Southern Comfort

Author: Lady Anne

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I enjoy writing fantasy Spuffy. I enjoy reading about the antebellum South. However, I am not an expert on Charleston, having only visited that fair city a few times, nor on the SC aristocracy that grew out of fortunes made in rice, indigo, cotton and trade. I chose this city as the setting because it worked best for the plot I had in mind, not because it is the part of the South I am most familiar with. I have done some research in preparation for writing this semi-historical fiction, but it's far from through. Therefore, it is every likely there will be some big mistakes, historical inaccuracies, glaring errors about the city itself, etc. If you, dear reader, find such errors, being a resident of Charleston, history buff, or for some other reason are up on things I've distorted, please let me know. I welcome suggestions and criticisms.

Further Disclaimer: These characters in there original incarnation are not mine, though I'm sure Joss Whedon would launch his head off if he saw what I've done with them. It's just for fun Joss. Promise. no money being made here.

+++

Prologue

Emmaline gently picked up the fine bone china and took a dainty sip of her tea. "Who is that young lady over there, off to her self? I don't remember seeing her at the party last night."

Jocelyn shook her head. "Oh, you won't see her at many social events, dear. That's Elizabeth Crawford, surely you've heard. Really quite tragic and sad."

Emmaline shook her head and settled into the rather uncomfortable sofa for a good gossip. Jocelyn had proven to be quite a fount of information about all the families in Charleston since she'd come to visit her cousin fresh from her family's small plantation in Georgia. She had quite a way with words and the tales never failed to fascinated. "No, do tell."

"Well, Elizabeth was one of the Summers before she married, lived at Revello, beautiful place. Her father was Henry Summers you know. Now her mother Joyce was from up North, Henry met her while he was in Boston on business for his father and just fell head over heels. Joyce was a lovely lady, and I understand she was from a prominent family in Boston, but you know how those Northerners are. Some strange notions."

Emmaline hadn't had a lot of contact with Yankees, but she obligingly nodded.

"So even though she was from Massachusetts, Joyce was always a very gracious hostess; my mother thought very highly of her. She used to say to me, now Jocey, that Joyce Summers is a lady, such perfect manners. Well, I do digress. Apparently Joyce wanted Elizabeth to know her people, so she was sent to school up in Boston when she was twelve. I didn't know her very well, you know most of us here go to Madam Talvande's to finish up."

Emma nodded and sipped her tea as she drank in the tale.

"Poor Henry never did get a son from Joyce, and then she caught that horrible sickness that swept through the lowlands about five years ago. She was out nursing some of the sick and it took her fast. Just about broke Henry, he was never the same man after that, or so Papa says. He brought Elizabeth back from Boston right away, since she was nearly seventeen, and started looking for her a husband. Folks said he knew he was dying, and he wanted to get her settled before she was left alone."

Jocelyn sighed. "I remember that fall. Elizabeth had been away so long, we almost didn't know her, but she was quite a beauty, stole all the boys' hearts. Her daddy's plantation bordered Crawford Place and from the beginning, Angel Crawford was the one after her. They were the couple we all envied you know. He was a handsome devil, just enough of a troublemaker to be interesting, but a true Southern gentleman. Wish I had been a few years older, not that it would have made a difference. He only had eyes for Elizabeth. It was a whirlwind courtship. They were engaged by Christmas and married the next spring, just as soon as the family was out of heavy morning for her mother."

Emmaline interrupted, "That's like a fairy tale!"

Jocelyn agreed. "Yes, dear, it really was. They had this beautiful wedding at St. Michael's - she had a gorgeous dress, with lace her mama had put aside for the day special, straight from France. They went on a wedding trip to Savannah, the Crawford's have family down there. We all wanted to be Elizabeth that day. But I suppose everyone only gets so much happiness."

Emmaline scooted forward. "What happened? I noticed she was wearing mourning, did her father pass?"

Jocelyn patted her hand, glad to have such an attentive listener. "Yes, but it gets worse. Not two months after the wedding, soon long after Angel and Elizabeth had returned from Savannah and made their home with the Crawfords, Henry had a massive heart attack. Course he had taken care of Elizabeth, everything had been transferred to Angel for him to look after her. Another year passed, and we didn't see much of her. We all thought she might be in the family way, she spent so much time in the country, even in the spring and summer when everyone comes to town. Angel was here often, since he handled his father's business here. I suppose those two most have hated being separated so much."

Jocelyn took a dramatic pause and eyed her young cousin, letting the moment build. "And then one stormy night he was returning back to Crawford Place, racing home to his young bride, when his horse stumbled and threw him. Broke his neck and killed him instantly. Quite a tragedy."

Emmaline gasped as her hand fluttered to her bosom. "Oh my! That poor girl lost her mother, her father and her husband in just a few years?"

Jocelyn nodded as she took another small sip of her tea, pleased with the reaction she'd gotten. It was such a juicy tale. "Yes. That's why she still wears black, you see. She's had so much loss and her heart was broken when her Angel died."

Emmaline nearly swooned. How utterly romantic. "Is she in town with the Crawford family?"

"No, she live here in town now. I think there must have been too many memories out there where she'd lived with Angel and his family. She actually has a tiny house that had been left to her by her mother's people and some money of her own. Apparently her grandfather in Boston had some peculiar ideas about women and their independence, and wanted her to have something in her own name. I'm sure the Crawfords would have been happy for her to stay. But she's chosen to live on her own, with not a man in the house, not even a house servant. Isn't that peculiar? I wouldn't know what to do if Papa didn't take of me."

Emmaline had to agree. "So she comes out occasionally?"

Jocelyn nodded about to continue the saga, them paused and grabbed Emma's arm, "Oh wait, there's her cousin, Willow Rosen." She pointed discreetly at the redhead who had just entered the room.

Emmaline wrinkled her nose. "What an odd name."

