by Bobbi Smith
"Cynthia," her mother said sternly as she spoke to her in low, private tones. "I told you before we left the house that if you couldn't control yourself, you shouldn't come tonight. Now, stop. Right now. Rafe Marchand may be off the marriage market, but there are many other available men here tonight. Start looking around. Surely, one of them is just as promising as Rafe was. Maybe more."
Cynthia fought back her tears and pasted on a bright smile. She knew her mother was right, but that didn't ease the pain of knowing Rafe would never be hers.
"So far, so good," Brandy said, looking up at Rafe as they circled the dance floor, all eyes upon them. "I haven't tripped yet."
"And you won't. You're as light on your feet as you are beautiful, Mrs. Marchand," Rafe told her with a warm smile. He knew how nervous she'd been on the trip to Marc's house, and he wanted her to be at ease.
"Why, thank you, sir. I had a wonderful teacher."
"Our first lesson was... special, wasn't it?" His eyes glowed at the memory.
She grinned mischievously as she teased, "Why, Rafe, I was talking about Claire."
He spun her around in an expert move that thrilled her, and she matched him step for step, laughing at his daring.
"What were you saying about your first dance instructor?"
"Oh, my dance instructor... He was magnificent."
"Not Monsieur Hebert?"
"No, not Monsieur Hebert." She managed a laugh.
All day Brandy had been tense about the reception. The dinner party in St. Louis had been an important first test, but this this was her telling moment. If she was accepted and welcomed by Rafe's friends without question, then she had truly mastered all that Claire had tried to teach her.
Brandy drew a deep breath as she continued to follow Rafe's lead. There was one other concern that haunted her. Rafe had told her that it wouldn't matter to him if someone recognized her, but she knew how condemning Southern society could be. If anyone learned of her past, she feared the worst that she would be scorned and ridiculed, that her shame would fall on Rafe, too. Struggling not to dwell on those thoughts, she kept a serene expression in place and tried to just enjoy being in Rafe's arms.
Rafe looked down at Brandy and thought he'd never seen a more beautiful woman. Her eyes were bright, and her cheeks were flushed from the dance. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and he found her lips slightly parted, as if waiting for his kiss. The need to kiss her was powerful, overwhelming his common sense, and in the middle of the ballroom, as they waltzed about the spacious dance floor, Rafe bent to her and, without missing a stride in their dance, kissed her, a soft, quick kiss on the lips.
Brandy was touched by his daring. A thrill shot through her that he cared enough to publicly show his affection for her. She smiled openly now for the first time, and he smiled back at her. The intimacy of the exchange touched them both, and they finished the waltz dreamily, their arms linked as the music ended. Then they went forth to greet everyone.
"They look so perfect together," Claire remarked to Marc as they watched Rafe and Brandy making their way around the room, talking with everyone. "I'm so glad everything's worked out for them."
"I am, too. If anyone deserves some happiness in his life, it's Rafe."
"He is a strong man, and Brandy is just what he needs. She loves him dearly. Have you noticed, too, how well he's getting along with her mother?"
"I have, and that's good."
"Brandy and her mother are going to make a big change in his life."
"I hope so."
Claire sighed as she realized that her time in Natchez was almost over. After tonight, Brandy would be introduced and accepted into society. She wouldn't be needing her services any more. It was almost time for her to return to St. Louis and her job at the academy.
"Why the sigh?" Marc asked. "You sound unhappy about something."
"No, not unhappy... not really."
"Then what?"
"Well, it just occurred to me that very soon, Brandy won't be needing me anymore. After tonight, she'll be accepted into society. She's learned every thing I had to teach her, and since she no longer needs a chaperone, my duties here are complete."
Marc was surprised by the sense of loss that filled him at the thought of Claire returning to St. Louis. Their spontaneous kiss that night on the steamboat had left him unsettled, stirring feelings he'd thought dead and also arousing not a little guilt in him. He had not approached her again in that way, but had maintained a warm friendship with her as they'd planned the reception for tonight. He thoroughly enjoyed being with her. He enjoyed her quick wit and endless good humor, and the way she seemed to truly like spending time with Merrie and Jason. He didn't want to think of their time together ending.
