There was a minor flurry near them. A vision of blue came into view right as he slowly turned Jaquita on a turn and had to stop because of it. Thankfully, they were near the edge of the dance floor, because the look on Ada’s face wasn’t happiness. The man behind her, that other surgeon, Dr. Leonard, if he recalled correctly, appeared slightly amused before he saw Francois shoot him a glare.
“Miss Lorrance, you constantly amaze me this evening,” he said since she was breathing too hard to speak right away about interrupting them. “What boldness for even a doctor at a social event from a lady who didn’t want to attend.”
“May I ask who is she?” Ada blurted out.
Francois’s eyes widened. She was jealous?
“This is Miss Jaquita Fontaine—”
“McHenry, my dear. Mrs. McHenry.”
“Oh, yes, indeed. You had not informed me, darling,” he replied back.
“I hadn’t had the chance…’
“Fontaine?” Ada narrowed her eyes. “A former slave?”
“Oh, dear, you didn’t tell her, I see,” Jaquita said softly. “I am his sister.”
Francois saw the color drain from the doctor’s face. “Ada?” He and Leonard both reached for her before she collapsed.
Sister? That black girl? Well, she wasn’t really all that black…
Ada’s thoughts whirled so fast in her head, she feared she’d faint. They escorted her to the side, to a small sitting area, away from the bulk of the crowd. Many of the southern slave-owners raped their slaves, Ada’d heard it from the runaways. But this lady, looking so elegant and graceful, with the most stunning bluish eyes, looked anything but a runaway or one fearing being sent back to the South enslaved. No, she held an air of importance, which Ada understood.
“Ada, here.”
Will handed her a glass, but she didn’t think champagne was needed. “No, I am fine.” She looked at the other two. “Would you care to explain?”
The woman laughed while Francois sighed. “Jaquita is my sister of the same father. She chose to move north.”
“Understandably,” she argued back. “You two look somewhat alike.”
Jaquita openly laughed. “Yes, Momma Fontaine didn’t take a likin’ to that too much, right Francois?”
He shook his head. “Not particularly. Look, our father made sure Jaquita has no worries—”
“I am familiar with who she is,” Ada snarled back. “She’s a major organizer for the Albany Abolitionists Society.”
Francois gave his sister a glance. She shrugged.
“Darling, are you all right?” Another man suddenly appeared. Instantly Ada recognized him too.
“Yes, my dear. Just discussing family business,” Jaquita murmured, looping her hand on the man’s coat sleeve. “Francois, may I introduce my husband, Senator Thomas McHenry III.”
“Tom,” McHenry corrected, extending his hand to Francois. “I have heard all about the Fontaines. Good to meet you. Surprised to see you up North, unless you’re like your brother Jack.”
Francois snorted. Jaquita’s husband was a politician as well as a big boned man, with Grecian-defined facial features, the sort that could take control easily and all would follow.
“No, I’m a good Louisiana boy, born and raised down there. Fighting to keep the Yanks from imposing their will on us.” And on that, he winked.
Ada’s heart was in her throat. Now was not the time for political debate! She cleared her throat. “I apologize for interrupting your dance. Just worried that Francois’s foot might be needing him to take a rest.”
The senator nodded, and she took that as he agreed with her on turning them away from a possible sectional discussion. “Yes, this is holiday time. Rather rude to discuss the situation when we’re here not to do so. Jaquita, darling, we should retire.”
With a slight hesitation, as if wanting not to leave, she gave her hand to his, but she did lean toward Francois. “Papa wrote. I hear Cerisa was here?”
“Yes, for a while apparently. With Abraham, too.”
“Wish she had contacted me.”
“Mrs. McHenry? We had no word of your marriage,” he nudged her with a brotherly familiarity that Ada was surprised over. “Plus she didn’t bother to inform us, either, of where she was.”
“Considering the circumstances Jack told me of, it’s not a surprise.”
“When did you talk to Jack?”
“Francois, I hear from him periodically.” She stood, pulled toward her husband. “All right,” she gave and turned to leave, adding over her shoulder, “We should talk later. Good night!”
He nodded toward her. As he watched her walk away, he realized how much he had missed her. Out of all the staff at his family’s estate, Jaquita had been part of the family. Her presence wasn’t a surprise throughout the South, he thought. Many mulattos, fathered by the white owners, were raised with the white family’s children, but his father acknowledged Jaquita as his, despite Francois’s mother’s dismay. Educated together, they all knew each other, so when Jaquita wanted to stay in New York that one summer, prior to the current unpleasantness, Pierre Fontaine did not deny her. So that’d make it six years and apparently, she’d done quite well, he decided.
It was then he heard the faint tapping next to him. Ada. He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply. He wasn’t ready to disclose his family’s secret to her, of all people. Slowly, he opened his eyes and gave her his attention. He wasn’t ready for the glare of the devil. Oh, bloody hell!
Ada stood, confused, angry and speechless. His sister was a mulatto? Jaquita McHenry? What else was he hiding?
“Ada, please, your mood will attract unwanted attention.” Will warned her. Nothing new on that, as he always seemed to be trying to protect her. It was annoyingly unattractive. She stopped tapping the floor.
“So Mrs. McHenry is your sister?” It still made her insides twist. The irony was overwhelming.
“Yes,” he muttered, leaning on the cane as he stood. “You can’t tell me you don’t see the resemblance.”
So did half the room, she reckoned. “That is beside the point. Do you know what she does?”
“She’s a wife to a politician,”