Jocelyn rolled her eyes. "Isn't it strange? She's one of Elizabeth's cousins from Boston on her grandmother's side, I do believe. They went to school together. Willow's had her own share of tragedy as well. She was engaged to a young sea captain, who was lost in a storm a few years ago. She came down here with her companion Tara and they live with Elizabeth now."

Jocelyn pursed her lips. "Now I don't like to talk about folks, but she's a bit odd. I'm not sure she understands the way we do things in Charleston." She gave Emmaline a significant look and Emma nodded, not really sure what she was getting at as her cousin carried on. "But she always very polite. And it's good that poor Elizabeth doesn't have to be alone. Would you like me to introduce you?"

Emma nodded eagerly, ready to meet these tragic figures. This was better than a Scott novel. "Please."

The two ladies crossed the room, skirts swaying, and introductions were made before the women began to disperse into the afternoon heat and head for their respective homes.

+++

"So that's him?" George peered across the crowded lobby of the Planter's Hotel.

"Yes, that's the Mr. Montgomery we've all been hearing so much about. I suspect he's going back to talk with Wilkins about the harbor permit again," Edward replied.

"Do you think they'll grant it?"

"I hope so. I know he's English and all, but it would be a great advantage to have another shipping operation headquartered here, rather than over in London. Add jobs to the harbor as well and attract more planters to send their crops to us."

"Suppose it would be an advantage. It'd be better if he'd partnered here with someone local."

Edward squinted through the cigar smoke. "He's already got one, another Englishman named Alexander Harris."

"Oh. He nobility too?"

"Don't think so. Course, Montgomery's from the wrong side of the blanket you know, he didn't get the title from Lord Darlington, just a good chunk of his fortune."

"Ahh, I didn't realize that. All the ladies have been twittering about the handsome English lord.'

Edward chuckled. "That's the truth, he's made quite a stir, Wealthy as sin, single and connected to royalty, my youngest sister hasn't stopped talking about him. He's going to be heavily pursued by the marriage mad mothers this year until one of them snags him."

Chapter 1

William made his way through the crowd and knocked on the door of the suite where Richard Wilkins held his unofficial office hours. How on earth did men like him gain so much power? From all he could gather, Richard was nothing more than a run of the mill local politician, from an old Southern family with good bloodlines, but terrible with money. Rumor had it his family's property had been hard hit by the last drought and Wilkins was always in town attending to politics, rather than crops.

He took a deep breath, which did little good in the smoke choked lobby, before he entered the room where Wilkins held sway as chairman of the Harbor Authority. The one final hurdle to getting the permit he needed to dock enough ships to make his business worthwhile.

"Mr. Montgomery, how are you this fine day? Do come in and join us. I was just telling my friend Holland Crawford about the plans for your shipping company. Quite a fine idea, I was hoping you could fill in some details."

William made himself comfortable, refused the offer of a drink, then laid out his business plans yet again. Who would have guessed these Southerners would be just as close-minded as back home, only for different reasons. He gritted his teeth as Crawford and Wilkins rehashed objections he'd countered long ago. He had the ships, he had the financing, he had the connections in England, he'd already begun to line up business here in Charleston.

All he needed now was a bloody permit to operate out of the harbor and he'd be set. But instead these wankers continued to blather on about ties to the community and the need for assurance he'd be a benefit to the city. He knew what they were after, but he had no intention of selling out parts of his company to the locals. He had one partner, Xander, and that was enough.

Finally he pulled himself from his haze as Crawford rose to leave, sensing some negotiation was forthcoming. He focused on Wilkins as he leaned across the desk. "Mr. Montgomery, we truly appreciate your interest in becoming a contributing member of our fair city. It's just that we'd like some reassurance as to your permanence. Now I understand you aren't interested in new partners, you've made that clear. But there's one other thing that would allay any qualms the Harbor Authority might have."

William leaned forward. This was the deal breaker. What were they going to want? Campaign contributions? Some donation for the city? A flat out bribe? He leaned back heavily at Wilkins' next words, completely taken by surprise.

"If you were to take a bride from out fair city, a local belle, that would reassure us all I believe. You are unmarried, isn't that right sir?"

William nodded.

"Well, then. We have many fine young women, including my lovely daughter Harmony. I know you've had a chance to attend a few social functions. If you were to say, choose a bride shortly, I think we could see fit to grant you your permit when the full Authority meets."

With narrowed eyes, William leaned across the table. "Mr. Wilkins, I'm not much for facades. Let's cut to the heart of this, shall we? Are you proposing I marry your daughter for this permit?"

Wilkins' eyes twinkled. "Well now Mr. Montgomery, I wouldn't put it in those words, but if you were to offer a sizable sum to be settled on your new bride's family upon your marriage, and were to express an interest in my Harmony, then I don't think I could see fit to let a fine upstanding young man with family connections lose out on such a great business opportunity."

William stood up and crossed the room, staring out the window at the street. "And if I refuse?"

Wilkins shrugged. "Well, the Harbor Authority can be tricky sometimes. I know there are several members that resent us granting new permits to outsiders who haven't proven themselves loyal to South Carolina."

He closed his eyes, blocking out the charming view of a bustling city as he considered his options. He had planned to look for a wife once the company was established, someone with good connections and family name to bear him heirs. He'd met this Harmony chit before, a bit vapid, but passable to look at. What about love? Do you want to be miserable like your father? He shoved his inner poet aside. No, I want to be successful like my father. Love wasn't what marriages were for, as he well knew. He'd marry Harmony and maybe, if he was lucky, he could find some little soiled dove looking for a protector that he could find companionship with. It had worked for his parents, after a fashion.

He abruptly turned. "Very well. I'll be at your home tonight for dinner. I want a signed contract, a guarantee I'll have the permit by the first of the year. If I get it, I'll marry Harmony as the end of February, after these races I hear so much about and settle a sizable sum on you."

"Done."