"Shall we dance?" he asked, his mind racing to think of some way to delay the inevitable.
When Libby had arrived with Rafe and Brandy, she had felt like a fairy princess, in spite of her age. It was the first time in her whole life that she had had a fancy ballgown and had been invited to a party like this one. She'd been worried beforehand that she might commit some faux pas, but both Brandy and Rafe had assured her that she would be fine. When they'd reached Marc's home, she had been immediately taken over by Marc's maternal aunt, Sophie, a dear little widow lady who loved making new friends. They sat together on the side of the dance floor now, enjoying the bustle of the evening.
"Your daughter is lovely. She and Rafe certainly make a good pair," Sophie told her. "It's about time that boy married and settled down."
"I'm glad they found each other."
"Now, if only Marc could find someone.. .It's tragic that Jennette died so young, but Marc is too young and too handsome to stop living now/'
"There's another woman out there. It will just take him time to adjust, that's all. After all, his wife's only been gone a little over a year, hasn't she?"
"You're right, I know. I just like everybody to be happy. It's my worst trait."
"Everyone should have such a terrible trait," Libby quipped, laughing at her new friend.
"Thanks. There are those who don't appreciate my worrying so much about them."
Libby patted her hand. "Believe me, they'd miss it if you didn't."
They shared a knowing smile.
"How do you like living at Bellerive?"
"It's a fantasy come true for me," Libby answered honestly.
"And it will only get better once those grandchildren start coming," Sophie remarked, and then launched into telling her all about her own grandchildren and how much fun they were.
In Sophie's talkative company, Libby relaxed and enjoyed herself, grateful for the other woman's attention and friendship. Libby knew she was going to love her new life here.
Brandy had been stolen from Rafe's side soon after they'd made their first round of the room to meet everyone, and she hadn't been back to him since, as each man in the room had sought the honor of dancing with her. As the current waltz ended, she thanked her partner, and, a wee bit hot and weary, she moved toward the refreshment table alone to get a cup of punch.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the blushing bride," Mirabelle said nastily as she appeared nearby. She'd been watching and waiting for a chance to talk to Brandy, and now was the time. The little bitch had dared to steal Rafe, and she was determined to do her best to ruin everything for her if she could. With no one around right then to overhear their conversation, it was safe for her to have her say.
"Hello, Mirabelle," Brandy said coolly as she glanced over at the other woman. Mirabelle was a force to be reckoned with, and somehow Brandy had always known this moment would come. Brandy was going to let Mirabelle lead the conversation, but she was not about to play the sweet little wife tonight. She had to let this woman know she was her equal.
"You know, Brandy. I'm really very confused about all this." Mirabelle gestured around at the celebration.
"What is it you don't understand? Rafe fell in love with me and married me. This party is to celebrate
that. It's really very simple."
Mirabelle was caught by surprise at the challenge in Brandy's tone. She'd thought her a simpering idiot. This spirit in Rafe's little wife was something she hadn't expected, and it only angered her more. Who was this chit that she thought she could talk to her that way?
"My dear," she replied, "anyone who knows Rafe knows this marriage is completely unlike him. He's never married because, as I know so well, he could never be satisfied by just one woman."
"He seems satisfied with me so far," Brandy returned.
"So far, yes," she agreed smoothly. "But, darling, you've only been married a few weeks. I've known the man for years."
"And he's never chosen to marry you, has he?" Brandy was deliberately cold, wanting this conversation over as soon as possible.
Mirabelle's temper grew hotter. "That was my choice, my dear. I like my life the way it is, doing what I want, with anyone I want, whenever I want."
"I'm happy for you, Mirabelle," Brandy said in an uninterested drawl. "What's your point?"
