by Bobbi Smith
"I'll need a wedding band to go with it, too."
"Ah, so you've already proposed, have you?"
"Yes, we're being married in a week."
"I have just the thing." The jeweler hurried in back and returned with a thick gold band. "There, what do you think? I can have your initials engraved in it along with your wedding date, if you'd like."
"Yes, I'd like that very much. I'll take them both." Rafe made arrangements for the payment.
The jeweler enjoyed waiting on people who knew quality and appreciated it. "Your lady will be very pleased with the engagement ring, sir. You have excellent taste. The band will be ready the first of the week."
His lady.. .Rafe paused as he stepped outside, the beribboned box containing the engagement ring in hand. The jeweler's words were true. Brandy would be "his lady" in just a few more days.
He was surprised that the thought didn't bother him. Before, any time he'd considered marriage or commitment, it had made him angry. Now, he found himself actually looking forward to their meeting with the priest the next day, and it puzzled him.
It was just eight o'clock when Rafe arrived at Claire Patterson's home. The house was located in a well-established part of town that spoke of old money and comfortable living. The maid answered his knock and quickly led him into the parlor.
"Good evening, Mr. Marchand." Claire was there, smiling in welcome as Delia showed him in.
"Please, call me Rafe," he invited her. "How did things go this afternoon?"
"You'll be getting the bills soon, so you'll know," she answered, her eyes sparkling with good humor. "Actually, we did very well. Brandy's wardrobe has been ordered, and we should take delivery on everything no later than the weekend."
"Wonderful."
"Tomorrow, we begin our lessons. I think she's going to do very well."
"I appreciate your diligence in these matters."
"I truly believe it's going to be my pleasure. Brandy is a delightful young woman."
"I think so, too," Rafe answered.
"Oh, here she is now...." Claire heard Brandy coming down the stairs and led the way out to the foyer to meet her. She knew Brandy was excited about the evening to come, for she was wearing one of the new gowns they'd purchased that day.
Rafe followed her into the foyer and glanced up the steps. He found himself transfixed at the sight of the sophisticated woman descending the staircase. He knew it was Brandy, and yet...
Her hair, lush and dark, tumbled down her back in a cascade of curls. The gown she wore was a masterpiece. The style artfully mixed the innocence of a virgin with the sensuality of a temptress, and it made his blood run hot. Low-cut without being vulgar, the dress temptingly displayed her breasts for his manly enjoyment. The waist of the gown was fitted. The skirts flared fully and swayed about her hips in subtle invitation. At her throat and ears, she wore expensive jewels whose color matched the pale blue of the gown.
Rafe's mouth went dry, and he could only stare at Brandy.
"Good evening, Rafe," Brandy said as she reached the bottom step.
"Brandy," he muttered hoarsely. His gaze moved appreciatively over her. "You look lovely."
"Why, thank you," she said with a soft, delighted laugh. "I was hoping you'd approve."
"I approve," he said hoarsely, managing a smile. "Are you ready to go?"
"It you are."
"Brandy must be home by midnight," Claire told him, hiding a smile of triumph over his reaction to her charge. It was obvious how much he loved her.
"I'll have her back on time."
Brandy donned a light wrap that matched the gown and added to the sophistication of her total look. From her perfectly coiffed hair to her satinslippered feet, she appeared every bit the lady. She took his proffered arm, taking only a moment to cast a quick smile in Claire's direction as he led her from the house.
Rafe handed Brandy up into the waiting carriage, and as she passed him the faint, heady scent of her perfume came to him. It stirred a hunger in his already heated blood, and his grip on the carriage door tightened. He paused, standing outside the carriage for a moment under the pretense of giving her time to get settled in. In reality, he wanted time to think and to bring his raging desire under control.
Brandy was a pretty woman, and that was all. He'd made the deal to marry her because he wanted to have a child, not because he felt anything for her. He conceded that it was good that he was physically attracted to her; otherwise getting her with child might prove a disagreeable chore. Other than that, she was just another woman, like all the others. Nothing more, nothing less.