As they shook hands, William realized that he felt lower than he'd ever felt in his life, even thought he'd just found the way to make his dreams come true.

~~~~~~

Xander Harris fell over in his chair. As he managed to right himself slowly, he stood back up. "You did what, Will?"

"I agreed to marry Wilkins' daughter and he's guaranteed the necessary permits. Now sod off."

"I will not. Are you out of your mind man? Do you really want to marry that simpering twit?"

"No, I do not, but I've been negotiating with these bastards for two months, Xander. I knew Wilkins wanted something, I just thought it was money or a bribe he was after, not this."

"Well, the talk down at the docks was that he was having money problems. Wouldn't be surprised if it turned out his conniving wife had something to do with this."

"I'm sure she did. Kept trying to call me Lord Darlington last time we met, stupid cow thinks I have a title or something. Probably thinks Harmony will be Lady Montgomery." He went over to the bookshelf that graced the wall of the library and smoothed his finger over the pen and ink drawing of his mother's face. "Sides, Harris, you and I both know marriage is just a business arrangement. I'll hopefully get a heir and she'll get a pretty house. I'll buy her one of those country places maybe and set her up out there if she gets too bothersome."

Xander shrugged. "It's your call Will. I know how much you want this, but just be sure it's worth the price. She'll be your wife, you'll have to share her bed, she'll bear your name, your children. Do you really want it to be that way?"

He shrugged as he prepared to leave for his evening meal with the Wilkins. "Don't have a lot of options here, Xander. Besides, it's not like I'm in love with someone," he chuckled harshly. "Not even sure I believe in love these days."

Xander clapped him on the back. "Tell you what, you may not believe in love, but I know you've still got to believe in good old-fashioned lust. When was the last time you had a woman, Will?"

He paused at the doorway and looked back at his friend of many years now. "Not since we left England. I've just been so busy since we got here, haven't had a chance to go about seeking suitable company. Some of those doxies down by the docks look like they'd rot a man's parts off."

"Exactly. But I've gotten a recommendation on a brothel, supposed to be one of the best in town. Very high-class clientele, upscale. Run by a Madam Anya. I was going to go see about it later tonight. Why don't I wait until you come back and we'll make a night of it?"

William frowned. "It's really a classy joint?"

Xander nodded. "We'll see if Madam Anya can't find us two beautiful brunettes, maybe if we're lucky they'll have a slightly crazy one, I know that's your thing." He ducked at Will's mock-punch.

"Hey now, lay off Dru. She was a bit off her bird, but you wouldn't believe what that woman could do under the covers. It's a plan, I'll meet you here at ten and we'll go."

~~~~~

"Miss Buffy?"

"Who is it Fred?"

"Your brother, Miss Buffy."

She tightened her lips and closed the book she'd been trying to snatch a few pages in to pass the last bit of afternoon that remained after she and Willow had returned from the tea. "Not my brother," she mumbled under her breath. She checked her reflection in the looking-glass, tucking a stray hair neatly away before nodding firmly at her reflection. "There, very presentable."

She raised her voice so it could be heard through the door, "I'm coming Fred, just put Parker in the sitting room."

She knocked on Willow's door and called out that Parker had come by before descending the stairs to greet him.

"Parker, how are you? And your mother and father, I do hope they are well also?" Buffy politely went through the motions of inquiring about the health of the various Crawfords, secretly wishing a plague of locusts on the whole bunch. Why on earth was Parker here? He was only a little older than her, maybe a year , but as the baby of the family, he'd always acted much younger. With Angel's death he'd become the heir to the family fortune however. She couldn't tell that it had made much difference.

He'd known better than to make any advances when she was married to Angel. He might have been gone much of the time and showed her little affection when he was there, but she might as well have had property of Angel Crawford branded on her forehead during their short marriage. Parker had leered and insinuated but had never touched.

Until Angel's death that is. He'd grown bolder with his advances during those few first horrible months when she'd been shut up in that gloomy mansion, listening to Lilah sob her eyes out over her precious boy. If it hadn't been for Holland's sending Parker off on a trip to England, she had been sure he would have invaded her bedroom one night to see what else of Angel's was now his, but she'd managed to escape before his return, setting herself up in this little house and separating herself as much as polite society allowed from the Crawford family.

He dropped by occasionally, but she always made sure to keep someone nearby and meet him in the formal sitting room. His frequent offers of help and assistance, suggestions he squire her to dances or picnics, were all met with polite declines as she pointed out the obvious mourning she still wore for his brother.

She wasn't dense. Parker had no interest in her as a bride, he wasn't trying to court her. He already possessed what should have been her dower, all of the Summers' holdings at Revello. No, what he wanted was her, what his brother had had, for a plaything. And that was something he would never have. So she politely endured his visits and prayed he'd one day lose interest and become distracted by someone else. She wondered if he knew Darla? Maybe she should give him her name, after all, she'd been Angel's too. And she was already a whore.

She snapped back to the present, realizing she'd missed whatever his reply had been.

"I'm so sorry, Parker, could you repeat that? I must have gotten a little distracted, it's a bit warm in here, don't you think?" She delicately dabbed at her forehead with her handkerchief and tried to appear to be slightly swoony, not that hard under all the layers of starchy fabric.

"I'm sorry my dear. Were you laying down all loosened up upstairs? I feel terrible making you get all buttoned back up to come talk to me." He lowered his voice and leaned in closer, "I could have just come up to your room. After all, we're family." He slid his finger familiarly down the jet buttons that adorned the front of her bodice, almost reaching the swell of her breast before she jerked away.

"I was merely reading, Parker, and it would not be appropriate. We're not blood-kin and you'll never enter my bedroom." Buffy realized that last bit was possibly a step too far as she watched him bristle with anger, but he backed away and returned to his seat as Willow suddenly appeared in the door.

"Parker, what a pleasant surprise, what brings you to see us today?"

Willow crossed the room and sat on the other side of Buffy, her tone pleasant but her eyes flashing as she observed the flushed Parker and the tense look on her cousin's face.

