Violet Fire

by Jo Goodman

  Cody’s winged eyebrows rose a good half inch. “Take a damper, Bran. I’m hardly likely to admit anything with a threat like that in the offing.” He touched the eye Brandon had bruised previously. “Damn thing’s still tender.” His eyes crossed as he tried to decipher the spidery scrawl on the paper dancing in front of him. “It’s no use, Bran. I can’t make it out. What is it that I’m supposed to have done?”

  Brandon impatiently snatched back the letter just as Cody got his fingers on it. He stuffed it into his pocket. “Did you invite Aurora’s parents to visit the folly?”

  “No!” Cody blanched, envisioning serious injury. “Good God! They didn’t say I did, did they? Hell, Brandon, why would I want to do a fool thing like that?”

  “I don’t know. Why did you come up with that ridiculous story about Shannon wanting to go elsewhere?”

  Cody had the grace to look sheepish. “I already explained that. Under duress, I might add. I thought it was time you started to appreciate Shannon instead of wallowing in your stupid pride over Aurora. Where was the harm? You’re a darn sight happier than you were two weeks ago.”

  “I would appreciate it if you would stop making my happiness your goal,” he said meaningfully. “And what of this letter? Are you saying you had nothing to do with Michaeline’s sudden desire to visit us?”

  “Admittedly, there is a thin line between foolishness and stupidity, but I like to think I have not crossed it yet. More plainly, I did not invite Paul and Michaeline to the folly.”

  “Damn! Damn! Damn!”

  Cody thought Brandon not particularly eloquent, but making his point nonetheless. “What are you going to do?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea.”

  “I take it you cannot write and gently tell them this is not a good time.”

  “I could, but I won’t. They haven’t seen Clara in an age. They have a right to know their granddaughter. More to the point, I doubt my letter would reach them in time. They plan to be here in just under two weeks.” He took out the letter and skimmed it again. “They leave on the twenty-fourth.”

  “That’s tomorrow,” Cody said helpfully. “They’ll arrive in a sennight.”

  Brandon shook his head, crumpling the letter. “They’re staying with friends in Baltimore for a few days. Michaeline doesn’t travel well. It will break up the journey.”

  “Any idea what prompted this visit?”

  “Since you are denying all involvement, I can only surmise they miss Aurora and want to see Clara.”

  Cody nearly sputtered his amazement. “Missing Aurora? If that state of affairs prompted them to travel, then they’re sadly out of luck.” He looked at Brandon oddly, seeing a faint flush develop beneath his tan. “Bran? They do know that Aurora’s been gone these last nine months, don’t they?”

  “Michaeline’s missive gave no indication of it.”

  “And you never wrote them otherwise.”

  “That was Aurora’s place.”

  “Well, she obviously never did it. Are you certain you never encouraged them to believe she was still in residence?”

  “I may have.” He continued defensively. “Look, Cody, you know Aurora was never one for corresponding. It fell mainly on me to keep her parents apprised of our life here. When she left with Parker, I continued to write them about Clara.”

  “And nothing about your wife.”

  “I may have mentioned her from time to time.”

  “And led them to believe that nothing was amiss.” Cody shook his head in disbelief. “Remember what I said about foolishness and stupidity?”

  Brandon pitched the letter, more than a little disgusted with himself. “I take your point.” He sighed. “I’ll have to explain everything when they arrive. I’m not looking forward to it. In their eyes the sun sets and rises according to Aurora’s whim.”

  “It’s time their eyes were opened, unless…no, it would be insanity.”

  Brandon eyed his brother suspiciously. “What would be insanity?” He was immediately sorry he asked, because he recognized the gleam in Cody’s eyes. Brandon had seen it often enough when Cody was younger and dogging his every footstep, planning some scrape from which he invariably extracted himself while Brandon took the brunt of the punishment.

  Cody said, “I take it you have some feeling for Paul and Michaeline, that you wish to spare them knowing Aurora for what she really is?”

