Microsoft Word - Jenny dreamed

by kps

  The stately and regal residence of Venezuela's president sat back from the street, surrounded by tall acacia trees, its many, wooden-grilled windows emitting a warm, golden spill of light as the elite of Caracas mantuanos, the so-called "mantle-bearers" of its Creole aristocrats, gathered to enjoy another of their leader's always lavish evenings of entertainment. The cab driver's effusive and awed "Gracias, Senor ... muchas gracias!" told Dev that he had paid too much for the short trip from the house, and as the liveried doorman escorted him inside, turning Dev over to the head steward's care, he had even more reason to regret the fact that he had not chosen to accompany Jenny and Adam to the ball.

  He had no invitation, and there was a few minutes' fuss as the steward and butler tried to decide how to handle the situation without offending Dev. Dev mentioned Warrener's name, and a servant was dispatched to find him. After only a few minutes' wait, Dev was rescued by an apologetic Adam. "Glad to see you're feeling better, m'boy," Adam said, and when Dev gave him a puzzled look, explained, "Lady Jennifer said you'd been taken ill ... a cold, isn't it? A nasty time of the year for one, but then you look like you're recovering!"

  "Thanks," Dev replied dryly, musing over the excuse Jenny had given for his absence. "Ah ...

  speaking of Lady Jennifer, where is my dear wife now?" They had come to the entrance of the ballroom, and couples were sweeping past them in a blur of bright colors.

  Just as Adam was about to say that he'd lost track of her, Jenny whirled by, gracefully dancing to the lively beat of a polka. Wynn Courtland held her, his sandy-haired head thrown back in laughter at something amusing Jenny had said. "Well, how ... fortunate," Adam commented, taking in the way DeV' was staring after the couple, his chin set obstinately, the ticking of a pulse in his throat indicating he was upset. That was all he'd need, for Jared's son-in-law to upset the apple cart by taking a punch at Courtland. He was one of the few men capable of handling the search, who knew the terrain and spoke the native dialects as well as Spanish and English.

  The dance was only half over. To head off trouble before it broke, Adam suggested Dev come to the refreshment table and have a drink With him. "Come on, Devlan, I'd like to hear more about how you and Jennifer met." He threw his arm around Dev's shoulders, diplomatically guiding him away from the trouble spot. When they each had a drink in hand, he found a quiet place for them to stand, out of the way of the crowded dance floor, and confided that he'd once been in love with Jenny's mother. Dev listened to Adam with only a pretense of interest. So far his temper was in control, but he was working toward an eruption of all the anger and frustration that had been building since they'd come on this ridiculous search for a dead man. What, he wondered, had Jenny said to make Courtland laugh? What kind of things had the man been saying to her? Was this their first dance or one of many they'd shared? The idea of Courtland having his arms around his Jenny, his wife, made Dev burn with a need to hit out at ... something. But even if he eventually got over his anger, Dev knew that if he caused a scene here, in front of everyone who was someone in Caracas society, Jenny would never forgive him. "Do me a favor," he asked now, making an excuse that he'd misjudged his "cold" and wasn't feeling well again. "Don't tell Jen-" His voice broke off suddenly in mid-sentence and Adam frowned as he followed the direction of his stare. The music had stopped, and Jenny and Courtland paused by the open doors leading to a garden-patio lit by hanging lanterns. Just as Adam glanced over, they made an exit, Jenny fanning herself briskly from the exertion of dancing, Courtland bending his head to say something to her. Dev found his voice again, trying not to betray the bitterness that was strangling his throat. "Don't tell my wife I was here," he continued, placing his glass on the tray carried by a passing servant. "I'd rather she continued to have a good time."

  Adam managed to mumble an understanding reply, telling him to go home and take care of the cold, but his expression was worried as he watched Dev stalk off down the hall. There was no doubt in his mind that Jennifer would eventually find out. The young man she'd married was trouble looking for a place to happen. The only thing Adam could hope was that Dev didn't pick a fight in a place where he was outnumbered.

