The Scandalous Miss Howard

by Nan Ryan

  Mr. Cooper closed his eyes to listen. She had read for only a few minutes when the frail man began to softly snore. She lowered the book and sighed. She started to rise when she heard voices in the hallway so she stayed seated.

  A couple of nurses were speaking in whispers and Laurette heard one of them breathlessly say his name.

  Sutton Vane.

  They were talking about the man she had met at Colonel Ivy’s party a couple of weeks ago. No one seemed to know why he had suddenly appeared in Mobile. But since arriving, the handsome and wealthy Sutton Vane had been the talk of the town. Tales about him were rampant.

  He had bought the city’s oldest hotel, the Riverside, and planned a major refurbishing. He owned a luxury yacht. Workman had started construction on his island getaway house. Beautiful young women had been seen going in and out of his Government Street mansion as if the heavy door were a turnstile.

  Laurette couldn’t help herself. She was as fascinated by all the hearsay surrounding Sutton Vane as everyone else. He was, everyone agreed, like royalty in almost every sense of the word. He was treated like royalty, he lived like royalty and he had the dignified mein of royalty.

  Laurette, like many others who led a quiet, rather mundane existence, lived vicariously for a moment as she listened to the nurses discuss the mysterious man’s most recent exploits.

  There were times when, guiltily, secretly, she found herself foolishly wishing that she were younger and prettier like the belles who found favor with Sutton Vane.

  It would be exciting to share the kind of life he lived, if only for a brief, memorable time.

  Twenty-One

  It was a Saturday morning. The first full week of January had passed. Laurette was on duty at the hospital when the charge nurse ask if she’d mind walking the few blocks to the Conti Street apothecary shop.

  “I wouldn’t ask, Laurette,” said the stout, white-uniformed nurse, “but we’re running so low on some of the supplies that we can’t possibly wait until our next shipment arrives from Montgomery.”

  “Be glad to do it,” said Laurette, untying the white bibbed apron she wore over her plain, gray wool dress. “Give me a list and I’ll go right now.”

  Minutes later she was strolling down Old Shell Road toward Conti. She hadn’t bothered with a wrap. It was one of those unusually warm days for midwinter and Laurette noticed, with pleasure, a few scattered boughs of pale lavender azaleas, the first flower to bloom each year in early January.

  Laurette stepped into the apothecary shop and the proprietor looked up, smiled and greeted her.

  “Lovely day today, Mrs. Tigart,” he said.

  “Perfect,” she agreed and handed him the list.

  Reading the list, he said, “It’ll take me a few minutes.”

  “That’s fine,” she replied. “I can wait.”

  He nodded and went into the back room, leaving her alone. Laurette crossed her arms and stood idly studying the neat shelves of bandages, potions and pills.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Tigart,” came a low, drawling voice.

  Laurette turned quickly and looked up. Sutton Vane was standing close and smiling down at her.

  “I need your help,” he said, looking quite earnest now.

  “My help?” she blinked in surprise.

  “Yes, madam,” he replied and gently took her arm. “This way,” he directed her toward the apothecary shop’s front door.

  “No. Stop,” she protested, halting. “I came here this morning to purchase emergency supplies for the hospital and I’ve not yet—”

  “This won’t take five minutes,” he promised, “and I really do need your help.”

  Flustered, her heart fluttering, Laurette asked, “What exactly can I do for you, Mr. Vane?”

  He gave no reply and she frowned, confused, when he commandingly ushered her out of the shop and into the January morning sunshine. She started to object. He shook his dark head, silencing her. And the next thing she knew, he was propelling her toward a big, black shiny brougham that was parked at the curb. He handed her up inside, then got in.

  Her brow knitted and she immediately made a move to exit the roomy coach. He stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.

  Looking directly into her suspicious dark eyes, he asked, “Are you, by any chance, free this evening, Mrs. Tigart?”

  “Free?” she repeated, puzzled. “Yes, but—”

  “Good,” he said, and his handsome face broke into a dazzling smile. “Have dinner with me.”

