Rich Radiant Love

by Valerie Sherwood

  “I am sure you do.” Georgiana was mindful she must be polite to her hostess.

  “But are you not lonely in such a large house?” persisted Katrina. She wafted an ivory fan decorated with brown ostrich plumes, although the night, even in this packed house, was scarcely warm enough to warrant it. Georgiana decided Katrina wanted to display the rippling brown satin lining of her enormous enveloping sleeves and the amethysts set in silver, which seemed to hold the brown ostrich plumes to her fan.

  “I find things to do.”

  “Of course. And perhaps you will not be so lonely after all, for there will be Erica Hulft from time to time to keep you company—or has she not been there yet to call upon you?”

  Katrina’s barb had gone home. Georgiana felt hot color rise to her cheeks. Behind her, Brett’s face went stony.

  “I doubt we will see much of Erica, Katrina,” he cut in before Georgiana could answer. “Now that she is marrying Govert Steendam. She will be living downriver in New Orange.”

  The saffron brows raised slightly. “Is she indeed? I did not know. But then I suppose such women are never faithful....” A shrug of her big velvet sleeves dismissed Erica’s moral character. “But of course you have met her?” She was watching Georgiana keenly. “Nicolas told me she was going upriver. She must have stopped by?”

  No chance to lie now and say she had never laid eyes on Erica. This time Brett did not help her. Georgiana felt she might suffocate.

  “Erica stopped by on her way to view some property Govert proposes to buy near Rensselaerwyck, ” she said carefully.

  Katrina's smile was malicious. “Near Rensselaerwyck? So if they buy it, she will be constantly on the move, up and down the river, pausing to visit you each time she journeys. When she ’dropped in,’ she stayed the night. I’ll be bound!”

  “Of course,” said Georgiana steadily. “We could not be so inhospitable as not to invite her to spend the night.”

  “Of course you could not!” Katrina’s smile deepened. “Brett was ever hospitable.” Her penetrating voice raked over Georgiana’s raw feelings like a claw. “And her sloop paced Brett’s upriver, I’ll be bound—until hers fouled its rudder and they had to land.” Georgiana gasped. How could Katrina know that? News surely traveled fast along the river!

  “Was it a happy landing?” Katrina turned doe eyes to Brett.

  “It was brief,” he said evenly. “My crew helped clear her rudder and the lady went on north while I struck out toward the east overland to the Michaelius bouwerie.”

  “Ah, yes, the Michaelius woman who killed her husband, " murmured Katrina. “I heard about that....” But her bright wicked smile told him she did not believe a word he was saying.

  Huygens ten Haer came up and clapped Brett jovially on the shoulder—he was obviously trying to demonstrate that although the “English patroon” might have difficulties with some of those along the river, his nearest neighbor was not one of them. He bore Brett away with him, and Georgiana, wishing she were anywhere else, asked, “Will Erica be here tonight?”

  Katrina shrugged. When she did answer, Georgiana thought her voice unnaturally loud. “If Govert brings her, she will be here. He was invited of course and my father says Govert’s betrothed must be made welcome.” So she had known of Erica’s betrothal! She continued to regard Georgiana with those large spaniel-like brown eyes, so at odds with what Georgiana considered rather hard features. “If I were mistress of Windgate and Erica Hulft arrived at my front door, I would throw her out, no matter what Brett said about it!”

  Georgiana, looking at this big Dutch girl with her flashing eyes, little doubted it. Bodily, she would imagine. She could picture the scene—both woman screeching and kicking, gloved fingers locked alike in fox-brush hair and saffron.

  “But then you are not mistress of Windgate,” she observed softly. The shot went home.

  “No—thank God,” said Katrina crushingly. “I consider it a narrow escape, for I well might have been. Brett will never relinquish Erica, you must know that. If you do not, I tell you so now. That woman is a vulture. She gets her talons hooked into a man and she never lets go. Did you know that Lodowyck Verplanck blew out his brains with a pistol when Erica left him for Brett?”

  “No.” Georgiana was taken aback. “I did not know it!” Katrina gave her a distant, pitying look. “You have much to learn. And before that there was Wilbruch Hendrickson, who gambled away his fortune to please her. And before that”—she made a small deprecating gesture that shook her big puffed velvet sleeves— “so many others. But”—her eyes shone maliciously—“there was always Brett hovering in the background. Brett had only to snap his fingers and Erica would desert her latest paramour and return to him. I see you have much to learn at Windgate.”

