TRAVIS AND JESSICA “drove” Mark into Harrisburg the next morning, his bag full of gold stashed securely at his feet.
“Okay, in about five minutes, you’ll see Harrisburg,” Jessica said.
“How different is it?” Mark asked.
“I highly doubt you’ll recognize it.”
They crested a small hill and Mark shook his head at the scene. Surreal didn’t begin to describe it. Wooden sidewalks lined clapboard buildings next to brick ones and a wide snow-covered road ran through the middle. A surprising number of people walked down the middle of the street, without apparent direction or care for where horses carried folks and pulled buggies. Soldiers in blue mingled with men dressed much like Travis... and himself. The women wore similar dresses to Jessica’s and Mark was surprised to see not one woman unaccompanied.
“Wow, Jess. I feel like we’re heading onto a sound stage. Almost as if we could be shooting one of Rayne’s videos.”
Back in the future, Rayne had a penchant for period costume. Steam punk and, strangely, Adam Ant, were also a particular favorite for her, so any time she got a chance to do something that involved old world meeting new, she jumped at it.
“I know,” she said. “It’s really weird, huh?”
“Seriously.”
Travis pulled up to an impressive-looking brick building with “Harrisburg Bank” painted in black above the large doorway. He turned to face Mark sitting in the back. “We didn’t talk about papers.”
“I’ve got an ‘authentic’ birth certificate. A pretty good fake, as a matter of fact.”
“You do?” Jessica asked.
“Yep. I told you. I did my homework.”
Mark pulled the paper from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. Jessica hummed in awe. “Wow, this looks amazing. How did you get it?”
“I had to go to the records office to find something back this far, and then I took a picture so that Cory could recreate one for me,” Mark explained. “I couldn’t find anything online that he could copy, which was a pain, but ultimately, he did a great job.”
Cory Patts was a graphic artist who worked for Shaunessy and Rayne’s record label and did their website and promotions before her disappearance. He and Mark had become friends, along with Shaye, particularly after Rayne’s strange disappearance.
Jessica handed it back. “What did you tell him?”
“I just told him I was pulling a prank on Shaye. I told him she’d become obsessed with the Civil War and that I’d told her I had proof of ancestry all the way back to then. You know him—he’s always up to punk someone.”
Jessica laughed. “Oh, he was the worst! Remember the thing with the fake mice? I’m so glad you got that on video. The expression on Rayne’s face was priceless!”
“No, what was priceless was how high she jumped to get away from them. We called her kangaroo. Only a couple of times, mind you, because she threatened to fire us, but still, she made it on that table in one huge leap.”
“I think it’s going to snow, so we should take care of this,” Travis suggested.
Mark glanced at Jessica who smiled apologetically. Apparently, Travis was finished with their topic of conversation.
Travis jumped from the buggy and lifted his arms for Jessica. Once Jessica was on the ground, Mark climbed down and grabbed his bag.
Mark followed Travis and Jessica into the bank and tried his best to take in his surroundings without looking like an idiot. When the bank manager discovered the amount of gold Mark had, he ushered him into his private office, alone. All told, Mark ended up with over one-hundred-fifty-thousand dollars in his account and was considered a god in the eyes of the Harrisburg Bank.
With his newfound rich bachelor status, he spent another hour setting up accounts at various stores and purchasing a few items of clothing that Madame would not have ready in time, or could not make herself. One item he’d decided he needed was a new top hat. He found the perfect one, and he was sure it rivaled President Lincoln’s.
Jessica looped her arm with his. “You know how we don’t have social media or phones here?” she whispered.
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’d still venture a guess that by tomorrow morning word will have gotten around about the rich young bachelor newly arrived to town. We’ll need to watch for the vultures and their mamas.”
“Bring ’em on. Women I can handle,” he retorted. “You remember the groupies for Shaun.”
Jessica giggled. “I guess that’s true. Of course, you’re your own security here.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He glanced behind him. “Where’s Travis?”
“He’s...” Jessica turned. “Well, he was right behind us.”