  Outside, Jenny found the cool night air, scented by the many night-blooming tropical blossoms, a refreshing change from the stuffy atmosphere of the crowded ballroom. Still the cool air did little to quell the hot resentment that had been building during the course of the evening. The kid sale of her satin-slippered foot tapped on the red tiles of the courtyard, its beat of irritation successfully hidden by the yards of voluminous cream-colored damaskin that made up her skirt.

  The dress had been the envy of many a well-tumed-out young woman at tonight's affair.

  Jenny had arrived in Caracas with no formal gown, but she had engaged the most exclusive seamstress in the city to produce one of Jenny's own design. Two straps of black velvet braid secured the sleeveless bodice and trimmed the low, V-cut neckline, leading the viewer's eye to the tempting curves of Jenny's full, swelling bosom and further, to a waist that was fashionably slender without the need of a constricting whalebone corset.

  Draped beneath her waist, an overskirt of matching material formed an apron whose graceful folds were drawn back to a bustle and a long, formal train. A single flounce of black velvet finished the wide, sweeping hem-line, adding just the right touch of softness to an otherwise starkly simple gown. Isa had outdone herself in arranging Jenny's hair, anxious that her mistress should be able to hold her head up with the dignity she deserved. The long, heavy waves of glistening black were drawn up from her face to form a crown of curls, leaving the long, graceful column of her neck exposed. Her only jewelry was a single cameo, threaded on a narrow ribbon of black velvet that circled her throat.

  As she fanned herself furiously, letting the pent-up energy of the long, frustrating night escape in the action, Courtland leaned against the garden wall, watching her expression closely, as he had all evening. Jenny found her instinctive dislike for him increasing with each minute that passed while he continued to study her. He reminded her of a wolf, powerfully built, menacing and predatory-a cunning and very cautious animal disguised in the clothing and manners of a gentleman.'

  Think of something pleasant, she commanded herself silently. With a wistful smile she thought of Dev, of how she should make it up to him for the way she'd snapped and stomped out of the bedroom in such a hurry. She hadn't paid him the attention he deserved lately. If they had a serious split between themselves it would be her fault. Thus far the evening Jenny had expected would settle their problems had turned out to be a bore ...

  nothing beyond the ordinary. Blanco did not want to discuss affairs of state at his home; the evening was a waste. If she had stayed home with Dev, she would have been wrapped in his arms and at least that comfort would have staved off the uncertainty she was feeling now.

  Baring a flash of even white teeth, Courtland grinned and interrupted Jenny's preoccupation.

  "Dare I think that the sweet, fleeting smile that graced your features a moment past was for me, Lady Jennifer?" For the first time in a while Wynn was unsure of himself with a woman.

  The unexpected self-assurance of Lord Bryant's young daughter left him guessing as to his effect on her. Most women found him charming and quite attractive.

  "You may dare to think so, Mr. Courtland, but in truth I was thinking of someone entirely different ... as different from you as night is from day!" Jenny replied coldly. He was conceited and vain, this man her father had hired, and Jenny was in no mood to coddle his vanity just because he was important to the expedition.

  "You're referring, of course, to the absent Mr. Cantrell," Wynn answered smoothly, refusing to let the haughty tone of Jennifer Bryant's voice stir him to a like response. "I find it surprising that he didn't attend tonight. From what I've seen, the two of you are nearly inseparable." He didn't like Devlan Cantrell, wasn't sure just how much influence he had over Miss Bryant, and fully expected that they would be at each other's
throats the entire trip.

  "And I find it annoying that you would even speculate about my relationship with Devlan,"

  Jenny snapped back, irritably closing her black lace fan with a click. "It is not your place to comment on my personal life," she added, raising her head with a challenge, "and I believe it is in your best interests to remember that at all times . . that is, if we're to get on with the business you've been hired to oversee!"

  Courtland nodded with a slight bow that was, at once, deferential and mocking. "I have been put in my place, Lady Jennifer, and will try my humble best to remember my position as your

  ... employee. Despite the fact that I've never had to work with a woman in command before now, I shall try to adjust." He smiled, partly to soften the sarcasm of his words, partly to show her that he was still in charge, no matter what she might think.