  “Have dinner with…that’s what you need with me?”

  “It is, indeed. I badly need for you to break bread with me this evening.”

  She continued to frown. “Mr. Vane, I really don’t have time for your foolishness.”

  “You should take the time.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “When did you last do something for no other reason than to enjoy yourself.”

  “Ah, I—I—”

  “Then that’s too long, Mrs. Tigart,” he said with wink and a grin.

  She tilted her head and her dark eyes narrowed slightly. “Mr. Vane, I know nothing about you so why on earth would I—”

  “What do you want to know? Ask me.”

  She paused for minute, took a deep breath and said, “Just what are you doing here in Mobile? Why did you come here? Where is your home, where is your family from? Why do you want to have dinner with me?” She crossed her arms over her chest and her chin lifted defiantly.

  The timbre of his voice low and mellow, he said, “I’m here because I visited Mobile on holiday and fell in love with the city. I’ve traveled extensively during the past few years.” He looked her in the eye and said, “My last permanent address was Maryland. I resided in a big dwelling right on the bluffs of Chesapeake Bay.”

  “Oh, that must have been a charming place to live,” she commented, envisioning his home.

  His expression never changing, he said, flatly, “Unforgettable.”

  She began to smile. “You haven’t answered my last question. Why do want to have dinner with me?”

  “My dear, have you looked in the mirror of late? You are a beautiful woman and I’m told an intelligent one as well. I’d like to get to know you better. I think we might get along. Is that so hard to understand?” She shook her head. “Have dinner with me. I promise you a pleasant evening.” She opened her mouth but before she could speak, he laid his long forefinger perpendicular to her lips and told her, “There’s absolutely nothing to worry about, it will be quite proper. Colonel and Mrs. Ivy will be joining us. Say you’ll come.”

  Flattered that he would find her beautiful, Laurette was tempted, but unsure. She hesitated. “I—I don’t know…you see I—”

  Interrupting, Sutton Vane said with cool authority, “I will send my carriage around for you at eight sharp.”

  “You don’t know where I live,” she said.

  “Yes, I do,” he said. “I made it a point to find out. Say yes to me, Mrs. Tigart.”

  Laurette swallowed hard, snared by his merciless blue eyes. Feeling the pull of his intense masculine power, she could only nod her agreement.

  He took her hand in his, kissed the inside of her fragile wrist and said, “One more thing. Would you, just for me, consider wearing that becoming blue velvet gown you were wearing when we met at the Colonel’s party? You looked stunning in that dress.”

  “I’ll wear it,” she said with a shy smile, thinking that she would have to wear it. It was the only decent gown she owned.

  “Thank you, Mrs….thank you, Laurette. May I call you Laurette?” he asked politely.

  “I wish you would, Mr. Vane.”

  “Sutton,” he gently corrected.

  “Sutton,” she softly repeated, liking the sound of it, liking him.

  Smiling, he pushed open the carriage door, swung agilely down into the sunlight, turned and lifted her to the ground.

  “We’ll dine at my home, if that is agreeable,” he said, his hands
lingering an extra second or two on her slender waist.

  “As long as the Ivys are there.”

  “They’ll be there.”

  As promised, Sutton Vane’s shiny black carriage came for Laurette at eight. Inside the plush, roomy conveyance, Laurette felt a great degree of anticipation as the carriage rolled along one of the city’s grandest boulevards, Government Street.

  When the carriage turned into the long private drive bordered by glowing gaslight posts, Laurette was awed by her first glimpse of the majestic mansion with its huge Corinthian columns and many well-lit windows. And, she was downright astounded when Sutton Vane himself came hurrying down to the curved pebble drive to meet her.

  Looking devastatingly handsome in well-tailored evening clothes, snowy-white shirt and black silk cravat, he opened the carriage door, stuck his head inside, and said, “Welcome to my home, Laurette, and thank you so much for coming.”

  She smiled at him. “Thank you for inviting me.”

  She then squealed with girlish surprise when Sutton, reaching out to help her from the carriage, swung her up into his arms and carried her, explaining, “The driveway pebbles could ruin your slippers. I’ll put you down when we reach the front walk.”

