I should have expected it would go the way it did, she thought. A small sigh earned her a stare from the man sitting next to her. He noticed her bosom and started to speak. She glared, and he changed seats.
A growling emptiness reminded her she had eaten nothing since waking up in the cheap hotel where she had spent the night. She saw Willard's on the next corner and left the car. She was at the dining-room door when a group of men came out.
'Congressman Stout —'
He turned. She held her breath — did he recognize her?
Yes! He lowered the hat he had been settling on his wavy dark hair. 'Gentlemen, excuse me. An old friend. Thank you for your time; we shall pursue the matter.'
Sam Stout ignored the faintly lewd chuckles of a couple of his friends and shook her hand. 'Miss Hazard. How are you?'
'Pleased that you remember my name.'
'Did you think I wouldn't? What are you doing in the city?'
'I had a meeting with Miss Dix on some pressing administrative matters. I hated to leave the hospital, but it couldn't be helped. Is there any news of General Hooker?'
'None but what the papers carry. My friend Stanton guards those telegraph receivers carefully.' Stout glanced around, quickly evaluating all the men and women in the busy lobby. He did it casually, without attracting attention, which caused Virgilia to admire him all the more.
She was elated to see him. On a previous visit to Washington, she had made some inquiries about his personal life. He had no children; his wife, a girlhood sweetheart from Indiana, was apparently barren. A description of the woman revealed another tidbit. She was thin, with a chest as flat as a piece of lumber. Virgilia thought it might be useful to know she offered something Stout's wife did not.
His face grave, Stout said, 'I would be most interested in hearing about current conditions in the hospitals. Whether you have the equipment you need, drugs in sufficient quantity —'
Clever man. Using the same pretext she had employed the day they met, he was speaking loudly and clearly to offset any suggestion of impropriety. A clerk at the reception counter had recognized Stout and was listening, she noticed. 'I believe there's a quiet parlor just up this hallway, Miss Hazard. We could sit and chat there, if it would not interfere with your schedule.'
His steady gaze spoke what was really on his mind. Virgilia began to feel light-headed and perspire, constricted by her layers of clothing.
Taking polite hold of her elbow, he guided her along the deserted corridor that had the woolly, musty odor of hotels everywhere. The parlor, with several small tables and chairs scattered about, was empty.
Stout was no fool; he left the door wide open, though he did choose a table where they couldn't be seen unless someone walked into the room.
He laid his hat on the table and his fawn gloves and silver-handled stick beside it. His hair oil had a citrus tang. His skin was whiter than she remembered and his great hooking brows, in contrast, coal black. 'I must say, Miss Hazard, you look wonderfully fit.' The resonant voice reached deep inside her, stirring —
'Thank you, Congressman.'
An eloquent gesture at a plush chair. 'Won't you sit down? How are conditions at Aquia Creek?'
'The work's arduous, but you know how strongly I feel about the cause we serve.'
'I well remember,' he answered, nodding. 'It's one of many reasons I admire you.' He studied her mouth, smiled a little. She felt faint. He didn't press.
'Our supplies and food never seem adequate,' she continued.
'Even so, the job you ladies do is remarkable.'
'It's never good enough to satisfy me, Congressman.'
'Sam, if you please.'
'All right. My first name is —'
'Virgilia. It's a lovely name.'
'You have such a grand voice it makes any name sound splendid.'
His gaze moved past her to the parlor door. The corridor remained quiet. He seemed to be pondering his next gambit. Virgilia's eyes encouraged him.
At length he said, 'I was sorry that our first meeting ended on a note that was rather discouraging.'
'I felt I had to be candid with you, even though I greatly admired your militancy toward the rebels.' She was surprised at the ease with which she had put a catch in her voice. She would never be an accomplished flirt like that empty-headed Ashton Main, but she was learning a trick or two.
'Do I detect the past tense, Virgilia?'
She smiled. 'A slip of the tongue. My admiration has not abated.'
Again he glanced toward the hall. Only the distant murmurs of the lobby filled its dusty spaces. Slowly, his right hand rose from his lap. How languorous the hand seemed, moving toward her bodice like some white bird sailing on currents of air. Beginning to tremble, she pressed her legs together as his thumb came to rest on her left breast, his fingers curled against the swelling side.
She swept her right hand across, closed it on his. She said his first name softly, then shut her eyes. 'Oh —'
In the hall, someone rattled a pail. Stout quickly pulled his hand away. The little exchange had lasted no more than five seconds, but it had clarified everything only hinted at before.
An elderly Negro in hotel livery appeared, bucket in hand, and began sifting the contents of a sand urn just outside the parlor door. The old man drew out broken cigar butts, bits of paper, and, when he had them all, smoothed the sand and disappeared.
Virgilia's face felt as if someone had dashed hot water on it.
Stout leaned forward. 'I want to see you again.' 'I feel the same way.'
'Our next meeting should be more private, don't you think?'
For a dizzying moment, she was tempted. Then she remembered what she stood to lose — or gain. She shook her head. Stout's polished veneer cracked.
'You just said —'
'I do feel — a strong attraction, Sam. But I refuse to involve myself in some — some back-street affair.'
He draped an arm over his chair and studied her. 'Is my wife still the problem?'
'I am afraid so.'
Coldly, he said, 'If you have a notion that I might throw her over for you or any other woman, you're mistaken.'
'I didn't ask —'
'Asking isn't necessary, my dear.' Sarcasm and that great resonant voice combined with devastating results. 'Your scheme's quite clear. I suppose I can't blame you for hoping, but the hope is misguided. I would' never sacrifice what I've achieved in this town' — and much more that I want to achieve — by making myself morally notorious. Do you know what some of my constituents in Muncie would do if I became embroiled in a scandal? They'd vote me out — and have bubbling tar and hen feathers waiting at the depot when I came home.'
Having gotten the effect he wanted, he softened, grasped her hand. 'Why must convention be an obstacle, Virgilia? We have a mutual desire and we can satisfy it discreetly without harming the interests of either party'
'How do you know it would work that way, Congressman? Are you an expert at philandering?'
A chill settled into his eyes. He snatched up his stick, hat, fawn gloves. 'I have an appointment. It has been pleasant to visit with you, Miss Hazard. Good-bye.'
'Good-bye.'
He reached the door. She stood abruptly. 'Sam —'
Turning, but giving nothing else, he replied, 'Yes?'
How hard it was to say what had to be said. 'Nothing. My terms must stand.'
'They're too high, I'm afraid. Very much too high.' He gave her another smile, this one scornful, meant to
