Finished with her toilette, she padded across thick, warm carpet to the canopy-covered bed. The boards holding the goose-down mattress protested when she sat on the edge, drowning out her own discouraged sigh. If only Papa would listen when she tried to discuss her future. While marrying one day did interest her, her real desire was to stay on as Rose Hill’s mistress. It didn’t seem quite fair that George should inherit the plantation when he stood to gain the Langford property as well. As an only child, Natalie was heir to the large cotton plantation that bordered Rose Hill. Surely she and George could just as easily live with the Langfords and leave the Ellis manor in Adella’s care. Perhaps she should broach her idea with George at supper tonight and—
A disturbance in the yard interrupted her plotting. Excited voices drifted upward, and by the time she peeked out her window, a number of slaves had gathered below. They faced south, toward the long, poplar-lined drive that led to the main house. Vast cotton fields stretched on either side, reminding her of an emerald ocean, with gentle waves carrying knee-high plants down one rolling hill, only to reappear on the next rise. Moving shapes speckled the neat rows, where dozens of workers took hoes to ever-present weeds or inspected plants for worms and other crawling things that could devastate a crop in a matter of days.
“They’s comin’! They’s here!” Aunt Lu’s rich voice echoed from the foyer. The plump woman appeared in the bedroom doorway a few moments later, out of breath from her sprint up the stairs. “Missy Ellis, your pappy done come home a day early!”
With a gasp, Adella turned again to the scene outside. Two riders and a wagon emerged from the shadows of the trees and headed toward the house. Indeed, she recognized Papa’s white gelding as he nudged his mount on ahead of the others. She couldn’t make out the second rider, who was still some distance away, though he sat taller in the saddle than her father. Old Joseph drove the plantation wagon, which had departed empty the week before but was now crowded with a number of dark-skinned men and at least one woman.
“It is Papa. What a happy surprise!” She hurried across the room and into the hall.
Aunt Lu harrumphed. “Missy, your hair be undone.”
“Papa won’t mind,” Adella said over her shoulder as she practically flew down the stairs, the hem of her full skirt held high so as not to trip her in her haste. “I’ll miss welcoming him home if I wait for you to put it up.”
Bare feet slapped against the cool marble floor of the foyer as Adella swept through the airy space to the open front door. The travelers were just dismounting when she reached the porch.
“Papa! We didn’t expect you home until tomorrow.”
Papa glanced up after handing the reins to one of the servants. “Adella Rose, you are a sight for these tired eyes of mine.” With a groan, he lumbered forward as Adella descended the dozen whitewashed steps to the ground. “I am too old for these long journeys anymore.”
Adella stood on tiptoe to kiss Papa’s cheek, her lips grazing his whiskered jaw before she slid her arm into the crook of his elbow. “You should have sent word of your arrival. I fear the house is in an upheaval preparing for Natalie’s visit.”
“Stop your fretting, daughter.” Papa patted her arm as they mounted the steps. “A bath and my own bed are my only concerns. I could not bear another night on one of those flea-infested straw ticks innkeepers call mattresses. We were up before the sun so we would make home today.” Gaining the shade of the porch, Papa’s gaze skimmed over the servants who’d lined up to welcome him home. “Where is George?”
Aunt Lu, who had arrived on the porch a bit breathless, possessed the uncanny ability of knowing everyone’s whereabouts on the plantation. But she stared straight ahead as though she hadn’t heard Papa’s question.
“I haven’t seen him since the noon meal,” Adella said, just now noticing her brother’s absence.
“Never mind.” Impatience brought a frown to his face. “Brantley, come meet my daughter. Then you can see to the stock.”
Adella had been so surprised by Papa’s unexpected return that she had completely forgotten the other man. She now noted that he walked with a distinct limp, favoring his left leg. Perhaps he was saddle-weary, like Papa, but her instincts told her the limp frequently plagued him. Though his face remained shadowed by the brim of his dusty hat, she noted his physique was that of a strong, youthful man, quite in contrast to his hitching gait.
“Adella Rose, this is Seth Brantley, son of my good friend Daniel Brantley.”
At Papa’s introduction, the stranger mounted the porch and lifted his face. Removing his hat revealed dark hair plastered against his head, and he gave a polite nod. “Miss Ellis, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance … again.”
She gaped at the stranger. Ruggedly handsome, with hazel eyes and generous lips that twitched with humor, Adella was certain she’d never seen the man before.
“Mr. Brantley.” Her back stiffened at his improper insinuation. “I do not believe we have had the pleasure of meeting prior to today.”
“No need for a fuss, my dear,” Papa said. “He is referring to when you met as children. When was that, Brantley?