"Miss Willow, so good to see you again. My, but we are going to have to get you and Elizabeth out to some of the balls this season. After all, Elizabeth will soon be out of mourning for my dear departed brother." He grinned maliciously. "Or wait, shouldn't you already be out of mourning? Such devotion, my dear sweet sister, given how Angel felt about you."

Buffy bit her lip to control her temper, until she actually felt a drop of blood. "I prefer to mourn Angel in my own way, thank you Parker. Willow and I may attend a few festivities before the race week next year. However, as I am no longer seeking a husband, we will likely not be attending many of the St. Cecilia Society dances this season. Perhaps a few quiet musical evenings."

He smiled politely as Willow jumped into the conversation. "Yes, I've heard so much about the races, but I wasn't here soon enough last year to see them, so Elizabeth has been gracious enough, even in her time of sorrow, to agree to a small excursion."

"Wonderful, we will look forward to seeing you at those events. Perhaps you'll even allow me to escort you to a few?" At the frigid looks from both girls, he dropped the subject. "Perhaps we can discuss it at a later time. However, horses are the reason which brings me here. Elizabeth, Father has requested that I see if you will loan Gordian Knot to me for the afternoon. We are breeding his sire you know, and a potential buyer has asked for a report on some of the other offspring before committing. I'll just need to take him down to the veterinarian and farrier for a short time, have him looked over, then I'll bring him right back."

Buffy's heart seized a little at the thought of Parker, not known for his gentleness with horses, taking off her beloved Mr. Gordo, as she privately called him, even for a few hours. There was no polite way to refuse this and Parker knew better than to damage prime horseflesh, his father would tan him for doing so, but still . . . she sighed. Really, there was no choice. And at least Mr. Gordo would have a good examination, something she had been meaning to attend to.

"Very well Parker. But don't keep him too long, Willow and I might need him to go somewhere in the carriage tomorrow afternoon, isn't that right Willow?"

Willow nodded vehemently. "Yes, I think we do have an appointment."

Parker rose, hat in hand. "Then I bid you good day ladies. You still board the horse at Mott's Stable down the street?" Buffy nodded. "I'll return him as soon as we're done."

And then he was gone.

"Are you okay?" Willow asked.

Buffy leaned back and covered her eyes. "Yes. I just hate that I still even have to talk to anyone in that family." She reached over and gave her cousin a hug. "Thank you for coming in when you did. Parker was getting a little personal there. I swear, he thinks I'm his property and I know he's going to insist on escorting us if we go anywhere this winter, now that he's back. Everyone will think he's the most appropriate escort, but it will ruin anything we go to if I have to listen to his snake-like tongue for the evening and endure whatever gropes he thinks he can sneak in."

"Then we just won't go." Willow patted her cousin firmly as she glanced over her shoulder. "Tara, hey sweetie, come in, you missed the Parker exhibition."

Tara shyly entered the room. Even after several months, Buffy still wondered if Tara was nervous about being a part of the household, even if Buffy knew about their relationship and accepted it.

"Is he gone?"

"Mm-hmm. Come here." Tara perched on the sofa beside Willow as the girls continued to chat. "He was pulling his usual tricks. And unfortunately, he'll probably come back tomorrow to tell us Mr. Gordo's back safely."

Tara shuddered. Her few encounters with Parker had been less than stellar examples of his personality as well. Not long after they'd arrived in Charleston, he'd shown up and caught her alone in the hallway. Once he'd learned she was Willow's companion, he'd had her pressed against the wall and was fumbling with her skirts before the noise of Buffy descending the stairs had frightened him off. She'd kept that little detail to herself, not wanting to cause trouble, until she'd seem how much Buffy detested her former brother-in-law as well.

"Wasn't Anya supposed to come by this afternoon?" Tara asked.

Buffy nodded. "She was, though she said she might not make it. She was going to visit Giles for investment advice."

Willow laughed. "Do you really think she just goes to him for investment advice?"

Buffy crinkled her nose as she contemplated the question for a moment. "You know, I really do think that's what it is. Anya's done very well for herself since Giles gave her a start and she definitely values his advice. But it was always business with them. And you've seen him with his new wife haven't you? Such devotion. It almost is enough to break my cynicism, just a little. If I hadn't heard it straight from Anya, I wouldn't have believed it. Men just don't give up mistresses for their wives." She laughed harshly, "Mine certainly didn't."

Chapter 2

The dinner was long, unbearably boring. Harmony, now that William was seated next to her and had gotten a closer look, was a pink and white china doll. Her features were regular, her hair a lovely hue of pale blonde, her eyes a pretty shade of blue. And he found her immeasurably boring. Her voice grated, positively grated on his nerves.

As the dinner concluded, Wilkins escorted William and the other gentleman into the study for brandy and cigars. The conversation shifted now that the ladies were absent to talk of politics, local and national, and William chose to merely sip his drink and keep his own counsel as the discussion grew more impassioned about the brewing controversy over the new states entering the young country.

"Well, the North can't push us too hard. If they adopt their resolution, we'll adopt the resolution Senator Calhoun proposed and leave. Besides, what would the Northern factories do without our providing their raw materials? Why our sea-island cotton is the finest available. They would founder without our crops to feed their machines."

Richard turned to his future son-in-law. "What is the sentiment in England at this time, Montgomery?"

William deliberated for a moment, taking a sip of his drink before he answered. "I've been at sea for some time the past few years, you understand, so I'm not sure I have the pulse of the nation. But I know that England and France both value the fine Southern cotton produced on your fair plantations. Which is why I am here gentleman, to provide means for transporting those goods."

