Houston

his eyes to the ceiling. "I did not need to hear that, Charles."
"Hey, Major, you know it's true. They falling all over him, every chance they get. Sam Houston's the prize bachelor, right now. You think those prim and proper matrons ain't figured out the oldest way known to man to get a fella to the altar? You think their prim and proper daughters won't be willing? Enough of 'em, anyway."
Driscol was still staring at the ceiling. The paint was peeling in one of the corners. In case he needed a reminder that appearances are usually a veneer. Especially in Washington, D.C.
"I did not need to hear that."
"Look on the bright side. Couple of months, we'll be in New Orleans. Most sinful city in the New World. They'll love Sam Houston."
"I did not need to hear that."
Chapter 33
October 9, 1814
Washington, D.C.
Winfield Scott arrived in Washington to assume command of the Tenth Military District just in time to see the newly promoted Colonel Houston and his party off on their expedition to New Orleans.
"I see you've made quite the name for yourself, Patrick," he said to Driscol, shaking his hand vigorously. "My deepest congratulations. Nothing more than you deserve, of course." He didn't even seem to notice Houston, who was standing not three feet away.
Driscol returned the handshake with a smile, letting no sign of his irritation show. As much as he admired and respected Scott, there were times he found the man's thin-skinned vanity downright aggravating. Especially because it was so childishly transparent.
Driscol was no threat to Scott's status, of course. For all the private and public praise that had been heaped upon the man from County Antrim over the past few weeks—not to mention a double promotion that had well-nigh astonished him—no one thought of Patrick Driscol as a dashing hero the way they did Sam Houston. Now people were speculating that Houston might soon become the youngest brigadier general in