The Reluctant Bridegroom. Shannon Farrington

eyes were sky blue. “Then no doubt you could tell me to which class and order each plant belongs,” he said.

      “Only a few of them,” she admitted. “Though I have wished to know more, I have not had much time to study such.” Father won’t allow it. He thinks the pursuit frivolous.

      He nodded as if he understood. “There are many things that we may wish to do but that our present duties won’t allow.”

      Rebekah immediately took offense. Surely your duties are not as constrictive as my own. You are free to come and go as you please... You are not being pawned off at another’s whim.

      “I have a copy of The Florist’s Manual somewhere about this house,” he said. “If you like, I shall ask James to find it for you. He knows this house better than I.”

      Though the offer was again intriguing, she couldn’t help but stiffen at the mention of James. Noticing, the man asked,

      “Have I offended you?”

      “It is not the offer of the floral guide that I find offensive,” she said. “It is the idea of continued slavery.”

      Councilman Nash’s eyes narrowed. He immediately frowned. “James was never my slave. I retained his services when I took possession of this home, when my father first moved to his new home in Annapolis.”

      Retained his services? Rebekah blinked. “Then he...didn’t belong to your father?”

      “I don’t like to think of him as belonging to anyone, but to answer your question simply, no. He did not.”

      Oh. Feeling foolish and fearing what might come next, she hurried to explain. “I assumed that since your father voted to keep slavery legal in Maryland—”

      “I am not my father, Miss Van der Geld.”

      Rebekah lowered her eyes. While his voice had not the same bite as her father’s, she plainly heard the firmness in it. “No, of course not. Forgive me. That was wrong of me to—”

      “There is no need for forgiveness.”

      No need? She dared reclaim his gaze. His look was charitable, his tone soft.

      “But since we are dealing with assumptions,” he said, his tone softening further, “is there anything else about me that you question?”

      Anything else? There were a thousand things, but Rebekah didn’t know where to begin.

      “You’ve probably been told by someone along the way that I never served in the army,” he said.

      “I have.”

      He nodded as if he had expected such an answer. “The truth is, I did serve, but I was never given a commission. I was part of the balloon corps. In the army’s eyes, I was still considered a civilian.”

      “Balloon corps? As in hot-air balloons?”

      He nodded again. “Yes. Although ours were filled with hydrogen. They were used for reconnaissance. We provided tactical information to the commanders on the ground.”

      “You mean the position of the rebel army?”

      “Yes.”

      “But didn’t your brother-in-law serve—?”

      “In the Confederate army? Yes, he did. He did what he believed was his duty. I did mine.”

      He was not the first man from Maryland to be pitted against his own family. Rebekah couldn’t help but feel a measure of pity toward him. “That must have been very difficult for your sister.”

      “It was.”

      “And yet she named you the guardian of her children?”

      “John was killed at Monocacy Junction, a battle in which I had no bearing. Marianne also knew I was not personally at war with her husband, any more than John was with me.”

      They had reached one of the benches. He invited her to sit. A shiver ran through her as she claimed a place as close to the edge as possible. He claimed the opposite side. An awkward silence now prevailed. She and Councilman Nash were not here to discuss the war, or even his extended family. There was another matter to be resolved.

      “Miss Van der Geld,” he said. “I won’t trouble you any longer. I’m certain your father has spoken to you. While he may consider this matter concluded, this moment only a formality... I do not. I should very much like to know what you think of all of this.”

      Rebekah was stunned. What I think of all of this? Was Henry Nash giving her the opportunity to refuse?

      “Your father has given his consent, but all that means nothing if I have not yours.”

      “My consent?” she asked.

      “Of course. It is your future you are deciding...not that of your father.”

      My future? Yes! Yes, it is my future! Suddenly she felt as though she’d found that elusive back gate, and freedom stood just beyond it. The councilman is granting me leave to escape! Like a butterfly in flight, she could go anywhere she wished!

      As exhilarating as the feeling of freedom was, however, she realized it was not truly within her reach. Whatever flight she might take would be very short-lived. Her father would recapture her. And then to whom will I be assigned?

      “You seem at a loss for words,” Mr. Nash observed.

      “I am afraid I am.” What else could she say? What could she do? She was trapped.

      Suddenly the door to the house opened. A little girl, four or five at the most, came charging down the path.

      This must be one of his nieces, Rebekah thought.

      The child froze the moment she saw a stranger in the garden. Rebekah’s heart immediately went out to her as she recognized the look on the child’s face. Rebekah knew it all too well. It was a look of loneliness, of fear.

      Apparently the councilman recognized it, also, for he spoke to his niece with a tender voice, welcomed her forward. “It’s all right, Kathleen. Come and meet my friend, Miss Van der Geld.”

      Friend, not fiancée. Again Rebekah noted the choice he was granting her.

      The man held out his hand toward the child. She crept closer. Rebekah couldn’t help but notice the family resemblance. She had the same blue eyes, but whereas her uncle’s hair was slightly curly, hers was completely straight.

      Rebekah offered her what she hoped was a disarming smile. The little girl gripped the leg of the councilman’s trousers.

      “It’s all right,” he assured once again as he slid his arm around her protectively. Watching, Rebekah’s throat tightened.

      “There’s a man in the parlor,” Kathleen whispered, although the tone was loud enough for Rebekah to overhear.

      A man, she thought. My father. Had the child had some sort of encounter with him? That would certainly explain her fear.

      “Yes, I know about that man,” the councilman said. “He hasn’t come to take you away. You need not be afraid.”

      Rebekah heard the unspoken promise. I’m here. I will protect you. What was it like to receive such an assurance? What is it like to be nurtured? Loved?

      Henry Nash then turned to her. “Kathleen has only very recently come to live with me.”

      “I see,” Rebekah said, hoping he hadn’t noticed the hitch in her voice. “And I understand you have a sister.”

      The girl stared at her.

      “Her name is Grace,” her uncle offered.

      “Grace,” Rebekah repeated with a smile. “What a beautiful name, as is Kathleen.”

      The girl didn’t return the smile, but her grip on her uncle’s trousers loosened slightly.