He held his breath as he waited for anyone to realized that he'd dodged the question. Most seemed pleased by the answer and the men began to break apart into smaller groups as local gossip and trade talk filtered around the room. . William turned at a hand clapped on his shoulder to face Parker Crawford, the heir to the Crawford family fortune, now one of the largest among the South Carolina elite. He tried to conceal, successfully he hoped, his look of distaste. Parker reminded him of the young lords and gentlemen he'd faced the ridicule of growing up. Good for nothing layabouts, sure the world was theirs merely by virtue of their birth. Holland Crawford had wheeled and dealed, building his plantation by fair means and foul. William had heard he was notorious for his cruelty to beasts and slaves. Parker appeared to be following in his father's footsteps.

"Montgomery, we're off to a friendly game of cards, care to join in?" William glanced at his watch. He was to meet Xander at ten, he had time for a hand or two. Besides, it was a bit too early to gracefully bow out, and if he didn't find some other amusement he feared he would be dragged back to the parlor to hear the musical accomplishments of the ladies. He suppressed a shudder. Nothing more loathsome than hearing the less than tuneful warblings of ladies of quality. "Very well Crawford, lead the way."

~~~~~

Williaim threw down his cards. He'd won a few hands so far, lost a few, and appeared to be breaking even. He watched as Parker triumphantly laid down his cards to show his winning hand. Nodding his congratulations, he started to rise to find his host and take his leave, when Parker stopped him.

"William, surely you're not leaving so soon? We're just getting warmed up."

"I have an appointment with my business partner, so I'm afraid I'll have to be on my way. But I enjoyed the game."

Parker jumped up.

"Montgomery, don't be ridiculous. We're raising the stakes, surely you have time for a few more hands."

"I really . . ."

Parker interrupted, "Now William, you don't want us thinking the English are afraid of a challenge now do you?"

William stiffened. Better to walk away, but he really wanted to wipe the smirk off of that sneering face in front of him. He sat back down and retrieved his cards. "Very well, a few more gentlemen, to defend the honor of my countrymen. What are the stakes?"

"We're playing for horses. That was a mighty fine piece of horseflesh you rode in on tonight."

"He is indeed. I purchased him only last week from a horse seller from somewhere up the river." William shrugged. He wasn't eager to lose the new steed, but he could get another. He thought for a moment as he watched the cards being shuffled. "That was a good looking horse you rode tonight as well, the bay with the white star. He'd make a nice addition to my stables. I'll wager mine against yours."

Parker gaped and backpedaled. "I can't wager Gordian, he's ."

William's cool tones interrupted him. "I'm sorry Crawford, I was under the impression Southern men weren't afraid of a challenge."

Parker's eyes glittered as the cards were dealt. "Very well, Montgomery. I accept the wager."

The hand played out and William exited the room to meet Xander and collect his new horse, chuckling to himself. The look on Parker's face had been priceless when he'd laid down the royal flush. Now, to see this Gordian.

~~~~~

Xander was sitting on the wide verandah as William rode up, holding the lead of the horse trotting beside him.

"Thought you were off to dinner. Where did you pick that up?"

William handed off the reins to the groom and mounted the steps. "Won a lucky hand of cards with that dreadful Parker Crawford. Good looking horse, eh?"

Xander nodded. "Did you cheat?"

William grinned. "Of course. He did too, I'm just better."

Xander snickered and turned his attention to the horse that was disappearing around the corner. "Looks like good lines. You still going with me tonight after seeing your blushing bride-to-be?"

"More than ever, mate. She is a bit of a twit. They seated her next to me tonight. Tried to make conversation, but aside from an occasional yes or no, I couldn't get a thing from the girl until I mentioned we'd brought in some new fabrics in our last shipment. Bird nearly talked my ear off then about the new gown her mum had promised her for the winter." He shuddered. "So yes, Xan, let's find some warm, willing, quiet women who'll use their mouths for more pleasant purposes."

~~~~~

William looked around the room they were seated in. From the outside, the brothel could have passed for one of the many quiet, genteel row houses that populated the town. Very discreet, not gaudy in the manner of some of the cathouses he'd seen nearer the docks. It boded well for the evening's entertainment, less likely to get some doxy with the pox in a place like this. But he was getting impatient.

"Xander, what are we waiting on again?"

Xander sighed. "Patience, Spike. Madam Anya has this policy of meeting all the clients on their first visit so she can select the right girl for them. Larry, he's the one who told me about this place and gave me the reference, said she was an absolute genius at it. He said he'd never been disappointed."

Spike got up and paced to the window that looked out onto a side alley. He pulled aside the heavy draperies and stared out into the dark night. A sudden flash of movement caught his attention.

A small, dark figure was sneaking down the alley. In the shadows he could make out little, for the person was swathed from head to foot in a long dark cloak. They approached the door and William shifted so he could watch this peculiarity. A brief muffled knock and the door swung open, bathing the mysterious stranger in a pool of light. He caught his breath as the hood fell away to reveal one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen.

Her golden hair must have been pulled back in one of those odd knots women distorted their hair into, but time and the effect of the cloak had loosened it from its confines and entrancing tendrils caressed her face. Her wide hazel eyes were framed by long lashes and he could see them flash as she conversed with someone inside. Good, she had some spirit to her. He felt his interest stir for the first time in he couldn't remember how long. This was the woman he wanted tonight. Forget Madam Anya's pick, he was going to insist on her. He pressed closer to the window, hoping to hear some of the conversation.

"Anya, let me in, hurry,"

"Fine, fine, Buffy."

Buffy. That was who he would ask for. Odd name. He retreated to the sofa and reached for his drink, suddenly looking forward to the rest of the evening. "Excellent idea Xander, excellent idea."

~~~~~

Buffy threw another furtive look around her as she stepped inside the back hallway, scowling. This was the last time. Why Anya couldn't just send the girls on up to her place, she'd never understand. Or maybe she did. Anya was sharp, she knew every trip down here, even to as well-kept an establishment as hers, made Buffy remember why she was willing to take the risk in helping these girls her peers would shun. Because she knew, she understood what they went through. Because she'd been there too. Only in a bigger house and with less chance of escape.

