Wilde, Jennifer

by Love's Tender Fury

  "Any man fool enough to tangle with Jack Reed'll get a bashed 'ead for 'is trouble. Don't you worry. I can take care of myself."

  "Do be careful, Jack."

  "I will. Maybe well run into each other again, lass. Never can tell. You might get down to Natchez one o' these days. I might see you there. I wish you 'appiness."

  "And I you, Jack."

  He nodded and started down the street with that jaunty, dipping sailor's walk and was soon swallowed up by the shadows. I stood there in front of the steps for a few moments, listening to the echo of his footsteps, and finally there was silence.

  I went back inside and resumed my duties. Customers were beginning to leave now, and an hour later only the most persistent remained, determined to make up their losses. The ballroom was empty, the waiters clearing up, carrying trays of dishes down to the kitchen. Two of them carefully lowered the chandeliers until they almost touched the floor and held the ropes steady while another snuffed out all the candles. Candles still flickered in the wall sconces, but the room was now awash with shadows. I strolled back into the gaming rooms. The hangers-on were leaving, cheerfully shooed away by a weary, wilting Angie.

  "What a night," she said. "We made a killing. I more than doubled what Jack won. All the chaps were eager to match his luck. Fancy him showin' up like that."

  The other dealers were putting things away. Ordinarily Jeff acted as cashier, taking charge of all the money. Now Kyle was counting it in his absence, tallying figures on a sheet of paper and finally carrying it all up to the safe in Jeff's office. The dealers left. Angie and I stood together in the main gaming room.

  "You're still worried about Jeff, aren't you?"

  I nodded. "I can't help it. He didn't go to see Corinne. She was here earlier, holding court, looking disappointed because he wasn't around. He was in one of his moods when he left."

  "He'll be all right, Marietta."

  "I suppose so. I just wish I could shake this feeling."

  Kyle came back downstairs to supervise locking up. I asked him if he knew the places where Jeff and his cronies usually spent their evenings on the town. Kyle gave me a solemn nod.

  "She's worried," Angie said. "Why don't you take the carriage and go look for him, see that he gets home safely? You don't have anything else to do tonight."

  "Would you, Kyle?" I asked. "I'd feel so much better knowing you were with him."

  "The men with the wine will be here in half an hour. I have to let them in the back gate, pay them for the goods."

  "I can attend to that."

  Kyle was clearly reluctant. Angie gave him an exasperated look.

  "Come on, Goliath. I'll go with you, keep you company. While we're lookin' for him I'll tell you the story of my life."

  "The places I'll be going aren't suitable for a woman."

  "Suitable? That's a bleedin' laugh. There's not a place in New Orleans I haven't been in one twice as bad. Besides, I'll have you to protect me, won't I? Don't just stand there lookin' like a dunce. Go get the carriage and bring it round!"

  Kyle glowered at her with menacing eyes, but he obeyed nevertheless. Angie trotted upstairs to fetch her cloak and came merrily back down a few moments later, all traces of weariness gone. When the carriage pulled up in front, she blew me a kiss and dashed outside, white silk skirts fluttering. I locked the door and went upstairs to Jeff's office. The smugglers always demanded to be paid in gold coin. Opening the safe, I found the small chamois bag of gold that had been set aside for them.

  When I went back downstairs some twenty minutes later, the place was silent and still, the rooms dark, only a few candles left burning in the hall. I hadn't bothered to get a cloak, and my blue velvet skirt rustled softly as I moved toward the back doors that opened onto the courtyard. I should have removed the diamond necklace, I thought. It might not be wise to let the smugglers see me wearing such valuable gems. They were bound to be ruffians. I would simply have to risk it, as there was no time to return to my room. I took up the lantern kept in a wall niche by the door, lighted it, and stepped out into the courtyard.

  The moon was behind a bank of clouds. The courtyard was shrouded with thick, heavy shadows thrown into even sharper relief by the flickering glow of the lantern. There was a strong wind that caused the palm fronds to rustle with a stiff, rattling noise. The fountain splashed as I moved past it toward the small gate in an archway set into the back wall. As I set down the lantern and unlocked the gate, I could hear a cat yowling in the alley beyond, but there was no sound of the smugglers' cart. I stepped over to one of the white marble benches to await their arrival, all my senses alert. Something was going to happen. Now. Tonight.

