"Ooh, but those are hideous creatures," she exclaimed.
"Well, they certainly aren't pretty," Levi agreed. He squinted at her through the bright sun. "What brings you out here, Regina?"
She smiled sweetly at him, whipping open her ivory fan, and flicking it like a practiced coquette. "I brought a picnic lunch for Matty," she said lifting the hamper basket. "Would you care to join us?"
"Thank you, but I've already eaten."
She surveyed the area. "Where is Matty?"
Levi shrugged and looked around. "I haven't seen him in awhile."
"Be a darling and find him for me?" She walked her fingers up his sweaty arm. "This heat will simply ruin the pie."
"Right," he said with an audible sigh. He climbed atop the trestle table, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted his brother's name. Mrs. Kent yanked at his trouser leg. "What is it, Mrs. Kent?" Her eyes glinted wickedly at Regina for a moment, and then her blue gaze shifted back to Levi. She motioned to him with her hand. He jumped down, and Mrs. Kent made to whisper something in his ear. He obliged her by stooping down.
"Mr. Matthias is in the wood shed with that pretty green-eyed gal, Jenny. I saw them leave the field together a'fore noon."
Levi's eyes narrowed to hard slits as he looked toward the shed. "What is it, Levi?" Regina, noting Levi's sudden mood change, began whipping her fan forcefully beneath her chin. "I demand to know where your brother is. Don't you dare protect him."
"I have no intention of it. Go ahead and tell her Mrs. Kent," he said calmly and then proceeded to overturn the entire trestle table with a shove of his boot.
Before Mrs. Kent had a chance to finish speaking, Regina was stalking through the tobacco rows, no longer mindful of her skirts. Her shrieks could be heard clear across the field, the words tramp and whore were interspersed with a spattering of blasphemies. By then, most of the workers had gotten wind of the coming confrontation and watched with interest as Regina threw open the door of the shed.
A ripple of astonishment ran through the crowd as they heard something they'd never heard before, Matthias raising his voice in indignant anger.
"Blast it woman, you have no call to speak that way. What the hell has gotten into you?"
Walking up behind the assembled crowd, Jensen attempted to peer over the huddled shoulders to see what all the commotion was about. She spotted Celia and gave her sleeve a good tug.
"Jensen!" Celia exclaimed. Celia's head swiveled back and forth from Jensen to the shed.
"What's going on Celia?"
She clutched Jensen's shoulders and backed her away from the crowd. "Goodness, Jensen, everyone thinks you're in that shed carrying on with Matthias. It's all that busybody Kent's fault," Celia said in hushed tones. Her eyes widened suddenly, and she tightened her grip on Jensen's arm. "Here he comes, he's in a black fury about it. To tell you the truth, I've never seen him so angry."
"Here who comes?" Jensen's voice rose with frustration.
"Jensen, where have you been hiding?" The deep familiar voice behind her made her turn on her heels. Was she imagining it, or did his shoulders relax and his stern brow soften at the sight of her?
She shoved her bucket full of writhing worms under his nose. "Hiding? I've been working. Which is more than I can say for the rest of this lot."
"You mean you've been out picking worms?"
"Obviously," she answered in frustration. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowed warily. "Oh, I see, you thought I was with your brother, too."
"Let's just say that I know my brother, and he usually gets what he wants."
"And exactly what is that supposed to mean?" Jensen inquired angrily.
"Just a warning, little mouse." He touched the tip of her nose with his finger and turned to leave.
"Mr. North, what about you? " she called after him. "Do you always get what you want?"
He turned, folding his arms across his chest, training his intense gray gaze on her. "Hell, no," he answered. He walked back toward her with a rueful smile. "As a matter of fact, quite the opposite. I never wanted the responsibility of running this damn place. I would have preferred a different style of life altogether." His eyes slid with deliberate insolence over her body and then settled on her lips. "And if you knew what I wanted right now, darlin', you would surely run."
She wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of running away from his leering smile, but she did hurry her pace a bit.
