A Rebel Heart Page 22

  Levi saw Selah’s glazed expression. “Coulomb’s law,” he said, “posits that the force between two small electrified bodies varies inversely as the square of the distance between them. I learned that at West Point.”

  Her lips quirked. “Of course you did.”

  “Exactly,” Wyatt said. “So the next step was Volta’s electric battery, Ampere’s theory of electrodynamics, and then Ohm’s law. Finally, we got to Faraday’s experiments that developed electromotive force with electromagnetic induction. Doc is every bit as smart as any of those scientists, and what he’s figured out is going to be enormously practical, but all that material costs a lot of money, which is why he had Nathan help us with the construction—” The spate of information came to an abrupt halt as Wyatt seemed to realize he was volunteering more than he ought.

  “Wyatt,” Selah said gently, “is that where that explosives material came from? Why would Doc store it in our ice house?”

  “I don’t know for sure that he did. All I’ve seen is his work at the lab in his office.” Wyatt’s brow wrinkled. “But I do know that Doc isn’t cooking up bombs! How could you think that? He’s trying to help people.”

  Levi nodded. “It’s unfortunate how often scientific discoveries and inventions designed for progress can be used to destroy people and things as well. Who is Professor Quinlan?”

  “He’s some mechanics professor at Ole Miss that Mr. Schuyler told him about. He’s gotten funding from . . . somewhere or other, for research related to moving objects with electricity.”

  Levi could guess where the “somewhere” might be, and that the research would benefit the transportation industry. He regretted that his questions had further distressed the boy. He gave Wyatt a little shove of the shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll get to the bottom of it. I’m sure there’s a simple explanation.”

  “Yes, sir. Please don’t tell Doc I spilled anything. He’d be very upset that I talked out of turn.”

  That was two warnings Levi had received in one day against angering the young doctor. Perhaps a trip to Oxford would be in order after all, not only to question telegraphmaster Scully but to look into Professor Quinlan’s research. “Tell you what, son,” he said, “if it’s all right with Selah, I’ll stay the night here and take you with me back to town in the morning. You can look in on the doc, while I take care of an errand or two I didn’t get to while I was there this morning.”

  “Then you don’t mind if I keep up my lessons?” Wyatt asked. “I’d be grateful, sir. Is that okay, Miss Selah?”

  She met Levi’s eyes, her expression puzzled. “I suppose so,” she said to Wyatt. “Now you’d best get on to bed, since the sun’s going down. You’ll want to get up early to get your chores done before y’all leave in the morning.”

  The boy tore off toward the cottage without another word. Levi was about to slide along the step closer to her, but she glanced over her shoulder toward her grandmother’s chair. Worrying about what someone else thought seemed a tad out of character for her.

  Levi rose and bowed to the old lady. “Mrs. McGowan, your lemonade seems to be in need of replenishing. May I fetch you another glassful?”

  She looked at him from under beetled brows. “Those are some mighty nice manners for a boy from north of the Mason-Dixon. What do you want?”

  He laughed. “I want a few minutes’ conversation alone with your granddaughter. I promise to stay in sight, right there in the pagoda.”

  “And don’t you know it’s getting dark enough I can barely see past my own hand?” She kicked at the toe of his boot with her slipper. “Thank you, I’ve had all the lemonade I can hold for one night. But, yes, you can have your pick of granddaughters—though I guess I know which one you want!”

  “I thank you kindly, ma’am.” He winked and turned to find Selah on her feet.

  “You’ve got a great deal of nerve, Mr. Riggins!”

  “On the contrary, I find my nerves more faint than they ever were when I faced a whole regiment of Johnny Rebs.”

  There was a titter of laughter from the four women on the porch, and Schuyler bellowed, “Rally round the flag, boys!”

  Selah gasped and ran for the pagoda.

  “Wait, Selah, hold on!” Laughing, Levi caught up and took her hand to pull it through his elbow. “You’ll fall in the dark on this bumpy path.”