She sighed and followed Anya down the hall towards the kitchen where several of the girls were having tea and waiting for their next customer. She nodded to several she'd met on her previous visits and looked around the room for a new face.

"All right Anya, why am I sneaking down here in the middle of the night?"

"Buffy, she's barely fourteen, a baby, and she's got nowhere to go. Her mother died on the boat, they didn't have any money to start with from what I can tell, and she has no references or education to speak of. Plus she's frightened out of her mind."

Buffy massaged her temples. When did she become the one chosen to save the lost souls in this town? "How did she end up here, Anya?"

"I found her at Glory's place this afternoon when I went by for a chat to check out the competition. You know Glory will take them as young as she can get, some men pay a high price for that sort of thing."

Anya bit her lip, slightly embarrassed she'd gotten herself involved in this rescue operation, then blurted out, "I couldn't let her stay there, she just looked like a little lost lamb waiting to be led to the slaughter, with those great big innocent eyes. I knew you could find a good place for her, maybe train her for a bit and help her with references. But you have to take her away, tonight. She can't stay here, Glory will be furious when she realizes I snuck her out and she'll send one of her men up here to get her back."

Buffy sighed again. How did Anya always end up sucking her into these messes? There was no way she could let this little girl be taken back to Glory's. Even refined ladies had heard of that place and the perverse things that went on there. "All right, let me see her."

Anya led her down the hallway to a small back room where the door was shut. "Her name is Dawn. Irish, I think."

"Had she already . . ." Buffy trailed off.

Anya shook her head. "No, I'm pretty sure she hadn't. That's why Glory will try to get her back, she's very marketable."

Buffy eyed her critically. "If she's so marketable, why aren't you teaching her the trade instead of rescuing her, Anya?"

Anya paused as she prepared to open the door. "I'm not going soft here Buffy, but . . ." she looked at the doorknob as she finished her sentence, "I think you were right last week when you said everyone deserves a choice. What almost happened to her is what happened to me. No one asked me if it was what I wanted and I didn't have many options afterwards. If she changes her mind, wants to come here, I'll welcome her, but this little girl's not ready to make that decision yet."

Buffy nodded, knowing how unlike Anya it was to show her emotions over something. "I understand. We'll give her a choice. It'll make things easier that she wasn't violated. I'll take her and train her. We can see if anyone around here might want a governess, though she's a little young, or maybe see if Willow's family can find her a place in Boston. She'd make a good fit there. We'll find something."

The door opened and Buffy took in the sight of the girl huddled on the bed, tear tracks still marking her face. She was disheveled, her dark hair falling around her face as she looked up at the pair standing in the doorway.

"Dawn, this is Miss Elizabeth. She's going to be taking you home with her tonight. You'll be safe there, Glory won't know where to look for you." Anya nodded at Buffy then turned to head back down the hallway. "I have to go, I have patrons waiting."

Buffy nodded and moved into the room. Dawn watched her with wide eyes as she carefully approached the bed. Buffy though she looked like a frightened colt ready to dart as soon as she drew near. She slowly put out her hand to the other girl. "My name is Elizabeth, but my friends call me Buffy, so that will be just fine. What would you like me to call you?"

Slowly the younger girl took her hand and rose from the bed. "Dawn. Dawn is my name."

"Good. Well, Dawn, I understand there's a bit of a nasty lady who might show up looking for you here, so why don't the two of us go? You can stay with me tonight where you'll be safe, and tomorrow we'll discuss what you may wish to do."

Dawn nodded and Buffy draped the extra cloak Anya had provided around her shoulders. They headed back into the hallway, moving towards the back exit. Buffy looked up as one of Anya's girls, Faith, came out of the kitchen and headed up the stairs. "Come to rescue the little lamb, Buffy?"

Buffy nodded. "Are you coming for lessons this week Faith?" The brunette ducked her head and glanced around. "Yeah, I think I will. I was practicing you know, with some of Anya's books."

"Good. Thursday then?"

"Okay, got to go, Anya's giving me one of the new boys tonight."

Buffy colored slightly and herded Dawn down the hallway. Even though she now called some of these women friends, she still couldn't get over her slight nervousness when the more earthy aspects of their profession came up. "Well, good luck with that, see you later."

She opened the door and guided Dawn out into the night.

Chapter 4

Parker knocked nervously on the door. Buffy could be a little spitfire when she got riled up, he'd seen a few fights between her and his mother in the months before she moved from Crawford Place to her little house. Well, she had no reason to get angry with him, he'd brought her a replacement horse. This one was really more appropriate for her anyway. Gordian was a race horse, he didn't know why her father had given her the beast.

Besides, what other choice did he have? He could have hardly backed down from that smirking English bastard last night. Seemed like everywhere he went, that was all anyone was talking about, William Montgomery and his new shipping business. He knocked again, more forcefully this time.

"Mr. Parker, good morning."

"Good morning, Winifred, I need to see Miss Buffy."

He leered at her and Fred disappeared in a flurry of skirts up the stairs. He watched as she went, wondering if the rumor he'd heard about her being a former lightskirt was true. Seemed like an awfully timid little thing, but Buffy took in the strangest types. He might have to investigate that more closely one of these days.

Why she sent away her little slave girl back North he'd never understood. What had her name been? No matter. She'd been a feisty little piece, quite the fighter when he'd managed a go at her while Buffy was still living with them. He'd have happily bought her if Buffy had been looking to sell, she had more spirit than most, like her mistress he supposed. Well, there was no doubt, Buffy had picked up some odd notions up there in Boston, but she knew better than to push things too far in Charleston.

He stalked around the parlor, impatient for this to be over. Yes, she was an odd little duck, but one of these days she'd come around. Maybe even take him up on some of his . . . offers. Now if she just didn't pitch a fit and run to his father about that damn horse. He heard a flurry on the upper floor and prepared himself for the confrontation.