Chapter 12
Celia was in a dither over the coming gala. "Have you seen the new dresses the serving girls will be wearing? They've come all the way from London. Maggie said that young North only wants the comeliest of maids to serve." She checked her blonde curls in the small, tarnished looking glass. "Has Mr.Matthias requested you yet?"
"No, and I don't care," Jensen said with a shrug. She did care though. The thought of wearing something feminine for a change was very appealing. She had seen the serving gowns. The bodice and skirt were of the softest, silkiest emerald green, and the blouse a creamy white confection trimmed with Irish lace.
"It's a shame. With your brown curls and honeyed skin you'd be a right stunner in that shade of green. Perhaps you've been too busy to ask, is all," Celia said with a sympathetic pat of Jensen's arm.
Jensen couldn't help wondering if her short hair made her completely unattractive, although it had grown several inches since leaving England. In fact, it skimmed the top of her shoulders now. Maybe the North brothers no longer thought of her as a woman because of her usual boyish attire.
She was so relieved when Maggie finally did offer her a serving position, she didn't care that she seemed quite the last minute choice.
"Master North insisted you serve tonight, even though I have tried for over a week to dissuade him. I have little faith in your serving abilities, young lady," Maggie said sternly. "I want no mistakes tonight. No spilled port or crushed sweet cakes on the master's fine new Persian rug, am I understood?"
"Yes ma'am," she said, turning to go, "Did you say Master North? I thought his brother was arranging this party?"
"Well, yes, it is Mr. Matthias's party, but if you must know he did not request you. It seems his betrothed has taken a great dislike to you. Mr. North, though, is master here, and he has the final say-so." She waved her hand in dismissal. "You'll find your dress in your room."
That afternoon Jensen spent a longer time than usual in the hipbath. As she lathered herself unsparingly with the jasmine-scented soap, she couldn't help thinking about the North brothers. She wondered why Levi had made such a point of asking for her and resolved it was only to irritate Regina.
She brushed her hair fifty times, and fifty more, and then took a peek in Celia's mirror. 'He's right, I do resemble a mouse with this dull, drab hair,' she thought. She'd used the last of her walnut dye just a week after coming to the plantation and was starting to see her blonde roots. For once, she was actually thankful for the frilly, little mobcap, which accompanied the serving dress. Thankful, too, for the old felt hat she'd discovered hanging on a stable hook, which had become an essential part of her daily attire.
As she put on her satin slippers, she checked the clasp on the bracelet, which she'd taken to wearing on her ankle after it had proved too large for her wrist. She damped the spark that ignited in her heart by reminding herself that Mr. North had not given the jewelry as a token of his affection but merely as a reward for saving his foal.
There were six maids, including Jensen, awaiting instructions in the dining hall. The table was laden with trays of meat pasties, fruit tarts, ladyfingers, and petit fours. The finest French wine was being opened by the case, poured into fluted crystal glasses and placed on silver platters.
The serving men wore pewter-colored wool suits and white hose with silver buckled shoes. Curled powdered wigs sat atop their heads. Jensen recognized Thomas and Samuel among them. Thomas stood as stiff as a man with a broomstick up his shirt, and Samuel was continually tugging at his lacy jabo
t.
Upon entering the ballroom, Jensen was struck by the beauty of the room. It was incandescent with the light of a thousand candles. The satin of the women's dresses gleamed like jewels. Gowns of garnet, citrine, and sapphire reflected off the polished mahogany floor. The men were resplendent in evening attire of deeper hues.
Jensen was intoxicated by the smell of melting myrtle candles as she began circling the room with her tray. It took her eyes a few moments to adjust to the bright lights and swirling colors.
She spotted Matthias right away, but she couldn't help being disappointed that his beautiful waves were hidden beneath a wig. He favored her with a wink before returning to his conversation with a stern looking man dressed in a sober suit of gray.
As the floor was cleared for the first dance, the servers offered refreshments to those sitting out the dances along the wall or playing games of whist and chess in the small drawing rooms festooned with strings of flowers for the occasion. Jensen stopped to watch for a moment as the dancers took their places under the two huge, glistening chandeliers and was surprised to find Levi's dark head among them.