  Georgiana managed to control her inner fury. “Apparently I have,” she told Katrina sweetly, and then delivered a crusher of her own: “but I have only to come to Haerwyck to learn all about it!”

  “Georgiana, what nonsense is our madcap Katrina filling your pretty head with?” It was Nicolas, coming up behind Katrina to smile over her saffron head at Georgiana. A splendid Nicolas in brown velvet the exact shade of Katrina’s eyes—and of Katrina’s petticoat and ribands as well, so fine a match that Georgiana was sure they must have planned it together. Nicolas’s doublet was so heavily laced in gold that he seemed to gleam. His blue eyes too gleamed wickedly as Katrina turned with a bright smile. Her gaze on Nicolas was possessive, caressing. “I had forgot that you two know each other,” she said carelessly.

  It was Georgiana’s turn to needle. “Oh, yes,” she said airily. “In the short time I have been at Windgate, I have not lacked for callers. There was Erica, who stayed overnight, and Nicolas, who stayed longer and taught me to play chess and told me so much about the life here on the river. How are you, Nicolas? It is good to see you again.”

  Katrina's smile grew a little fixed. “You taught Georgiana to play chess?”

  Nicolas grinned. “Yes. I might have taught her to play tennis, which the English king so admires—”

  “But that I already play!” Georgiana cut in laughingly.

  “But we could not play outdoor games,” he continued ruefully, “for it was raining. We were confined to indoor sports.” His hot gaze caressed Georgiana, slid down her throat to rest on the daring sweep of her décolletage, for this was a gown that Imogene had once worn, and Imogene had worn her necklines cut low.

  “Indoor sports?” echoed Katrina. There was indignation in her tone. She gave Georgiana a black look. Plainly Katrina considered that Nicolas belonged to her.

  After the drubbing she had taken about Erica, Georgiana was eager to return the favor. She laughed. “Nicolas played—and sang to me.” Her voice grew lazy, languourous. “It was all very—pleasant.” Plainly her hostess did not consider it so pleasant. Bright spots of color appeared on Katrina’s hard-featured face and she wielded her plumed fan with uncalled-for briskness.

  “I see,” she said stiffly.

  “I like your necklace,” drawled Georgiana, with a sidewise glance at Nicolas.

  Nicolas came alert.

  Katrina touched the necklace with some hauteur. “Nicolas gave it to me.”

  “Somehow I guessed that,” murmured Georgiana.

  Nicolas gave her an uneasy look.

  Katrina’s big white teeth snapped together. There was an undercurrent here that she neither understood nor trusted. “Nicolas,” she said stiffly. “I would speak with you in private. Will you excuse us. Georgiana?”

  “Of course.” Reflectively, Georgiana watched them go, melt into the crowd around the dancers. As golden a pair as could be found on the river, she’d wager. But Nicolas van Rappard was in for a tongue-lashing—that too, she’d wager. For there was certainly nothing subtle about Katrina!

  Chapter 16

  “There you are!” caroled a voice and Georgiana turned to find a stout elderly lady, with enormous panniers of green brocade trimmed in black lace, be
aring down on her. “Why, I would know you anywhere—you look exactly like your mother!” The stout lady grasped Georgiana by the arms and peered up earnestly into her face. “No, not quite like her. Her eyes were blue and yours are—blue green, I think.”

  “Turquoise,” supplied Georgiana, bewildered. “But who—”

  “And your hair’s not quite the same, a bit more coppery, and I think you may be shorter—but you’re wondering who I am! I’m Vrouw Berghem.”

  “Of course,” cried Georgiana delightedly. “My mother—” No, she could not say “spoke of you so often in her journal,” for that would be to admit she had the journal. “My mother’s friend,” she substituted quickly.