Rafe climbed into the vehicle and sat down beside her. As he did, the box containing the engagement ring jabbed him in the side. As the carriage rumbled off toward their dinner destination, he turned to Brandy.
"I have something for you," he told her.
"But you've given me so much already...." Brandy glanced up at him in surprise. He looked so handsome tonight that her heart ached. She remembered their waltz and his kiss, and almost wished that their coming marriage was real.
He drew out the box and presented it to her.
She stared down at the jeweler's box wrapped in a velvet bow and gave a soft gasp. "Oh..."
"Here..." He pressed it into her hands. "Open it."
Brandy was almost afraid to, but she carefully untied the perfect bow and then lifted the lid on the small box. Even though the light in the carriage was dim, the diamond glittered before her.
"It's lovely..." she breathed, unable to believe that he was actually giving her an engagement ring. She lifted her gaze to his, her heart beating rapidly at the beauty of the gift. She almost believed...
But it was then that she saw the cold, almost calculating look in his eyes, and the more tender emotions that had filled her died. This was no romantic gift from a man who loved her. It was a prop in the play of their courtship. It was part of the act designed to convince onlookers that theirs was truly a loving arrangement.
"Thank you," she said stiffly, the magic of the moment gone forever. His presentation of her engage merit ring was as romantic as his proposal.
Brandy took the ring out of the box and slipped it on her finger. For some reason, it irritated her even more to find that the ring fit perfectly. Was this man so calculating in everything that he did that he'd even managed to find out her exact ring size?
"It fits?"
"Yes."
Rafe sat back, greatly pleased with himself.
Brandy sat beside him, feeling chilled to the depths of her soul.
Rafe escorted Brandy to dinner in the dining room of his hotel. She noticed the admiring glances of the other men in the room as she entered on Rafe's arm, but she took no pleasure in them. She couldn't help but wonder what they'd think if they knew the truth about her. She doubted any of them would even want to be seen in public with her had they known she was Miss Brandy, the lady gambler from The Pride of New Orleans.
The food was delicious, but Brandy found it tasteless. She merely picked at her food. Ironically, she knew Claire would be proud of her, for one of her first lessons on being the perfect lady was an admonition never to eat a lot in public. Well, there was no worrying about that tonight. She had no appetite whatsoever.
"I've arranged a meeting in the morning with the priest who is to marry us," Rafe told her as they finished the meal.
"All Claire has planned for tomorrow are etiquette lessons, so I'm sure there will be no conflict. Is there a particular day that you want this wedding to take place?"
"`This wedding' is our marriage," he corrected, wondering why her clinical phrasing bothered him. It was, after all, a business deal between them. "I thought it would be best if we married next week, perhaps Thursday or Friday."
"Are we going to leave for Natchez right afterward?" Suddenly faced with the reality that her fate and future were soon to be sealed with his, she felt a bit nervous.
"I do want to start home as soon as possible, but I
thought it would be best if our wedding night was spent somewhere other than on a steamboat."
"I see." Brandy went cold inside. He had already planned the who, what, when, where, and why of their wedding night without even consulting her. If she'd cared, it might have hurt her to be excluded from the planning. But she couldn't allow herself to care.
They said little as they left the restaurant and drove back to Claire's home. He escorted her to the door and stayed with her until she was safely inside.
"You two do understand the importance of what you're undertaking, don't you?" Father Finn asked, looking from Rafe to Brandy and back. There was no doubt they were mature enough to marry, yet he sensed an underlying, unspoken tension between them and that was unusual in young couples in love.
"Oh, yes, Father."
"Marriage is a very serious commitment meant to last a lifetime...'til death do you part." He paused, waiting for them to say something. When they didn't offer any comment, he went on, "Perhaps you two would like to wait, take a little time to think about what it is you're doing. It's always better to be cautious than impulsive with this kind of decision. Get ting married is not a frivolous matter."
