“You look beautiful,” he said, taking a step forward to rest his hands on her milky bare shoulders. His eyes met hers in the mirror. Anna felt a momentary rush of heat at the hard warmth of his hands on her skin—and immediately forced it back.
If he thought he could order her about, manhandle her, bend her to his will, and then have her melt into his arms, he was sadly wrong.
Tonight she meant to teach him a sorely needed lesson. In fact, she could hardly wait to begin!
“Shall we go?” she said coolly, slipping out from under his hands and turning toward the door.
With a spurt of satisfaction, she saw that he was frowning as he followed her.
If she had anything to say about it, he would have far more to frown about before they concluded this night!
XL
Antoinette Noack lived in an English-style stone plantation house some forty-five minutes by buggy from Srinagar. Her much-older husband had made a fortune in cinnamon before obligingly dying and leaving his wife everything he owned. Everyone had expected her to sell up and return to England, but so far she hadn’t. It was whispered that she stayed because in England she was naught but a barmaid’s daughter, while in Ceylon she was accorded the respect due a lady.
Whatever the reason, her plantation, Spice Hill, was the best producer of cinnamon on the island. She was rich as a nabob, pleasing of appearance with her smooth, dark brown hair, plump bosom, and corseted waist, and well-mannered enough to pass as well-bred.
In fact, the lady was quite a catch for any gentleman hopeful of improving his lot in life by combining his worldly goods with those of a wife. That fact should not have lessened the warmth of Anna’s smile as Antoinette hurried to greet her, but it did. Or maybe it was the warmth of Julian’s smile at his hostess that chilled her own.
“My dear Anna, I’m so pleased that you could join us! I certainly would have understood if you had not quite recovered from your dreadful ordeal—but I see you have, and in splendid looks, too! That’s a gorgeous dress!”
“Thank you.”
Antoinette was already turning to Julian, who greeted her with a slow smile guaranteed to raise the temperature of any female over ten and under ninety. It certainly raised Anna’s temperature, although certainly not in the way he had intended. Her back stiffened, and the smile she summoned for Antoinette froze.
“Hello, Antoinette,” Julian said.
So they were on a first-name basis, were they? How very charming!
“Julian, you are quite the best brother I’ve ever seen. My brothers would no more squire me around to parties than they would sail to Africa.”
“They are sadly lacking in judgment, then.”
“He is not,” Anna muttered under her breath, “my brother.”
But her companions were too wrapped up in themselves to hear, which was just as well. Anna had nothing to do but stand there, smiling fixedly, while they flirted. It was obvious that the merry widow had set her cap for Julian, while Julian’s smoothness in the face of such fulsome attention led Anna to wonder, not for the first time, precisely where and how he had acquired such elegant manners. But elegant manners or no, the rogue was not above casting his eyes down the front of their hostess’s lavishly flounced dress as they talked. On the other hand, with so much of that abundant white bosom on view, how could a mere man be blamed for ogling?
Anna bethought herself of her own small bosom, displayed to advantage in her beautiful dress but still no match for the voluptuousness confronting her, and instinctively straightened her shoulders to make the most of what was there. Then, ashamed of herself, she deliberately let them relax. She was not—repeat, not—going to compete for Julian’s attention. It was clear that the man was a rake, and she had already succumbed far too easily to his blatant attraction. She was not about to add to her folly by hanging on to his sleeve and casting evil eyes at every other woman who made up to him. Her morals might have vanished with his advent, but she still had her pride!
“Do come into the parlor. We’re having drinks before dinner. Everyone is here except Major Dumesne and the Carrolls.” Placing her hand on Julian’s elbow, Antoinette led them toward the parlor, Anna, doing her best not to appear as disgruntled as she felt, was left to trail a pace or so behind.
