The Sapphire Brooch Katherine Logan (best beach reads TXT) 📖

When Jack had told her Braham had been at the White House of the Confederacy in constant meetings with General Weitzel and his staff, she had been tempted to march over to the general’s office and demand he give Braham time off to heal. But she knew even if Weitzel ordered Braham to rest, he wouldn’t.

Charlotte returned to her seat on the sofa and studied Braham over the top edge of the newspaper. Even with his shadowed eyes, cuts, bruises, singed hair, and minor burns, she found his presence soothing.

Jack placed his coffee cup on the serving tray, wiped his hands on a napkin, and tossed it alongside the cup. “If you’ll excuse me, I have an article to write.”

A loud knock on the front door reverberated through the downstairs; the very air in the room seemed to freeze. Braham came to attention, but the corner of his lip curled, hinting at a slight smile, whether in amusement or something else, Charlotte wasn’t sure. Jack turned toward the door, eyeing it inquisitively. Elizabeth lost color in her face. And Charlotte, still jittery over visitors who carried torches, cringed and scrunched furtively into the softly cushioned chair.

Elizabeth rose slowly from the sofa, patting the neatly rolled bun at her nape. Before taking a step, she brushed the front of her blue cotton day dress with slightly shaking hands. “I suppose my neighbors are calling, wanting their silver back now they don’t feel threatened by their rescuers.”

Jack crossed the room to the window, pushed aside a corner of the lace curtain, and peered out. The breeze rattled busily among the branches of the trees and shrub. “All I see from here is a warbler sitting in an azalea bush, pouring its heart out. But whoever is at the door has come with a Union Cavalry escort. Maybe General Weitzel is calling on Elizabeth?”

Braham shrugged, his mouth spreading now into a wide grin. “Let’s go see.”

They followed Elizabeth out into the entryway, where vases belied the devastation outside with fragrant sprays of greenery mixed in with white and purple lilacs. The large bouquets filled the entry with the fresh, sweet scents of innocence and springtime. Charlotte buried her nose in one bouquet and sniffed, cleansing the lingering, stale smell of smoke from her nose.

The butler opened the door, and loud gasps mingled with the delicious spring scents. Braham strode past the others to welcome their guest. “Come in, Mr. President.”

Lincoln and his entourage quickly filled the entryway.

Elizabeth hurried forward, extending her hand. “What a glorious surprise. I’m Miss Van Lew. I’m honored you chose to pay a visit, Mr. President. Please, come in for tea.”

The president removed his hat, sniffing the air. “The fragrance of your flowers is a pleasant reprieve from the smoky air of center city.”

Elizabeth nodded, smiling radiantly. “Let me introduce my guests.” She pointed toward Jack.

“There’s no need,” Lincoln said. “I’m acquainted with the Mallorys, and owe the doctor a debt of thanks yet again. It occurred to me the major might have intentionally gotten himself captured, hoping to set eyes on your lovely countenance once more.”

Charlotte stood stock still for a moment, aware of Braham’s musky scent among the floral arrangements. A slight flush increased the heat on her cheeks. “I don’t know about that, Mr. President. I can’t imagine anyone volunteering to spend time in Castle Thunder, no matter what the reason.”

“I heard the prisons survived the fire. It’s a shame.” Elizabeth’s voice was heavy with regret.

Lincoln regarded her with a gentle expression and sympathetic eyes. “The crowd earlier this morning was of like mind, madam. But I’ve ordered they’re not to be burned. Instead, the prisons are to be used as a monument to all the loyal soldiers who suffered its horrors.” He placed his hand on Braham’s shoulder, gripping it, pulling him into a side hug. “I’m sorry for what you endured there.”

Braham nodded almost imperceptibly. “It was only a few days, sir.”

“Tea is served, Mr. President. Please come have refreshment.”

“I regret to decline, Miss Van Lew. I must get on with the tour. General Weitzel was kind enough to point out your residence, saying you were General Grant’s correspondent. I’ve come to thank you on his behalf and mine.”

“I did little for a cause so large, but I pray I did all I could.”

Lincoln tapped the breast of his coat with a gesture of satisfaction. “You did more than we had a right to ask or expect. You’re an honorable and generous woman.”

Elizabeth, a true loyalist, humble and unpretentious, bowed her head slightly in recognition of the compliment.

“Major McCabe, I’ll be returning to Washington this afternoon on the Malvern and would like you to join me. If Mr. Mallory and Doctor Mallory intend to return to Washington, there is room on the steamer to accommodate them. Now, I must go.”

“Thank ye, sir,” Braham said. “We’ll depart for the dock shortly.”

The president and his entourage departed as quickly as they had arrived. Elizabeth and Jack went inside, leaving Charlotte and Braham on the portico to watch the caravan, bathed in rays of golden sunlight, travel down the street. Five minutes of the president’s time were more valuable than the missing Confederate gold. And no nonmilitary Unionist deserved those minutes more than Elizabeth. It must have taken a creative scheduler to make time for her.

Charlotte glanced at Braham. His hand rested on the hilt of his saber. He wore the smug look men get when they know they’ve made a lady happy. Guessing his secret, she smiled and rubbed a light hand over his arm. “Asking the president to visit Elizabeth was a lovely gesture.”

He laughed, and the sound was rich and sensual. “Ah, lass, I thought it would please ye, too. I didn’t know ye were on such good terms with Mr. Lincoln.” He stroked his thumb across her chin and along her jawline. “Are ye ready to return to Washington?”

His warm breath fanned her cheek. As if she were under his spell,