"This is not an impulsive decision for us, Father," Rafe said firmly. "We're taking it very seriously. I've waited my whole lifetime for Brandy, and now that I've found her, I don't want to wait any longer."
"And you, young lady? Are you sure about this marriage?" Father Finn turned his gaze on Brandy.
"I'm sure, Father," she replied without hesitation. "Rafe means more to me than I can say. There aren't words to describe how I feel about him."
The priest fell silent, studying them thoughtfully, his fingers steepled before him. After a long, quiet moment, he overruled the caution he felt. "All right. If you're certain that you have no doubts about the commitment you're about to make to each other, we'll proceed."
"Thank you, Father," Rafe said, glancing at Brandy with a warm smile.
"Have you thought of what day you'd like to have the wedding?"
"A week from Friday is our first choice, if you can do it."
"All right. We'll have the service in the small chapel in the back of the church. Is seven in the evening satisfactory?"
"That will be wonderful."
They thanked him for his kindness and accommodation, then left the rectory. They were relieved that everything was going so well.
Father Finn stood in the doorway watching them go, wondering if they would live happily ever after. He hoped they would. They seemed like nice people.
The rest of the week passed in a blur of activity. Claire kept Brandy busy almost every waking hour with her instructions on running a large household, basic etiquette tips, rules on hosting a large dinner party and the correct way for a lady to speak. The last lesson had come when Brandy had cursed after accidentally smashing her finger doing a household chore.
"A lady should never use such language," Claire corrected.
"But it hurt!"
"`Ouch' is sufficient. Others will know that it hurt from that. There's no need to put so much-er, colorful emotion into your exclamation."
"I see. Let me get this all straight now.... I'm not supposed to eat. I'm not supposed to speak my mind. I'm not supposed to have an opinion contrary to a man's. I am supposed to smile sweetly all the time and always tell men how smart and handsome they are, even if they're dumber than dirt and twice as ugly. And I am always supposed to be a perfect lady in thought, word and deed."
"Exactly," Claire said triumphantly. "Marc told me you were a quick study, and he was right."
"Just because I'm a quick study doesn't mean I like what I'm studying. How do ladies' live through all of this?" she asked.
"It's a way of life, Brandy. Civilization is based on
"What kind of civilization insists that you hide who and what you really are?"
"You don't hide it. You simply disguise it to become socially acceptable."
"But when do I get to be myself again?"
"In the privacy of your own room, you can be whoever you like. But when you are in society as Mrs. Rafe Marchand, you have a duty and responsibility to act the part."
"Sometimes that's what it feels like like I'm acting out a part in some play."
"Don't worry. Soon all these things will become second nature to you."
"Yes, but will I really be a better person for it?"
"Only you can know what's in your heart. I think you're a wonderful person. You are kind and thoughtful, not to mention smart and quick-witted. You're going to be a tremendous success when Rafe introduces you to society. I'm sure of it."
The feeling of restriction and gloom that had hovered over her lifted at Claire's gentle, reassuring words. Unable to help herself, Brandy gave her new friend an impulsive hug.
"No matter what the rules of society say, if I want to hug a friend, I'm going to do it. And I don't care whether we're in public or not."
"You'll be glad to know that gestures of friendship are always welcome in polite society." Claire returned the hug. "I'm so proud of you. At first, when Marc spoke to me about this job, I wasn't sure what to expect, but you've made it a joy. It's a pleasure to work with you."
"Let's hope Monsieur Hebert thinks so after tonight," Brandy said, grinning wickedly.
"Why are you worried about the dance instructor?" Claire was curious.
"Because the poor man may not be able to walk when he gets through with me."
The women enjoyed a good laugh.
"He's our instructor from the academy, so I know for a fact that Monsieur is used to young ladies who are... um, shall we say, unskilled in the art of dance?"
