I glanced back at the mansion’s front entrance, anticipating my mother shooting out from the doorway like a cannonball and ruining all this with a few sharp phrases, some directed at him.

“Perhaps we should return,” I said. “My parents might grow frantic.”

“Oh, then, perhaps we should. I don’t want to get on the wrong side of them now.” He took my hand and started back.

“You’ll have to be careful, then, when and if you meet my mother.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“She’s old-fashioned, too formal. That’s my kindest way of putting it.”

“Not necessarily a fault,” he said.

“In her case, it is. She was born old-fashioned. My father says she threatened the doctor who slapped her rear when she was born. He calls me ‘her handful.’ ”

He laughed so hard that he had to pause a moment. “Something tells me you are more than a mere handful.”

“I should hope so,” I said.

We continued to the steps.

“Do you ever get to Charlottesville?” he asked.

“On occasion. I have a great-aunt there, Nettie Lloyd. She’s a widow who lost both her sons in the war.”

“Ah, yes, the stupid war,” Garland said. “Many lost so much, but some exploited it. I’m ashamed to say my father was one. He was quite the clever importer.” He leaned in to whisper, “And sold to both sides discreetly.”

“Ashamed, you said. Did you give all the money to charity?” I teased.

He laughed. “Haven’t you heard? Charity begins at home.”

I smiled. It wasn’t something I didn’t believe; it was simply something I’d never say.

We started up the stairs. Before we reached the entrance, I let go of his hand. My mother could be just inside the doorway.

“About Charlottesville,” he said. “Any chance you’d visit your aunt in the near future?”

“Yes, I’m sure I will,” I said. “I am expecting an invitation from her any day now.”

“Please, then,” he said, reaching into his pocket to produce a card. “Do write to me to warn me so I can anticipate your coming. I’d very much enjoy taking you to lunch and perhaps, if your great-aunt permits, showing you my home, Foxworth Hall. She would come with us, of course.”

“Foxworth Hall? Sounds impressive.”

“Oh, it is. I promise you.”

“My great-aunt is quite old. She doesn’t venture about much, from what I understand. However, I might find a way to visit your home unchaperoned. It doesn’t have to be in the social columns.”

“I do avoid that quite well,” he said, maybe warned.

“Something I’d prefer, too,” I replied.

It was as if there were fireworks exploding. I saw light flashing in his eyes as they would reflect it. Had I turned him speechless?

I looked at the card. “We’ll see,” I said. “I don’t want to make promises and then disappoint you.”