Mark had started to lead Jessica back the way they came when Travis shot out of the local mercantile, a panicked expression on his face that quickly turned into irritation. He stalked toward them.
“Don’t ever do that again, Jake,” he warned, grasping her arm.
“Whoa,” Mark said. “You better calm the hell down, Travis, or you and I are going to have a problem.”
Jessica dropped her arm from Mark’s and laid her hand over Travis’s. “Travis. I’m right here, okay? Look at me.” She waited until he did. “I’m with my brother, baby. I’m not alone. I didn’t disappear. I’m right here.”
Travis stared at her for several tense seconds and then wrapped his arm around her waist and nodded. “Sorry, sweetheart. I couldn’t find you and I... ah...”
“I know. It’s okay.” Jessica smiled and cupped his cheek. “I’m okay.”
Travis nodded and Jessica turned back to Mark. “If you’re almost finished, we should probably get going. The sky’s getting dark.”
“I’m good,” Mark said. “We can go anytime.”
“Let’s head back then,” Travis said, and led the siblings back to the buggy.
* * *
When they arrived home, the Fords’ house was abuzz with preparations for the ball. As was the tradition of the time, the whole surrounding area had been invited. Residents sought distractions from the unending suffering and escape from the pain of war any way they could.
Usually, when Sophie threw a party, an elaborate dinner was a highlight of the event, but tonight there was to be no formal meal. Instead, food and drink would be available in the ballroom, with many of the local ladies contributing to the menu. Jessica was directed to join Sophie in her dressing room where Madame was already busy working on the ladies’ gowns.
* * *
Sophie checked her profile in the mirror. Bernadette would need to let the gown out just slightly to accommodate her stomach. She just couldn’t lose it, and the thought of tightening the corset made her sick to her stomach.
“So, have you thought about what you’re going to do, Sophie?” Madame asked.
“About?”
“The assassination?”
“We’re going to stop it.” She glanced at the seamstress. “None of us feels as though it would be right to allow it to happen.”
“So are the men going to arrest Booth and their conspirators soon?”
Sophie shook her head. “Sam says it’s not wise. They have no proof of a plot, so there would be no way for them to make the charges stick. He thinks it would be best to catch them in the act.”
“Oh? Will it work, do you think?”
Sophie nodded. “I think so. I know more about the events of the assassination than most of the rest of the war. I think it will work out perfectly.”
“Well, if it’s what you want, cherie.”
“It is.” Sophie frowned. “Do you not agree?”
“Non, I do. Absolutely.”
“Oh, good.” Sophie smiled and slipped out of her dress. “Is it too much trouble to take it out a bit?”
“Non. Not at all, my dear. I will have one of my girls get on it right now.”
“Thank you.”
Sophie pulled her day dress back on and once Jessica was settled with Madame, she headed back downstairs to finalize the evening.
* * *
Thirty minutes before the house would be opened to the public, Mark followed Jessica downstairs and into the large ballroom. As they walked through the ornate double doors, he caught sight of a stunning woman standing with Hannah Butler. He grasped his sister’s arm and leaned down. “Who is that?”
“That’s Gabrielle Butler. She’s Christopher’s cousin.”
“She wasn’t at dinner last night.”
“I know. She and her brother arrived today. I don’t think they were expecting to come.”
“She’s gorgeous.”
Her light blonde hair had been parted in the middle and swept up at the sides and back, in an ornate style Mark knew was typical of the nineteenth century. Her ice-blue silk gown, although modest, didn’t hide her hour-glass figure. Mark was drawn to her immediately.
Jessica nodded. “She is gorgeous, but she’s also surrounded by big men who’d have no problem shooting you in the head if you misbehave.”
“Okay, dramakazi.”
He noticed Travis out of the corner of his eye ambling toward them.
“No, I’m serious, Mark. It’s different here. Remember that,” Jessica continued.
“Yeah, I got it. Introduce me.”
Before Jessica could answer, Travis arrived and kissed her cheek. “Why are you scowling at your brother, sweetheart?”
