A Lasting Impression

Adelicia sitting opposite him in the carriage, guessing what she was going to ask now that they were alone—a rarity since the LeVerts’ arrival. “I’m accustomed to your boldness, Mrs. Acklen. And I sincerely doubt—once you’ve set your mind to it—that there’s any question I could dissuade you from asking.”
    Her smile was instant. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She returned her attention to the window, and Sutton glimpsed the turnoff to Belmont ahead. “Have you and Cara Netta discussed plans for marriage yet, Mr. Monroe?”
    It felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. “I beg your pardon?”
    “I warned you it was a bold question.”
    “Bold, yes. Abandoning propriety, no.”
    A fine black brow rose ever so slightly. “Please understand the motivation behind my inquiry. You are not merely an employee to me, Mr. Monroe. You were my late husband’s protégé, and you are courting the daughter of my dearest friend. I believe that gives me a bit of leeway in this respect.”
    Summoning patience he didn’t feel, Sutton prayed for wisdom he sorely lacked. “To be clear, Mrs. Acklen, I’m not officially courting Cara Netta. We have an understanding of sorts between us, but we haven’t—”
    “Exactly what is your definition of courting, Mr. Monroe?”
    Heat rose from his neck to his face. “But no ,” he continued undaunted, “we haven’t spoken formally, or otherwise, about marriage plans. I . . .” He hesitated, wondering how much to tell her, and if she might already suspect the truth about his feelings for Claire. Adelicia was as perceptive a woman as she was persuasive, and considering that, he decided to approach her question from a different angle.
    “I don’t wish to rush Cara Netta into a decision. After all, Europe was . . .” He searched for the right words.
    “Another world away?” she supplied.
    “Yes,” he said, aware of her close attention. “And while I have no doubts about her character or person, I believe she deserves more time to reflect upon my own situation.”
    Adelicia frowned. “Do not speak so meanly of yourself, Mr. Monroe. While it may be true that your financial standing is more precarious these days, the fine fabric of your character, the qualities that matter most, remain unchanged. The LeVerts are convinced of this, I know.”
    Her comment gave him the impression that she and Madame LeVert had been discussing the two of them behind closed doors. Which didn’t surprise him but it aggravated him all the same.
    The carriage rounded the corner, and Adelicia directed her attention out the window. Sutton did likewise. He’d been out of sorts lately—with Adelicia, with others, even with himself. The reasons were varied and mostly out of his control. Which only made it worse.
    No word from the Federal Army’s review board yet, but daily he waited. Earlier in the week, he’d ridden out to his family’s land late one night, seeking comfort, he guessed. Or reassurance, maybe. But instead, the visit only stirred up painful memories best forgotten.
    Regarding the report from New Orleans that he’d been waiting for, his colleague had sent a telegram . . . “Your request forthcoming. Pursuing additional information. Will post within a fortnight.” He wasn’t eager to wait another two weeks, but he’d appreciated the man’s discreet wording. And though Adelicia’s interest in the report’s contents seemed to have waned, his hadn’t.
    Not that he expected to learn that Claire was a fugitive wanted for murder or some other outlandish possibility. He simply wanted to know more about her background, enough to satisfy the lawyer in him responsible for protecting Adelicia’s interests.
    And . . . to satisfy some of his own.
    The carriage jostled over the rutted road, and he remembered how she’d cried the other night, and how he’d held her. He grimaced thinking of what a fool he’d been about to make of himself—on the brink of confessing to her how he felt about her, and why telling her about his understanding with Cara Netta had been so difficult.
    Then she’d said the one thing he could have lived the rest of his life quite happily never having heard from her lips. “You and I are friends. Good friends . . .”
    He clenched his jaw. But that’s what they were. In her eyes. And what he knew he needed to start viewing her as . . . in his.
    Cara Netta LeVert was awaiting a proposal of marriage from him, and he should be grateful to have her