+++

Buffy straightened her collar and smoothed her hair in the hall mirror, lightly knocking on Willow's door. An already coifed Willow emerged, giving Buffy a glimpse of Tara sitting at the dressing table putting the final pins in her hair.

"Good morning Buffy."

"Morning Willow."

She lowered her voice. "Parker's here. Can one of you rescue me in a bit?"

Willow nodded. "Why is he here at this time of day?" She glanced at the small watch pinned to her bodice. "It's a little early in the morning for a social call!"

Buffy shrugged. "I hope he's here to return Mr. Gordo. Though promptness is not one of Parker's usual traits and I'm surprised they would have had time to look him over at the farrier's already." Her eyes widened. "Willow, do you think something's happened to him?"

"Don't be silly, I'm sure he's fine. Go on, we'll be down in a minute."

Buffy took a deep breath to prepare herself for Parker, then descended to find him lurking in the hallway.

"Why Buffy, don't you look fresh as a morning daisy."

She fought to keep the look of repulsion off her face as he reached for her hand to salute it, avoiding him as she hastily stepped to the side and pretended to tweak a wax flower on the hall occasional table that had been perfectly straight before. "Why thank you Parker, and good day to you as well. Did you bring Gordian back?"

He laughed and took her arm to lead her into the parlor.

"So direct. I always appreciated that about you, Buffy." He steered her to a seat and she pulled away, miffed at his proprietary manner in her own home. "Did I mention that Mother sends her greetings? She's having a dinner party next week and would like you to attend. She'll be calling on you this afternoon."

Buffy narrowed her eyes. "Parker, you didn't get up this early to tell me your mother plans to call. Where's my horse?"

"Now, Buffy . . ."

"Don't now Buffy me. Where's Gordian Knot?"

Parker rang the small bell that summoned Fred, who had been lurking outside the door.

"Winifred, can you get us something to drink? Perhaps some sherry? I know it's early, but Miss Buffy is a bit overwrought."

Fred glanced at the clearly agitated Buffy and gave a quick nod before fleeing. Buffy was on her feet and advancing on Parker by the time he turned around.

"Parker, if you've hurt my horse . . ."

"Buffy, the horse is fine. And I'm sure will receive excellent care."

As she came a step closer, Parker threw up his hands. She really was a little fireball, he could almost see the sparks flashing in her eyes.

"Parker, for the last time. Tell me what you've done with my horse." He edged off the seat and away from her.

"Well. Last night I had to have dinner with the Wilkins. You know Harmony don't you?"

"Don't change the subject Parker," she managed through gritted teeth.

"Right. To abbreviate, after dinner we had a friendly game of cards and the new Englishman, Montgomery, challenged me for Gordian. I couldn't back down from a challenge to a Southern gentleman's honor, now could I Buffy? Sadly, he won, through cheating no doubt. So I had to turn over the horse."

As Buffy advanced on him with a conflagration raging in her eyes, he held up his hands and continued.

"So I've brought you a young filly from our stables, a real beauty, wonderful lines, very gentle, perfect for a lady like yourself."

He found himself backed against the wall as Buffy's finger hit his chest.

"I do not want another horse. I want my horse. Get it back, Parker."

"Buffy, I can't. Montgomery won."

"Oh yes you can. He wasn't yours to lose. Go tell him that."

Parker backed up again until he reached the hallway and saw the door with relief. Clearly his efforts at appeasement weren't going to work.

"The little filly's outside. Sorry about that Buffy, couldn't be helped. If you want the horse back, you'll have to get it yourself. " He lunged for the door and was gone before she could react. Buffy watched as the door slammed behind him, then turned and stalked back up the stairs. Willow gaped as she marched past her, her mouth set in a thin, straight line.

"Um, Buffy, what just happened?"

Buffy shook her head and continued her march. Willow turned to Fred, who was staring wide-eyed after Buffy's retreating skirts, a glass of sherry clutched in her hand.

"Fred?"

"He lost her horse in a bet last night."

Willow gasped. "He lost Mr. Gordo?"

Fred nodded.

"And said he couldn't get him back because of his honor as a Southern gentleman."

Tara joined them. "Is Buffy alright? She just went slamming into her room."

"Parker lost Mr. Gordo."

"Oh my, did he run away?"

"Not hardly, Parker gambled with him as the stakes."

"Oh. That explains the slamming door."

Fred reemerged from the dining room into the hallway.

"Miss Willow, Miss Tara, would you like some breakfast? I think the little one will be up soon."

Tara turned. "In all this hubbub, I'd almost forgotten we had a new guest. How is she?"

"I think she's alright. Still shaken though, she was talking quite a bit in her sleep. Poor little mite, she's just had one terrible thing after the other happen since she arrived in Charleston," Fred replied.

"I'll go up and talk to her, see if we maybe can find something for her to wear." Tara retreated up the stairs as Willow and Fred made their way back to the dining room.

"So what is Buffy going to do?"

Fred shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. Mr. Parker told her he couldn't get Mr. Gordo back, she'd have to herself. He brought her another one though."

Willow grimaced. "Parker is an idiot. Buffy loves Mr. Gordo, she won't be satisfied with another horse. Do you suppose she's really going to try to get it back?"

The subject of their conversation appeared in the door, attired in widow's black from head to toe, smoothing her gloves and straightening her bonnet as if in answer to the question.

"Fred, Willow, I'll be back shortly."

"Buffy, what are you going to do?" Willow asked with concern. When Buffy got that look in her eye, bad things often happened.

"What that sniveling little fool won't."

"But, Buffy, it's not even 8:30 yet, it's too early to call on anyone!"

Buffy's determined face hardened further. "I don't care. Mr. Montgomery will just have to get up, he has my horse."

Willow glanced at Fred, who returned her look of concern. There was little to be done when Buffy was this riled up. "Do you want me to come with you? Or at least take Fred?"