He was one of the few men she had seen tonight, who had chosen not to wear the fancified, stiffly powdered wig favored by the English gentry. His black hair was tied back sleekly with a large black bow. He wore a long black coat of military cut, embellished with brass buttons. His snug black pants were tucked into knee-high cavalry boots. His only concession for the festive evening was a lacy neckcloth.
His partner was a tall, buxom redhead in a shimmering aqua gown inset with a corset adorned by a row of bows edged in pearl seed. Ecru lace shaped her daringly low neckline. The woman's blue eyes sparkled when she and her partner touched. A dazzling smile played on her lips, and Jensen couldn't help noticing that Levi responded in kind.
"He is wickedly handsome, isn't he," Celia whispered as she sidled up to Jensen. "He puts the rest to shame."
"Mr. Matthias?"
"God no, girl, he's handsome to be sure, but it's his dark and dangerous brother who has all the females in a flutter. Haven't you noticed? Even dear Regina is smitten. Jens, get your head out of the stables once in awhile, will you? You'd have to have straw in your eyes not to have noticed how dashing our Mr. Levi is," she said with a chuckle.
"Who is that lady?" Jensen asked with a discreet nod at the redhead.
"Why that's Mr. North's intended, Miss Andrea Trent, the future heiress of the Silverwood Plantation. They've been promised to each other since they were babes in the nursery."
Jensen felt a violent pull at her heart as she remembered the lover's keepsake with the braiding of black and red hair.
Her distress obviously showed in her face because Celia gave her green neck ribbon a teasing tug and said, "It seems you are not entirely immune to his charms." Celia took a surreptitious sip of wine from the half-empty glass she was carrying back to the kitchen. "I'm afraid you and I can only dream about a man like that."
As though he sensed they were talking about him, Levi looked in their direction. His eyes locked with Jensen's. Flustered, she averted her gaze, deciding it was time she returned to have her tray refilled.
Upon returning to the ballroom, Jensen found herself trailed by two young men she'd noticed ogling her earlier. She tried her best to avoid them, but every time she turned they were at her heels. When they finally went off to dance, she disappeared into the day parlor. She removed her slippers with a sigh and rubbed her aching feet. It was a short rest.
The two young dandies appeared, suddenly squeezing in on either side of her on the small settee, even though there were chairs and sofas cluttering the small room.
"Bonny girl, you would not be avoiding us, would you now?"
"I'm not permitted to converse with the guests, sir," she said slipping her shoes on and getting to her feet. One of them pulled her roughly down by the waist and held her there, while the other one coiled a lock of her hair around his finger, released it, and watched it spring back.
"Always did have a fondness for short curls," he said with a leer.
"She looks just like a wee pussy-cat with those green eyes, doesn't she?" chimed in the other one.
"Get your hands off me." She elbowed their chests as hard as she could. They merely laughed at her feeble attempt.
Suddenly, the dim light in the parlor was nearly obliterated by a looming figure in the doorway. "It is Owen Fitch, isn't it?" Levi asked calmly of the sandy-haired one, "I don't believe I know your friend."
"Wat Coverley, sir," said the one in the pale-blue satin suit. He extended a hand, which Levi chose to ignore.
"Is there something I can do for you two gentlemen?"
"Ah-no sir, just helping your maid to rest herself, she seemed a might worn out," said Owen.
"Well then, she looks well settled now, and I believe they are starting another minuet." He ushered them out with a curt wave of his hand.
He stood for a moment and watched them leave before turning his attentions to Jensen. "Are you all right, Miss Hawthorne?"
"Yes, sir. I could have handled them you know."
"Perhaps so, but it is my duty to see that no harm comes to my employees," Levi answered patiently.
"You're so smug. How do you know I didn't welcome their attentions?" Uncertain herself as to why she was snapping at him, although, she had an uneasy feeling it had something to do with Andrea Trent.
