Kyle and Clay left the Silver Slipper and headed back toward the hotel. Kyle grumbled, “You could’ve been shot back there. What’s even worse, I could have been shot back there.”
“Oh, Goodnight ain’t gonna do that. He’s just sore from losing. He needs to learn how to lose gracefully, don’t you think?’
“I think I don’t want to go through any more duels over your dumb honor again,” Kyle retorted. “Poor old Manny Clarkson bled like a slaughtered pig.”
“Squealed like one, too. Aw, c’mon, I never meant to kill him. You know that, Kyle,” Clay said good-humoredly. “He’s just like Lester Goodnight. Needed a lesson in manners.”
“Right, just like I said. I don’t want you to feel like you have to teach some manners to Lester Goodnight, even if you do just shoot him in the shoulder. Maybe going to the Silver Slipper tomorrow night isn’t such a good idea.”
“You sound like Morgan. He gave me a sermon this morning about gambling. And about leaving Belle Howard alone.”
“Morgan has sense. You should listen to him.”
“I do listen to him. I’ve always listened to him. It’s just that I don’t necessarily do all that stuff he says.”
Kyle insisted, “Morgan’s a good man, a smart man, Clay, and you know it. He’s a man to listen to.”
“All he did was tell me to leave Belle Howard alone.”
“That’s good advice. Those brothers of hers will kill you if they catch you fooling with her.”
“Aw, everyone’s getting their knickers in a twist over Belle Howard. Truth to tell, Kyle, I’ve no plans to see her. I haven’t called on her.”
“Then why are you worrying Morgan and me so much by talking about her all the time?” Kyle demanded.
Clay shrugged. “Sorry, buddy. It’s just too much fun.”
Belle Howard and her sister Virginia had come into town from the family plantation outside Richmond. They were doing some shopping and made plans to attend a production of Hamlet, which was to be performed by a traveling group of actors at the Drury Theater.
The two women were in their hotel room, and Belle was trying to pick out a dress to wear. She finally chose a pink satin with white satin braiding trimming the many ruffles, held it up to herself, and turned to her sister. “What about this one, Virginia?”
Virginia was sitting down by a side table that held a silver tea set, reading a book. She looked up to answer her sister. “It looks very well, but it’s cut too low in the front.”
Belle Howard smiled and came over and patted her sister on the shoulder. “We’re here to have fun, remember?” Belle said. “I know, Virginia, why don’t you wear my pearls tonight? They would look so well with your new dress. And my pearl comb, too.”
Belle Howard was two years younger than her sister Virginia. She knew she had a spectacular figure that men often desired. Her sister was a thin woman with mousy brown hair and brown eyes that often reflected dissatisfaction with Belle. In truth, Belle knew Virginia was jealous of her, which was natural enough. She couldn’t possibly voice a complaint such as Belle had been given all the good looks and she’d been given none. Virginia was in fact smarter than Belle, but of course this didn’t matter to the men who were only interested in Belle’s beautiful features and buxom figure.
Belle patted Virginia again and said, “We’ll have a good time tonight. Don’t worry.” She turned to the mirror, held up the dress again, and studied herself. She liked what she saw in the mirror, which was a woman with rich dark hair and velvety blue eyes that were shadowed by thick lashes. Her complexion was perfect, and her features were bold. She had a mouth that seemed to be made for kissing. She was full-figured; her waist was not as small as she would have liked, but tied into a strong corset she had an hourglass figure. Belle sighed as she glanced back at her sister. She was well aware of Virginia’s resentment, but there was nothing she could do about it.
A knock on the door sounded. Virginia rose and said, “I’ll get it.” She opened the door and found Amy Cousins waiting. “Come in, Amy.”
Amy and Virginia were the same age and the best of friends. Amy was pretty enough but didn’t possess Belle’s startling beauty.
“I’m glad you were able to come,” Virginia said, obviously pleased. “Are you looking forward to going to the theater?”
“Hamlet is such a gloomy play,” Amy answered. “I don’t know why we want to sit through it and see everyone die.”