"I hope I tread lightly on him."
"I'm sure it will go very well."
"Rafe did try to teach me to waltz on the steamboat."
"And?"
"And it was very romantic. The waltz is wonderful."
"Yes it is, but there are many other steps you need to know besides the waltz. Monsieur will teach you all of them if he has time."
"I hope I can remember everything."
"You will, and if you don't, I'm sure your new husband will be glad to help you."
"He is an excellent dancer." Brandy thought of that night in the moonlight and how it had felt to be in Rafe's arms, being swept about the deck. Heavenly ... She wondered if dancing with Monsieur Hebert would be as wonderful. It would be an interesting experiment to find out.
Rafe knew it was getting late, but he wanted to speak with Brandy and Claire about the important dinner meeting he had scheduled for Saturday night. He had arranged to dine with Steve Gibson, the owner of the shipping line he had invested in, and his wife, Geraldine, and he wanted Brandy to accompany him. The Gibsons had been eager to meet her, after learning about his upcoming nuptials.
As he approached Claire's home, Rafe was surprised to hear the sound of music coming from the house. He passed the parlor window on his way to the front door, and it was then that he saw the figures waltzing about the room.
A sense of irritation filled him as he stopped to watch. It annoyed him to find Brandy dancing smoothly about the room in the arms of another man. His hands clenched into fists as he looked on, and when he saw Brandy throw back her head and laugh in delight at something the other man said as he twirled her around the room, a muscle worked in Rafe's jaw.
Rafe scowled, wondering where Claire was. He wondered who the man was. He was tempted to storm through the door and demand some answers, but somehow he managed to keep a rein on his temper. Instead, he stalked to the door and knocked.
"Good evening, Mr. Marchand. We weren't expecting you. Won't you come in?" Delia greeted him, obviously surprised by his arrival.
Her surprise bothered him even more. Had Brandy planned this, knowing he wouldn't be there?
"I need to speak to Brandy, please." He managed to sound cordial in spite of his anger.
"They're in the parlor. It's serving as a ballroom tonight as you can see
," the maid said, smiling and directing him that way.
The music was flowing from the room as Rafe appeared in the doorway. He stood in silence watching Brandy dancing with the other man as the two musicians played a waltz for them. He saw Claire standing on the far side of the room by the musicians and. realized then that he was overreacting.
"Why, Rafe, good evening!" Claire said when she spotted him across the room. "Come meet Monsieur Hebert. He's the dance instructor from the academy."
She made the introductions as Brandy looked on.
"Sir," Rafe said as he moved forward to shake the other man's hand.
"Your fiancee is very light on her feet. She's learning so quickly that she may not need more than one other lesson."
"Oh, really?" Rafe looked over at Brandy.
She was smiling brightly at the instructor's praise, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were aglow. A shadow of annoyance crossed his face as he gazed at her.
"You were right, Rafe. Dancing is wonderful." Brandy said, remembering their dance. She now knew many more steps, so she could dance with him in public without embarrassing him. "Monsieur Hebert is a wonderful teacher. I've learned so much from him tonight."
"You have? Shall we see what he's taught you?" He found himself gritting his teeth.
Claire's brows rose at his words. He sounded positively jealous.
"Of course," Claire insisted, stepping back. "Monsieur, can you ask them to play another waltz?"
"My pleasure. I will enjoy watching you demonstrate all that I've taught you tonight." He spoke quickly to the musicians and went to join Claire to watch them.
Brandy looked up into Rate's eyes as his hand settled possessively at her waist. She noticed a certain almost dangerous glitter in his eyes, and it made her heart jump and her pulse race.
"Is something wrong?"
"No. Nothing's wrong," he answered tightly.
Without another word, he squired her out onto the makeshift dance floor. His hand was firm and commanding at her waist, and he was amazed once again at how tiny she seemed to him. He found himself gazing down at her as they began to move about the floor.
"Shall we see just what Monsieur has taught you?"