  She tried to tug her hand away. “You didn’t have to embarrass me! And I’ve walked this path hundreds of times, just fine, all by myself.”

  “Then you can keep me from tripping.” He laced his fingers through hers and held on for dear life. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. Selah! Have mercy, slow down.”

  She did, reluctantly. When they reached the pagoda steps, she climbed two, bringing herself to his height. She stared at him and said quietly, “Is this a battle?”

  “I hope not.”

  “What’s in your pocket?”

  “Wh-what?”

  “You touch your coat pocket all the time. There’s something in there that means something to you. If you want to get to know me, you have to tell me personal things about yourself.”

  “That sounds kind of backwards.”

  “I already told you more than you need to know. What’s in your pocket?”

  “I keep a journal.” And she wasn’t going to see it, because it had his case notes in it. Notes about Selah and her family. “But today I left it at my boardinghouse.”

  “That’s a lie. Or a partial truth.”

  He was startled into laughter. “What makes you say that?”

  “You looked away. Besides, I’ve seen you writing in that notebook. I watched you on the train before we met.”

  He whistled through his teeth. “You would make a very good lawyer. Or policeman.”

  “And you still haven’t told me what else is in your pocket.”

  “How do you know there’s something else?”

  “I just know. A journal isn’t a touchstone.”

  “That’s a science word, Miss ‘I don’t have a giant vocabulary’ Daughtry. You are a very hardheaded woman.”

  “Yes, I am. I’ve told you that, over and over. As I’m sure everyone else who knows me has as well. And you didn’t answer me.”

  “Selah, I can’t. Not now, anyway.”

  “But you brought me out here for some reason.”

  She was absolutely right. What had he thought was going to happen? “Do you want to sit in the swing? Or go around to the back steps?”

  “It depends on how public you want this conversation to be. You promised my grandmother that we would stay in view.”

  “And she clearly gave me permission to take you wherever I wished.”

  “So what do you wish, Levi Riggins? Yankee-boy straight-arrow rescuer of damsels in distress, vanquisher of bees, minstrel of hymns and battle songs? I already told you what I want. Now it’s your turn.”

  Levi was silent so long she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Finally he sighed, so close that his breath fanned her cheek. “I want to kiss you.”

  She blinked, almost laughed. But he clearly wasn’t joking. He was looking at her mouth as a starving man looks at his first meal, his eyes narrowed and smoky with longing. “Levi,” she said in a cautioning tone.

  “I know,” he said, those eyes moving to hers, humor and unaccustomed helplessness easing the tension in his expression. “We’re standing where anyone could see. It’s not the place or the time, but the more I’m with you, the more I think about it, and I feel as if—” He jiggled her hand a little. “Have you ever wanted something so much you thought you might actually implode?”

  This time she did laugh. “Levi, really. All you had to do was—”

  “Ask? No, it doesn’t work that way, at least not with me.” He put on a fairly polished British accent and leered at her comically. “Pardon me, Miss Daughtry, would you mind puckering up so that we can get this kissing thing out of the way?”

  Laughter bubbled. “I see what you mea
n.”

  He looked at her, his face a study in frustration. “Here, sit down. Right here on the step.”

  They sat looking up at the stars until everyone on the porch had gone back into the house with the lantern, and they were in the dark. Selah felt sleepy, tired from the long, busy day, but oddly itchy and restless. She was aware of Levi’s muscular arm against hers, the sound of his breathing, the pleasant scent of his clothing.

  “Are you still thinking about it?” she asked suddenly.

  “About what?”

  He knew what. He’d put the idea into her head and she wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight if they didn’t—

  She jerked the thought to a halt. He was being a gentleman, and no lady brought up the subject of kissing a man who was not her husband, even if they’d been joking about it earlier. But it wasn’t a joke, really. He clearly felt some sense of unworthiness, or he would have already acted upon his desire. He was such a good man, Yankee notwithstanding, and he did not deserve to feel unworthy. She must correct that misapprehension at once.

