Counterfeit Courtship. Christina Miller

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was shameful. She was a good girl, no matter what kind of family she came from.” Ellie unfolded her fan and waved the effects of the humidity from her neck. “I don’t understand why Francine never let Miss Noreen know about the baby.”

      “Francine’s father disowned her for what he thought was shameful behavior on her part. He thought Stuart, a man far above her station, was toying with her, using her for nefarious reasons. But he was wrong. According to Noreen, Stuart loved Francine and intended to marry her from the day they met.”

      “That’s how I saw their relationship too. Francine lived by her Bible.”

      “She was afraid her family would try to take Betsy from her if they knew about her. So she continued to run the store Stuart’s father left him, just as she had after he went to war. Harrisonburg is far enough away that no one in Natchez, including Noreen, found out she’d had a baby. I guess she never knew her father and brother were killed in the war.”

      Poor Francine. To have found love, had a child and then lost that love—it had to have been the hardest thing imaginable.

      The only thing worse was never to experience love at all...

      Where had that thought come from? She pushed it away. Romantic love was not for Ellie. And here at this party, with the man who knew her better than anyone else, was not a safe place to explore such a notion. Family love was enough for her, and she had that with Uncle Amos and even Lilah May and Miss Noreen, in a way. And she could love Francine’s child like a niece. In fact, since Betsy was her namesake, she owed her as much love as she could give.

      “Aura Lea” drew to a close, and Graham offered his arm. “Stroll in the garden?”

      As they descended the stone stairs to the lawn, Ellie had to admit that the moonlight made him even more handsome, as every unattached female in the city had surely noticed tonight.

      Since he seemed to want to talk of other things, Ellie decided to ask the question that had been nagging at her since he came home that afternoon. “Graham, why are you so opposed to spending time with a woman? I know Susanna isn’t your type, but Natchez, and especially the Pearl Street neighborhood, has lots of nice, pretty girls.”

      She could feel the tension build in his arm—but why? “Did something happen during the war to make you leery of women?”

      “If I tell you, will you promise not to think up a solution to the problem?”

      Ellie had to laugh. “I promise.”

      “A promise is a sacred thing.” His voice deepened, lowered to a near whisper.

      She held her breath, waiting for what she sensed was close to his heart.

      “I can’t marry. I can’t support a wife.”

      “Graham, just because Ashland Place and Ammadelle are gone—”

      “You don’t understand. None of those girls in there do either.” He gestured toward the brightly lit house. “It’s not just our plantations. I have no livelihood. I have no money. I’m not even a citizen anymore—of any country. I’ve lost everything.”

      “Why are you not a citizen? I haven’t heard of that happening to any of our neighbors.”

      He let out a noisy breath. “Andrew Johnson has decreed that all West Point graduates who served as officers of the Confederacy must apply individually for our pardons and the restoration of our citizenship. Since Father and I are both West Point men and served as colonels, we lost Ashland Place, Ammadelle—and everything else.”

      The full moon revealed a fresh line between his eyes—a line that hadn’t been there before baby Betsy arrived that afternoon.

      The baby. His orphaned niece. No wonder Graham’s worry showed on his face. He had a child to support now, and no way of doing so.

      And Ellie’s fear of marriage—fear that a husband would fail to provide for her as her father had failed—had driven him to West Point all those years ago. That meant she was to blame for Graham’s dilemma. The thought made her weak, and she eased herself to the iron bench next to them.

      But she couldn’t let him find out about that. She blurted the first thing that came to her mind. “Well, that’s what you get for going to a Yankee military school. You should have gone to Charleston—to the Citadel.”

      “Here we go with that again. Do you know that, at the time, I heard those words from everybody in town except Father and Noreen?” He sat beside her, keeping a good distance between them. “But that’s why I can’t marry. I have nothing. If our town house didn’t belong to Noreen from her first marriage, I wouldn’t have a place to live.”

      Graham gazed off into the distance, in the direction of Ashland Place. “I can’t buy or sell property. I can’t vote or run for public office. My military career is over, my plantation is confiscated, as is Father’s, and I have no other skills. Everything is gone. And now I have Noreen and a baby niece to care for. There’s no room in my life for a wife.”

      And it was her fault. Above all else, she had to help him somehow... “Listen to my idea. I think it will work. I can keep those girls away.”

      He let out a moan that must have come from his toes.

      “Let’s continue the courtship arrangement. It would help me too. Dozens of discharged soldiers are coming back to town, and they’re at my door every day, wanting to court me.”

      “Why don’t you let them?”

      “Well, just as you can’t marry, I won’t.”

      “Why not?”

      “My reasons don’t matter. Let’s keep up the courtship ruse in order to discourage each other’s would-be suitors and belles. But we have to promise to remain friends—nothing more.”

      He paused so long, she was sure he would say no. Then he took her hand and leaned in close. “I’ll have to think about this. Something about making up a courtship doesn’t feel quite right to me.”

      “But you’ll consider it?”

      “I’ll consider it. And I promise to remain just friends with you. That suits me fine.”

      She should have felt relief, knowing Graham wouldn’t attempt a true courtship again. But something in his tone made her wonder, for the first time, if maybe her great ideas weren’t so great after all.

      The thought startled her as much as the rustling of leaves directly behind her.

      She spun in the direction of the sound and faced a uniformed man, his left eye covered with a black patch and a scar across his left cheekbone. Ellie sucked in her breath. In the flickering gaslight, his gaunt face and form looked as if he had come back from the grave.

      “Ellie,” he rasped, reaching for her hand. “I’m glad I lived to see you again.”

      She instinctively pulled back from him. Then recognition hit her like shrapnel. “Leonard Fitzwald...”

      Graham’s

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