"If that's true, I'm sorry to have interrupted." His eyes darkened with rage. "But, I must warn you, any female servant that gets herself with child will find herself booted out on her shapely bottom."
"Truly? 'Twould be that easy to leave here?" she said, blinking her eyes in wide innocence.
His gaze burned into hers. "Jensen," he finally said after a long suffocating silence, "You are playing with fire." He turned and stalked off, the heels of his boots thundering down the hallway.
***
The heat of the main room, the press of bodies, and especially Levi's anger had become oppressive. Thankfully, Maggie sent her on an errand to the kitchen to get more cream scones and raspberry tarts. The cool evening air refreshed her spirits, and she walked with a lighter step toward the outbuilding. Smoke still billowed from the chimneys. She guessed cook was still hard at work preparing more treats. Hearing footsteps on the bricks behind her, she turned expecting to see her obnoxious suitors. With relief, she found Matthias coming toward her.
"Hello, Jensen," he said with a shy smile.
"Good evening, Mr. North."
"Why so formal, you can call me Matthias when we are alone." He cast a cautious eye around. Satisfied that they were indeed alone, he took her hand and led her to a secluded corner of the L-shaped path.
"Do you know how lovely you look tonight?"
"You're just not accustomed to seeing me in skirts."
Matthias stroked her cheek and then leaned over, his intent obvious. His lips looked soft and inviting, and yet she felt no inclination to kiss him.
After the humiliating scene she'd had with those ill-mannered boors, she truly didn't want to come within a yard's length of any man. Luckily, a cough from the direction of the trellised niche caused him to abruptly lift his head. There was no mistaking the towering man cloaked in shadows. Jensen couldn't help noticing Matthias flinch as his brother stepped into the torchlight. He carried a glass of whiskey in one hand, a half-empty bottle dangling from the other.
"Evening, Matthias, did you tire of the party fare we were serving inside? Decided to come out for a little dessert, did you?"
"You must forgive my brother, Jensen. Obviously, liquor has an adverse effect on his manners." It was impossible to miss the way Levi's shoulders stiffened at the insult, and Matthias's fists clenched in response.
To think, she had actually been excited for this night to come. Using her serving platter as a shield, she attempted to sidle past them. Levi moved an increment to the right, and it was enough to effectively bar her path.
"Can't really bla
me you for being taken in, Matthias." He stared down at her. "Come to the opinion that she's a fairy changeling. Have you ever in your life seen eyes that pale shade of green? Positively unearthly." The last words seemed to be uttered for her benefit alone in a rough whisper.
"Waxing poetic, Levi? Definitely too much drink. As I recall, you rarely imbibe to this degree unless you're frustrated." He paused, and with an exaggerated brush of his hand, rid his lapel of its dusting of wig powder. "I wonder what it is that has you so frustrated. Something you want that you can't have, perhaps?" To which Levi replied with a laugh that could not be mistaken for one of amusement. Matthias decided it was a good time to take his leave but not before clashing shoulders with Levi as he stomped off.
"Well, Miss Hawthorne, haven't you been the busy one tonight?" Levi said, still making no move to let her by.
Apprehensive, she backed up a step. There was a wildness about him she'd never seen before. She thought to attribute his mood to the alcohol, but somehow she sensed there was some other cause. "If you'll excuse me, Mr. North, I have an errand to run for Maggie."
"Let's hope you make no new conquests on your way to the kitchen. I'm beginning to lose track."
"Why do you bother to keep track at all, sir?" she snapped.
"Good question." He moved close enough for Jensen to smell the whiskey on his breath. "Why, indeed?"
The predatory gleam in his eye made her retreat another step. He followed. Jensen could feel the wool of his coat against her hands.
"Truly, you have the eyes of an angel." He stroked her brow gently with his thumb, the whisky bottle cool against her cheek.
She pushed his hand away.
"Well, Miss Hawthorne, it seems we've finally found someone whose attentions you find repulsive," he said dryly, his eyes narrowing to slits.
She skirted around him and hurried toward the light of the kitchen. Behind her, she heard the shattering of glass as it smashed forcefully against the paving stones.
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