“Because he’s like the millionth in line to fall at the feet of Gabrielle Butler.”
“Seriously?” Mark droned.
“Seriously.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter. She obviously hasn’t met me yet.”
Jessica let out a quiet snort. “Well, there’s also the fact that I don’t want you to get into trouble with one of the Butlers.”
“The Butlers are the least of his worries, sweetheart.” Travis chuckled. “She has a reputation for being difficult, so I doubt you’d have much competition, Mark. Rumor has it, she’s refused more than a dozen suits.”
“She’s difficult, because she speaks her mind,” Jessica hissed and tugged her hand away from Travis. “She also doesn’t bow to her brother and cousins.”
“Whoa, sweetheart.” He grasped her hand again. “I happen to love a woman who speaks her mind. It’s why I married you.”
Jessica glared at him, but Travis just grinned and appeared to be waiting for something. Mark was surprised when she sighed and sagged against her husband. Jessica’s pregnancy hormones were in full “swing.”
“Wow, how the hell did you do that?” Mark whispered to Travis.
“It’s a gift,” Travis retorted.
“Both of you suck,” Jessica whispered.
“We know, sweetheart.”
Mark chuckled. Seeing a different side of Travis Wade was certainly a nice change. “Now that you’re no longer on the rampage, will you introduce me?”
“Not with that attitude,” Jessica threatened.
“Oh, Jitterbug, my sweet, sweet, Jitterbug,” Mark crooned as he took her gloved hand and kissed the top. “I have missed you so much, Jitterbug. Words cannot describe how much. My life was miserable without you in it.” He stared at her, willing her to keep her pinched expression, but he could see her trying not to laugh. “Better?”
“You still suck,” she said, but led him toward Gabrielle and her bevy of admirers.
“Why do you call Jake ‘Jitterbug’?” Travis asked Mark.
“It’s the first dance I taught her.”
“What is it?”
“Easier to show you,” Mark said as they drew closer to the group. “Later.”
“Remember to ask her for her dance card,” Jessica reminded him. “You’re lucky you know these dances.”
Mark rolled his eyes. “Jess, I’ve got it. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”
“Do not ask her for a waltz.”
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t know her. She’d be mortified.”
“Jessica!” Mark stalled. “Forget it. I’ll get Hannah to introduce me.”
Travis narrowed his eyes. “Watch your tone.”
Mark raised an eyebrow at his brother-in-law, rethinking his position on Travis’s different side.
“It’s okay, Travis,” Jessica said. “I don’t mean to be all harpy, Mark, but I’m tired and I want you to succeed.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were tired?” Travis admonished. “You should rest.”
“I don’t want to rest,” she said. “I want to spend time with our friends, and I’ll be able to, provided my brother doesn’t get shot by one of the Butlers.”
“Jess.” Mark smiled gently. “Why don’t you go sit down and I’ll have Hannah introduce me? I’ll be fine. I promise. I’ve spent the last three years preparing for this.”
“We’ll come with you and then I’ll sit down,” Jessica said.
Mark knew his sister well enough to know she’d worry about the impression he was making if she didn’t come with him. He smiled. He’d missed her bossiness.
“What?” she asked in suspicion.
“Nothing,” he said. “I really have missed you.”
Before Jessica could respond with what Mark was sure would be a snarky remark, the French doors were opened and guests began to file in from the back of the house. Mark sighed in frustration, but he was still determined to be introduced to the beauty that was Gabrielle Butler. But before he could move toward her, he was descended upon by Emma. Clayton stood sentry behind her and although he appeared friendly, his smile seemed somewhat forced.
“Mr. Battaglia,” Emma crooned. “How lovely to see you this evening.”
“Why thank you, Mrs. Madden.” Mark grinned and lifted her gloved hand to his lips. “You look beautiful. That’s close to the color of your blue cocktail dress.”
“Oh, I miss that dress,” she grumbled. “I’d love to wear it for Clayton sometime. But it’s the shoes, really, that would drive him crazy.”