  Jenny returned his smile. If they were going to play a game of words to determine supremacy, it would not be she who lost. "Do try and adjust then, Mr. Courtland," she suggested softly. "I would hate to think you'd come all the way from England simply for a vacation. As for dealing with a mere woman ... why not consider it as expanding the horizons of your knowledge? Even the most obstinate mule must learn to budge a little bit, given the proper incentive, of course. And I believe the generous salary you are being paid should be a potent balm for any wounds to your manly pride."

  Wynn Courtland was no longer smiling. He was beginning to realize that Jennifer Bryant was not the piece of fluff he'd first considered her. There were brains in that lovely head of hers and a strong, independent will that easily matched any of the gentlemen who'd employed him in the past. "I stand corrected, m'lady, and eagerly await any orders you might have," he retorted caustically.

  "I'm glad we finally understand each other, sir," Jenny answered, then her voice softened as she gave a weary sigh. "I ... though I meant what I said, Mr. Courtland, I did not mean to sound so belligerent about it. I'm afraid I've been rather out of sorts lately, with the waiting and delay in our permits. This whole thing, the possibility that my husband is alive after I had accepted the fact of his death, has been a nightmare. Please ... couldn't you try to talk with General Blanco once more tonight. You have no idea how relieved I'd be-"

  "Say no more, Miss Bryant," Wynn interrupted, stirred to sympathy by the distress reflected in her face.

  "I'll escort you inside now, leave you in Mr. Warrener's care, and see what I can do. I'm anxious myself to get started with the search; if we're delayed much longer, the good weather will not last long enough for an adequate search of the area."

  He moved to take her arm, but Jenny pulled back.

  "No, please-I'd rather stay out here and wait." She opened her fan again and fluttered it, catching the orchid-scented evening breeze. "I'll be fine, I'm sure. You might ask Adam ... Mr.

  Warrener to come out if he has a moment." Courtland seemed to hesitate at leaving her alone, and she again assured him she would be fine until he returned. "And with good news, I hope," she added with a tentative smile.

  Courtland bowed, catching her hand to raise it to bis lips as he pressed a light, gallant kiss there. "If it were up to me, m'lady,"you'd have had your permits at the first request. As it is, I will pursue El Presidente with the determination of a hound after the fox. The permits ate as good as issued or I'll resign and let a worthier champion fight your cause." He was rewarded by a softening of Jenny's worried expression, and as he turned to re-enter the ballroom, Wynn found himself amused at the unaccustomed and ardent gallantry the Bryant girl had inspired in him. Little wonder that Cantrell was so possessive of her; Jennifer Bryant was a woman any man would long for, a prize worth fighting over, and it briefly entered his mind now that he just might give Cantrell a run for his money.

  Almost two hours later Jenny returned home, her spirits riding high on the promise obtained from General Blanco that he would clear the way for the travel permits to be issued within the next few days. She had sat in the garden, alone except for an occasional couple who strolled by in the romantic setting, for almost a half-hour, brooding over the fight with Dev, wondering why Adam had not come out to talk with her. Just when she had decided to join the crowd again in a search for him, he had appeared at the door, Wynn Courtland on his one side, the Presidente on the other.

  Jenny recovered quickly from her surprise, rising as the gentlemen approached and dropping a neatly executed curtsey as she was introduced. Blanco had actually apologized for any'

  inconvenience she'd suffered, explaining, "We have grown accustomed, in this warm, temperate climate, to a slower pace of life, Senora. What seemed like a thousand obstacles in the path of your desired goal was merely the routine manner of handling matters in our little democracy." His government was hardly a democracy, but Jenny was not inclined to correct him when he promised he would personally see that she was granted whatever assistance was needed.

  Blanco was not the most charming man she'd met in Caracas, but Jenny was so thrilled to have the irritating business out of the way that she listened patiently to a twenty-minute monologue on how difficult it was to be a great leader of people and even endured several dances with the Presidente. Despite the fact that he was overly attentive and admiring in a way she found annoying, Jenny had actually agreed to lunch with him within the week.

  It was nearly midnight when Adam saw her to the door of the small, pleasantly furnished casa he had secured for her stay in Caracas. Isa had answered the door and curtseyed. When Jenny asked whether Dev was still awake, she was puzzled, explaining that she'd expected him to arrive home with Jenny herself. Not half an hour after Jenny had left, Isa told her, he had dressed in his formal evening wear and left the house.

