The Rebel Spy by April London Page A

about to find our seats in the dining room.” General Steele gripped her side and she let him pull her away.
    She fought the urge to stick her tongue out.
    “Don’t encourage the man,” General Steele warned.
    “He’s rude and ill mannered.” She recalled the way he’d groped her while he held her on the ground.
    “On that, we are agreed.” He urged her through a set of open double doors and into the dining room.
    She bit her bottom lip. The walls were in desperate need of a fresh coat of pain. Faint lines were visible where pictures once hung on the walls and a gaping hole in the ceiling held memories of a chandelier. She cringed. The house resembled her home in Tennessee.
    Late afternoon sunlight filtered in the curtainless windows and glittered off the table. The large table shone with fresh polish in the center of the room. Covered in gleaming crystal and silver, she fought the desire to reach out and touch the goblet nearest to her.
    Her father carted her mother’s crystal all the way from Charleston decades ago. Over the rugged roads from the coast into the mountains.
    She bit back a sob.
    “Are you unwell? You’ve gone quite pale.”
    She waved away his concern. “I’m fine. Where shall we sit?” Several officers and a few ladies had already taken seats around the table.
    “James!” A fair haired officer waved from the end of the table.
    With his hand on her lower back, General Steele quickened his pace.
    “George.” General Steele shook the man’s hand, relief relaxing the worry lines on his face.
    “So this little thing is what all the fuss is about?” George offered Tamsyn a quick once-over with bright blue eyes.
    “Rumor mill was quick to work on this one.” General Steele gave a heavy sigh. “Tamsyn Moody, allow me to introduce Lieutenant George Chaffee.”
    “At your service, Miss Moody.” George inclined his head.
    “Mrs. Moody,” she corrected. “But please, call me Tamsyn.”
    “The plot thickens.” George grinned.
    “How bad is it?” General Steele asked.
    George motioned them toward empty chairs. General Steel guided her into a seat between the two men.
    George laughed. “Well, the rumor doesn’t mention how beautiful the spy is that has muddled your mind. Nor does it mention the spy is a woman.”
    General Steele groaned.
    “I must admit, I was beginning to question our friendship, Steele.” George continued to chuckle.
    “I ordered the men to remain silent,” General Steele explained.
    “Do you know who went behind your back?”
    Tamsyn listened to the men talk over her. Secured between the two of them she took a moment to glance around at the other officers filing into the room. Outside the afternoon faded to twilight and the men hurried to the table at General Grant’s request for an early meal.
    She found General Grant there, at the end of the table. He appeared very solemn in contrast to the other Union officers in the room. He caught her gaze and nodded to her. She continued around the room. There were only about a dozen Union officers.
    She wasn’t the sole woman in the room. Three other women were also in attendance and most looked to be nothing more than low-class camp followers.
    She frowned. The dresses they wore, looted from other women’s bureaus, were ill-fitting. One woman’s too large bust threatened to spill out of the pale yellow taffeta dress she wore.
    Tamsyn’s gaze roamed over the women and her eyes met a pair of deep chocolate brown ones she recognized. They belonged to a very young girl who attended the local church were Tamsyn and Elizabeth were infrequent members.
    Tabitha.
    She knew the girl to be no more than sixteen. The youngest person in the room by at least a decade.
    What is she doing here?
    “General, excuse me.” Tamsyn pushed out of her chair and hurried around the table to where Tabitha stood alone, eyes wide.
    “Tabby, sweetie, what on earth are you doing here?” Tamsyn slid close to the girl.
    “Tamsyn,” the young