for emphasis and perched on the arm of Camellia’s chair, giving her a quick hug. “But we must make sure you have sufficient clothes for the term, non?”
“You should see the number of trunks we off-loaded for her clothing.” Blake’s voice held a hint of mischief. “If she purchases anything else, she will have to store it in a separate room.”
“Men.” Sarah laughed. “They don’t understand the things a female needs.”
Camellia returned her smile. “I’m sure you’re right.”
“I want to go shopping, too.” Jasmine crossed the room to stand near them.
Lily groaned. “Please don’t tell me you’ve been infected with Camellia’s fever to become a fashion plate. I’ve always hoped you would be a bit more down-to-earth.”
Although Camellia could sympathize with Jasmine’s desire to shop, she was also surprised by her younger sister’s uncharacteristic statement. Perhaps she was reaching maturity. Jasmine could do worse than to follow her lead. In fact, as soon as she had secured her own future, Camellia would have to turn her attention to finding a worthy candidate to marry Jasmine. “You’ll have to stop spending all your spare time with your nose in a book.”
Jasmine tossed her dark hair over one shoulder in a gesture fit for a prima donna. “I enjoy reading.”
Camellia thought of the tears Jasmine had shed when she finished the novel she’d been reading on their way to New Orleans. “Well, at least you might limit your reading to more uplifting material.”
“
Uncle Tom’s Cabin
was a very uplifting story.”
Mr. and Mrs. Thornton gasped in unison, and Sarah slid off the arm of Camellia’s chair to look at Lily and Blake. “You let her read such things?”
What was all the fuss about? It was only a novel, after all.
Mr. Thornton folded his newspaper and laid it on the table at his elbow. “False tales designed to demonize our way of life. It’s written by a woman, after all, a liberal abolitionist with a political agenda.”
Jasmine looked to Lily for support, but it was Blake who answered. “I’ve read the book myself. It has merit.”
“I’ve never mistreated a slave in my life.” Mr. Thornton’s face reddened as he spat out the words. “I clothe and feed them, make sure all of their needs are met. And I daresay most men who own slaves are like me. It makes no more sense to whip a slave than to lame a horse.”
“But you are an exception to the rule.” Jonah’s deep voice sent Camellia’s heart bounding. When had he appeared? Leaning against the door frame, he looked more intense—and much more romantic—than he had seemed while they were aboard the
Water Lily.
At least this time she had her fan. Camellia used it to cool her cheeks as she watched him straighten and saunter into the parlor. His green gaze ignored her to scan the room, stopping for a moment when he looked toward Blake but resting only when he met his father’s angry stare.
“Do you think me a fool?” Mr. Thornton jumped to his feet. “I suppose you believe your travels have made you more knowledgeable than your father.”
Jonah swept a low bow before him. “Who am I to argue with your opinion?”
The older man spluttered.
Camellia hid a smile behind her fan. Jonah’s travels had made him more adept in social situations.
Mr. Thornton took a step toward his son, his demeanor threatening. “I don’t know how I raised such an ardent abolitionist. It’s about time you saw the world as it really is.”
Jonah opened his mouth, and Camellia cringed at the anger she saw in his expression. Would the two men come to blows in front of them? She had heard about hot-blooded people who lived in New Orleans, but the Thorntons had never seemed quite so volatile. Not until now.
Sarah stepped between father and son, a warning look in her dark eyes. “This is not the time to air your personal differences. Think of your guests.” She swept a hand around the room. “Do not make them more
“You should see the number of trunks we off-loaded for her clothing.” Blake’s voice held a hint of mischief. “If she purchases anything else, she will have to store it in a separate room.”
“Men.” Sarah laughed. “They don’t understand the things a female needs.”
Camellia returned her smile. “I’m sure you’re right.”
“I want to go shopping, too.” Jasmine crossed the room to stand near them.
Lily groaned. “Please don’t tell me you’ve been infected with Camellia’s fever to become a fashion plate. I’ve always hoped you would be a bit more down-to-earth.”
Although Camellia could sympathize with Jasmine’s desire to shop, she was also surprised by her younger sister’s uncharacteristic statement. Perhaps she was reaching maturity. Jasmine could do worse than to follow her lead. In fact, as soon as she had secured her own future, Camellia would have to turn her attention to finding a worthy candidate to marry Jasmine. “You’ll have to stop spending all your spare time with your nose in a book.”
Jasmine tossed her dark hair over one shoulder in a gesture fit for a prima donna. “I enjoy reading.”
Camellia thought of the tears Jasmine had shed when she finished the novel she’d been reading on their way to New Orleans. “Well, at least you might limit your reading to more uplifting material.”
“
Uncle Tom’s Cabin
was a very uplifting story.”
Mr. and Mrs. Thornton gasped in unison, and Sarah slid off the arm of Camellia’s chair to look at Lily and Blake. “You let her read such things?”
What was all the fuss about? It was only a novel, after all.
Mr. Thornton folded his newspaper and laid it on the table at his elbow. “False tales designed to demonize our way of life. It’s written by a woman, after all, a liberal abolitionist with a political agenda.”
Jasmine looked to Lily for support, but it was Blake who answered. “I’ve read the book myself. It has merit.”
“I’ve never mistreated a slave in my life.” Mr. Thornton’s face reddened as he spat out the words. “I clothe and feed them, make sure all of their needs are met. And I daresay most men who own slaves are like me. It makes no more sense to whip a slave than to lame a horse.”
“But you are an exception to the rule.” Jonah’s deep voice sent Camellia’s heart bounding. When had he appeared? Leaning against the door frame, he looked more intense—and much more romantic—than he had seemed while they were aboard the
Water Lily.
At least this time she had her fan. Camellia used it to cool her cheeks as she watched him straighten and saunter into the parlor. His green gaze ignored her to scan the room, stopping for a moment when he looked toward Blake but resting only when he met his father’s angry stare.
“Do you think me a fool?” Mr. Thornton jumped to his feet. “I suppose you believe your travels have made you more knowledgeable than your father.”
Jonah swept a low bow before him. “Who am I to argue with your opinion?”
The older man spluttered.
Camellia hid a smile behind her fan. Jonah’s travels had made him more adept in social situations.
Mr. Thornton took a step toward his son, his demeanor threatening. “I don’t know how I raised such an ardent abolitionist. It’s about time you saw the world as it really is.”
Jonah opened his mouth, and Camellia cringed at the anger she saw in his expression. Would the two men come to blows in front of them? She had heard about hot-blooded people who lived in New Orleans, but the Thorntons had never seemed quite so volatile. Not until now.
Sarah stepped between father and son, a warning look in her dark eyes. “This is not the time to air your personal differences. Think of your guests.” She swept a hand around the room. “Do not make them more
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