Little Love Affair (Southern Romance 1)

She did not slow, but he was faster than she was. He caught her at the bottom of the hill and dragged her to a stop, trying not to hurt her as she made to pull away from him.

“You knew he was from Pennsylvania?” Rage twisted her face into a mask.

“Yes, but I never guessed...” His voice trailed away. “I’m such a fool.”

“You’re worse than a fool!” Her voice rose. “You’re the reason he left us, do you realize that? He said it was for you, you and your kind. He left us behind and you told him what he did was right!”

“I never knew that was what he had done! If we knew he was Union, we would have—”

“What, strung him up for treason, when you’re the ones fighting your own government?”

“You don’t know! You can’t understand.”

“What can’t I understand? I understand all of it, Jasper. I understand that your people want to keep slaves, and that you’re rebelling, and that you took my brother from me and—”

“Clara, please, go to him.”

“Never.” Her face was cold.

“He realized he was wrong. You heard him, he only wanted to spare you pain, not telling you what he had done.” He was pleading with her. He could not bear his words, but the pain in her face was worse. Her brother, the one she had grieved...

“Well, it didn’t work, did it? He took my grief and turned it into shame.”

“Go see him.”

“No.” She yanked her hand away from his. “He can rot in hell for what he’s done, and so can you.” Her face twisted with determination. “My mother was right, Jasper. Passion leads only to heartbreak, and you’ve shown me that now. I never wanted to marry without love, and it was you that showed me I should.”

“What do you mean?” He was terrified to hear it, and she did not even try to cushion her words.

“I’ll be marrying Cyrus Dupont.” She raised her chin. “I accepted his proposal tonight. I want you and my brother gone before my mother can ever learn of his shame.”

Chapter 16

The gown floated about her like a dream, pale blue sleeves voluminous, blue ribbon accenting her shoulders and the lining of the stomacher. Clara turned her head to watch her mother pinning the hem, flounces just high enough for the even paler blue of the underskirt to show below it.

“Oh, Clara.” Cecelia’s eyes were wide. “You’re going to look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Clara tried to smile at her sister where she was perched on the bed.

Late afternoon sun gilded her golden-brown hair, and for the first time in days, Cecelia looked happy. Clara had expected storms of tears in the wake of the news, but Cecelia had been reserved, withdrawing to her room or staring quietly at her hands, not speaking. Now, at last, even though her eyes were shadowed from crying, she looked as if she might someday be happy again.

Clara wished she could have as much peace. She could feel her face trembling. “It will be a happy day,” she murmured.

Now if only she could believe it.

“Cecelia.” Millicent’s voice was calm. “I think I heard the goats braying. Would you go check on them? I’m worried they’ll dig under the enclosure again.”

“Now?” Cecelia pouted. “But I want to see the dress.”

“I’ll try it on for you later, “Clara promised.

Cecelia slipped out of the room with a last, final glance, and Millicent knelt calmly by her daughter’s feet until the heavy slam of the barn door let them know that she had reached the enclosure.

“Now,” the woman said briskly. “Suppose you tell me what this is about.”

Clara looked over, opening her mouth for a denial, and she saw her mother’s eyebrow come up.

“No, don’t bother trying to lie. You’re miserable, girl. You’ve been miserable for days. One might even say, since you accepted Mister Dupont’s proposal.”