  She reached up and cupped his face with her hand. “Come here.” The scrape of late-in-the-day whiskers against her palm sent a rush of excitement through her belly. Her thumb brushed his mouth.

  His lips parted. “What are you doing?”

  “I said, come here.” Sliding her hand to the back of his neck, she pulled his head down. She had no idea what she was doing, but instinct took over.

  And then he took over. “Oh, Selah,” he whispered against her lips and kissed her.

  Finally she broke away to turn her face into his shoulder. One of his arms curled around her, his other hand in the hair tumbling down her back. “Is that the way it works?” she asked, shivering.

  He chuckled huskily against her temple. “It’ll do for a start.”

  “It’s not enough, is it?”

  He swallowed. “Selah, I want to ask you to marry me, but I cannot. Not when I’m—”

  He was not free, maybe already betrothed to someone else. Or, worse, married, and she had thrown herself at him.

  But before she could shove him away, he was kissing her again, breaking her resistance into waves of overpowering sweetness. Vaguely she wondered if this was a flaw in her character, a demon that had reared itself to effect her undoing. Or something that had only to do with this particular man, which, once he was gone, would retreat safely once more into slumber. I don’t care, she thought.

  But you must care. People count on you to protect them.

  He must have felt her ambivalence, for he broke away from her lips and began to kiss her cheeks and eyelids softly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I knew better, but you’re so beautiful, and I . . . I’m not at liberty to tell you why.”

  “Are you tied to someone else?” She braced for his answer.

  “Yes, but not in the way you mean.”

  “That’s no answer.”

  “I know.” He let her go.

  She sat, bereft and cold, arms wrapped about herself. “I’m such a fool.”

  “No you’re not.” Again, he held his peace, and she could feel unspoken emotion pulsing from him. She moved to rise, but he put his arm about her and held her still. “Wait. I’m going to show you what’s in my pocket.” He reached into the interior pocket under her shoulder and withdrew a square of fabric.

  She took it, felt the fine lawn linen, ran her thumb over the nubbiness of stitching in one corner. “It’s a handkerchief.”

  “Yes, do you recognize it?”

  “Levi, it’s dark, I can’t see—”

  “It’s yours. At least I’m pretty sure it is. I found it in the crawl space under the porch, the first day I was here.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t know how to feel, so she shut off feeling for the moment. “Yes, I was working on it when . . . Why were you looking under the porch?”

  “Just a routine inspection of a property I wanted to manage.”

  “And why did you keep this? Why didn’t you give it to me right away?” Here was the central question. She knew it.

  “Because . . .” His indrawn breath was ragged. “Because I knew it was something important. Because I suspected it was yours and meant something to you. Because already I was—” His hand tucked under her jaw and lifted her face. “I was already halfway in love with you.”

  “You couldn’t have been. We barely knew each other.”

  “We still barely know each other. But listen to me, Selah. I’m doing everything in my power to straighten it all out, and if you’ll just be patient, very soon I’ll be able to explain and come to you as a man ought to. I’m asking you now to trust me, no matter what happens. Trust that I want the best for you and your family.” He kissed her lips, gently, barely a brush, then pressed the handkerchief into her hand. “So keep this and remember what I just said. I’ll ask for it back one day.”

  She stared up into the shadows of his face and said resentfully, “You didn’t ask me if I—”

  “I know you do.” She heard the smile in his voice. “Call it Yankee brilliance.”

  Levi lay rolled up in a blanket on the back porch, using the rocker cushion for a pillow. It smelled like the old lady’s lavender scent, and it made him think of his mother. Ma would love Selah. One day he would take Selah to Illinois to meet his whole family, but he would have to teach her sign language so she could communicate with Ceri. He closed his eyes and imagined an evening spent on a back porch of their own house—nothing as grand as Daughtry House, of course, but a modern cottage with indoor plumbing and gas lighting—showing her how to translate words into meaningful hand and arm movements, the facial expressions and body energy adding nuance and beauty. She was a quick study, and it wouldn’t take her long to become proficient.