  “That’s part of it, yes. Paul’s health has been failing of late, and Michaeline has always been delicate. What would it serve to disillusion them now?”

  “They might think you are the villain of this piece, that you gave Aurora sufficient reason to go.”

  “And I’m selfish enough not to want them thinking ill of me.”

  Cody nodded in agreement. “With good reason. There’s Clara to think of. They might wish to take her away.” Brandon’s reaction was all Cody had hoped for. The color in his face had vanished. “But it needn’t come to that,” he suggested quickly. “Not with Shannon here.”

  Brandon’s features took on a measure of disbelief. He shook his head slowly. “Even you could not be so cork-brained as to think that Shannon—”

  “Can take Aurora’s place!” Cody said triumphantly.

  “That’s insane.”

  “I believe I mentioned that.”

  “And promptly set me up to consider it the only alternative I have.”

  “Saw straight through me, did you?” Cody laughed. “You’re up to every trick, Bran. So? Are you going to ask Shannon to help you?”

  Brandon turned his mount around. “Let me think on it, Cody.” He gave the horse a nudge with his heels and started back to the folly.

  “You only have a fortnight. Bran,” Cody called after him. “To turn a garden snake into a viper! Don’t think too long on it!”

  Brandon merely shook his head. The comparison was hardly fair to Shannon, though it suited Aurora well enough. Still, it was something to consider, and Brandon considered it the entire distance to the house. By the time he reached the kitchen, his decision was made.

  Clara was pounding bread dough at Oplas’s side. She merely glanced up when her father came through the door and then returned to her kneading.

  Brandon flicked her curls and noticed his palm came away with a dusting of flour. He brushed off his hands. “I’m sorry about the riding lesson, Clara. We’ll work again tomorrow. Where is Miss Kilmartin?” When Clara didn’t answer, he addressed his question to the cook.

  “She’s dressin’ fo’ dinner, suh.” She smiled her gap-toothed smile. “The little one here, she sho’ knows how to hold a grudge.”

  Brandon winked at Oplas. “Perhaps it would make a difference if you told her that little lemon-faces don’t get riding lessons.” Ignoring Clara’s cry of alarm as his words registered, Brandon continued down the hallway and mounted the stairs two at a time.

  Shannon was reaching absently for a cloth to wash her face when she heard the knock at her door. She supposed she should have expected Clara’s interruption. Oplas could only tolerate so much confusion in her kitchen before shooing the child elsewhere. She lowered herself blissfully into the tub of hot water. “Come in, Clara.”

  Brandon opened the door, stepping inside before he realized he had not chosen an opportune moment. “I’m not Clar—” He gaped at Shannon.

  Shannon sat up in surprise, immediately saw the error of her ways as Brandon’s eyes fell to her uncovered breasts, and let out a shriek.

  “Oh, Jesus!” Brandon retreated into the hallway, slamming the door behind him.

  Mortified, Shannon slid a little deeper in the water and considered the practicalities of drowning herself before she recalled that he had twice rescued her before.

  Brandon leaned against the door. His heart was thudding painfully in his chest, caused either by seeing Shannon naked in the tub or hearing her scream. Martha was already puffing down the corridor, looking extremely militant.

  “What did you do to that chile,
Master Bran?” she demanded. “I never heard the likes before.”

  Brandon straightened and placed his hands on Martha’s stiff shoulders, smoothing her ruffled feathers. “It was a mistake, nothing more. If you will tell Miss Kilmartin that I desire to see her in the library when she is finished with her bath, I would be grateful.”

  “Bath? How you know she’s takin’ a bath?” But Martha was asking questions to the air. Brandon was already on his way downstairs.

  Once he was in the library, Brandon started to pour himself a drink, then thought better of it. She’d never listen to him if she thought he’d been drinking. He paced the floor, testing different approaches. “You’ll think I’ve taken leave of my senses, Shannon, but I’d like you to—” No. It wouldn’t work. She’d know soon enough he hadn’t any sense, why point it out to her? “As you’re aware, Shannon, you bear an uncanny resemblance to my—” No, that was more stupid than the other. Mayhap an appeal to the part of her that loved Clara would be more the thing. “Shannon, I’m afraid Aurora’s parents might try to take my daughter from me.” He’d probably have to revive her from a faint if he took that approach. He tried again.

