Free To Whisper Her Name by Tamera Alexander Page A

to serve as your head housekeeper. I’ll do my best to —”
    “But you’re not the head housekeeper,” Mary blurted. “Cousin Lizzie is.” Mary looked at her mother. “Papa said this morning that he promised the —”
    “Mary!” Elizabeth’s voice tightened. “We can discuss the details of everyone’s duties later. Now …” She nodded toward Selene. “Why don’t you two go see how your father’s getting along with his newest addition. And please remind him that dinner is at six thirty this evening.” She gave a feather-light laugh. “We all know how he loses track of time with these things.”
    As Selene and Mary carried out their mother’s request, Olivia felt a rising sense of dread. General Harding had given the position of head housekeeper to someone else. A
real
family member. Where would she go if the Hardings had changed their minds? If the invitation from Belle Meade had been withdrawn?
    “Livvy, dear.” Elizabeth linked arms with her. “There is something I need to explain to you, but —”
    “Excuse me, Missus Harding?” A servant — a Negro woman Olivia recognized as the head cook, as delicate-looking a woman as she was energetic — leaned close to whisper into Elizabeth’s ear.
    Olivia looked away to give them privacy, but also to pull herself together. She’d started to shake, deep down inside, like the day her mother died, then her father. Like she had when Charles left their bedroom, so abruptly, on their wedding night, after …
    Feeling a chill, despite the heat, she pressed her hands against the knot in the pit of her stomach, trying her best not to remember while also trying to prepare herself for whatever Elizabeth would say next, when something — or someone — caught her attention.
    Ridley Cooper. On the front porch of the Hardings’ home.
    He deposited her trunk by the door, then worked his right shoulder for a minute as he looked out over the yard. She had to admit, the man had a presence about him. And could be considered somewhat attractive, she had to concede, if a woman liked that kind of look in a man — feral and brooding, undomesticated — which she didn’t.
    But it occurred to her, watching him stand there, alone on the porch, tall and confident — overly so on the latter — how easy it was to imagine him in uniform. In the familiar gray wool of the Confederacy. He hadn’t wanted to talk about the war, that had been clear. And she hadn’t either. She’d simply wanted him to know the general would.
    She still didn’t think General Harding would hire him, but considering how he’d helped her out of the carriage, then covered for her with Jedediah, she felt like she owed him something.
    He stilled, and she realized he was looking at her. He nodded once, motioned to the trunk, and she saw one side of that unruly beard of his edge up the tiniest bit, as if he were smiling. Much like he’d smiled at her when he’d helped her out of the carriage. When he’d held her entirely too long. Longer than a gentleman would have.
    She tried to imagine what he might look like clean-shaven and kempt and had to admit —
    A tug on her arm brought her back around.
    “Livvy, forgive me, dear. My attention is required in the house. But please …” Elizabeth cradled Olivia’s cheek. “Listen to me. There was a slight misunderstanding, that’s all. Unbeknownst to me, the general entered into an agreement for his cousin’s daughter to become the head housekeeper. And it’s an agreement that, I fear, cannot be set aside. However —”
    “It’s all right,” Olivia heard herself saying, bowing her head. “I understand.”
    “Livvy, darling, look at me.”
    Clenching her jaw so her chin wouldn’t quiver, Olivia did as asked.
    “This in no way alters our arrangement with you. You are welcome to live here with us for as long as you like, no matter how long that may be.”
    “But …” Olivia swallowed hard, mindful of others around them and unwilling for them