Buffy shook her head firmly. "No. I'm a widow, not some blushing schoolgirl, and this isn't a social call, it's business. I don't need a chaperone. Besides, it's early, no one will know I've been there. Will you just go ahead and check on Dawn, please?"

Willow looked doubtful at this line of reasoning but Buffy was already starting out the door.

"Alright, we will, Buffy. Tara already went up to talk with her and find her something to wear."

+++

Buffy turned the corner as she walked briskly to the next street over where she knew this mysterious Montgomery everyone was so agog over had taken up residence. Convenient that he was so close, she'd hopefully be able to call on him, explain the situation and return with Mr. Gordo before ladies began to leave for the daily shopping at the market.

She paused before the intricate iron gates that opened to the pathway leading to the old Weston mansion. This was it. She took a deep breath and started up the walkway. As she reached the bottom of the steps leading up to the verandah, a momentary wash of panic overtook her. What was she doing here? Alone? At 8:30 in the morning?

Willow had been right, she should have waited for her to accompany her. That would have been more dignified. Though she supposed that her widow's black should dissuade this Mr. Montgomery that she was some sort of floozy calling on him with improper intentions. Pity he didn't have a wife, it would have been so much easier to appeal her case if there was a Mrs. Montgomery around.

She mounted the steps to the front door and raised the ornate and heavy knocker. She studied the design, some sort of coat of arms, must be his family's crest. She wondered idly if he was actually a lord. There had been all sorts of rumors flying about, that he was wealthy as Croecus, that he was going to revolutionize the harbor, that he was a lord looking for a Southern bride to bring new blood into his family.

She snorted delicately. That last one had definitely been the product of too many marriage mad mamas hopeful they'd make the match of the season. Having been that match, Buffy didn't know who to pity more, the poor girl who ended up stuck with Mr. Montgomery, or him if he succumbed to the lure of a Southern lilt and a fluttering fan. They'd both probably end up miserable.

She raised the knocker again. This was odd. She'd expected better service at a house of this caliber. Maybe he was having trouble adjusting to the servants. She wondered idly if he'd purchased house slaves or just rented them from one of the other families. Either way, no one was answering the door.

She turned and walked down the steps. After glancing around, she moved as stealthily as a large hoop skirt allowed around the corner of the building. If she recalled correctly, the Weston's had built a small stable in the back.

+++

William finished fastening his tie and rolled his eyes in frustration. He was sure there was someone at the front door knocking.

"Dalton," he roared, "Answer the bleeding door."

A second knock and still no sounds from the foyer which would indicate the door had been answered. He hurried down the steps and yanked open the door. No one. He slammed the door shut and paced back up the steps to the third floor and knocked on the door of his butler's room.

"Dalton, are you in there?"

A shuffling of feet and Dalton opened the door, a cloth draped across his forehead. "I'm most sorry sir, I though Anna had passed on to you that I was ill. This dreadful weather has laid me low again."

William sighed. Maybe trying to import servants had been a bad idea. But when he'd determined to sell the townhouse in London and move to Charleston permanently for this venture, they'd pleaded as a body to be allowed to come.

And he knew why. Because he was the most pathetic excuse for an employer out there. Give him command of a ship and he was in his element. Put him at the docks and he could order around the biggest and burliest and they'd respect him.

But something about well-trained house servants, with their oh so specific rules and hierarchies completely baffled him. He suspected it was because he hadn't grown up accustomed to them and had always felt a little bullied when he had visited in his father's home. At least with Dalton here the man was so mild-mannered he could occasionally make some headway.

"Fine. But you need to arrange for one of the other maids to answer the door if you're incapacitated. Someone just called and no one answered the door."

"Yes sir, I'll make sure of it." Dalton winced as he began to move the cloth from his head.

"Go lay back down, I'll find one of the girls and put her at the front door."

"Excellent, sir. Oh, and I need to bring to your attention that one of the maids has unfortunately left your employment." "Left? Why?"

"It would appear she has fallen in love with a young farmer who lives up river and has eloped with him."

William took another deep breath. He really, desperately needed someone to handle these domestic crises. He certainly hoped Harmony Wilkins would be useful in that respect at least.

"Very well, begin interviewing."

"Sir?"

"Yes, Dalton?"

"It appears customary for the gentry of this area to use Africans as house servants. I understand they can be purchased in the Market downtown . . ."

William turned. "Dalton, I may be living in this city and I'll have to adopt some of their ways, but we are English. We do not own slaves. Now there have to be some immigrants to this city, find a nice Irish girl or something."

"Yes, Mr. Montgomery."

+++

Buffy made her way back to the stables and slipped inside. There he was! She slipped the chunk of apple from her reticule and held it out as Mr. Gordo knickered a greeting.

"Yes, my pretty boy, have you been treated well?"

She absently stroked the horse as she looked around the small stable. It was very well kept, she had to admit. Clean, good feed, probably better than where she boarded him. His coat had been brushed to a high gloss as well. She had to give Montgomery some credit, it spoke well of a man to take such good care of his animals. After a few more pats and promises to retrieve him soon, Buffy slipped from the stables. Now to find Montgomery.

+++

William poured another cup of tea from the sideboard as he absently looked out on the rear courtyard. The domestic crisis appeared to be under control. Anna, the head maid, or whatever she was called, he never seemed to have the right title, had assured him she could find a replacement and train her.

Now, if he could just gather his thoughts for a moment, read through the morning paper and have his last cup of tea, he'd be off to the shipyard to catch up with Xander, who'd always been an earlier riser.

A sudden swish of black attacked his attention. He pulled the drape aside and peered out the window. There appeared to be a woman meandering around his backyard. She stepped out of the stable, reentered it, came back out, then started across the courtyard. Was she a horse thief? If so, she had the oddest apparel he'd ever seem for such an endeavor. He hastily crossed to the door and hurried down the steps to accost the woman.

"Miss, ma'am, stop there!"

She turned and he could see past the deep bonnet that had shielded her face. William stopped dead in his tracks.

"Buffy?"