Synopsis | Excerpt
Can she balance her ideals with the lure of her heart?
Mignonne Wingate, a beauty in post-Civil War Alabama, intends never to love again. But then she meets the Edgefield brothers at a fashionable resort in Saratoga Springs, New York.
Dashing, wild, Cooper Edgefield is hard to resist, yet also frightening. Kind, quiet Robert Edgefield appeals to her, but she worries that his duty to his ill father overshadows his interest in marriage. As Mignonne moves among the elite society of the railroad barons she witnesses a world far less genteel and far more aggressive than her Southern upbringing.
This fifth novel in Jacquelyn Cook's classic historical romance series brings THE RIVER SERIES to a satisfying conclusion. Cook's highly researched historicals bring to life the antebellum South and its people, mixing fiction and fact.
At the moment Mignonne entered the parlor, it burst into dazzling light. The lamplighter stood at work beneath the magnificent crystal chandelier, which was used only on grand occasions.
Caught in the spotlight, she hoped her appearance was adequate. She had chosen her own favorite dress, the pink silk organza she had worn for Libba's wedding. She had only to see the joy in Robert's eyes and the shine on his cheeks to know that everything was fine.
"You're lovely as a rose,” he whispered. Bowing, he shyly presented her with a dainty spray of pink rosebuds.
"You always know the perfect thing,” she said with delight.
She had swept her shining black hair on top of her head, and now she stood before the pier mirror in the parlor and pinned the rosebuds on one side of the mass of curls bobbing over her forehead. Framed by the roses and the sheer pink ruffle caressing her chin, her pixie face was enchanting.
Suddenly her reflection included two men. The brothers looked even taller in long tailcoats, even handsomer in elegant brocade waistcoats and white ties. Cooper had been true to his word, for once. It was apparent that he was joining them. She took a steadying breath before she turned to face him.
Cooper bowed, all gentlemanly politeness. He handed her a large corsage tied with yellow ribbon.
"Thank you,” she said, tying the flowers over the wrist of her elbow-length white kid gloves.
She rewarded him with a smile. She was pleased that Robert's brother liked her, but she was also disappointed. She had dreamed that tonight would be a special time of dancing in Robert's arms.
"Are you ready to travel the ‘Bridge of Smiles'?” asked Robert.
Afraid to trust her voice, she nodded. She took the arm Robert offered with her left hand and Cooper's with her right.
They stepped onto the red carpet which had been rolled out to the parlor and followed it to the side door.
The red carpet continued up the bridge fifty feet above the noisy traffic of horses and carriages on the street below, onto a level with the treetops. Rain pattered on the blue-and-white striped awning covering the bridge. It awakened the evergreens, and their spicy fragrance seemed to add even more excitement to the crisp night air.
The carpeted way spanned the entire distance from the hotel to the ballroom suspended halfway up the hillside. With myriads of lights, the ballroom beckoned them, sparkling as if the stars had gathered on the mountain to dance.
Mignonne had never felt so magically happy.
Music drifted down, surrounding them with symphonic sound. Not the mere band from the hop, this was a full orchestra with a multitude of throbbing violins.
Robert and Cooper had reconciled their differences—at least temporarily—and with teasing, jousting rivalry they vied to please her.
With feet skimming the carpet, she walked across the bridge between the brothers.
When the handsome trio entered the ballroom, all eyes turned upon them. In her simple gown ornamented with a single tulle blossom at her tiny waistline, she looked like a fresh rose.
Mirrored walls reflected the lights from tremendous multi-branched brass chandeliers. Fire was caught in the flashing facets of the ladies' jewels. Their scoop-necked gowns of silks and satins were trimmed with ribbons and feathers and long, elaborate trains.
Mignonne untied her wrap. The little cape, which had made her gown demure for an afternoon wedding, slipped away. The wide, portrait neckline of the dress beneath the ruffled chiffon cape had only the merest hint of sleeve. Her creamy shoulders and her swan-like neck were revealed. On her porcelain skin was a glowing necklace of astonishing pink rubies.
Cooper's eyebrows shot up and his waxed mustache drooped over his gaping mouth. Then his eyes narrowed, gleaming avariciously.
Tensing, Mignonne saw what she had been trying to deny. Cooper's intentions fairly bristled.
Wary fingers flew to her throat. She wet her lips and spoke with her words tumbling over one another.
"Aren't Aunt Emma's rubies exquisite? One can see why Uncle Jonathan dared to run the Yankee blockade of our ports to get them for her . . . .” Mignonne's voice trailed away as her own ears rang with the false note.
She knew that she was chattering, but she must explain both to Robert and to Cooper.
"Even though Aunt Emma insisted, I wasn't going to wear them, but I knew that tonight I wouldn't be properly dressed without . . .” She waved her hand toward the bejeweled dancers.
"Even without gemstones, you'd be the loveliest jewel here,” said Robert, surprising them so much with his eloquence that Cooper seemed struck dumb.
The orchestra leader had raised his baton; and in that moment before it came down, Robert bowed over her hand, asked permission to dance, and whirled her away, leaving Cooper standing in empty-handed amazement.
Swaying to the lilting rhythm of the Blue Danube Waltz, Robert swung her in wide circles right, circles left, away from Cooper. They disappeared into intermingling colors and sounds.
In each other's arms at last, they clung, forgetting everyone but themselves. She relaxed in his embrace, trusting him to guide her through the elegant patterns.
Was this dizziness from the whirling and the mirrored lights? Or was it from Robert's nearness? His lips were against the curls on her forehead. What was he murmuring? She could not hear above the swelling of the music, the beating of her heart. She closed her eyes. Oh, let it be some pledge that would last beyond this night.