Mark raised a hand. “I don’t want to know.”
She giggled. “You clean up pretty well yourself,” she said. “That suit fits you like a glove.”
“Crow assisted immensely,” he said. “May I claim a dance?”
“Of course.” Emma handed him her dance card. “Please pick the Lanciers’... the waltz is off-limits.” She glanced back at her ever-watchful husband.
Mark chuckled and signed his name next to the open dance. “As you wish.”
* * *
Gabrielle smiled at the third soldier she’d been forced to converse with longer than she cared to. He’d claimed one of the Lanciers’ dances and was disgruntled when she’d refused him another. Her brother was of no help, too involved in his conversation with a pretty young widow by the name of Alice Atwood.
A din off to her right distracted her and Gabby couldn’t help but notice a handsome man surrounded by Hannah and Christopher, and Clayton and Emma Madden. She saw that both Christopher and Clayton were wearing similar expressions of controlled irritation.
She watched the group, uncaring that she was ignoring her latest suitor. Who was this man they were all so friendly with? He was tall, almost as tall as Christopher, and he had dark hair and wide shoulders. He was dressed impeccably and his full lips stretched into a wide smile. His teeth gleamed. Unlike those of many of her gentlemen callers, they were very white. He was probably one of the best-looking men she had ever seen. Gabby suddenly felt the need to know him.
“Excuse me,” she said to the officer attempting to write his name on her card. She pulled it out of his hands before he could protest.
“Gabby,” Gwendolyn whispered in warning before she could make a complete fool of herself.
“Yes? Oh, sorry. Corporal Jones, please forgive me. I was distracted. I thought my cousin needed me.” She handed the card back to the soldier and waited for him to finish signing his name, her toe tapping beneath her skirts.
“Ma’am.” He nodded his head and then stepped away from her.
“What are you doing, cousin?” Gwen grasped her hand and raised an eyebrow. “It’s not like you to be so rude.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I was distracted... ah... I’d like to meet that man. The one with Chris.”
“Your forwardness is going to get you into trouble one day, Gabby.”
“Oh, pish,” Charity admonished beside them. “If she wants to meet Jessica’s brother, she should be allowed to meet Jessica’s brother.”
“Thank you, Charity,” Gabby said.
“You’re obviously feeling better,” Gwendolyn quipped.
“I feel quite well, thank you,” Charity retorted.
Charity Madden was just as forward-thinking as Gabrielle, although, perhaps a bit more vocal. Her husband, Richard, was Clayton’s brother and never far from her side. Gabby found him watching her from his place near the window.
“Why don’t we go together,” Gwen suggested. “Let me just tell Andrew.”
Andrew was deep in conversation with Captain Ford, but when Gwen spoke with him he glanced at Gabby and then back at Gwen and nodded with a smile. The captain said something that made Gwen giggle and she made her way back to Gabby’s side. “Ready?”
“Yes,” Gabby said, and followed Gwen and Charity to the group.
“Gwendolyn,” Christopher said, and leaned down to kiss his sister’s cheek. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you. I thought I’d introduce Mr. Battaglia to Charity and Gabrielle.”
“What a perfect idea,” Hannah said as she grasped Gwen’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Mar—excuse me, I mean, Mr. Battaglia. May I present Mrs. Simmonds, Mrs. Madden, and Miss Butler?”
Mark bowed over the ladies’ hands, lingering for a few seconds on Gabrielle. Her heart raced as she stared into his hazel eyes.
“Miss Butler. It is a pleasure to meet you,” he said.
“Thank you, Mr. Battaglia.” Her voice sounded nervous to her ears, and she swallowed hard in an effort to bolster her confidence.
He released her hand and turned to Charity. “I do hope each of you have room on your dance cards.”
“I have a few spots left,” Charity said, and handed him hers.
While Mr. Battaglia signed Charity’s card and then Gwen’s, Gabby opened hers and saw that the final waltz had been taken by one of the soldiers. She turned slightly, hoping he wouldn’t see what she was doing, and crossed out the soldier’s name, writing it instead next to the final Quadrille.