It outraged her that Brandy was giving as good as she got. "My point is this. You're just a child, a baby really. You may have Rafe's name, but you'll never keep him. He's been my lover for years, and we both look forward to continuing our...how shall I say it ...our `association.'"
Brandy was trying to be a lady. She was mentally reciting to herself all the rules Claire had taught her about self-control and behaving herself at all times in public; however, Claire had never met or dealt with anyone like Mirabelle. The time had come for Mirabelle to have a talk with the real Brandy O'Neill Marchand.
"You know, Mirabelle, it took Rafe only one week to fall in love with me and decide to marry me. As you've said, you've known him for years. That should answer any questions you have about our relationship. He is my husband now."
"In name only."
Brandy gave a soft, deriding laugh at her statement, yet her heart was breaking, for there was more truth to her words than Mirabelle knew. "You played your hand and you lost. It's time for you to give it up and move on."
"Rafe's mine! He's always been mine."
"Cut your losses while you still have your dignity," Brandy cautioned, knowing Mirabelle's kind and how to deal with them. "This lady won the hand." She held up her hand so Mirabelle could see the flashing diamond and wide gold band that proclaimed her as Rafe's wife. "You didn't."
Mirabelle stared at the large diamond and looked at Brandy, seeing the confidence and cool nerve in her expression. In a moment of revelation, she realized that she had lost-and to this woman. In fury, she squared her shoulders and stalked away.
Brandy stood there for a moment unmoving, watching her go. For all that she looked outwardly calm, confident and happy, inwardly, her pain was intense. No wonder Rafe wouldn't be back to her bed once she'd conceived. He had Mirabelle waiting for him. She hoped with all her heart that she never had to speak with the woman again. It would be devastating enough to know that Mirabelle would be back in Rafe's arms as soon as she had completed her part of their "arrangement."
It was then that Brandy heard the sound of soft applause coming from somewhere from behind her; shocked, she glanced around to see who'd witnessed the exchange with Mirabelle. When she came face to face with Sam Foster, she knew a terrible sinking feeling in her stomach.
"Sam..." She said his name breathlessly. Her veneer of calm was shattered by the sight of the gentlemanly poker player she'd played so often on the Pride of New Orleans.
"Miss Brandy." He gave her a slight, courthy bow. "I can't tell you what a delight it is to see you again. And I must say that I have never been so glad to see anyone put in her place as much as the lovely Mirabelle. She's needed it for years. Congratulations on your wit and nerve. You handled her perfectly. I doubt she'll cause you any more trouble."
"Thank you." She was cautious. Sam had always seemed to be a nice man, but this would be the telling moment.
Sam could not miss how pale Brandy had turned when she'd seen him and how quietly she was talking to him. He hastened to reassure her about his intentions.
"Brandy, dear, there's no need to look so terrified," he told her. "You don't have to be afraid of me. You're a wonderful young lady and you deserve this happiness. As far as I'm concerned, Mrs. Rafe Marchand, this is the first time we've met."
Brandy's sense of relief was so great that tears threatened and she almost threw her arms around him. She stopped herself, though, for she knew she'd have a hard time explaining it. "I always knew you were a very special man, Sam."
"I just want you to be happy, Brandy, and I think Rafe is one very lucky fellow. How he ever won you over is a mystery to me. I'm going to miss our games, though. You were the highlight of many of my trips. If you ever want to play again, you let me know. I'd love to have the chance to win back some of my losses from you."
Brandy was smiling brightly at him. "I'd kiss you right now, if I wasn't a married woman."
"I'm afraid Mrs. Foster might have an objection, too," he said with a chuckle.
"Is she here? I'd love to meet her."
"Come with me, my dear. I'll introduce you right now."
Brandy followed Sam to meet his wife of many years.
Across the room, Rafe had been trapped in a con versation from which there seemed no escape. He'd kept saying the right things at the right times, but concentrating had become almost impossible once he'd seen Mirabelle corner Brandy. He'd wanted to cut the conversation off and rush over to help her, but there had been no way he could do it without offending someone. So, helplessly, he'd watched the scene unfold between the two women, hoping that Brandy could hold her own against the sharptongued widow.
