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Authors: Bonds of Love

Tags: #Historical Romance, #Nineteenth Century, #Civil War

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BOOK: Gregory, Lisa
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Such
moments were few in the months that followed, however. Usually he was rather
aloof. Curiously, she felt almost piqued—certainly none of the men kept their
admiration for Pegeen a secret, always hanging about her, laughing and joking,
and following her movements with their eyes. Katherine did not know it, but
Hampton was keeping a tight rein on himself; he could not afford to let passion
sweep him into anything that might destroy his escape plan. He found it
difficult to keep his head when near her, and so he kept his distance.
Katherine, however, had the vague feeling that he was merely trying to irritate
her, as always. It was irrational, she told herself, to feel that way;
certainly she didn't want him bothering her again. It was just that she had
primed herself for a showdown, and it seemed rather deflating that it never
materialized.

The
personal pattern of her life came to be centered on Lieutenant Perkins. As the
cold winter days straggled by, he became a more and more frequent visitor to
their house. Often he ate dinner with them, now and then arriving with a box of
candy or a precious nosegay of hothouse flowers. He and Katherine talked
contentedly, usually about the ships or the War or foreign policy or naval
history, leaving Aunt Amelia quite stultified with boredom. Determinedly she
fought off dozing to sleep and never left the room; after all, she was the
guardian of her niece's reputation. Sometimes she was relieved of this duty by
Mr. Devereaux, who rather enjoyed the conversations and skillfully steered them
toward his business concerns. He was delighted with the way things were
proceeding.

Amanda
constantly reprimanded both Amelia and Katherine. It was a personal insult to
her that Katherine so encouraged that nonentity of a lieutenant. In vain she
implored Katherine to remember her family, her breeding, her ancestors.
"After all, who
is
this man?" she stormed.

"He
is a very nice, very capable lieutenant in the United States Navy and a good
friend of mine."

"He's
a nobody; that's who he is. And he's only after your name!"

"Really,
Aunt Amanda, I believe that a wife takes her husband's name, not vice
versa."

"A
wife! Has he spoken to you of marriage?"

Katherine
colored slightly. "No, of course not. We are only good friends. It is you
that implied Lieutenant Perkins wanted to marry me."

"Only
friends—hah! You can't fool me. He calls here far too often to be only friends.
He wants to marry you, and—mark my words—he wants your money."

"Is
there anything so unusual about that? Mr. Stephens wants my money; your
precious son Jamie wants my money. In fact, I think Lieutenant Perkins is about
the only man who ever showed an interest in me who isn't after my money!"

"Katherine!"
her aunts chorused.

Though
she denied that he intended marriage, Katherine secretly suspected that
marriage was the lieutenant's goal. His handclasp was always warm; often she
caught him off-guard, looking at her intently; twice he had, on taking leave of
her, raised her hand to his lips in a kiss much more personal than the usual
polite grazing of the lips against the hand. Someday, she thought, he would
propose. And what would she say?

She
wasn't sure. There were times when she thought she might agree. He was so much
preferable to men like Jamie Miller and Henry Stephens. She enjoyed his
company, liked talking to him and listening to his ideas and plans. He
respected her, sought her opinion, obviously thought her very competent. He
would not be the sort of husband who would object to her being involved in the
operation of her business. She knew they would work together, perhaps build a
new ship line or expand the yards. It would be a very satisfactory
marriage—except that she didn't love him! There were times when she wondered if
he would kiss her when they were married, kiss her with his lips and tongue and
whole mouth as Matthew Hampton had done. Would he touch her intimately as the
Rebel had, press his body into hers? She blushed hotly at the thought. She
didn't
want
him to, of course, being a respectable girl. And yet—somehow
it made marriage seem more exciting. Of course, Lieutenant Perkins would be
much more respectful, not frightening, and it wouldn't be so dreadful to feel
that limpness in her legs when her husband made free with her body. But did
wondering about her wedding night with him mean that she loved him? She
seriously doubted it.

Sternly
she told herself that she was being nonsensical about it. That roseate glow of
love in the novels did not exist in real life—at least not for her. Better to
be practical about it. She knew the horrors of spinsterhood. She also knew that
she wanted a home of her own, children, a focal point to her life. And
Lieutenant Perkins would be the perfect husband. Then, unbidden, would come an
inward wail—"But I don't love him!"

The
weeks quickly passed. Katherine worried and weighed the alternatives and went
through her daily life. Lieutenant Perkins tried to judge her feelings for him
and pondered when would be the correct time to ask for her hand—would he be too
soon? Too late? Would she turn him down or tilt up her lovely face for his
kiss? The thought of her lifting her delectable mouth to receive his kisses
made him almost ache with pleasure. He daydreamed about kissing her—should he
seize her and devour her mouth with the raging passion he felt? No, better to
be slow, gentle, not frighten her; at first only a chaste kiss. Later he would
deepen his kisses, softly break down her reserve, until on their wedding night
he would gently introduce her to love. The thought made him tremble. But all
that would come, he reminded himself,
only
if she accepted him—whenever
he got up the nerve to ask her.

The
matter was finally forced to a reckoning by the United States Navy: he was
given his orders to sail on the blockader
Henry Kemper
in a week. He
felt he had to ask her now; he could not bear to sail with their relationship
still in limbo. The evening he received his orders, he called on Mr. Devereaux.
Josiah, somewhat surprised, greeted him affably. Perkins sat down, his hands
clenched nervously. Twice he started to speak, then stopped.

