Part 19 (1/2)
”Thanks for bringing it up, but yes. Brooks was right.” It almost didn't hurt to say his name. She was getting used to it. Maybe in another year or so, she could even think back on this time and smile. She could always hope.
An hour later they docked and walked down the log pier to the Fort. Men milled around, holding muskets and wiping sweat from under their hats. Caroline couldn't help searching for Brooks and within seconds had spotted him. His back was to her but she knew the slope of his shoulders, the angle of his jaw.
He turned as if he felt her gaze and his eyes widened just a bit. She lifted her hand in mute greeting. He lifted his chin, then turned back to the group. She swallowed back the disappointment. Of course, he was playing a role. He wasn't going to break ranks and rush to greet her.
”Miss Caroline! Miss Debbie Mae!” Dr. Stroud stood before them in full Confederate costume, his white mustache looking particularly bushy. ”Come on inside and I'll have you outfitted to match the group.”
”With a musket and pair of hobnail boots?” Debbie Mae giggled. ”I tried Manning's one night and thought they were the most uncomfortable shoes I ever put on my feet.”
”That's because they're not made for left and right. Just for a foot. Saved on shoes, when you think of it. No need to search for a lost right boot, when you can grab any boot.”
Caroline nodded. Made sense really. She looked down at her strappy blue sandals and was glad she was a modern woman.
They were led into a room where several dresses hung. ”How do they know these will fit?” Caroline eyed the yards and yards of material. The Regency dress had been sewn to her exact measurements.
”I think everything is fairly big and then they bring out the corsets.” Her cousin wrinkled her nose. ”As if it's not hot enough out there.”
They helped each other change, lacing up the back of the corset and gathering their hair into a tight bun. When they were satisfied, they emerged into the main area of the fort. The battle had already started and the boom of the s.h.i.+p cannons could be heard in the distance. A man called out the movements of the battle and people stood with binoculars at the edge of the railing.
”Shelby!” She saw her old friend and called out without thinking. She clapped a hand over her mouth and hoped she hadn't ruined the entire scene.
Gorgeous auburn hair and green hazel eyes were all Shelby, but the outfit was not. She was head-to-toe Civil War womanhood. She grabbed Caroline and squeezed the breath out of her. ”Look at you! How did you get sucked into all of this craziness?”
”Watch it.” Ransom stood a bit behind her, darkly handsome and a grin that made her feel as if they could be instant friends. ”We're called historians, technically.”
”Are you staying long? We can have dinner.” Shelby patted her pockets. ”Shoot. I had to surrender all my technology.”
Ransom handed over a small notebook and a pencil that looked like it had been sharpened with a pocket knife.
”Thanks, sweetie.” She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss. He reached out and snagged the notebook and pencil back.
”What now? No pencils allowed?” Shelby put her fists on her hips and looked dangerously irritated.
”No, I just liked that reward and thought we should repeat the process.” He held out the notebook and pencil. She giggled and took it, planning another, louder, kiss on his mouth.
Caroline rolled her eyes. ”Sickeningly cute.”
They exchanged information and the next moment Caroline felt a touch at her elbow. She turned, sucking in a sharp breath. Brooks stood there as tall and as handsome as she remembered him. It only been a few weeks but she missed him so much that tears sprang to her eyes. She stared out at the Bay, feeling her cheeks go hot. Get a grip, he's trying to say hi. Nothing more, nothing less.
”Captain Owen Hartford, at your service.” He tipped his hat.
Oh, so it was going to be like this, was it? She searched her memory for a good name. ”Patience Corntower. Of Th.o.r.n.y Hollow way.”
His grin went wide. ”We are well acquainted. You may not recollect me.”
”But I do, sir. Quite clearly.”
Something flickered in his gaze. ”Would the Miss be available for a short walk on the pier?”
”In the middle of a battle?” Her eyes went wide and she tried not to laugh. ”Aren't you supposed to be getting something amputated?”
”Shhh.” He held up a finger, eyes crinkled at the corners. ”Don't break character.”
”Sorry,” she whispered.
He offered his arm and they strolled out onto the pier. People snapped photos of them as they walked.
”Miss Corntower, I am happy to find you here.” His voice was tight, as if it wasn't quite true.
She threw him a look and tried to smile.
”I've been wanting to address you for some time.”
She frowned, trying to translate the old-fas.h.i.+oned terms into something that made sense.
He paused near a secluded spot and turned to her. ”You once said you knew me, Miss Corntower.”
”So I did.” She searched his face, trying to understand what he was doing.
”I don't believe you were correct.” He looked over her shoulder and took a breath. ”I don't believe you know everything about me. And I would like very much if I could bare my soul to you, in a way I have not yet been able.”
Her eyes went wide. He was going to bare his soul? Brooks or Owen Hartford?
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief. It was tied in a knot and he worked to loosen it, muttering a few words under his breath. It came undone and he pulled a small, gold ring from the fabric. He knelt down, holding it out. His hand was shaking but his voice was clear.
”I am asking you to be my wife. I want to grow old with you, to raise children with you, to spend every moment of my life being the best of friends with you.”
She stared at the ring, speechless. It was her worst nightmare. She was being proposed to by Brooks, and she had to answer as Miss Corntower. She opened her mouth to respond but no words came out.
Panic flared in his eyes. ”The ring is etched with forget-me-nots. They're a special flower for you, are they not?”
She nodded, confusion flooding through her. Brooks went to the trouble of having a ring made for this play-acting scene?
”If you can't give me your answer now, please say I can have some chance to win your heart.”
She wanted to say yes but her eyes filled with tears. ”I don't understand you people.” The cannons boomed behind her. ”Battles and amputation and dressing up as people long dead, fine. But this? Isn't this going a bit too far?”