Free Evermore: A Saga of Slavery and Deliverance (The Plantation Series Book 3) by Gretchen Craig

this code. I can decipher.”
    Finn turned his head enough to see that the man had moved
on. He turned his attention back to the enchanting Miss Chamard. Her soft
Southern English, underlaid with a French accent, was
music. She was a woman made for singing. For loving. And where had her shyness
gone? She didn’t quail under his reflective gaze. She didn’t avoid his eye. He
swallowed, trying to keep his heart where it belonged.
    “Captain, do you need telegraphers?”
    Simpson volunteered, “Yes, ma’am. We are short-handed. I
heard of a lady telegrapher up in Missouri, Captain. You hear about her?”
    Finn grimaced at the boy. Shortage of manpower was
classified information.
    Finn glanced around to ensure no more angry citizens would
overhear them and gestured to her to walk a few steps with him. “Mademoiselle.”
She smelled of flowers. “I’m sure you appreciate there are security issues.”
Still hoping to read her, he peered into her face. Her eyes were so deeply gray
they were nearly blue, the same color as his mother’s temperamental Persian
cat.
    Her lips parted and she tilted her head up to him, the
picture of eager excitement. Without thought, he leaned down, closer to that
mouth, but remembered in time the street, the people.
    He straightened. He’d been about to make an ass of himself,
again. She beguiled him, bewitched him. Did she know it? Did she do it on
purpose? She was an actress, he reminded himself. Who knew what she was really
thinking?
    “Sir, I am in earnest.”
    He couldn’t stop staring. Self-consciously, she touched her
tongue to her upper lip. His mouth opened.
    “Captain?”
    He brought his gaze back to her eyes. “Mademoiselle?”
    “Will you teach me this code?”
    Finn looked off into the distance, searching for the
presence of mind to think it through. The Morse code was not secret. She could
find it in most any library. He ripped a page from his field notebook and
rapidly wrote the code for her.
    He handed the paper into her gloved hand. “Learn this. Then
come see me.”
    Her eyes lit up, making them a bluer gray. “Yes, Captain
McKee. I certainly will.”
    The woman strode away with the page clutched in her hand,
her shopping basket swinging from her arm. Finn watched her go, memorizing the
shape of her shoulders, the way her back tapered down to the tiniest of waists.
    When she’d smiled at him, radiant and glowing, it had
knocked the breath out of him. But she would come to her senses and toss that
paper away. He’d never see her again.
    He rubbed his thumb over his mustache. Or maybe he would.
Nicolette Chamard seemed to be made of determined stuff.

Chapter Eight
    The sun was shining, but at this time of year, the
likelihood of rain was close to a certainty. Marcel chose his second best boots
to navigate the mired streets.
    Today would be a round of goodbyes to family and friends in
town. On the morrow, Marcel would take a steamboat upriver to the home place.
He’d have the day with his father, and the next morning he’d don his new gray
uniform, collect his men at Thibodeaux, and lead them west to join Alfred
Mouton’s forces.
    Marcel took mid-day dinner at Mr. Sherman’s for a final
counsel with the wealthy, powerful men of New Orleans. This cadre advanced the
cause of the Confederacy in finance and industry from the velvet and silk
confines of rich men’s parlors.
    Mr. Sherman excused all the servants and closed the doors
and windows. Within minutes, the air grew stale with humidity and cigar smoke.
Marcel contemplated opening the French doors so they could breathe, but the men
gathered here had information the Union would profit from in countless ways, so
the doors remained closed. Over coffee and additional cigars, the gentlemen
shared the intelligence their sources provided and discussed the advisories
they would pass on to President Davis.
    Marcel had other farewell calls to make – to Cleo and
Nicolette, then to his fiancé, and finally home to Lucinda