Finally,
he said, "Sir, I've come to ask your permission to ask your daughter to
marry me."

Devereaux
looked at him thoughtfully, and the lieutenant rushed on. "I know I am
only a lieutenant, sir, and my prospects are not outstanding. I plan to rejoin
the merchant marine after the War is over, and someday I hope to own my own ship.
It would not be a life of luxury, but I can provide for her, and if Miss
Devereaux would be content to be a sea captain's wife, I know we could make a
go of it. Sir, I sincerely love and respect your daughter; I would cherish her
always."

"I'm
sure you would, Lieutenant Perkins. And I have no doubt that Katherine would be
a splendid sea captain's wife. However, Katherine doesn't come by herself. She
is my only child, and she carries along with her my shipyards, my
fortune."

The
young man colored hotly. "Sir, I have no desire for your daughter's
wealth. I—"

"Tut,
tut, young man, what would you have me do with it? Bestow it on some distant
cousin? I am sure you are no fortune hunter. But you must be realistic.
Katherine will inherit from me, and I fear that, capable as she is, she will be
unable to run it entirely by herself as well as raise a family. Are you
prepared to help her with that burden?"

The
lieutenant looked at him steadily for a moment. "I think that I would be
capable of operating it, sir, with Miss Devereaux's help, and I believe that I
will be able, when the time comes, to stop sailing in order to run the
yards."

"Well,
Lieutenant Perkins, I will tell you frankly that I favor your suit. However, I
will also tell you that the final decision rests with my daughter. Katherine
is, as you know," he smiled briefly, "an independent young woman. She
will marry as she chooses. Therefore, I suggest you take your suit up with her,
with my blessing."

"Thank
you, sir." He rose and gratefully shook the older man's hand. "Is she
at home?"

"No,
she is at a concert with her aunt and the Stephenses. May I suggest that you
wait in the library. She should be here within the hour. I shall send her to
the library—and her aunt up to bed." His eyes twinkled.

 

Katherine,
caught between Henry Stephens's warm glances on her left and his daughter's
murderous gaze on her right, was at the moment wishing she were home. Why had
Aunt Amelia ever accepted the Stephenses' invitation to the concert? Their
private box was too small, Lillian too spiteful, and Stephens too phonily
lovesick. He sat beside her and had twice that evening secretively taken her
hand in his clammy grasp. Both times she had jerked it away in irritation.

"Auntie,"
she said suddenly, "I hate to spoil your pleasure, but I have developed
the most awful headache. Do you think we could return home?"

Immediately
everyone was all concern, Mr. Stephens solicitously insisting on their all
leaving and taking her home in his carriage. When finally he left them at their
door, Katherine sagged in relief. The butler's information that her father had
left word for her to see him in the library made her sigh. All she wanted was
to tumble into bed.

When
she stepped into the library, Lieutenant Perkins sprang up from an easy chair.
"Miss Devereaux, you are home early."

"Why,
Lieutenant Perkins, what a pleasant surprise. But where's Father?"

He
smiled ruefully. "I'm afraid that was a ruse on his part to separate you
from your aunt. You see, I—I have his permission to speak to you."

Katherine
sank onto a couch. It was coming—his proposal. And what was she to say? The
lieutenant nervously strode to the bookshelves and seemed intent on the book
titles. Finally he took a deep breath and turned to face her.

"Miss
Devereaux, you must know of my regard for you. I think you are a lovely,
gracious, intelligent lady. I have respected and admired you for many months.
I—I would like to ask you to—become my wife." His voice ended almost in a
whisper.

"Lieutenant
Perkins, I hardly know what to say. I, too, have a great deal of feeling for
you," she paused, "but marriage is such a great undertaking. I—I must
have time to think. Could I think about it for a few days and tell you
later?"

"Of
course," he said formally. "However, I would like to know before next
Tuesday. I sail then on the
Henry Kemper."

"To
the blockade?" Why did he speak so coolly, so formally, if he loved her?
Why didn't he pour out his passion for her, cover her face with tender kisses?
He hadn't even spoken of love. She told herself not to be silly. He was not a
man overcome with passion, but one who approached life and marriage sensibly,
rationally. He wanted to marry her because they would get along well together,
be able to form a firm, solid marriage. He was not looking for love but
companionship and a peaceful, industrious life together. And wasn't that
exactly what she should be looking for also?

"Yes,
to the blockade," he answered, keeping his voice level. His hands trembled
and he wanted to throw himself at her feet, to beg her to marry him, to hold
her close and kiss her passionately, but he refrained. He knew he must not
frighten her, must not make her bolt. Go slow, keep calm, he told himself, give
her time to think. "I'd like to know that you were here, waiting, promised
to me. Somehow I'd feel easier about leaving you. Please let me know before
then."

"I
will. Just let me have tonight to think it over. Come tomorrow afternoon at
four; I'll get Aunt Amelia out of the way."

"I'll
be here." He didn't trust himself even to kiss her hand, but turned and
left quickly.

Katherine
went up to bed and tossed and turned all night, trying to solve her problem. It
seemed so right, and yet—and yet, he didn't love her or she him. Quietly she
wept into her pillow and fell asleep finally as dawn was breaking.

She
awoke feeling and looking terrible. Staring at her tired, wan face in the
mirror, she said, "Pegeen, I think I'll wear that pale blue dress today.
And I'll let you dress my hair differently." Somehow she felt she must
look her best today.

Pegeen
clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh, miss, is it the lieutenant? Do you think
he's going to ask you today?"

BOOK: Gregory, Lisa
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