The Carrolls, Grace and Edward, were a middle-aged couple who, with their daughters and son, were a fixture at the larger gatherings. The Carroll girls, Lucinda and Lucasta, were about Anna’s own age, but as they were both very plain and had never been married they were considered confirmed spinsters. Both were well-liked and seemed content to pass their lives with their parents. Anna, following their hostess into the parlor, was pleased to hear that they would be in attendance.
Thom Carroll, on the other hand, was something else again. He’d been educated in England and had returned only shortly before Anna had left Ceylon. He was a slender young man, perhaps twenty-two or three, and very vocal about his discontent with the planters’ way of life. “Demmed flat” was how he described it, which made Anna wonder if his parents truly thought he was cut out for taking over the reins of the family plantation, as they intended.
Everyone’s gaze turned casually toward the door as Anna entered with Julian and Antoinette. Anna just happened to be looking at Thom Carroll as he saw her. To her surprise, he abruptly stopped talking and stared.
“Oh, I say,” he said enthusiastically to no one in particular, and hurried to her side. “Do I know you?” he asked, rudely ignoring both Antoinette and Julian as his spaniel brown eyes fixed on Anna.
“I believe so,” Anna answered, taken aback to find herself the object of such attention.
“This is Mrs. Traverne, Thom,” Antoinette supplied, amusement coloring her voice. “Surely you remember her?”
“Oh, you’re married.” He was clearly disappointed, and started to turn away.
“She’s widowed,” Antoinette informed him, openly amused now. “But not unprotected. This is her brother, Julian Chase. Julian, Thom Carroll.”
“Mr. Carroll.” Julian inclined his head. His jaw-line was hard as he looked Thom Carroll over, but after he subjected the young man to a thorough scrutiny, the tension in his face dissipated. Apparently he saw little threat in the slight figure with the pomaded hair and dandified clothes.
“Can I fetch you a glass of sherry, Mrs. Traverne?” Thom asked. Even as Anna, slightly bewildered that he should want to, nodded her assent, Michael and Jonathan Harris joined their little group. Like Thom Carroll, they were in their early twenties, and Anna knew their parents well. She and Paul had entertained George and Elizabeth Harris numerous times at Srinagar, and been entertained in return at The Fannings, the Harrises’ tea plantation. But never before had the boys, as Anna thought of them although they were her age or close to it, paid her more than perfunctory attention. Suddenly, like Thom Carroll, they were eyeing her with an interest that took her aback.
“You look smashing, Mrs. Traverne,” said Jonathan, the elder of the two, as he bowed over her hand.
“Simply smashing,” Michael agreed, taking her hand in turn. Instead of merely bowing, he pressed a kiss to the back of it. Eyes wide, Anna hastily withdrew her fingers.
“I thought you were in the process of fetching Mrs. Traverne some sherry?” Julian, soto voce, reminded Thom Carroll when he showed an inclination to hover jealously around the newly enlarged group. Like Antoinette, Julian was amused. Anna could hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes. She cast him a pleading glance even as Antoinette introduced him to the others, and Thom Carroll, looking back every few feet, took himself off to bring her a drink.
“Darling, you’ll be married again before you know it,” Antoinette whispered in her ear. Before Anna could deny any such ambition, Antoinette took Julian’s arm and prettily requested him to come help her sample the appetizers.
“You can’t just leave me!” Anna protested beneath her breath, clinging to his other arm just as doggedly. The sight of two—no, three now, because
Thom Carroll was back with the sherry, which he handed to her—eager young men eyeing her with as much avidity as dogs might a bone was unsettling in the extreme. With a shock, Anna realized that, except for Paul, she had never had any dealings to speak of with males. She didn’t know what to do, what to say.… It was disconcerting to discover that she was now considered available for masculine pursuit. She wasn’t sure she liked the idea. It was certainly something that she needed time to get used to.
“You’ll be fine,” Julian murmured in response, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before firmly removing it from his arm. Then, with Antoinette in triumphant possession, he walked away. Anna was left to deal with her would-be swains as best she could.