“Oh, don’t be so grouchy,” Belle said. “It’ll be fun. You’re looking so nice, Amy.”
“Thank you, Belle. Are you wearing that pink? You’ll look gorgeous in it, as you always do.” She turned back to Virginia. “Anyway, Virginia, I want to ask you to stay the night with me, at our house.”
“That’s very nice of you, Amy, but as you see, Belle and I have this wonderful room.”
“My cousin, Vincent Young, is visiting us,” Amy said eagerly. “You know how fond he is of you.”
Virginia paused. Belle knew her sister liked Vincent Young. He was twenty and rather bookish, studying to be a lawyer, but Belle had heard Virginia say that in the times they had met at parties and balls and dinners they had done very well together.
“I think Vincent is in love with you,” Amy prodded her. “If you stay the night, you can spend some time with him.”
“Papa would never agree to have Vince as a son-in-law,” Belle said carelessly.
“Yes, he would. His family is doing well in their business. Vincent will be a successful lawyer one day. He is respectable enough to suit Father,” Virginia retorted.
“I heard Vince tell my mama that he’d be a good match for you,” Amy said.
“Did you really?”
“Yes, I did, but you’ve got to put your foot forward because he’s shy. Won’t you come stay with me? And then, of course, we would all go to the theater together.”
Belle smiled, for she saw the interest that her sister had shown. “I think you should go, Virginia. I like Vince, and I think he is interested in you.”
“Do you really think so, Belle?”
“I do.”
“You come, too, Belle,” Amy urged her. “You know we have lots of room.”
“No, you two go along. I’ll be all right.” Secretly Belle was pleased, for she knew that as long as her sister was around her fun would be severely curtailed.
“If you think it’s all right, Belle,” Virginia said.
“I’ll be just fine, and you two will have such fun. Now run along. I’ll see you at the play.”
Belle made her way to the theater, just down and across the main street of Richmond. It was scandalous, her going alone, but she knew that she was such a favorite of her father’s that even if word got to him, nothing would be done about it.
She had been to the Drury Theater several times before, and she saw people of Richmond society whom she knew. She took her seat, which would be next to the Cousins family, but then changed her mind. I’ll have to stay away from Vince. I never told Virginia, but he was interested in me at one time. He may be Virginia’s last chance to get married.
She got up and moved to a seat well toward the back of the theater. The play began, and she watched intently. Truthfully, however, she found Shakespeare hard to follow, so her mind roamed elsewhere. It was a very long play, too, and when it was over, she saw Virginia, escorted by Vincent Young, leaving the theater with the Cousins family.
Belle had no desire to see them. She found that she was tired and bored with the evening and decided just to go back to her room and make an early night of it. A couple of her gentleman acquaintances spotted her and begged her to let them escort her back to the hotel, take her to supper, come back to their homes for after-theater parties….But rather shortly Belle disentangled herself from them. They were boring, actually, and represented no interesting new conquests.
When she reached the Planter’s Hotel, to her surprise she saw Clay Tremayne lounging outside, smoking a cigar. When he saw her, he grinne
d and threw the cigar away, as men never smoked in the presence of a lady. It was just that usually ladies were not out on the street at this time of night.
“Belle! How wonderful to see you,” he said, coming forward to take her hand and kiss it.
“Hello, Clay,” she answered coolly. “How are you? Did you go to see Hamlet?”
“No, I was in the card room, but it got so close and stuffy. And I am heartily sick of hearing talk about politics and secession. So I decided to come outside for some fresh air,” he answered. “And to wait for you, of course.”
“You lie, sir.” Belle studied Clay carefully. She liked his manly good looks, and he was fine company. On two occasions he had halfheartedly tried to take liberties with her, but she simply laughed at him and shoved him away. It had irked her that he had given up so easily. She added, smiling invitingly at him, “You had no idea I was even in town.”
“I’m caught. I certainly didn’t know you were staying here at the hotel. May I invite you up to my room for an after-theater sip of brandy, perhaps?” he asked innocently.
