Counterfeit Courtship. Christina Miller

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      Noreen and Ellie—and Sugar—were halfway to the gallery by now. “I should carry that baby for her.” Graham started to pick up his pace, but Joseph clasped his arm.

      “I wouldn’t. Let her hold the child.”

      Inside, Noreen seated everyone in the parlor—Graham in his favorite leather wing chair, Ellie in the old-fashioned writer’s chair in the far corner and Joseph on a comfortable upholstered settee. Noreen chose the gold damask settee for herself. “In a few minutes, I’ll ask Ellie to prepare refreshments for us. We’ll all need strength by the time I’ve finished my story.”

      She unwrapped the quieted baby from the blanket and cradled him—or her—in her arms. “This is my granddaughter, Noreen Elizabeth. She’s eight months old. Her mother called her Betsy.”

      Ellie gasped, and until that moment, Graham had forgotten she was in the room.

      “Yes, my daughter-in-law named her after you, Elizabeth.” Noreen smiled a tiny smile. “Apparently, she called her Betsy instead of Ellie to avoid the confusion of your shared name.”

      Just what Graham needed—another female with Ellie’s name. What were the chances that her namesake would be as maddening as Ellie? “Why do we have Betsy?”

      “I learned of her existence only this morning. You know that my son, Stuart, died of dysentery in Tennessee a year ago last March. Shortly after dawn, Joseph brought me word that his widow, Francine, succumbed to pneumonia.” Noreen’s always-soft, always-gentle voice was now edged with a sorrow Graham had never before heard. “A neighbor cared for Betsy overnight, and at first light, Joseph took me to Harrisonburg by ferry to fetch the child.”

      “I didn’t know Stuart had a child.” But he’d had a furlough shortly before his death, so it made sense. And now the poor little girl was fatherless. And motherless. That mist threatened Graham’s eyes again. He swallowed hard to choke it down. He must have been more exhausted than he thought, as blubbery as he was.

      “Neither did he. Stuart had just gotten back to his camp when the sickness swept through it. And Francine didn’t know Betsy was on the way until after she learned of Stuart’s death.” Noreen caressed the top of the baby’s head and then kissed it. “Now I’m her only relative, besides her step-grandfather when he gets home from war. And you, of course, Graham. I’ve always considered you my own.”

      Graham put his head down and pinched the inner corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. If he didn’t get control, he was going to embarrass himself. He cleared his throat and searched his stepmother’s eyes. “Thank you, Noreen. I feel the same.”

      He stood and went to the window, not to see what was out there but to hide the fact that he had to wipe a bit of moisture from his cheek. What was wrong with him, anyway? He hadn’t cried in eight years.

      Turning back to Noreen, he rubbed his face hard and focused on keeping that stupid huskiness out of his voice. “I’ve been your son for the past twenty-two years, and Stuart was like a brother to me. I’ll take care of you and his child as long as you need me.” Although he had no idea how he was going to do that, since the government had confiscated everything he owned.

      “I’m sure we’ll hear from your father soon, and he’ll return with his own troops. Between the two of you, and with God’s help, we’ll all be fine.”

      Did that little quiver in Noreen’s voice mean she harbored some doubt? Well, so did he, so he could hardly fault her.

      “I’ll help you take care of Betsy, Miss Noreen.” Ellie got up and rushed to the older woman. “I don’t know much about babies, but you can teach me.”

      Seeing her mistress crossing the room, Sugar did too, and gave the baby a tentative sniff. Betsy reached out her impossibly small hand and grabbed the dog by the ear. Sugar stood still as the baby pulled her ear and giggled.

      “Sugar won’t bite, will she?” Graham sprang to his feet.

      “She’s never even snapped at anybody in her whole life, and she’s ten years old. She’s not going to start now,” Ellie said, but Graham noticed her moving in closer too.

      Betsy apparently grew bored with Sugar’s ear and released it, and the dog lay at Noreen’s feet, facing the baby as if guarding her.

      Joseph laughed his rich, deep laugh. “I’d say this is going to be the best-protected baby on Pearl Street.”

      As Noreen smiled at him, Graham drew in a huge breath. Ellie had certainly lightened the mood for them and helped them through this hard time, or rather, her dog had. But that didn’t mean she had to help care for the child. He and Noreen could manage that just fine.

      “Would you like me to watch her this evening and give you a chance to rest?” Ellie said as Noreen handed Betsy to her.

      “No, you and Graham have a party to attend. Betsy and I will be fine by ourselves.”

      “I’m not going,” Graham and Ellie said simultaneously.

      Noreen gave Graham her mother-knows-best look.

      He ignored it. “I’m going to take a hot bath. Then I’m going to the train station and sending a telegram to General Lee to ask if he has any news of Father’s whereabouts. I’m going to write a letter to Andrew Johnson, asking for pardon and amnesty, and then I’m going to bed early.”

      “Graham, you have to go to the party. Ophelia has gone to great trouble and expense, more than she can afford, to give it for you. You’ll break her heart if you don’t go.” Noreen turned to Ellie. “You too, dear. She thinks as much of you as she does of Graham.”

      He held in a groan. This was already the longest day of his life, and it was only noon. Did the women in his life have to make it the longest night too?

      “Would you like me to come tomorrow afternoon and help?” Ellie asked.

      The little minx, changing the subject like that. Sure, she didn’t like the Natchez social whirl any better than he did, but if he had to go, so did she. He’d just sit back and wait for the best time to break that news to her.

      “You can come back as many afternoons as you like, when it’s too hot for you to be at Magnolia Grove.” As the baby began to fuss again, Noreen took her from Ellie and bounced her on her knee.

      “Noreen, you’d be better off without her help. If you let her hang around, you’ll end up engaged to somebody.” Graham started for the center hall, beckoning Ellie to follow. “But for now, we have some things to discuss.”

      He strode to the door and out to the front gallery, not bothering to see whether Ellie—or her dog—followed. Outside, he eased himself onto one of the old rockers. It still felt as good as it had before he left.

      Within moments, Ellie came outside and chose the rocker farthest from him.

      “Sit over here by me. I don’t want to have to yell so the whole neighborhood can hear.”

      She took her time in complying, which was no surprise, but she eventually sat next to him.

      “We need to talk about this party,” he said, using his colonel voice.

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