CHAPTER TWENTY
FEBRUARY 1871
I rubbed my aching temples. All I wanted was to return home to New York and lose myself in the brokerage business while I recovered from the sting of Congress’s rejection. But now that I had the National Committee’s attention, they weren’t going to let me go easily. They had already scheduled my first speech for that very night at Lincoln Hall.
I was no speaker. I had more than proven that in stumbling through my memorial not once but twice. However, Mr. Butler and Isabella were determined to turn me into one, as well as into a woman acceptable in high society.
Just that morning, Isabella had marched down to my room, not even greeting me before beginning my first lesson.
“This should be burned.” Isabella waved a letter in my face. It was my handwriting on
