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

Three soldiers on horseback rode closer and reined in right in front of her. The man in the center wore an officer’s double-breasted coat with one gold eagle on his shoulder boards. He dismounted, grimacing, then with a stiff leg stepped up on the sidewalk and out of a street which was little more than a channel of liquid mud.

“What sort of rogue would abandon a beautiful woman on the sidewalk?” Although his voice was amiable, his cognac-colored eyes were fixed on her with an unblinking chill.

She took a step backward and glanced around, searching for Jack.

The man politely doffed his slouch hat, which bore the cavalry’s crossed-sabers insignia. Wavy brown hair fell across his forehead. “Colonel Henly at your service, ma’am. Where may I escort you?” He shoved fingers through his hair before resettling his hat.

“My brother has gone to rent a carriage and will be right back. But I appreciate your offer.” She shivered slightly from the cold and from his chilling visual appraisal.

The colonel set his lips in a grim line and glanced up and down the street. “It’s too cold for you to wait here. While my aides guard your luggage, I’ll escort you inside the Willard where it’s warm. You will wait for your brother there. Come along.” He took her hand and threaded it around his proffered elbow.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t leave without him.” Being less than subtle, she reclaimed her arm, yanking it from the colonel’s clutches. She quickly scanned the crowd. Jack was a good head taller than most men, including the obnoxious colonel, and she would spot him immediately. But he wasn’t around to be spotted.

The colonel turned to his aides. “Guard these trunks. When the lady’s brother returns, send him inside the hotel.”

The aides dismounted and took up positions on either side of her luggage.

Unease gave her another reason to shiver. She rooted her feet to the planked sidewalk. What if they searched her luggage? Twenty-first century antibiotics and pain medications, as well as her Confederate uniform, were packed in the bottom.

“Come, before you freeze.” The colonel had her hand tucked in the crook of his arm and was towing her off in the direction of the hotel, despite her protests.

“I’m sure you have other matters more important than seeing to my comfort.” She could continue to resist him, stall to give Jack more time, but was it wise? He was a colonel, and she needed friends with connections.

“Protecting you from freezing is the most important task of my day. My men will notify your brother the moment he returns.”

Her feet tingled from the cold. She truly did not want to stand outside much longer. The two men guarding her luggage stood at attention, appearing to take their task seriously. She didn’t think they would have time to pick the locks and dig through her belongings before Jack returned. The colonel was pushy, but there wasn’t a logical reason for her to remain out in the cold while soldiers guarded her bags. She took another look around for Jack. Then, reluctantly, she accepted the colonel’s assistance.

“What is your brother’s name?” he asked.

“Jack Mallory,” she said.

After giving his aides instructions, the colonel led her toward the corner. “How did you come to be stranded, Miss Mallory?” He glanced at her, waiting expectantly.

Cold prickled at the back of her neck. What in the world was she going to say?

Think quickly. Think smart.

“The carriage…we were in had a lame horse…and the driver put us out.” She had been in the nineteenth century only five minutes and had already told her first lie. How many more would she tell? Jack’s advice was to keep it simple and as close to the truth as possible. Hers didn’t have any semblance of truth, but it was simple enough.

A look of astonishment on his face quickly changed to disbelief then displeasure. “The driver should be whipped.”

“It’s wartime. We have learned to adjust to unusual situations.” She kept her voice light, not wanting to be overly dramatic.

They headed toward the hotel’s entrance at an unhurried pace. She had the impression Henly wasn’t walking slowly for her comfort. He had probably been recently wounded.

“It’s almost eleven o’clock,” he said. “The politicians should have finished their breakfast and hastened to the public rooms to mingle. It will be quite crowded.”

They reached the main entrance and proceeded through a spacious corridor toward the hotel rotunda. Before reaching the rotunda, though, the colonel stopped at a news, books, and cigar stand. The banner over the merchandise proclaimed the cigars were the best the market affords.

“Would you mind waiting a moment?” he asked.

She shook her head, eyeing the books and folded newspapers. Above the headline was the date—December 8, 1864. Perfect. Booth should be in Washington, living at the National Hotel, and romancing Lucy Lambert Hale. If Jack visited the hotel, he could find Booth, and possibly Braham as well.

A lanky, immaculately dressed man joined Henly at the counter. “Morning, Colonel.”

“Morning, Senator Sherman. I just read a report indicating your brother is halfway to Savannah. Does he plan to make the city a Christmas gift to the president?”

The senator gave a nasal laugh. “A gift Mr. Lincoln would gladly accept.”

Henly paid the clerk for a handful of cigars and tucked them into his coat pocket. “Pray Hardee realizes the futility of defending the city and surrenders before thousands more die and the city is burned to the ground.”

Another man approached and asked to have a moment with the senator. Henly excused himself and escorted Charlotte back out into the corridor.

“It’s a bold move for General Sherman to operate so far within enemy territory without supply lines,” she said. “It hasn’t been tried before in the annals of war, has it?”

He arched his brow and frowned back at her in puzzlement.

“I heard someone refer to his march,” she continued, “as a scorched earth campaign, designed to bring a quicker resolution to the war.”

“You’re not only beautiful but quite knowledgeable.”

She shrugged, deliberately