Free Surrender the Dawn by MaryLu Tyndall Page B

catching a prize and the sooner the money would start flowing in. Then Cassandra could pay off her creditors. She didn’t know how much longer Mr. Newman would extend her account at the mercantile or Mr. Sikes at the chandlers or Mr. Roberts at the cobblers or if Mr. Kile at the Bank of Baltimore would call in the loan she took out against their property. If any of them demanded payment before her investment with Mr. Heaton paid off, her family would be on the streets.
    Stopping, she clipped a dead branch from one of the plants then stooped to cut off a faded flower. She wished she could rid herself of her problems as easily. Drawing a deep whiff of a fresh blossom, she brushed her cheek over its soft petals. The sweet fragrance filled her lungs, luring her eyes closed as she dreamed of happier days when her father was alive and both her brothers were home. Gregory, two years her senior, had inherited their father’s flaming red hair and the temper to go with it. But he always came to Cassandra’s defense on any issue and never allowed gentlemen callers unless he’d first scrutinized them at length. And Matthew, sweet docile Matthew, who, though only a year older than Cassandra, possessed the wisdom of an ancient scholar and the kindness of a saint. How many evenings had they curled up together in her chamber as children with a candle and a copy of their favorite book,
Keeper’s Travels in Search of His Master,
reading late into the night of grand adventures in foreign lands?
    The loud clank of the solarium door followed by childish squealing jarred Cassandra from her memories. She opened her eyes to a flash of blond hair and a flutter of petticoats as Darlene darted past her then wove in between a row of plants and disappeared. Hannah barreled in after her, her wide blue eyes scanning the room.
    “Darlene, Hannah!” Margaret’s voice flew in from outside.
    Setting down the shears, Cassandra fisted her hands at her waist. “Now, you girls know you’re not allowed in here.”
    Giggles burst from the far corner. Ignoring Cassandra, Hannah dashed toward them. Dexter loped into the solarium fast on the girl’s heels as she threaded in between two of Cassandra’s newly planted sprouts. The clumsy sheepdog bumped into a wooden table. The pot sitting atop it teetered. Cassandra stretched out her hands toward it as a scream stuck in her throat.
    Dexter’s bark joined screeching laughter from the far end of the solarium as the pot crashed to the floor, sending chips of clay, clods of dirt, and the small plant shooting over the stone tiles.
    Cassandra halted. She heard Margaret’s gasp behind her. Silence swept the children’s laughter away, replaced by the patter of feet and paws as the two girls and Dexter slowly emerged from behind a row of plants, a look of dread on their faces.
    “Oh miss, I’m so sorry.” Margaret knelt by the broken pot and began to pick up the pieces. “We’re sorry, Cassie,” Darlene said, her chin lowering.
    Hannah stuck her thumb into her mouth and nodded as her eyes filled with tears.
    Cassandra laid a hand on Margaret’s arm. “Never mind that now. I’ll take care of it.” She turned to chastise the girls, but Darlene grabbed Hannah and darted out the door, leaving only Dexter to take the brunt of her anger. He gave a rueful whine.
    Margaret’s pudgy cheeks reddened. “I was trying to collect them for their studies, miss, but they got away from me.”
    “It’s quite all right, Margaret.” Cassandra sighed. “I don’t believe General Smith himself could corral those girls.”
    As Margaret’s laughter filled the room, Cassandra glanced out the mist-covered windows. “Where is Mrs. Northrop?”
    “In the house.” Margaret clutched Dexter’s collar and led him out the door. “Which reminds me, Mr. Crane arrived just a moment ago andyour mother is asking for you.” Sympathy deepened her tone.
    A sour taste filled Cassandra’s mouth, and she doubted it was due to the