Fortunately for Anna’s equilibrium, Mary Childers, a comfortable, middle-aged matron, chose that moment to join the group. Anna turned to her with relief. Then Lucinda and Lucasta Carroll came up to them, along with Eleanor Chasen. Fortunately for Anna’s peace of mind, Eleanor seemed determined to attract the young men’s attention, which left her free to chat with the older women. She considered herself to have far more in common with them than with a young, unmarried girl like Eleanor, whose primary interest was attracting a potential husband.
“Oh, my dears, did you hear about the dreadful thing that happened to that family near Jaffna?” Helen Chasen, resplendent in mauve silk, joined them, standing beside her daughter. “The Evanses— they had that big rubber plantation, Calypso I believe they called it. They were found slaughtered in their beds just last week, all six of them! David”— David was her husband—”David says it’s the work of some dreadful cult!”
“How hideous!” Anna said.
“I know—knew—their sons. Good God, don’t say Richard and Marcus were killed?” Jonathan Harris was frowning.
“All of them, my dear. The parents and all four children,” Helen Chasen confirmed, “It’s simply awful.”
“A cult, did you say? What kind of cult?” Lucasta Carroll sounded horrified. Her sister shuddered and clung to her arm.
“Some sort of native religious cult, I believe. They call themselves the Thugs, or Thuggees, or something like that, David said. My dear, they believe in a goddess—I can’t remember what they call her— who wants them to kill. Oh, let David tell you about it. You know him. He knows all about every odd thing there is. Sometimes I wonder how I put up with him.”
She summoned her husband to her side. Before she could tell him why she wanted him, Eleanor spoke.
“Daddy, Mama was telling us that a family of planters was murdered by some cult. Is it true?” She sounded scared.
David Chasen frowned at his wife, then put a reassuring hand on his daughter’s arm. “It’s true, but I saw no reason to tell you. Indeed, it’s nothing for you to worry about. Jaffna is far away. It won’t happen here.”
“But what kind of cult is it?” Michael Harris interrupted impatiently.
With a reproving look at his wife, David Chasen explained. “They’re called Thuggees, although they’re really the Hindustani Thaga. Their religion is murder. They must shed blood constantly to appease their goddess, whom they swear to serve. They consider killing to be an honorable thing, and those they kill to be honored. It’s true—the murder of the Evans family is said to be the work of the Thuggees.
“There have been rumors that a few members of the sect have been trying to bring their barbarous religion to our island. But it could just as easily be the work of a turned-off servant, or some such, craftily carried out so that the Thuggees would be blamed. I, for one, am inclined to believe that the Thuggees have nothing to do with it. They wouldn’t dare slaughter a whole family of British nationals, take my word for it.”
“No, of course not.” Eleanor sounded much relieved. Her mother cast her husband an apologetic glance.
Jonathan Harris was still frowning. “What do they look like, these Thuggees? How would one recognize them?”
David Chasen laughed dryly. “That’s the trouble—they look just like any of the other natives, unless they’ve been sent out to kill. Then they pierce their skin with tiny spears and wear a kind of body armor. Or so I hear.”
All of a sudden Anna felt a chill shoot along her spine. When she had been trapped in the fire, she had seen through the smoke—thought she had seen—a turbaned man wearing a breastplate and something shiny on his legs. Body armor? No, of course not. She was allowing herself to be frightened by what was nothing more than idle gossip. It had likely been no more than a figment of her imagination—or perhaps a native, running like herself to get out of the fire.
Although …
“Good evening, everyone.” Charles, having arrived at last, walked up beside her and nodded at his assembled neighbors. He was greeted with a chorus of hellos, and the attention of the group was effectively distracted. Talk became general, and after a few moments Charles turned to smile down at Anna. As his eyes swept over her, they narrowed appreciatively.
“Why, Anna, you look lovely!” he said. “It’s good to see that you’ve put your mourning behind you at last.” His voice lowered. “Perhaps—but we’ll talk of that later, shall we?”