  “Her friend indeed! I was there the night Captain van Ryker near stole her from the Governor’s Ball!” Vrouw Berghem’s throaty laughter pealed. “Verhulst challenged him to a duel, but there was a fire and after the fire Captain van Ryker sailed away. I hear he was seen in New Amsterdam once since then—I wonder why? He used to come there so often. But, then, perhaps he has,” she added merrily, “for all my news is secondhand. I have been living with my eldest daughter in Holland these years past—can you imagine, she has two sets of twins? And I have only just returned this past month to sell my house. Poor thing, it has been sitting vacant all these years. I found it covered with dust—indeed, I have been hard put to get the floor white-scoured and the fireplace tiles shining and a new mantel curtain up—for it must look nice, you know, if it is to fetch a good price.”

  With Vrouw Berghem’s fast-skipping comments swirling about her head, Georgiana let the old lady drag her to a quiet corner. She smiled warmly and tried to answer all the buxom Dutch vrouw’s questions, for running through her mind were the words in her mother's journal, that heartfelt If only I could reach Vrouw Berghem....

  “You must come back with us to Windgate and pay us a long visit,” she told the older woman warmly.

  “Ah, I would, I would, but I am due back in New Amsterdam—I cannot remember to call it New Orange, just as I never could remember to call it New York! I should not even be here tonight, for day after tomorrow in the afternoon I have an appointment to show my house. And it is not presentable, not presentable at all! There is so much to do, more than I can manage.” She shook her head helplessly.

  “Perhaps Govert Steendam will buy it,” hazarded Georgiana. “I understand he is to marry Erica Hulft.”

  Vrouw Berghem looked at her sharply. “Govert Steendam already has a fine house of his own in New Amsterdam. And I can see from your face that you have heard stories. But you are not to listen to them! Brett Danforth is not the man the gossips would make him out to be. It is that Hulft woman who makes men crazy. She with her hair like a fox’s tail! I have been hearing about her ever since I arrived back in New Amsterdam.”

  ‘‘What—do the gossips say, Vrouw Berghem?” asked Georgiana diffidently. “People hint but they never tell me. I ask you because I know you will tell me the truth, for you were my mother's true friend.”

  Vrouw Berghem drew in her breath and exhaled it again before she spoke. “Well,” she said uncertainly. “You are a new bride and new brides have no trouble holding on to their husbands. I should not think you would need to know anything.”

  “But I do. Erica Hulft has already spent a night in my house. When she left, my husband’s sloop paced hers upriver. Her rudder became fouled and so they went ashore.”

  “Ah-h-h, I see.” Vrouw Berghem sucked in her breath through her teeth. It made a whistling sound. “So Erica does not plan to let go?”

  Georgiana was glad there was no one standing nearby.

  “I do not think she does,” she admitted in a hurried voice.

  “Then that is a problem.” Vrouw Berghem’s brows drew together thoughtfully.

  “Katrina has just told me that if she were in my place, she would throw Erica out bodily.”

  “And I am sure she would do it,” said Vrouw Berghem energetically. “And possibly drive her husband right into Erica’s arms! For I have met your husband, Georgiana, and he is not a man to let some woman tell him what to do or not do. It would never have done for him to marry Katrina ten Haer. She is too like Rychie. Do you notice how Huygens ten Haer ducks his head whenever he goes near his wife? It is an unconscious gesture, but to me it looks as if he is used to her words raining down on him like blows!”

  Georgiana laughed. She had not noticed that, but now she certainly would. “Then you advise me to do nothing?”

  “It takes two to dance a measure,” said Vrouw Berghem frankly. “And if one refuses, the other may jump about but nothing will come of it.”

  Georgiana bit her lip. “Katrina ten Haer tells me that Erica Hulft has had many lovers but always returns to Brett.”

  “And that should tell you something!” exclaimed the older woman triumphantly. “Is it not plain that Brett relinquishes her to anyone who will take her? He is not trying to hold on to her, is he?” No, but perhaps he does not have to. Perhaps he knows his power over Erica.

  “Also,” added Vrouw Berghem with a frown, “you are forgetting Govert Steendam. He is a dour man who will not let his wife go cavorting about falling into bed with anyone she pleases. He will keep Erica in line!”

  But he had not kept her from pursuing Brett upriver... thought Georgiana. “I am sure you are right, Vrouw Berghem,” she said mechanically. “I have nothing to worry about.”