  Jenny was obviously taken aback by the news, and to save her further embarassment, Adam offered a somewhat lame excuse for Dev. "We probably missed him in the crowd, m'dear.

  There were so many people milling about. I shouldn't worry if I were you; no doubt he'll be home soon." Then, remembering the pretense she'd employed earlier to excuse Dev's absence, he added, "Ah … he probably felt much better after we'd already left for the ball, didn't want to disappoint you by staying home." Suddenly Adam realized he was sinking deeper into a long, involved explanation. If he explained much more, he'd end up divulging the fact that he'd talked to Dev at the party.

  Jenny stared after Adam as he hurried down the tiled pathway to the front gate and his waiting carriage, puzzled by his abrupt, almost curt farewell and by his anxious excuses for Dev's mysterious actions. What on earth was going on, she thought as Isa closed the front door behind her and took the shawl from her mistress's hand. "Isa?' she asked, turning to face the maid with a gaze that was suddenly clear of the preoccupied air with which she'd entered the house. "Was my husband in an angry mood when he left? Did he say anything at all?"

  Isa hesitated, and Jenny was even more mystified. "He did not seem angry or happy, mi Dona," the girl replied. She shrugged her shoulders, unable to offer more, thought for a second, and then offered, "He did look ... determined. You know the look, Dona Jena-when a man sets out with a purpose in mind, something he must see to?" Jenny sighed, worried now. Still, her anxiety was not something to share with Isa. "Well, we will know when he comes back. You can go to bed, Isa. The senor has a key. I'll wait up for him. I'm sure there's a good reason for his absence." The lamp was still lit when Dev entered the bedroom, but its oil was low, and in its flickering light, his shadow on the white stucco walls loomed large and distorted. It was three hours past midnight, and though he'd consumed a great quantity of rum, brawled his way through two cantinas, and Was sporting a blackened eye as proof of it, his ill-temper had not been dispelled. Even if he'd felt sheepish about his inebriated carousing, which he definitely did not, Dev would have had a hard time crossing the room without wakening his wife. His stride was uneven, his memory of the specific placement of the furniture hazy, his eyes bloodshot and vision blurred. Halfway across the room it seemed that a fo
ot-stool jumped out to trip him, and Dev kicked it away with a loud curse as he made his way through the jungle of claw-footed chairs and tables to the side of the bed.

  Jenny stared up at Dev in horror, startled awake by his vehement curse. A short, blood-encrusted cut marked his left cheek, though it was difficult to discern against the purple, swelling flesh around his eye. There was a tear on the right shoulder of his black evening coat, the smears of blood blurred by some other, amber-colored liquid.

  Rum! The heavy, sweet smell of rum assaulted her senses as Dev leaned close and focused on her face, then asked, "I s'pose you had a good time at the ball?"

  When Jenny raised her hand to touch his bruised cheek, Dev batted her hand away. "Dev ...

  where have you been all this time?" Jenny pleaded, ignoring the rough blow that struck her wrist. "I ... I fell asleep waiting … worrying and wondering what could have kept youl" Then Jenny remembered the news she'd brought home and told him they'd be able to leave within the week. "Or doesn't that mean anything to you?"

  Dev sat heavily on the bed. His blackened eye was beginning to throb now that the effects of the liquor were wearing off. He was in no mood to listen to anything concerning Rodrigo.

  Again Jenny asked where he'd been, and he raised his head and snarled, "Out celebratin' ...

  what else would I be doing on my birthday? Course you were too busy to notice. I saw you dancing and laughing with that son-of-a-bitch Courtland! For somebody who forced herself to attend out of necessity, you sure were havin' a good time."

  Jenny was stunned and mortified to realize she'd passed up his birthday, without any kind of celebration or notice. No wonder he'd wanted to stay home tonight. She'd been so awfully stubborn about going, but there was no use apologizing now; in his present frame of mind he would listen to nothing reasonable. "Dev ... darling, why don't we discuss this in the morning?" she suggested in a calm, soothing tone. "We're both tired and-"