  A gust of wind swept through the courtyard and blew the lantern out, and there was a moment of total darkness. Then the moon came from behind the clouds and turned the courtyard into a world of blue and black and silver, the tiles gleaming as though wet with moonlight, the shadows soft now, not so dense. I heard the cart approaching, heard quiet, surly voices. Stepping over to the gate, I pulled it open and stood looking out into the alley. The cart stopped. There were three men, two of them roughly dressed and burly, but the third was slender and wore a long black cloak. The cloak billowed out as he climbed down. He gave instructions to the other two men, and they started to unload the cases of wine. The man in the cloak turned around, looking at me for the first time, and I was paralyzed with shock.

  I could see him clearly in the moonlight. I saw every remembered feature, saw the scar that hadn't been there before. I looked at him, unable to speak, unable to breathe, it seemed. He showed no surprise. He stepped toward me, the cloak belling out behind him like demonic wings. I was numb, unable to feel any of the emotions I should have felt.

  "Hello, Marietta," he said. "It's been a long time."

  I might have been in the middle of a dream. The man, the moonlight, the blue-black shadows that filled the courtyard: all seemed part of that dream, without real substance. The palm fronds rattled. The fountain splashed, and crickets made scratchy, clicking noises between the tiles.

  "You've brought the wine," I said.

  My voice was calm, without the least shading of emotion, yet it seemed to come from a long way off, seemed to belong to someone else. I saw him standing there not ten feet away, saw the men behind him lifting the cases of wine out of the back of the cart, and none of it was real. It was an illusion, like the soft shimmer of moonlight, like the shadows brushing the walls.

  "It goes in the wine cellar," I said. "The back door is open. There's a stairway to your right as you enter. It goes down past the basement and on into the cellar."

  "Aye, I know where it is," one of the men growled. "I brung th' goods last time."

  "Snap to it!" Derek said sharply.

  Each of the men picked up a case of wine and carried it through the gate and across the courtyard toward the back door. Derek stepped into the courtyard, out of the wind, and the cloak settled over his shoulders in silky folds that almost touched the ground. I was standing in a shaft of moonlight, and he studied me with a cool, indifferent gaze.

  "You seem to have done quite well for yourself," he remarked.

  "Yes."

  "Velvet gown. Diamonds. Quite well."

  "So you're the man with the scar."

  "I got this in Jamaica over a year ago. There was an altercation over a load of goods."

  "What happened to the man who gave it to you?"

  "He died."

  I was as cool, as poised as I had ever been in my life, but I knew the numbness would wear off soon now, knew violent emotions would begin to stir inside. I had to hold them at bay, had to maintain the poise at all costs. I knew it was my only defense.

  "Rawlins Palace," he said. "Jeff Rawlins. I should have made the connection. I've only been working this end for three weeks now. Before I was in Jamaica."

  "You lost the plantation," I said.

  "Three months after you left, I had to sell out."

  "I'm sorry
to hear that, Derek."

  "It's just as well. The place was a losing proposition from the first. There're easier ways of making money."

  "Like smuggling," I said.

  "Lots of money in smuggling," he replied. "I've made a small fortune. In six weeks or so I'll be giving all this up. I'll be leaving for England to settle matters there."

  The men came back out and moved past us on their way to fetch the other two cases. The horses stamped restlessly in the alley, and one of the men cursed as he heaved a case up into his arms. Bottles rattled. The men came back through the gate, casting long shadows over the silver tiles as they moved past us toward the building.

  "At the moment I have rooms here in the city," Derek continued. "The apartment belongs to Valjean. He's letting me use it while he's in Martinique. It's quite near here, as a matter of fact."

  I was silent. Derek continued to study me.

  "You're as beautiful as I remember."

  His voice was flat. It was a statement, not a compliment. His face was all planes and angles in the moonlight, the scar a thin, jagged line running from his left temple to the corner of his mouth. It added a sinister touch and, strangely enough, enhanced his looks, an imperfection that made the rest seem all the more attractive. His eyes revealed nothing.

