With savage ferocity, she slapped him across the face, stinging his cheek and his still-warm lips. “I know the truth about you, Muncie! You don’t think I see how you moon after Calpurnia like a whipped dog?” Her voice was a seething whisper. She stepped even farther away from him, peering at him. “She’s no better than me, even though she has a rich daddy and an old name. You’ll see, Muncie. You’ll see who the real woman is.” With that, she swished out of the Blue Room with a click of her heels. Muncie touched his hand to his cheek, still hot from Isla’s vicious slap….

Chapter 5

“Carrie Jo! Can you hear me?”

“Miss Jardine, we’ve called an ambulance. They’ll be here momentarily.” Matthews spoke very close to my ear; his stale breath brushed my skin—too intimately for my taste.

I shook my head. “No, just give me a minute.” My weak protest started a hushed conversation, but I was simply too tired to eavesdrop. Snippets of my dream—the crushed white magnolias on the mantelpiece, the coral earrings that hung from Calpurnia’s slender ears—crowded into my mind. The scent of hot cornbread, the taste of lemonade on my lips and the warm aroma of clean beeswax lingered on and around me like an invisible cloud. As always, I was surprised no one else could taste and see these things. Unwanted tears slid down my cheeks. Muncie’s hopeful face hovered before me. He was dead, long dead. He would never know that I had been there, witnessing a day in his private life.

“Here, put your arms around my neck. You can do that, right? You can’t just lie here on the floor.”

I slid my arms around Ashland’s neck and laid my throbbing head on his shoulder. “But I barely even know you,” I whispered.

He laughed softly and said, “You’re going to be fine,” as if his words would fix everything. He carefully positioned me on an antique settee near the window in the front room, where I had met Matthews earlier. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” Ashland said with a smile.

I had to chuckle. Here I am, lying helpless on a fainting couch.

Matthews looked down at me with his piercing, gray eyes. “I’ve called the family’s physician, Dr. Patterson. He’ll be here in just a minute. No arguments on this. You’ll understand that I can’t have you knocking yourself out without some follow-up medical care.”

I nodded and wiped away the unexpected damp streaks on my face. “Of course.”

Ashland reappeared with some bandages. With a quick, “This might hurt,” he pressed them to the screaming spot on my head. I focused on the darkness outside the window, dutifully accepting his attempts at healing. The doorbell rang, and the sleek attorney disappeared down the hallway.

“Looks like it stopped bleeding,” Ashland said. “That’s always a good sign.” He pulled my hand up to hold the bandages in place while he cleaned up the paper wrappings.