Read Online American Blood by Jason Manning - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jason Manning
Ads: Link
lingered in his, and her smile lingered, too, as she gazed at him, and Delgado felt a blush of warmth in his cheeks. In the magic of that moment he forget all about going home.
"You must be exhausted, my dear," said a solicitous Jacob. "Perhaps you would like to retire toyour room. I hope you don't mind, but I have invited a few close friends to dinner this evening in honor of your safe return."
"Of course I don't mind, Father." To Delgado's chagrin, Sarah finally took her hand away. "Come with me, Clarisse. I have so much to tell you!"
Delgado spent the rest of the day loitering about the house, idle and restless, no longer the least bit interested in the sights of St. Louis, waiting only for the next opportunity to gaze at Sarah. He had to bide his time until dinner, because she did not come downstairs until all the guests had arrived.
These included Dr. John J. Lowry, the banker, president of the Bank of Missouri, and Montgomery Blair, the mayor of St. Louis, son of the famous Francis P. Blair, editor of the
Washington Globe
and erstwhile member of Andy Jackson's "Kitchen Cabinet." Also present was Joshua Pilcher, who had to come to St. Louis during the War of 1812 and made his fortune in merchandising, and was now Superintendent of Indian Affairs in Missouri. To Delgado's pleased surprise, Sterling, his whist partner aboard the
Sultana
, and editor of the
Enquirer
, had accepted Jacob Bledsoe's invitation. Falconer showed up, too. He looked uncomfortable in a brown frock coat and, compared to the sartorial perfection of Lowry and Pilcher and Blair, appeared rather rustic. His wife could not attend, occupied as she was with the care of a very sick friend. Pilcher and Lowry were accompanied by their wives.
Last but by no means least on the guest list was Thomas Hart Benton, U.S. Senator from Missouri. "Old Bullion" was one of the giants currently straddling the stage of American politics, an accomplished orator who could hold his ownagainst the likes of such notables as Henry Clay and Daniel Webster, a man of remarkable powers as well as seething passions, a highly influential gentleman who saw himself as the leading spokesman for the West. "Calhoun represents the interests of the Southern slaveholder and nullifier," he said at one point during dinner. "Webster stands for the commercial interests of the Northeast—a great talent gone to waste. I speak for the hardy pioneer, the free man who breathes deep into his lungs the unfettered air of the frontier. Henry Clay? That strutting gamecock represents only himself and his overweening ambition."
Benton's wife of many years, Elizabeth, was a semi-invalid, a victim of epilepsy, and could not attend. In her stead was Jessie, Benton's pretty, brown-haired, effervescent daughter of twenty-two years, who had married a young Army officer named John Charles Frémont. At the time she had been only seventeen, and the Bentons had strongly disapproved of one so young marrying one so low on the ladder of Army advancement, but these days Benton was proud of his son-in-law, who at present was in California, one of the leaders of the attempt to wrest that valuable province away from the Republic of Mexico.
The meal was a feast fit for kings. But Delgado discovered that he lacked any kind of appetite. All he wanted to do was stare, enraptured, at Sarah Bledsoe, who by happy chance sat directly across the long mahogany dining room table from him. She was so radiantly beautiful that the setting—the polished red oak floor, the velveteen draperies on the windows, the burgundy damask on the walls, the ornately framed oils, the gleaming brass wall sconces, the snowy white linen table cloths,the gold-rimmed china, the sparkling crystal, the Rogers silverware—all of it paled to nothingness by comparison. She wore a rose organdie dress with a long pink sash, and it was quite becoming in contrast to her honey-and-cream complexion and her chestnut hair that flared with fiery scintillas as it
"You must be exhausted, my dear," said a solicitous Jacob. "Perhaps you would like to retire toyour room. I hope you don't mind, but I have invited a few close friends to dinner this evening in honor of your safe return."
"Of course I don't mind, Father." To Delgado's chagrin, Sarah finally took her hand away. "Come with me, Clarisse. I have so much to tell you!"
Delgado spent the rest of the day loitering about the house, idle and restless, no longer the least bit interested in the sights of St. Louis, waiting only for the next opportunity to gaze at Sarah. He had to bide his time until dinner, because she did not come downstairs until all the guests had arrived.
These included Dr. John J. Lowry, the banker, president of the Bank of Missouri, and Montgomery Blair, the mayor of St. Louis, son of the famous Francis P. Blair, editor of the
Washington Globe
and erstwhile member of Andy Jackson's "Kitchen Cabinet." Also present was Joshua Pilcher, who had to come to St. Louis during the War of 1812 and made his fortune in merchandising, and was now Superintendent of Indian Affairs in Missouri. To Delgado's pleased surprise, Sterling, his whist partner aboard the
Sultana
, and editor of the
Enquirer
, had accepted Jacob Bledsoe's invitation. Falconer showed up, too. He looked uncomfortable in a brown frock coat and, compared to the sartorial perfection of Lowry and Pilcher and Blair, appeared rather rustic. His wife could not attend, occupied as she was with the care of a very sick friend. Pilcher and Lowry were accompanied by their wives.
Last but by no means least on the guest list was Thomas Hart Benton, U.S. Senator from Missouri. "Old Bullion" was one of the giants currently straddling the stage of American politics, an accomplished orator who could hold his ownagainst the likes of such notables as Henry Clay and Daniel Webster, a man of remarkable powers as well as seething passions, a highly influential gentleman who saw himself as the leading spokesman for the West. "Calhoun represents the interests of the Southern slaveholder and nullifier," he said at one point during dinner. "Webster stands for the commercial interests of the Northeast—a great talent gone to waste. I speak for the hardy pioneer, the free man who breathes deep into his lungs the unfettered air of the frontier. Henry Clay? That strutting gamecock represents only himself and his overweening ambition."
Benton's wife of many years, Elizabeth, was a semi-invalid, a victim of epilepsy, and could not attend. In her stead was Jessie, Benton's pretty, brown-haired, effervescent daughter of twenty-two years, who had married a young Army officer named John Charles Frémont. At the time she had been only seventeen, and the Bentons had strongly disapproved of one so young marrying one so low on the ladder of Army advancement, but these days Benton was proud of his son-in-law, who at present was in California, one of the leaders of the attempt to wrest that valuable province away from the Republic of Mexico.
The meal was a feast fit for kings. But Delgado discovered that he lacked any kind of appetite. All he wanted to do was stare, enraptured, at Sarah Bledsoe, who by happy chance sat directly across the long mahogany dining room table from him. She was so radiantly beautiful that the setting—the polished red oak floor, the velveteen draperies on the windows, the burgundy damask on the walls, the ornately framed oils, the gleaming brass wall sconces, the snowy white linen table cloths,the gold-rimmed china, the sparkling crystal, the Rogers silverware—all of it paled to nothingness by comparison. She wore a rose organdie dress with a long pink sash, and it was quite becoming in contrast to her honey-and-cream complexion and her chestnut hair that flared with fiery scintillas as it
Similar Books