“Dinner, everyone!” Antoinette called out. Thom Carroll and the Harrises immediately asked to take Anna in to eat, but she was thankfully able to say that she had promised Charles, and went in on his arm.
The meal was lovely, a true English dinner of roast beef and potatoes and pudding such as one rarely got in Ceylon. Cows were sacred amongst many of the islanders, after all, and were treated more as pets than as beasts to be slaughtered for their meat. However Antoinette had managed it, the food was delicious. Julian especially tucked in with relish. Seated at their hostess’s right hand, he laughed and chatted and ate with an enjoyment that irked Anna more than a little. It was not his pleasure in the meal she minded; rather it was his enjoyment of his hostess!
Afterwards, the ladies conversed about fashions and children until the gentlemen finished their brandy and cigars and rejoined them. To Anna’s embarrassment, Jonathan Harris and Thom Carroll both made a beeline for her chair. Michael Harris, summoned by a crook of his mother’s finger and a beaming smile from Eleanor Chasen, seemed to recall himself enough to remember that always before he had paid court to Eleanor, He went to her side, and the pair of them were soon laughing at some quip he made. Charles, who also headed directly for Anna, seemed surprised to find her already possessed of two swains.
Julian, on the other hand, threw her no more than a careless glance before allowing himself to be monopolized by his hostess again. Nettled, Anna set herself to be charming to her small court, and surprised herself by how very well she succeeded.
“What shall we do for entertainment?” With a sparkling smile at Julian, Antoinette seemed to recall her duties as a hostess at last. Getting to her feet some ten minutes after the gentlemen joined them, she addressed the question to the company at large, but it was Julian at whom she looked appealingly. “There’s the pianoforte. We could sing, or dance, or the gentlemen could play cards.…”
“Oh, let’s dance,” Eleanor squealed, clasping her hands beneath her chin in an attitude of childlike delight that Anna suspected she had practiced before a mirror. “Please, Mrs. Noack, may we?”
“Certainly, my dear, if it’s agreeable to everyone else.” Antoinette looked around. There were a few affable groans from the older gentlemen, who expressed a preference for playing cards, but they were voted down as their wives sided with the younger guests and scolded them good-naturedly for being old fogeys.
Grace Carroll was recruited to play the pianoforte, and in a few minutes the furniture had been pushed to the wall. Then Grace struck up a tune, and Anna found herself under siege. Thom Carroll won by the simple expedient of pulling her onto the floor. Anna, laughing, found that she remembered the steps of the lively country dance very well. As she skipped around the room, cheeks flushed, she realized that she was enjoying herself.
She sought out Julian. He was dancing with
Antoinette Noack, but over the lady’s head he was watching her. He had been right, drat him, although she’d be boiled in oil before she’d ever admit it. But then, she didn’t have to admit to a thing. From the slow smile with which he favored her, he read her thoughts in her eyes.
XLI
“Anna, will you dance?”
After partnering each of her new admirers in turn, Anna had managed a stealthy retreat to the chairs placed at the side of the room for the matrons who wished to gossip. It was there that Charles found her. It had been years since she had danced with a man other than Paul, and at first to do so had felt vaguely disloyal. But Paul was dead, and now that Julian had dragged her kicking and screaming out of her mourning, there was no reason why she shouldn’t thoroughly enjoy herself. At the thought she felt suddenly, impossibly young and carefree.
“I’d love to.” She smiled gaily up at Charles and allowed him to take her hand. Beside her, her companions glanced up long enough to beam their approval as Charles pulled her to her feet.
Grace Carroll struck up another lively country dance, and Anna skipped through it effortlessly. She was having fun! It felt so good to laugh and dance and yes, even flirt innocently with a variety of men. It felt good to wear a beautiful dress and to know that it became her and made her attractive. It felt good to see the admiration in the eyes of her partners.
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