  Oh, she was a quick study in lots of things. Kissing, for example. He turned over, pushing aside the natural direction of his thoughts. All of that in good time.

  For now, he’d best focus on wrapping up this case.

  So far, he had dribbles of information about several players in the drama. The starring characters seemed to be Schuyler Beaumont, Selah Daughtry, and Wyatt Priester—possibly in collusion—all of whom had been in Oxford at the time of the train wreck (though it seemed unlikely that either Wyatt or Selah would have willingly sabotaged the train on which they were passengers). All three had also been present on the day of the cupola shooting.

  Wyatt had demonstrated skill with a gun, and Schuyler’s arrival on the scene seemed suspiciously timed (though the presence of Aurora and her grandmother would take some explaining away). Another questionable arrival that morning had been Dr. Kidd. Levi wanted to like Kidd but had learned the hard way how deceptively charming the perpetrator of a crime could be.

  Which brought him to the ice house explosives. There was a potential crime—or the possible source of the train wreck, since they matched the type of explosives found under the Buckner’s Ravine bridge. Whoever had put them in the ice house had to know by now that they had been discovered. There was nothing Levi could do about that. But maybe he could lay some kind of trap by getting all of his suspects in the same room at the same time. This confounded house party Schuyler and Aurora seemed so determined to pull off might be the way to accomplish that.

  He wanted to explore the link between the railroad—Beaumont in particular—and Kidd’s experiments, which implicated this professor in Oxford. Levi knew he could make the trip to Oxford within the next day or two, in order to conduct a formal interview, but perhaps a better idea would be to allay suspicions by encouraging Schuyler to invite his mentor to the ball. That way, Levi could watch the interactions amongst the professor, the rail baron, and the local doctor. Of course Wyatt and Nathan would be present as well.

  Levi flipped onto his back and put his hands behind his head. He liked it. And Pinkerton would approve of the efficiency of the plan.

  With efficiency in mind, he hoped to receive a reply to the telegraph he’d sent yesterday to Mr. J. A. Spencer of
Oxford. It was time to bring the curtain down.

  Twenty-Five

  March 22, 1870

  Levi pulled the Daughtry House carriage into the business district hitch lot, settled the sorrels near a shady post, then hastened to hand down his two female passengers. “Watch your step there, Miss Joelle. Aurora.” He glanced at Wyatt, who had already jumped to the ground. “I’m afraid you’ll have to cut it a bit short today, son. I need to be back at the hotel by noon for an appointment with the tiler. But I want to talk to Doc, so I’ll come get you around eleven.”

  “Yessir. I’ll let him know.” Wyatt scampered off down the street in the direction of the doctor’s office.

  The sisters already had their heads together, discussing their shopping strategy. That morning Levi had been somewhat taken aback to find the two younger Daughtry sisters waiting with Wyatt in the carriage house at the appointed departure time. Apparently Joelle—or more likely Aurora—deemed new dresses for the house party essential to its success. Levi had hoped to follow up on Wyatt’s abstracted manner last night and discover details about his father’s capture in Tennessee. Since he could hardly do that with an audience, he’d pretended to be glad of the charming company and handed the ladies up into the rear seat along with their reticules and the most recent issue of Godey’s Lady’s Book.

  “Would you like me to escort you to the Mercantile first?” he asked now, quashing his impatience.

  Aurora gave him her dimpled smile. “Oh, no, we can make our way just fine on our own. We plan to do lots of looking before we purchase, and nothing is more frustrating than hauling about a bored male while one discusses the advantages of braids over lace.” She looked down at the watch pinned to her sash. “We’ll meet you back here at . . . shall we say 11:30?”