Counterfeit Courtship. Christina Miller

got up and started for the door. “I’m going to see if the neighbors know anything about Noreen. This afternoon, we’ll decide what to do about this. And how I’m going to get out of going to Aunt Ophelia’s party.”

      The party. Ellie retrieved her note from her dress pocket and handed it to him. “I was going to slide this under your door, but then I saw your signal.”

      She grabbed Sugar’s leash and followed Graham outside as a carriage pulled up near the spot where his horse snitched mouthfuls of grass from the yard’s edge. Within moments, Miss Noreen stepped unassisted from the conveyance. She turned and faced the carriage door and held out her arms. Someone placed a bundle into them.

      A bundle that squirmed and cried...

Chapter Three

      Graham’s eyes misted over at the sight of his stepmother, and that surprised him more than anything else that had taken place this morning. What had happened to the soldier, the commander in him? He’d apparently been replaced by a nose-wiping ball of mush who hadn’t even realized he was homesick.

      He also hadn’t realized he’d been running toward Noreen, but his slightly elevated pulse told him he had. He reached for the slender, gray-haired lady to give her the hug of her life—

      And was met with a tiny fist to the gut.

      “What? What is this?” In his relief and joy at seeing Noreen, he’d noticed but paid little attention to the white blanket he’d thought was merely wadded up in her arms. But there was something in that blanket. And that something was raising a fuss. So the crying hadn’t come from the baby buggy Mrs. Lemar was pushing up the walk as he’d thought. “What’s going on?”

      “Graham.” She laid one hand on his upper arm and leaned toward him. “I thank God you made it home.”

      He bent down to receive her kiss on the cheek. That alone would have made him start to bawl right here in the street, along with the baby, if he hadn’t been so shocked by his—or her—appearance.

      “Everyone please come inside,” Noreen said. “Ellie, you too, dear, and Joseph.”

      Joseph? Graham shot a glance back at the carriage. Their attorney, Joseph Duncan, climbed out and stretched his long legs. His suit was somewhat shiny from age and his stovepipe hat faded, but his famous, magnificent mustache was groomed to perfection as always and white as the clouds overhead.

      Graham was about to offer his hand when the old gentleman gave him a snappy salute. “Welcome back, Colonel. I was a captain in the War of 1812. I know how pleasant it is to come home.”

      Although it felt rather silly to salute a civilian more than three times his age while wearing a borrowed suit, Graham returned the gesture. “What’s going on? Whose baby is that?”

      Joseph ambled down the walk with him. “We’d better let Miss Noreen tell her story.”

      Noreen and Ellie—and Sugar—were halfway to the gallery by now. “I should carry that baby for her.” Graham started to pick up his pace, but Joseph clasped his arm.

      “I wouldn’t. Let her hold the child.”

      Inside, Noreen seated everyone in the parlor—Graham in his favorite leather wing chair, Ellie in the old-fashioned writer’s chair in the far corner and Joseph on a comfortable upholstered settee. Noreen chose the gold damask settee for herself. “In a few minutes, I’ll ask Ellie to prepare refreshments for us. We’ll all need strength by the time I’ve finished my story.”

      She unwrapped the quieted baby from the blanket and cradled him—or her—in her arms. “This is my granddaughter, Noreen Elizabeth. She’s eight months old. Her mother called her Betsy.”

      Ellie gasped, and until that moment, Graham had forgotten she was in the room.

      “Yes, my daughter-in-law named her after you, Elizabeth.” Noreen smiled a tiny smile. “Apparently, she called her Betsy instead of Ellie to avoid the confusion of your shared name.”

      Just what Graham needed—another female with Ellie’s name. What were the chances that her namesake would be as maddening as Ellie? “Why do we have Betsy?”

      “I learned of her existence only this morning. You know that my son, Stuart, died of dysentery in Tennessee a year ago last March. Shortly after dawn, Joseph brought me word that his widow, Francine, succumbed to pneumonia.” Noreen’s always-soft, always-gentle voice was now edged with a sorrow Graham had never before heard. “A neighbor cared for Betsy overnight, and at first light, Joseph took me to Harrisonburg by ferry to fetch the child.”

      “I didn’t know Stuart had a child.” But he’d had a furlough shortly before his death, so it made sense. And now the poor little girl was fatherless. And motherless. That mist threatened Graham’s eyes again. He swallowed hard to choke it down. He must have been more exhausted than he thought, as blubbery as he was.

      “Neither did he. Stuart had just gotten back to his camp when the sickness swept through it. And Francine didn’t know Betsy was on the way until after she learned of Stuart’s death.” Noreen caressed the top of the baby’s head and then kissed it. “Now I’m her only relative, besides her step-grandfather when he gets home from war. And you, of course, Graham. I’ve always considered you my own.”

      Graham put his head down and pinched the inner corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. If he didn’t get control, he was going to embarrass himself. He cleared his throat and searched his stepmother’s eyes. “Thank you, Noreen. I feel the same.”

      He stood and went to the window, not to see what was out there but to hide the fact that he had to wipe a bit of moisture from his cheek. What was wrong with him, anyway? He hadn’t cried in eight years.

      Turning back to Noreen, he rubbed his face hard and focused on keeping that stupid huskiness out of his voice. “I’ve been your son for the past twenty-two years, and Stuart was like a brother to me. I’ll take care of you and his child as long as you need me.” Although he had no idea how he was going to do that, since the government had confiscated everything he owned.

      “I’m sure we’ll hear from your father soon, and he’ll return with his own troops. Between the two of you, and with God’s help, we’ll all be fine.”

      Did that little quiver in Noreen’s voice mean she harbored some doubt? Well, so did he, so he could hardly fault her.

      “I’ll help you take care of Betsy, Miss Noreen.” Ellie got up and rushed to the older woman. “I don’t know much about babies, but you can teach me.”

      Seeing her mistress crossing the room, Sugar did too, and gave the baby a tentative sniff. Betsy reached out her impossibly small hand and grabbed the dog by the ear. Sugar stood still as the baby pulled her ear and giggled.

      “Sugar won’t bite, will she?” Graham sprang to his feet.

      “She’s never even snapped at anybody in her whole life, and she’s ten years old. She’s not going to start now,” Ellie said, but Graham noticed her moving in closer too.

      Betsy apparently grew bored with Sugar’s ear and released it, and the dog lay at Noreen’s feet, facing the baby as if guarding her.

      Joseph laughed his rich, deep laugh. “I’d say this is going to be the best-protected baby on Pearl Street.”

      As Noreen smiled at him, Graham drew in a huge breath. Ellie had certainly lightened the mood for them and helped them through this hard time, or rather, her dog had. But that didn’t mean she had to help care for the child. He and Noreen could manage that just fine.

      “Would you like me to watch her this evening and give you a chance to rest?” Ellie said as Noreen handed Betsy to her.

      “No, you and Graham have a party to attend. Betsy and I will be fine by ourselves.”

      “I’m