  "So you're still with Rawlins," he said. "He didn't sell you to one of the brothels."

  "He's been very good to me."

  "I've thought about you, Marietta."

  "Have you?"

  "You've been on my conscience all these years. I acted in a moment of anger. I regretted it bitterly later on. When I thought about what I had done to you, I was filled with remorse."

  "You needn't have worried. As you can see, it worked out very nicely for me. I... I'm wearing velvet and diamonds. I'm a free woman, and I have everything I always wanted."

  "Do you love him?"

  "That's none of your concern," I replied. "I don't belong to you any more. You sold me. You collected eighteen hundred pounds. You assumed Jeff would put me in a brothel, but that didn't stop you."

  "I hated myself for what I'd done," he said in that flat, emotionless voice. "I hated you, too, because you had ruined me financially—and because I finally realized what you meant to me."

  "Indeed."

  "I hated you for that most of all."

  "Your men are coming back, Derek," I said calmly. "Here. Here's your gold. You might want to count it."

  Derek took the bag of gold and handed it to one of the men. The two of them went on out into the alley and climbed up onto the cart. A thin cloud passed over the face of the moon. Derek made no move to join his men. I knew I couldn't take much more of this without breaking down, and I had too much pride to let him know how he affected me. I looked at him with cool dignity, and when I spoke my voice was like ice.

  "You delivered the wine. I paid for it. Our business together is over, Derek."

  "Is it?" he asked.

  "I must go inside. Goodbye, Derek."

  "I intend to see you again."

  "That's out of the question."

  "I'll be in touch, Marietta."

  I didn't reply, but turned and started across the courtyard. I could feel his eyes following me until I finally reached the back door. Safely concealed by the darkness, I turned and looked back, and I saw a dark flutter as his cloak lifted in the breeze. He stepped through the gate, and a moment later I heard the cart pulling away. I gripped the side of the door, so shaken I could hardly stand, and as the emotions swept over me I prayed for strength. I was going to need it as never before.

  CHAPTER 23

  Angie tapped on the door and stepped into the sitting room, turning around slowly to show off her gown of sky-blue tulle, the wide, full skirt caught up with dark-blue velvet bows. This would be her first ball at Rawlins Palace, and she was very excited.

  "You look enchanting, Angie," I told her.

  "I thought so, too, till I saw you. That gown—I've never seen anything like it. It must be solid gold!"

  "Lucille did a fine job with it," I remarked.

  "You look like a bloody queen! Only a queen wouldn't wear a gown cut quite so low, I'm sure. Golden gown, diamond necklace, hair so superbly arranged—you're gonna dazzle 'em. They won't know there's another woman in the ballroom."

  "Nonsense."

  "I can hardly wait for Kyle to get a glimpse of me. I'm gonna just sweep right past him with my nose in the air, and I'm gonna let him see me dancin' with all the gents. Tonight may be the night."

  "You mean he hasn't—"

  "Hadn't laid a hand on me," Angie said, exasperated. "We've spent an awful lot of time together, it's true, ever since that night we went lookin' for Jeff, but he's been a perfect gentleman. He's Welsh, of course, and everyone knows the bloody Welsh are a bit slow."

  "Don't despair, Angie. He'll get around to it."

  "I just wish he'd hurry up a bit. You want to know somethin'—I think I'm gettin' fond of him. No man's ever treated me like this before, like I was someone special and not just another piece of tail. When we go out for a drive together or take a stroll in the public gardens, he's solemn as a preacher, never has much to say, but I get the feelin' bein' with me means somethin' to him."

  "Do you two still argue?"

  "Worse than ever. He told me I was to stop flirtin' with the customers, told me I was to mind my tongue and stop usin' certain words so often, and I told him—well, never mind what I told him, but for a minute there I thought he was gonna knock me down! I think he actually cares."

  "Perhaps he does."

  "I think I'm beginning to care about him, too. He gives me a funny feelin' I've never felt before. I feel all tingly and aglow. I want to aggravate him and stir him up, and at the same time I want to kiss him somethin' awful. Do you think I might be fallin' in love?"

  "It sounds like it."

  "With a bloody Welshman big as a mountain and cheerful as a graveyard? Christ!"