  There was no answer to her knock, but Shannon could hear Brandon inside. Talking to himself? It made her smile. She twisted the handle and stepped into the room.

  Brandon was looking at the floor. “I want you to be my wife, Shannon. Or rather, I want—” He stopped as he heard the library door click into place. Shannon was leaning against it, very pale. Brandon ran his fingers through his hair, trying to think of something to say. It was obvious she had heard him and the thought of being his wife was totally repugnant to her.

  Brandon heaved a sigh. “Come in, Shannon.” He motioned to a chair. “You’ve heard the worst. You can take heart that it would only be for a short while, a month at most.”

  Shannon eased herself into a brocade wing chair. “A—a m-month?” she stammered. “I don’t understand. Why would you want me to marry you for a month?” Was he amusing himself at her expense? It seemed out of character.

  Brandon leaned against his desk, hitching one leg on the top. “I’m afraid I have put this badly. You surprised me in the middle of the rehearsal.” He tapped one hand on his knee, realizing that he had done nothing to ease Shannon’s confusion. “Let me try again. I require your assistance. I would not ask it of you if there were another solution, but I cannot find one. This particular solution would not have presented itself if it were not for your striking resemblance to Aurora.”

  “Perhaps it would be better if you told me the nature of the problem,” she said quietly. “Has it something to do with the post you received earlier?”

  Brandon smiled and breathed a little easier. “Yes. I was afraid you would not hear me out. The thing’s a veritable coil. My wife’s parents are going to descend upon the folly in a fortnight. They are lovely people, and in other circumstances I would welcome them without hesitation. But Aurora’s absence puts things in a different perspective. You see, they’re not aware of it.”

  Shannon was slowly regaining her composure, in part because Brandon was so uncharacteristically ill at ease that she felt she had to maintain a certain levelheadedness. “Actually, I don’t think I do see.”

  “I never told them Aurora eloped with Parker. He’s my half brother,” he added as an afterthought.

  “Yes, I know. You mentioned him to me once before. When I first arrived at the folly and you thought I was Aurora.”

  “Well, I don’t want to tell them what Aurora has done. My decision has nothing to do with my feelings for Aurora and everything to do with my feelings for her parents. The only crime they ever committed, if one can even name it that, was in loving their daughter to the point where they lost all control over her. They spoiled her, giving no thought to the consequences. Aurora had never been denied anything she wanted until she came to the folly as my wife.” He paused, his face bleak as he looked away from Shannon and toward the window. His laughter was self-conscious and mocking. “And you can see what happened when I stood in her way once too often.” He shrugged, turning back to Shannon. “No matter. Paul and Michaeline need never know of our discord. Aurora and I managed to keep it from them when they visited on other occasions.”

  “I don’t see how—”

  Brandon ignored her interruption. “Without Aurora here, Cody fears Paul and Michaeline may try to take Clara from me.”

  Shannon was appalled. “They wouldn’t!”

  “I do not think they would either,” he agreed, pausing significantly. “No matter the provocation, they would not take a daughter from her father.”

  Shannon drew in her breath sharply as his meaning struck her.

  His dark glance was bitter. “You do remember.”

  “You once said that Clara was not your daughter.”

  “I would never have said it if I had known who you were. I thought Aurora was making her nasty point once again.”

  “Then you have only Aurora’s word that you are not the father.”

  “Yes, it’s rather a dilemma,” he said, trying for lightness. “Is she lying to hurt me or telling the truth to hurt me? One can never be sure with Aurora.” He smiled a little crookedly. “But you see, it really is of no import any longer. Clara is my daughter.” His voice dropped as a confession was torn from him. “At first I loved her to spite my wife, then I simply came to love her.”