  “Very well,” she managed to say, overwhelmed by his sudden powerful closeness.

  The muscles of his hard chest were pressed against her left breast and she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t know what to do with her arms, her hands.

  Laughing, Sutton read the indecision in her expressive eyes and told her, “You can put one hand around my neck, the other on my chest, Laurette. I don’t bite.”

  “No, no, of course, not,” she said, coloring, and draped a velvet-encased arm around his shoulders, then laid a gloved hand lightly on the white-pleated shirt covering his chest.

  “Mr. Vane…Sutton, I believe we reached the front walk several steps ago,” she pointed out, seconds later.

  “Have we?” he said, as if in disbelief. “Could we pretend that we haven’t for a minute longer?”

  Yes, oh, yes! she was tempted to say and snuggle closer. But she checked herself. “Mr. Vane, you promised to put me down when—”

  “So I did,” he replied, good-naturedly, and then slowly, sensuously lowered her to her feet, letting her soft, slender body slide languidly down the rigid length of his, all the while looking into her eyes.

  Shaken, she stepped back to put some distance between them. He took her arm and ushered her into the mansion.

  Inside the opulent drawing room Colonel and Martha Ivy were waiting. Laurette was half surprised to see them. She wouldn’t have been surprised if the devilishly charming Sutton Vane hadn’t actually invited them, had intended to get her alone in his luxurious lair to take advantage of her.

  She was immediately chagrined to realize that secretly she had half hoped he hadn’t invited them. That it would be just the two of them at dinner this evening.

  Mentally scolding herself, Laurette warmly greeted her old friends, the Ivys. She then glanced up at Sutton, who stood at her side, and saw bright sparks of mischief shining out of the depths of his arresting blue eyes. He knew! Dear lord, he knew what she was thinking, that she had hoped they would be alone.

  Her face flushed hotly and her knees trembled. Neither the Colonel nor Martha Ivy noticed her unease. Sutton must have because he immediately put a hand to the small of her back and steadied her. Small talk went on around her as Sutton, with his hand still at her back, ushered her into the huge, candlelit dining room and pulled out a high-backed chair of gleaming black walnut and plush burgundy velvet.

  Twenty-Two

  Dinner was absolutely superb.

  The tempting seven-course meal began with consommeé. Next came piping hot French bread and pats of creamy butter. There were not one, but four entrees: spiced shrimp; loin of pork; ribs of prize beef; and thick sizzling steaks. Each diner was welcome to choose one—or all—of the well-prepared meats.

  To compliment the entrees, there were baked and mashed potatoes, Saco corn, fried eggplant, green peas and stewed parsnips.

  And, of course, fine wine served in stemmed crystal glasses accompanied each course. Everything was absolutely delicious and Laurette, unused to such an array of tempting foods, feared she was making a terrible glutton of herself, but she simply couldn’t help it. It had been so long since she had enjoyed such rich, appetizing food that she sampled a little of everything.

  It was between mouthfuls of tasty spiced shrimp and stewed parsnips that she noticed that her host was eating very little. With a heavy sterling fork he pushed the food around on his plate, but rarely lifted it to his mouth. She wondered why he wasn’t hungry.

  Dessert came and Laurette’s dark eyes widened with joy: apple dumplings with cream sauce, fluffy coconut pie, coffee caramels, toasted almonds in a silver dish, lemon ice cream and huge ripe strawberries with rich whipped cream.

  Over coffee and brandy which followed the desserts, the foursome discussed the changes in Mobile at length. Too soon the tall cased clock in the foyer was striking the hour of eleven.

  “Oh, dear me,” said Martha, “I had no idea it was getting so late.” She turned to her husband, “Colonel, it’s past our bedtime.”

  “So it is, my dear,” he replied, patted his full belly, then rose and helped Martha out of her chair.

  The elderly couple said their thanks and good-nights and made their slow way to the mansion’s front door with Laurette and Sutton accompanying them.

  “We enjoyed the evening tremendously, my boy,” the Colonel said to Sutton.

