me? I do not believe I was forewarned of a major engagement in my dining room!”

  Andrea sighed and gazed around the room. “I was not desirous of bringing on a general engagement, but please, sir, the battle was inevitable. Alone as I am on enemy soil, I am obliged to defend myself, am I not?”

  Hunter seemed for a moment almost devoid of speech. “Defend yourself? Can you not curb your propensity for warfare for one evening?”

  “I believe I showed great powers of restraint,” Andrea said with a toss of her head. “And as for warfare, surely you cannot believe I’d attend here tonight, outnumbered two to one, without anticipating and preparing for premeditated malice from the enemy.”

  “This was no occasion for hostilities,” Hunter said in a voice that trembled with anger. “You could not have done more bodily damage had you beaten her with a horsewhip.”

  “You are much deluded if you believe that to be true.” Andrea failed to suppress a grin. “Yet I would be willing to test your theory…”

  “Don’t trifle with me, Miss Evans. Since you have been here this home has been the scene of perpetual turbulence, a cauldron ever ready to boil over.”

  Andrea smiled gleefully and then pretended to cough when he fixed his eyes upon her.

  Hunter gazed at her sternly. “Will you not try to get along?”

  “I’ll be honest with you.” Andrea wiped some imaginary food off her lap before finishing. “
I’d be more inclined to watch her rebel carcass being picked clean by the birds of Hell.”

  “Good - - -, Andrea!” Hunter’s fist hit the table, but that didn’t surprise Andrea nearly as much as the usage of the Lord’s name and hers in the same sentence. She looked up at him curiously as the two names rolled off his lips like they were both old acquaintances whom he had addressed as such a thousand times. Yet she could not remember him ever calling her anything but Miss Evans, and was fairly sure discussions with his Maker were even more infrequent.

  “You are greatly mistaken, my dear, if you feel my leniency with you will last forever.”

  His voice was one that both threatened and implied a promise, yet Andrea refused to back down. “I believe your leniency has been reserved for Victoria and well it should be. One shouldn’t be too hard on someone who wouldn’t know a rock from a ramrod.” She looked up at him with wide innocent eyes. “Surely, even you must find her obtuseness tiresome.”

  “On the contrary.” He crossed his arms and spread his legs in a stance that suggested he was taking the offensive. “Sometimes I believe she has infinitely more wisdom than you.”

  Hunter’s words had the effect of a match to gunpowder. “Retrieve that!” Andrea stood and seized a knife on the table, slamming it down so that it stuck upright on the table. “That is an unpardonable insult!”

  “She is not to blame for your constant discontentment, nor is she in anyway responsible for the circumstances that brought you here,” he said calmly. “That is the fault of no one but yourself.”

  “She is so evil she would wish to rob the sunrise of its splendor if she could but rise early enough to witness it.” Andrea paced erratically for a moment, then took a deep breath for control. “Major, I would tell you what I think of your assessment of the situation, but fortunately for you, I’m a Christian lady.”

  Hunter laughed. “I don’t know from what great nation of Christendom you hail, but you’ve never concerned yourself with holding your tongue in check before on that basis.”