One last look in the tiny mirror propped upon her trunk made her cringe at the dark circles beneath her eyes. She tried to convince herself that it had to do with the candlelight, but the yawn fighting its way through spoke otherwise. Graveyard rounds were all the doctor would permit her to do, but she wasn’t about to let him win by giving up. The soldiers needed her.
Tonight was about one soldier in particular. Three days from their arrival and Sean was finally feeling good enough for a bit of exercise. He had asked her to join him in a walk along the river. The very thought brought heat to her cheeks, turning them a nice color. It was a shame he was bringing along another soldier as chaperone. Often she found herself longing for the time they had spent alone. Such wicked thoughts added a smile along with her blush. Of course, she wouldn’t risk her heart by allowing feelings for the man to form, but a little harmless flirting couldn’t hurt.
A soft woof came from the opening of her tent. Gathering her skirt so it didn’t catch on anything in the cramped area, she went to the flap and opened it. Big tail wagging, a grin exposing her canines, stood Cliste. Beside her, a young soldier stood at attention, his left brow twitching each time Cliste’s tail smacked his leg. Ashlinn glanced over at Sean’s dark tent, suddenly fearful that he had sent this man along to cancel for him, or worse.
“Hello,” she managed through a tightening throat.
“Hello, ma’am. The general has sent me to invite you to a ball to be held tomorrow night to celebrate the visit of President Lincoln.”
A hand flew to her chest as if to stop her thundering heart from trying to leap out of its cage. Relief weakened her knees but resolve kept her upright. So many thoughts and concerns raced through her mind that she found it impossible to give voice to even one of them. Perhaps she would be able to speak to a general, or at least a lieutenant, at such an event and try to convince them to send out search parties for missing soldiers. The young soldier extended an envelope and a pencil to her.
“The general asks that you provide your dress and shoe size so that he may send along proper attire.”
It felt more like a command than an invitation, one delivered in a polite, respectful tone, but a command nonetheless. It had been two years since she had worn something fine and danced about a ballroom, so she wasn’t about to argue. Then, of course, there was the small matter of the President of the United States being present. Surely she’d never get close enough to speak to him, but others perhaps. She accepted the offered objects, opened the envelope, wrote her name and size on the paper inside, and handed it back.
“Thank you, Private,” she said with a slight curtsy.
“You are quite welcome, ma’am.” He tipped his cap to her and moved on toward another nurse’s tent.
All the nurse’s tents had been pitched in this small area between the hospital and the grounds of the plantation manor. Not only did the general deem it a safer place for the women, but as the only place on the property left with any grass, it was also the cleanest. He wanted his soldiers’ hospital in the best possible location. Ashlinn had gained quite a bit of respect for the man once she had heard that. This invitation, though, she wasn’t sure what to think of.
“Has that patient of yours died yet?” An ugly croak of a voice interrupted her musings.
The very sound of the doctor’s voice made the hair on the back of her neck stir. Damn, why hadn’t she returned inside her tent, or gone to Sean’s?
“Of course not. He improves every day.”
The temptation to brag about how well his stitches were taking and the lack of any signs of infection grew, but she suppressed it. This man did not deserve to know how Sean was doing and she was not about to tell him simply for the sake of bragging. When it came to treatment of her and the other nurses, this one was far worse than the doctor who had died out on the battlefield.
An almost imperceptible growl rumbled from Cliste as the hound moved between Ashlinn and the approaching doctor. In dark breeches and a beige shirt that bore no visible signs of bloodstains, the man was almost presentable. That was, if you could look past the dark sideburns of hair that clung to cheeks that turned into chops, which Ashlinn could not. It wasn’t that she only fell for a handsome face. The deep lines between this man’s brows from constantly furrowing them and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes from sneering too much were hard to look past. Crumbs clung to his bushy mustache and his jaw worked at some type of food or another.
A smile full of anything but joy slid onto the doctor’s face. “Well, in that case he will be ready to rejoin his brigade in no time.”
His gaze traveled over her body, lashes low like spiders trying to cover their tracks. But she noticed. Oh yes, she noticed. She wished for her coat, a shawl, anything to cover the bit of cleavage her square neck dress revealed.
Ashlinn’s throat tightened at the thought but she smiled back to hide her reaction, lifting her chin. “Indeed he will.”
For the briefest moment, something like regret flashed in the doctor’s eyes. He extended something to her: crackers wrapped in wax treated paper, a rare thing in the midst of war. A slightly sweet scent wafted up from them.
“All the way from New York. Would you like some?” he asked in a voice sweet as syrup.
She turned her nose up. “No, thank you.”
His beady eyes shot to Cliste for a brief moment, then back to Ashlinn. “McClellan only wants the women there as pretty play things, you know.”
Casting her eyes up and to the side, she shook her head. “The general is much more intelligent than that. He seeks to bring a sense of civility to the president’s visit. One can hardly blame him.”
“You give the man too much credit; he is still a man.” He cleared his throat and stood straighter. “Regardless, a woman should not go unescorted to such a function.”
Dread as wet and cold as a New York fall morning seeped into her. Her mind scurried for an excuse to end the conversation but nothing would come to her. Footsteps squished upon wet grass and she turned toward them eagerly.
“Ah, Ashlinn, there you are. I was just comin’ to fetch you for our walk,” Sean said as he approached.
Tail wagging with such exuberance that her entire backside swayed, Cliste trotted to Sean’s side, sticking her nose in his hand. He scratched between her ears, grinning down at her as if she were the grandest thing in all the world. Dark breeches and a blue shirt fit his fine frame quite nicely, revealing just a bit of the swell of his bicep and the curve of his behind. Realizing she was staring, Ashlinn looked down, pretending to smooth her dress. That nicely curved bicep appeared in front of her.
“Shall we?” he asked.
She accepted his arm a bit too readily. “Indeed, before we lose the light.”
The doctor puffed his chest out like a red rooster and sputtered several times before getting any words out. “Surely you are not gallivanting about unescorted.”
Sean grinned and looked behind the doctor. “O’ course not. I may be a soldier, but I am also a gentleman.”
The doctor spun around and glared at the uniformed soldier standing at attention behind him. When he looked back at them, Ashlinn had to hide a smile behind her hand.
“Good day then, Doctor,” Sean said as he began to lead Ashlinn toward the manor house.
Shooting the doctor a brief growl, Cliste shot out ahead of them.
In her free hand, Ashlinn held her skirts up until they cleared the occasional muddy areas and made it to the dense green grass. Soon they were out of the maze of tents with nothing but the sight of the sprawling southern manor and its surrounding lawn before them. The warmth of Sean’s arm looped around hers made her long for him to move closer so she could feel more of his body. To her dismay, he truly did act the gentleman and kept his distance. If only she could cover her ears and block