The Seeker by Ann H. Gabhart Page B

you want her to bring tea?”
    “Just . . . get . . . her.” Selena spoke the words one at a time with force.
    “Yes’m.”
    Adam was surprised at how fast the old man got out of the room. He wished he could follow on his heels, and he thought the senator’s daughter would have been right behind them if she could have done as she wanted. But then she seemed to find some courage as she looked directly at Selena and said, “Gibson has been with the family for many years.”
    “Perhaps too many years.” Selena didn’t bother to hide her annoyance whether with Gibson or the senator’s daughter or life in general.
    Without thought Adam painted in the frown lines between her eyes and then had to smooth them away with his brush. Paint her pretty and quickly, he reminded himself. Neither woman was paying the least bit of attention to him.
    “He’s a great favorite of many of Father’s political friends,” the younger woman said.
    Selena mashed her mouth together in a thin line. “Politics can’t rule everything.”
    “Elections are won by a thousand little things.”
    “More like a few thousand votes. But I didn’t call you in here to discuss political maneuvering. I get an overabundance of that from your father, you can be sure.”
    “Father is committed to serving his state as best he can. A difficult charge now with all the divisions.”
    Selena’s eyes narrowed on Charlotte. Adam was pleased to see the girl didn’t wilt under her glare. “Are you attempting in your clumsy way to take me to task?”
    “Oh no. I do beg your pardon if such seemed the case.” She sounded sincere as she turned to bring Adam into the conversation. “I certainly wouldn’t want Mr. Wade to think there was any kind of ill feeling between us. Forgive me, Mr. Wade, if my words appeared uncharitable.”
    Adam twisted his mouth a little to the side to keep from smiling. “Don’t mind me. I’m just the portrait painter.”
    “How is it coming? May I look?” Charlotte took a step toward his easel.
    “No.” Selena stopped her in her tracks. “Our dear Mr. Wade claims he can’t allow anyone to see the portrait until it is finished. Not even me.”
    Adam let the smile leak out to his face as he made a few brushstrokes. “You know how artists can be. Temperamental about their work.”
    “Of course,” Charlotte said and stepped back. “But I’ve heard you are very good with portrait sketches.”
    “Sketches of whom?” Selena’s eyes were sharp on Adam.
    “I’ve seen his work in Harper’s Weekly .” Charlotte didn’t really answer the woman’s question as she turned back to her. “I’ve been going through some of our old newspapers, and every illustration Mr. Wade has done is quite remarkable. I’m surprised Father was able to convince him to take time out from such work to do your portrait.”
    “Charles had little to do with it. I am a friend of Mr. Wade’s sister.”
    “How fortunate for you,” Charlotte said.
    She acted as if Adam hadn’t already told her the same thing in the garden. Perhaps she had wiped that encounter out of her mind. Perhaps he should do the same. He pretended to turn his full attention back to the canvas in front of him.
    Charlotte continued to stand in the middle of the floor instead of settling in one of the chairs which she surely had a right to do even if the senator’s wife didn’t ask her to sit. After a brief and uncomfortable silence, Charlotte said, “My father said you wished to speak to me.”
    “Yes, so I did.” Selena’s voice sounded almost as superior as it had moments ago when she was speaking to the old butler. “The servants have been packing up your mother’s things. Something that should have been done years ago.”
    “I suppose you’re right, but there never seemed any urgency.” Charlotte’s voice held a whisper of sadness. “Until now. Do you want me to go through the things?”
    “No need,” Selena said with a wave of her hand. “We’ve already