Chapter Fourteen
“Me?” Lucretia laughed boldly. “We scarcely know each other.”
The cook’s smile remained intact. “You ever been in love, Miss Lucy?”
Lucy wasn’t sure as she had been. Boys had come to the house time and time again, but none of them had interested her; and, in the end, they had found her brazen personality less than appealing. Lucretia did not like boys anyway. She liked men. There had been a man, a younger slaver, that her father had brought to the plantation a time or two. He had been very close to the doctor’s age she reckoned, with his dark hair pulled back into a pony tail and a neat mustache. They had been introduced once but it was quickly made clear to her that this gentleman was not available. He was already married. “Is it terrible if I say I don’t think I have