“I’d just be another notch on your belt,” she said drily. “You have enough of those already. Your belt is so notched there’s barely room left on it for another.”
“Either you’re complimenting me, ma’am, or insulting me,” Clay said mischievously. “I choose to take your consideration as a compliment. Now, please allow me to return the compliment and take you to supper.”
“I don’t know, Clay. I’m tired. I was just going to go to my room and go to bed early tonight,” she said.
“It’s just supper, Miss Belle,” he said, grinning. He had a most attractive smile, full of devilment…and promise. “I heard a rumor that Wickham’s Restaurant got in a shipment of fresh oysters today, particularly for the theater-goers. I do recall, do I not, that fresh oysters are a particular favorite of yours?” Wickham’s was one of the few restaurants in Richmond that stayed open late on theater nights for the attendees to have a late supper.
Belle did love fresh oysters, and they were a rare treat. Still she hesitated. Going to the theater alone was just on the edge of respectability, but dining alone with a man in a public restaurant went over that edge. Still…she was suddenly hungry, and Clay did look particularly handsome that night in a black suit coat and tie and a silver satin waistcoat. “All right, Clay. You remember correctly, sir, fresh oysters are my favorite, and I suddenly find that I am overcome with hunger,” she said, her smile dazzling.
Clay bribed the maître d’ so that they would have a curtained booth to themselves. Clay encouraged Belle to order whatever she liked, and they frivolously ordered two dozen fresh oysters. Clay also ordered champagne.
Belle had only drunk champagne a couple of times before, but she loved it dearly. “What have you been doing with yourself, Clay, besides being in jail?” she asked playfully between oysters and continual small sips of the cool, fizzy champagne.
“You heard about that, did you?”
“Everybody’s heard about it. I don’t see why your family puts up with you.”
“They have to. Key word is family, you see. They’re sort of stuck with me.” He quickly ate one of the oysters while staring at Belle. “And that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I think, if you’d give me a chance, you might even like to get stuck with me.”
“Oh? And whatever makes you think such an impertinent thing?”
“I don’t know. But you really should give it a try, just to see, you know. I could start out by coming and calling on your father and sitting on your porch and courting you like the other young gentlemen do.”
“I doubt you’d ever find a seat on my porch, Clay Tremayne,” she said primly. “I would guess all you’d see is it flying by when my father booted you out of the house.”
“He doesn’t like me? That’s hard to believe, isn’t it?”
Belle laughed, a small ladylike tinkling laugh that she knew men liked. “I’m sure you think so. He wouldn’t think about it for a minute.”
They finished all of the oysters and the entire bottle of champagne. Belle hadn’t noticed, but she had drunk most of it while Clay had merely sipped on two glasses. As they left, she felt light-headed, giddy—and reckless.
When they reached the hotel, Clay said, “You must let me escort you to your room, Miss Belle. A gentleman would never leave a lady on the steps of a hotel.”
“That is very true,” Belle agreed happily. “I am on the second floor.”
“Are you? What a very great coincidence. So am I,” Clay said. They reached her room, which was several doors down from Clay’s apartments. “Why don’t I go to my room and fetch a nice bottle of old brandy that I’ve been keeping for a special occasion? I can come back, and we’ll have a toast. To Hamlet and to oysters.”
A small voice in the back of Belle’s mind insisted that this was a very bad idea, but she felt so happy and careless that she ignored the little nag in her head. “Oh, that sounds wonderful. Brandy is a fine spirit to top off a wonderful meal.”
He bowed deeply. “I shall join you shortly then, ma’am.”
Belle hurried into her room, took off her hat, gloves, and cape, and quickly patted her hair into place. She saw that the color in her cheeks was high, and her eyes were sparkling like stars. She reflected with satisfaction that she was in particularly good looks this evening. Perhaps it had something to do with the very welcome attentions of Clay Tremayne.
He returned with a bottle and two heavy crystal brandy snifters. She started to just drink from her snifter, but with a smile, Clay stopped her. “Fine brandy is much like a fine woman. You have to warm it up gently, savor its scent, breathe it in, before you finally partake of it.”
