The Last Heiress Read Free Page B

Lincoln’s navy, could delay her arrival considerably. If the ship is forced to seek port in Virginia, Amanda would have to make her way south overland.”
    â€œPerhaps, but with my sister’s luck she’ll be here when expected and without encountering so much as a mild case of seasickness.” Abigail pushed away her breakfast plate.
    â€œTime will tell. Now, what are your plans for today?”
    Abigail tossed down her napkin. “I intend to oversee the gardeners among the roses. I wish large bouquets without thorns in every room. Then I plan to take luncheon with Carolyn Lowell. As long as there’s no hint of rain, she’s having eight ladies on the terrace. Then I’ll probably read and nap until your return from the office.”
    â€œThat sounds delightful, but don’t overtire yourself. Remember what the doctor said about resting.” Jackson reached for her hand and kissed the backs of her fingers. “I must be off.” He paused in the doorway and looked over his shoulder. “Nothing stronger at Carolyn’s than lemonade.”
    â€œStop worrying, husband. I’m fine.”
    Jackson accepted his coat and hat from a footman and strode out the door.
    From the window, Abigail watched his carriage until it turned the corner. How she loved that man. He was tall and handsome, generous and kind—at least to her. Anything she asked for he graciously provided and asked for nothing in return except an heir, a son to carry on the family business, the prestigious Henthorne and Sons. Thus far she’d been unable to fulfil his one request. Two earlier pregnancies had ended abruptly within a few months.
    But this baby she was carrying would be hearty and strong. Abigail just knew it. And Amanda journeying to the Carolinas was a very good omen.

    â€œMiz Henthorne?” A child appeared in the gap in the privet hedge.
    â€œYes, I’m Mrs. Henthorne. Who might you be?” Abigail smiled kindly at the young boy—a slave, judging by his clothing.
    â€œI’m Daniel from Mr. Phelps. He’s the dockmaster.”
    â€œThe dockmaster?”
    â€œYes’m. I was sent to say the Queen Antoinette has come to port.” He shuffled his feet in the dirt.
    â€œIs my sister, Miss Dunn, aboard the ship?”
    â€œYes’m. I was ’spose to say that too, but I forgot her name.” Daniel stole an anxious glance. “Mr. Phelps say you should send your carriage.”
    Abigail rose to her feet. “I shall at once. Before you run back, Daniel, stop at the kitchen door and ask the woman there to give you a cookie.”
    When the child had vanished, she moved almost as quickly. Within thirty minutes her carriage pulled into the loading area of the wharf.
    â€œLooks to be fewer ships than usual, Miz Henthorne.” The driver shielded his eyes from the sun with his hat.
    â€œDon’t dawdle, Thomas. Find Miss Dunn and then tell the porter to bring her luggage to the carriage.”
    Thomas jumped down and tied the horse to a post. “How will I know which lady is Miss Dunn, ma’am?”
    Abigail giggled behind her fan, trying to stem her enthusiasm. “That’s easy. She’s my twin sister. She looks exactly like me.”
    Thomas disappeared down the ramp toward the docks and returned with a pale waif of a woman a few minutes later. Amanda wore a somber gray suit that fell in a straight line to the ground, a drab hat with a veil, and sensible lace-up boots. Except for her face, the two women looked nothing alike.
    â€œAmanda! At long last,” Abigail called. “I’ve been so worried.”
    â€œMy dear Abby! You have no idea how glad I am to be on solid land without all that swaying from side to side.”
    Abby. No one had called her that in years. Jackson abhorred nicknames. He even cringed when his brother called him Jack. “I assume it wasn’t a smooth voyage?” Abigail extended her