  “That’s right, put a good face on it.” Vrouw Berghem gave Georgiana's arm a jolly punch. “Remember, you’re prettier than Erica, and younger. You wear his ring, you’ll bear his children.” And every day my enemy grows older.... But there was cold comfort in that, thought Georgiana ruefully, for growing old could take a very long time.

  The music struck up.

  “Ah, we are going to dance again!” cried Vrouw Berghem, looking about joyfully for a partner.

  Georgiana turned and waved imperiously to Brett. He came over to them, smiling.

  “Vrouw Berghem.” He acknowledged the older lady’s presence. “I think my bride wishes me to lead her out upon the floor, if you will excuse us.”

  "No,” said Georgiana impulsively. “I wish you to lead Vrouw Berghem out upon the floor, for she was my mother’s true friend and I would like you to do her honor and dance your first dance with her.”

  Vrouw Berghem looked delighted. She bounced up, flushed-faced and smiling. Brett gave his bride an approving look and whirled the stout lady in green out among the dancers. Across the room Georgiana saw that Katrina ten Haer had noted this little tableau and her saffron brows shot up.

  “Now that we are so cleverly rid of the husband, let us not waste this music!” It was Nicolas’s wicked voice behind her. Georgiana turned and Nicolas took that opportunity to seize her hand and whirl her out upon the floor.

  “You take long chances,” laughed Georgiana.

  Nicolas, who danced very elegantly, made a handsome turn and smiled down at her. “Oh, I do not think Danforth would run me through merely for claiming a dance,” he said carelessly.

  “No, but she might!” Georgiana nodded her dancing curls toward Katrina ten Haer across the room. Katrina had seen them and was looking stormy.

  “Ah, yes, she might.” The golden-bearded face split into a grin. “But, then, women were ever dangerous. It is part of their attraction. Tell me, Georgiana, what concealed weapons do you carry?” His significant gaze fell to her round breasts, rising and falling with the slight exertion of the dance.

  Georgiana gave him a wary look. “Nicolas, you are a rake indeed! You scheme to scoop my very home out from under me and yet you pay me court like any gallant!”

  “There would be no reason for you to leave Windgate if I were to win my claim,” he said coolly.

  Georgiana blinked. “You are saying you would allow us to remain?” she demanded incredulously. “I can hardly credit it, Nicolas! That would be generosity indeed!”

  His head inclined lazily toward hers as if he might ki
ss her on the mouth, and their bright hair almost tangled as they made a sharp turn on the dance floor. His lazy blue eyes held flickering lights, devil lights. “I did not say Brett could stay,” he amended softly. “I said you could.”

  Georgiana stiffened. Instinctively she flinched back. Here was effrontery indeed. She would have drawn away from him but his grip was inexorable. She was abruptly aware that they were attracting attention—not merely because Nicolas was an excellent dancer but because he held her far too close and he was bending dangerously near her face.

  “What you suggest is ridiculous,” she snapped. “And you know it as well as I.”

  “No, I don’t know it!” was the irrepressible answer. “Just what makes it so ridiculous?”

  “Because I’m married!”

  “Ah, yes—that.” He sounded bored.

  “Yes, that!” snapped Georgiana. “And kindly keep your distance. You are holding me so close that people are beginning to stare.”

  “You must be used to that,” he said equably. “With beauty like yours, people must stare wherever you go.”

  “And I resent the way you keep treating me as if I were a loose woman. Brett leave and I remain, indeed!”

  He leaned toward her lazily. The eyes that gazed down on her were hypnotic; they had lured many a woman from her lawful spouse. “A beautiful woman is like a treasure ship, Georgiana,” he told her. “Many hands reach out to her. Only the strongest take her—and hold her.”

  His voice was caressing, fraught with meaning. Georgiana felt a little ripple of feeling assault her tense nerves.

  She was fascinated by this irritating golden Dutchman. And determined not to let him know it. She lifted her chin haughtily and looked past him, making clear that she was ignoring everything he said.

  “Your indignation does you credit,” he laughed, executing a difficult step with the grace of a dancing master. “And it makes your turquoise eyes turn green as emeralds. I see you now as a golden vision, richly garbed as any queen. Are you telling me you yearn to be a goose girl? I think not. You married a man of wealth and power—not some cleric or stableboy! This is the life you want—admit it!”