“I appear to only have a waltz left.” She noticed Christopher’s warning glance as she handed her dance card to Mr. Battaglia. “If that is agreeable to you, Mr. Battaglia?”
“I would be honored, Miss Butler.” He signed his name and handed her back the card.
Gabby couldn’t help but feel disappointed when Mr. Battaglia was ushered from her presence and over to where Captain Ford and his wife were sitting.
Gwen linked her arm with Gabby’s. “Your face is showing your disappointment, cousin.”
“I can’t fathom why.” Gabby forced a smile. “I have nothing to be disappointed about.”
Gwen gave her a suspicious smile. “He’s quite handsome, isn’t he?”
“Ah, yes...” Gabby felt the heat on her cheeks as she nodded. “I suppose he is.”
“Has a gentleman finally turned your head, cousin?”
Gabby shook her head. “I have yet to have a conversation with the man, so perhaps we’ll wait and see, hmm?”
Gwen giggled and led her back to their small group. Gabby couldn’t stop herself from watching Mr. Battaglia as he was introduced to several people by his brother-in-law. Before she knew it, she was being claimed by Corporal Jones for her dance, and she tried once again not to appear disappointed.
She suffered through polite conversation and the next three dances, all the while wishing she was dancing the waltz with a completely different person. She located him dancing with Charity and felt a sudden jealousy welling up inside. She tried not to react, but couldn’t stop a frown when he bent over Charity’s hand. The soldier she’d been dancing with... was he a private? She couldn’t remember... led her back to her table and bowed over her hand, leaving her standing next to a woman she’d yet to meet.
And then he was there. Tall and handsome, he held his left arm out to her and she set her right hand on it. He led her to the dance floor and swept her into the Prima Donna. Gabby loved this waltz... truth be told, she loved every waltz... but for some reason, dancing with this man was better than any other dance before. He glided across the dance floor, commanding her and the dance in one fell swoop.
“You dance beautifully, Miss Butler.”
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Battaglia. As do you.”
“I haven’t had the chance to dance much of late. I was worried I might be a bit rusty.”
She smiled. “Not at all. I don’t believe I’ve danced with anyone quite so, ah... smooth, to be honest.”
“Well, coming from someone as beautiful as you, I’m flattered.”
She felt her face heat at the compliment. “Oh, Mr. Battaglia, you are too kind.”
“Please, call me Mark.”
Gabby swallowed. Mark. What a perfect name. Strong. Handsome. And he smelled good, too. Clean and manly.
“I’m sorry. Was that too forward?” he asked.
“Oh, no. Not at all. Thank you.”
What is wrong with me? Why can’t I speak?
He smiled and Gabby’s heart raced again. She couldn’t think. For the next few minutes, she let herself bask in the feeling of his arm firmly on her back, and her hand gripped gently in his. She was unprepared when Mark leaned down as though to kiss her and Gabby closed her eyes, ever hopeful.
Instead, he whispered, “The song has ended, Miss Butler.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.” She was mortified. Her face blazed as Mark led her from the dance floor. “I apologize.”
“Nothing to apologize for.” He bowed over her hand and gave her a mischievous smile. “I must say again, Miss Butler, you truly are the most beautiful lady I’ve ever had the pleasure of dancing with.”
“Thank you, Mr. Battaglia.”
“Mark, please. I insist.”
She lowered her eyes. “Mark.”
“I believe I’m to dance the Quadrille with Mrs. Madden.”
Jealousy reared its ugly head again. “Another one?”
“I’m sorry?”
Gabby shook her head. “Never mind. Please excuse me.”
Clayton’s wife approached them, a wide grin on her face. “This is my dance, Mr. Battaglia.”
Mark grinned, his face lighting up when he saw her. “It is, Mrs. Madden.” He faced Gabby again and smiled. “Thank you for the dance.”
Gabby forced a smile and watched as he led the gorgeous woman to the dance floor.