To Be Obscure

| CH. 04

1837

Georgia had the warmest of summers I'd ever endured. Even my days in France could not compare. When I arrived at its ports in March of 1837, I thought the boat ride had been the worst of my journey. Yet, once that blistering sun revealed its shiny head, I knew I was wrong. If it hadn't been for Charles Abbey, well, I wouldn't have lasted those first few months.

He'd employed me without question. That employment allowed me room and board, and the comforts I thought I would have lost upon leaving Margot's estate. In the beginning, I wasn't quite sure what he wanted me for, but it wasn't long before I knew it had to do with my gift of gab. With my intellectual wit and ability to out-drink any man, I alone acquired many followers for Charles and his quest to guarantee rights for the Natives of Georgia.

And I was content with this role, something important and respected until I met her.

It was the middle of May, and I followed the smell of fresh water and flowers. I'd been given a message for Anna—the lovely wife of Charles—and I was told to take it with haste. Only, the tall grass caressed my legs as I walked, slowing my steps. The river's scent flooded the air, and I took it in with each and every breath. I thought I would enjoy the scenery, but as the wooden front steps of the Abbey home came into view, I found myself lost in more than just the fresh air.

Georgia had been filled with plenty of beautiful women—two found their end in my bed—but none as beautiful as her.

Charlotte May Abbey: Charles' daughter and only child. She sat at the top of the stairs, on a little wooden bench just next to the front door. Utterly clueless to my presence. Her hands were locked in her hair as she held it firm against the blowing wind. Those dark strands suited her so well.

As I approached her, drew closer to her, I could see the slight hint brown on her skin. Charles' English blood did not show on such radiant beauty, not that it mattered. I found myself entranced in her exquisiteness.

I stood at the bottom step for a minute or so before I finally addressed her. I removed my hat from my head and carefully held it behind my back. "Excuse me, Miss, but are you Charlotte Abbey?"

I hadn't meant to disturb her, but I'd nearly forgotten the haste I was meant to deliver my message. She turned her head towards me, eyes still closed, and hands still tied in that raven black hair. I wanted to laugh at the look of determination on her face, but I held my tongue.

"And who might you be?" she asked me, eyebrows high on her forehead.

I chuckled, a sound low and deep from my throat. Charles had warned me that Charlotte was, the easiest way to put it, something else. She was a very strong-minded young woman, with an intellect greater than most women in town. 'She'll lash out at you before even knowing your name,' he said to me before I left. I wonder how hard the lashes would be, and if I could handle them?

"Lamont, Miss Abbey," I said with a bow, though she didn't see it.

She sighed and breathed in the sweet air around us. I hoped it would calm whatever spat of words I would endure next, but deep down, I knew it wouldn't. As she allowed her hair to fall around her shoulders, I found myself staring at the white lace around her slender neck, and at the dress that clung so beautifully to her waist.

My, was she lovely.

"Well, I'm sure Lamont has a last name, doesn't he, now?" Charlotte said with a smack of her lips.

I found myself laughing once again. "Just Lamont is fine, Miss."

"Ah, Just Lamont. Peculiar name."