When Mirabelle had finally walked away, Rafe had been able to tell that she was furious, and he couldn't help smiling to himself Brandy had taken on Mirabelle and won. He'd glanced her way again to find that Sam Foster had joined her and was speaking with her. Rafe had known a pang of jealousy, seeing her with another man. He'd wanted to be the one with Brandy, not stuck where he was discussing crops and the weather. Finally, a few minutes later, desperate to be with his bride, he'd found the opportunity to make his excuses and seek her out.
"Good evening, Annette, Sam," Rafe greeted the Fosters. "I'd like to steal my bride away, if you don't mind?"
"You take good care of her, Rafe. She's a lovely lady," Sam said with a kind smile.
"I will," he promised. "Darling, would you like to dance again?"
"I'd love to. It was nice to meet you, Annette, and you, too, Sam."
With that, Rafe whisked her out among the other couples on the ballroom floor.
"So?" he asked, once they could talk.
"So, what?" she returned, for some reason wanting to make him suffer a little in his search for information about Mirabelle.
"I couldn't help noticing your encounter with Mirabelle. Did it go well?"
"As well as it could, considering that she told me that you had been lovers and that there was no way you could ever be satisfied with just one woman."
Rafe's jaw tightened at the abuse Brandy had been subjected to. "I'm sorry."
"For what? For my finding out the truth about your relationship with her?" she said coldly. "We are fine actors, you and I, but we both know the underlying truth about our marriage, don't we? The truth is, Mirabelle was right in everything she said, but I didn't let her know it. She said you didn't love me, that I was your wife in name only, that I might be able to keep your name, but I would never be able to keep you. She's a very perceptive woman."
Her words knifed at Rafe, yet he could not deny them. "Brandy, I..."
"It's not necessary for you to say anything right now," she said, smiling up at him as if she were thrilled to be in his arms. "This is our belated wedding reception, remember? We must enjoy ourselves. We must convince everyone that ours is a love match."
He smiled back, but it was not a smile that reached his eyes ...or his heart.
Marc found Cla
ire talking with Libby and Sophie. "Would you like to dance again?"
"I'd love to." She quickly rose and went into his arms.
Marc generally talked to her while they danced, but this time he was unusually quiet as they moved about the room. Claire wondered at his mood, but said nothing. She just enjoyed being in his arms. When the music ended, she started to move away from him, but he caught her hand.
"Claire... Would you mind stepping out on the balcony with me for a moment? There's something I wanted to ask you."
He sounded so serious that she didn't know what to make of his invitation. She nodded her answer and allowed him to draw her along with him.
Claire was breathless as they stepped outside. She was wearing the teal ballgown. She was alone with Marc in the moonlight once again, and this time not by accident he had invited her there. She did not speak, but moved even farther away from the house so they would have some privacy. She stopped in a quiet, shadowed corner and turned to look up at Marc. Her pulse quickened as her gaze went over his features. Oh, how she loved him...He meant the world to her...He always had. His expression was serious, and she wanted desperately to know what was on his mind.
"Was there something you wanted to ask me?" she said softly.
Marc was staring down at her in the moonlight, seeing how lovely she was, remembering their kiss in the thunderstorm. With an effort, he forced his thoughts to the solution he'd found for his dilemma.
"Yes," he said, clearing his throat. "Since your time working with Brandy is almost over ...I was wondering if..."
"Yes?" Her heart was pounding as she imagined all kinds of wonderful things.
He began again. "I was wondering if you'd like to come to work for me."
Claire blinked as she stared at him. In all her wildest dreams, this had never been the question he'd posed. "Work for you?" she repeated rather dazedly.
"Yes," he went on quickly. "You get along with Merrie and Jason so well, I thought you might be interested in staying on and tutoring them. The children certainly adore you. I think it might work out perfectly."