  “A pleasure having you,” said Sutton. “Do promise to come again.”

  “We certainly will,” said Martha Ivy.

  The pair left, and the door closed behind them.

  Sutton turned to Laurette. “You must be tired, too. I’ll get your wrap.”

  “Thank you,” she said and stood unmoving as he draped her blue velvet cape around her shoulders.

  “My man will drive you home at once,” he said, standing directly behind her, his hands gently cupping her upper arms. He paused, then added, “May I ride along with you?”

  Laurette was glad she was facing away from him so that he couldn’t see the foolish little smile that had come to her lips at the suggestion.

  “If you like,” she said as calmly as possible.

  Sutton took his long black cloak from the coat tree and the two of them walked out to the waiting carriage. On the short ride in the cold night air, Sutton took one of Laurette’s small hands and held it warmly in both of his own.

  “I want to see you again, Laurette,” he declared, his eyes flashing in the darkness. “Tell me I may.”

  “When?” she asked and immediately wished she could take it back so that she didn’t appear so eager.

  He chuckled. “Tomorrow night, my dear.”

  At her front door, she turned to face him, wondering if he would insist on coming inside. He did not. Nor did he try to kiss her.

  He took both her hands in his and said, “I enjoyed being with you.” He looked into her eyes. Then his gaze slowly lowered to her parted lips. A muscle danced in his lean jaw. “You better go inside before you catch your death.”

  “Yes, I…yes, it is cold tonight.”

  “Freezing,” he replied as he leaned close and brushed a kiss to her forehead. “Good night, Laurette.”

  “Good night, Sutton.”

  The dinner engagement had proved to be a very lovely evening and it was to be the first of many. Sutton Vane, to Laurette’s genuine surprise and relief, was ever the perfect gentleman. She was enchanted. She began to relax with him. A spark of her old vanity surfacing, she was pleased and flattered that such a handsome, urbane man, one who could have any woman he wanted, chose to spend so much of his time with her.

  The couple quickly became the topic of much speculation. “Yes, indeed, Laurette,” Johanna confirmed one afternoon, “as you might well suspect, the town gossips are busy
talking about you and your questionable relationship with a man about whom none of us really know very much. They wonder just how far things have gone.” Johanna raised a questioning eyebrow, hoping she might find out herself.

  “Let them talk, let them wonder,” Laurette said, calmly, “I don’t much care.”

  And she didn’t.

  Perhaps she was being both foolish and unforgivably selfish, but she reasoned that she deserved a bit of excitement and pleasure, however fleeting it might prove to be. Hers had not been the happiest or most satisfying of lives and when she was with the magnetic, engaging Sutton Vane, she felt more alive than she’d felt since she was a young, carefree girl.

  Not only was Sutton strikingly handsome and consistently entertaining, he was attentive and romantic. He listened raptly to her when she spoke, as if everything she said was of great interest to him. He made her feel that there was no one else on earth but her. And, he radiated a potent brand of dark masculinity that was electrifying.

  When she was with Sutton her clothes felt uncomfortably tight and it was a struggle to keep from touching him. Often she was tempted to run a hand over his broad chest, to examine the planes and hollows with her fingertips. She caught herself wondering how he would look without his shirt, how his naked flesh would feel beneath her hands.

  The innocent brush of his hard thigh against her own as they sat in the carriage, the touch of his hand on her bare shoulder was enough to make her heartbeat quicken, her breath grow short. And, when frequently she stole covert glances at his handsome face while he was unaware, she decided she could stare at him forever.

  He was also a very generous man. He lavished expensive gifts on her, including exquisite ball gowns and jewelry, insisting that she accept them. He refused to heed her protests that it wasn’t proper for a gentleman to give a lady such personal presents. He took her to the theater. To restaurants. To parties.

  And his kisses were absolutely divine. So incredibly thrilling, he ignited a long-sleeping passion in her. Each night when he brought her home, when they stepped into the foyer, he took her in his arms and kissed her. Once. Twice. Sometimes three times or more.