  "One can't always control these things," I said quietly.

  "I've never been in love before. I'm not sure I like it."

  Angie shook her head, silvery-blond ringlets bouncing in back. She looked both dismayed and delighted as she contemplated the possibility, and then she sighed, putting Kyle out of her mind for the time being. She looked at me closely, a small, worried frown creasing her brow.

  "Are—are you all right, Marietta?"

  "Of course I am. What a silly question."

  "It's not silly at all. Somethin's botherin' you. I can tell."

  "You're imagining things."

  "Not bloody likely, luv. I know you. You've been nervous as a cat for the past three weeks, all jittery and tense, not yourself at all. Been distracted, too, like your mind was on somethin' else all the time."

  "Indeed?"

  "Is it Jeff?" she asked.

  "Jeff's been perfectly marvelous. He paid the dress bills. He's been attentive and—utterly endearing. He's cut down on his drinking and hasn't had a night out since the night you and Kyle went to look for him. He hasn't even been to see Corinne. I imagine she's frantic."

  "Then—"

  "It's something else, Angie."

  "And you don't want to talk about it."

  "I'm not sure."

  "Sometimes it helps, luv."

  I hesitated for just a moment, still indecisive, and then I sighed. I knew I could trust her, and I simply couldn't keep it to myself any longer. As calmly as possible, I told her about my encounter with Derek. I had been unable to think of anything else since the night it happened, and it was a relief to be sharing it with someone at last. Angie listened without betraying any reaction, but when I finally finished she gave a low whistle, looking at me with dismay.

  "No wonder you've been upset," she said. "Has he attempted to see you again?"

  "The next day he sent a boy over with an envelope addressed to me. I just happened to be downstairs. And Jeff, thank God, was in his office when the boy arrived. There was no message, just
a slip of paper with an address scribbled on it—and a key."

  "Bloody arrogant if you ask me!"

  "I know he expected me to come at once."

  "You haven't gone, have you?"

  I shook my head. "I've wanted to, God knows, but... I can't see him again. I mustn't. Things are bad enough as it is."

  "You still love him. That's plain as houses."

  "The moment I saw him, it all came rushing back. I tried to hide it, tried to be cool and indifferent, but— he knew at once. Every night I've expected him to walk into the place, demanding to know why I haven't used that key. I've been terrified that Jeff would find out Derek's in New Orleans."

  "That wouldn't set too well with him," Angie agreed.

  "I've got to think about Jeff. I... I owe him so much. I love Derek, but I know it would never lead to anything. He'll be leaving for England soon. He has money now. He'll be able to win his inheritance through the courts—have a title and a stately mansion and all the things that mean so much to him. Once he gains his rightful place among the aristocracy, he'll marry into his own class. There'll be no place in his life for someone like me."

  "I can see your point."

  "I could have a few weeks with him, yes, but that would just make it harder on me when he finally left. I'll never get over him, not entirely, but I can't risk destroying everything just... just for a few weeks."

  "You're being very sensible."

  "It hasn't been easy," I said. "You don't know how I've longed to throw caution to the winds. I have to be sensible. I have to be strong. If I gave way to temptation it could only mean disaster. Jeff is in some kind of financial trouble, I fear. He won't explain it to me, but I know enough to see that it could be bad. I've been faithful to Jeff from the beginning, and if I were to betray his trust at this point and he were to find out about it—"

  I left the sentence dangling in air. Angie understood. There was a long silence while we looked at each other, and then I sighed wearily. I felt much better after discussing it with her, and I told her so. She gave me a wry smile and squeezed my hand.

  "You'll make it, luv," she promised.

  Angie went on downstairs to parade around in her gown in front of Kyle, and I stepped into the bedroom to take a final look at myself. The gown was perfection, simple, narrow sleeves off the shoulder, snug bodice leaving half of my breasts exposed, the skirt belling out over the hoop, but not a ruffle or bow anywhere. The gold made my hair seem a richer, deeper coppery shade, and the diamonds flashed and glittered. I looked so very calm, so serene, yet the strain I had been under was visible if one looked closely enough. The skin over my cheekbones seemed taut, and there were faint mauve shadows under my eyes.