  Shannon stood and approached Brandon. She laid a hand on his arm, the first time she had willingly touched him since the afternoon at the river. “Anyone can see that you care deeply for Clara.” She wanted to say it was what she loved about him, his caring for a child that may not be his. From her own experience she would not have suspected such a thing was possible. But on the subject of loving him she remained silent, secreting her thoughts inside her heart. “I—I care for her also,” she said. And you. “What is it that you would have me do?”

  Brandon laid his hand over Shannon’s. “Pretend to be Aurora. Pretend to be my wife.”

  “And what if your wife should suddenly appear?”

  “She has been gone nine months. No doubt she has happily retired to Parker’s plantation near Charleston. I cannot envision her returning suddenly.”

  “Parker’s plantation? But I thought—”

  Brandon removed his hand and leaned back on the desk a little. He shifted his legs just enough so that Shannon was trapped lightly between them. He gave her a considering look. “You’ve heard just enough about Parker to reach the conclusion that he was my poor bastard brother, no prospects, no name, and that Aurora’s leaving was a desperate romantic gesture. Is that something close to what you thought?”

  Shannon nodded, nonplussed. She was even more bewildered when he laughed a moment later with every indication that he was genuinely amused.

  “I shall tell you everything you want to know about Parker Grant, though I assure you, it’s a tedious story. But not now.” With a quicksilver mood change he was serious again. “Now I would like an answer to my question. Will you take Aurora’s place for the duration of her parents’ visit?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even though it will mean returning to her room?” he pointed out gently. “The room that adjoins mine?” That shook her, and Brandon was immediately sorry for mentioning it. He was trying to plead his case, not damn himself. “I’m sorry, Shannon. Aurora and I have had no real marriage for years. The lock and key were originally her idea. You, of course, will use them. Indeed, if your impersonation of Aurora is as good as it must be, you won’t have to worry that I’ll ever test that barrier.” That apparently set her mind at ease because she was smiling, albeit a trifle uncertainly, at him.

  “Are you sure this is what you want to do?” she asked.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Have you thought of Clara?”

  “I wouldn’t be asking this of you if I hadn’t.”

  “No, I mean have you considered what her reaction will be to this piece of p
retense? She has a very important part in this.“’

  “I think Clara will see it as a game.”

  “I wouldn’t want her hurt.”

  “Neither would I. It is precisely what I am trying to prevent.”

  “And you believe this is necessary?”

  “Would you ask me to take the chance that it isn’t?”

  “No.”

  “Shannon, I have no clear idea what the Marchands would do if they came and found Aurora gone. I don’t believe they would condone her leaving me, but they may think I gave her ample reason to go. And what of Clara? Do I allow them to think I kept her from her mother, or give them the truth that Aurora wanted nothing to do with her? Will they even believe me? Then there is the matter of Clara’s appearance.” He spread his hand expansively, pointing to the portraits hanging on two walls of the library. “You must have noticed these. Generations of ancestors. Does Clara bear the faintest resemblance to any of them?”

  Shannon had noticed them, and she had to agree. There was nothing to indicate Clara came from the Fleming line. She would have liked to show him her locket, but without it she realized how stupid it would sound to say that Clara looked like her own mother. And inconsequential. It would hardly put Brandon’s fears to rest. “Many children do not take after their fathers.”

  “But neither does Clara resemble her mother or any of her mother’s family.” He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “It is neither here nor there. I just sometimes wonder…I would not like it if the Marchands began to have similar thoughts.”

  “Surely if they think so highly of Aurora, they would have no reason to suspect she had an…an affair.”

  “That’s true enough.” He lifted Shannon’s hand, turning it over in his. “Do you think I am making too much of nothing? Perhaps you think it would be better if I told them the truth and hoped for the best?”

  “I don’t know.” She carefully withdrew her hand and stepped past the circle of Brandon’s legs. “It hasn’t been long since you discovered they were coming. If you still feel the same way on the morrow, then I’ll help you.” She excused herself as quietly as she had entered.