Vaguely Belle knew that in another time and another place she might have taken some offense at this, but she couldn’t quite work it out. Giggling, she rolled the brandy in the snifter, holding the crystal in the palm of her hand as Clay instructed, breathing in the intoxicating scent, and finally sipping the liquid.
The next drink, and the next, were not quite so polite and poetic.
She never knew afterward when it got out of hand, but she found herself falling more and more under his spell. When he put his arms around her and kissed her, she seemed unable to resist. You don’t want him to stop, were the final whispers of that little warning voice in her mind.
Things were going exactly as Clay had hoped. He had Belle right where he wanted her and continued to press his advances.
“Clay…we shouldn’t,” she whispered weakly.
“We should,” Clay answered in a deep voice, caressing her cheek and her neck. “Belle, I want you. I need you. You’re so very beautiful—”
It was exactly at that point that the door burst open. Barton Howard, Belle’s eldest brother, was standing there. His face was flushed with rage, and his eyes were glittering.
Before Clay could say a word, Barton drew a gun and fired. The bullet struck Clay in the side, and it turned him half around.
Even slightly drunk, Clay was quick. His own pistol was hanging from his belt, draped over the back of a satin chair by the bed. He pulled the pistol and fired in the general direction of Barton Howard, who stumbled, reeled backward, and fell facedown.
Belle stood and cried, “You’ve got to get out of here, Clay! They’ll hang you if my other brothers don’t kill you first.”
Clay hesitated, staring down at Barton Howard. He was an excellent shot, and he surely never would have shot to kill Barton if he’d been sober. In fact, he had aimed just in the man’s general direction, more to scare him than shoot him. But he had been drinking too much, and his shot was wild. Had he killed this man?
Belle knelt by her brother. She looked up at Clay, her eyes wide and horror-stricken, her face deadly pale. “He’s still alive, Clay, but that won’t matter to either of my brothers, Charlie or Ed. Don’t you see? Even if you haven’t killed Barton, you’ll have to kill them—or let them kill you!”
Barton Howa
rd, even now, was muttering and scrabbling vaguely at the floor.
Clay was still frozen, rooted to the floor, staring down at him.
Belle hissed, “Clay, don’t be a fool. Run!”
Clay looked at her, and then his mouth tightened into a thin line. He knew she was right. He grabbed his pistol belt and his coat and shot outside her room. He could hear heavy footsteps pounding up the west stairwell and suspected that it was probably Belle’s other brothers.
He hurried to his room and gathered up all his money. His side was red with blood, but he knew that the bullet barely grazed him. Cautiously opening the door, he could hear Charlie Howard’s angry roar from the direction of Belle’s room.
Feeling completely like a coward and a heel, Clay silently ran down the east stairwell and to the livery stables. Quickly he saddled his horse and mounted up. His one thought was to get away. He spurred Lightning into a run and headed away from the city of Richmond.
Entering his own sitting room, Dr. Ritchie said, “Barton’s not going to die.” The doctor was young for his profession, but he had a successful practice in Richmond. An earnest-looking man, he polished his glasses as he gave the news to Belle Howard and her other brothers. “The bullet hit him in the chest, but it bounced off a rib and missed all the vital organs. The surgery to remove it was tough, though, so he’ll need to stay in bed, probably for several weeks.”
Ed and Charles stood tensely by the fireplace, while Belle sat in a straight chair, bent over, her face buried in her hands. She looked up as Ed said, “Thank you, doctor.” He then stared hard at her.
The doctor glanced at Belle, then at her two angry brothers, and returned to his examination room, where Barton Howard lay, still unconscious.
Ed muttered, “You’ve disgraced yourself, Belle.”
Belle looked up at him beseechingly. It had been a horrifically long night. Her brother’s surgery had taken hours. It was still an hour till dawn, one of the bleakest hours. Her eyes were so swollen from weeping that they were barely open. “I—I—I just drank too much, Ed. It got out of control.”
Last Cavaliers Trilogy Page 49