“The family jewels, ma petite,” he murmured with a wicked look. “They once belonged to my mother, and in answer to your next question, no, Celeste will not mind. She has never worn these. She has her own jewels. These were kept by my father, with the intention that one of his sons would give them to his wife. But since I have no wife, and there happens to be a very beautiful woman here dressed in red velvet, why…what could be more perfect?”
Mara turned around, her fingertips lightly touching the cold stones pressing into her flushed skin. “I don’t understand. Why should you wish to have me wear them?” she asked faintly. Then, noticing how well the ruby necklace went with her gown, she glanced up at him in confusion. “And how did you know I would be wearing red? I almost wore my turquoise gown.”
Nicholas smiled indulgently. “I think I know you better than you know yourself, my dear. I suspected you might pull out that red velvet creation which seems to haunt our lives. When you feel threatened, you always lash out at something, or someone. That red dress seems to represent rebellion for you.”
Mara glared up at him, knowing he was right. “So?”
Nicholas laughed. “So, I’m at least thankful it happens to be a beautiful gown and not a pair of breeches you slip into when you feel the need to get rid of some of your frustrations,” he said silkily, his fingers tracing a delicate pattern across the curve of breast above her gown. “It’s extraordinary, but you seem to grow more beautiful each day. Surely I should grow tired of seeing you in this gown, but oddly enough, I don’t.” His eyelids grew heavy and his mouth suddenly lowered. His lips took hers in a kiss that seemed almost punishing. Mara’s mouth clung to his as she wrapped her slender arms around his neck and savored the contact. It seemed so long since they had last kissed so deeply and completely, but suddenly the remembrance of what a kiss like this usually led to, and what the end result of Nicholas’s lovemaking was leading to for her, caused Mara to free herself and jerk out of his arms.
Nicholas’s irritated glance followed her velvet-clad figure across the room, noticing her nervousness as she sorted through her gloves and studiously avoided looking at him.
“I’m not sure I shall accompany you this evening. I’m not feeling well,” she spoke suddenly.
“I see I haven’t completely persuaded you from your fit of temper. We must soon discuss this tiresome tendency of yours. Shall I meet you downstairs in, say, ten minutes?” Nicholas ordered softly. When she nodded, he gave her a puzzled look and left the room.
***
The rains had let up as their carriage made its way from Beaumarais to Sandrose along the seldom used road between the two great plantations. Celeste had declined to attend but had allowed Nicole to accompany them. Wearing her best party dress of white silk tulle embroidered with tiny flowers and tied with a red ribbon belt, her red satin dancing slippers tapping constantly on the floor of the carriage, she kept up a continual chatter, uncaring that no one bothered to answer her. Etienne, acting as chaperone, sat back in his corner of the carriage in patient silence, making a comment only when politeness decreed. Nicholas, on the other hand, didn’t feel so inclined, and maintained his silence until the carriage turned up the drive to Sandrose, the team of horses slowing their pace as they neared the house.
To Mara, seeing it for the first time, Sandrose looked as if it had risen out of the swamps like a giant crab. It appeared to squat grotesquely on its many brick pilings, the flickering torches along the drive casting giant shadows over the narrow, two-storied structure. Light poured forth from the many French windows across the galleried front of the house, while faint strains of music and voices could be heard floating down from the high veranda encircling it.
Liveried servants lined the steep flight of steps to the double-doored entrance. As Nicholas escorted her inside, Mara glanced up at him, curious of his reaction to seeing Amaryllis. But his face was expressionless except for that sardonic smile.
Mara’s cape was spirited away and she found herself standing beside Nicholas beneath the warm glow of the hundreds of candles burning brightly in the wall sconces and crystal chandeliers overhead. A grand staircase, the banister decorated with trailing roses, stretched up to the second floor and was crowded with giggling, gossiping young girls rushing up and down from the privacy of dressing rooms provided for their preening.
“Nicholas!” Amaryllis’s cool voice greeted them as she swept toward them in an elegant gown of turquoise, the bright color of her hair no less a shining gold than the brocaded silk threads in her dress. A spray of diamonds sparkled in her soft curls, while matching necklace and earrings adorned her pale, white throat and ears. Suddenly Mara was thankful for her borrowed rubies.
“I was beginning to wonder if you had lost your way, or perhaps your nerve,” she pouted as she slid her arm into Nicholas’s. “Bon soir. Etienne. Nicole, how charmingly sweet you are looking, my child,” she greeted them, her praise effectively stripping Nicole of her confidence. She saw herself now as a mere schoolgirl beside Amaryllis’s sophisticated elegance.
“Everyone is absolutely dying to see who my special guest is, for no one knows you have returned, mon cher. It really will be priceless. Oh, you must meet Edward,” she said suddenly as she caught sight of a man standing hesitantly in the doorway, watching them intently. At her imperious gesture he came forward. “This is Edward Ashford, a very good friend of the family,” she introduced him. As Amaryllis hesitated slightly over the introduction, Mara noticed the surprised look on Edward Ashford’s face.
He was shorter and stockier than Nicholas, and older. The receding hairline was beginning to show traces of gray. In another five years he would be quite bejowled, but there was an irrepressible twinkle in his brown eyes as he greeted them with a broad smile and extended his hand in welcome to Nicholas. But Mara thought the twinkle dimmed slightly as he registered the name.
“Nicholas de Montaigne-Chantale?” he repeated. “Of Beaumarais?” he asked almost dumbly, and Mara felt an instant’s pity for this man, now faced with the realization that he could never compete against Nicholas for Amaryllis. Mara could see it was a very bitter pill.
“Yes,” Nicholas replied with a smile of pure enjoyment, his green eyes showing a devilish gleam. “Didn’t Amaryllis tell you that I returned just in time to ruin her plans to purchase my home? I’m afraid I’ve inconvenienced her greatly.”
“No, Amaryllis neglected to tell me,” Edward Ashford answered slowly. “But then, I’ve just arrived today from New Orleans, and what with all her party plans, I suppose she forgot.” He said this with a shrug, but there was reproof in his face as he glanced at Amaryllis. “Of course, I’ve never quite understood her desire to buy your plantation when she has a fine one of her own. The land, yes. But the house? No, that I can’t understand,” Edward said with an indulgent smile at Amaryllis. “But then, I’m a hardheaded businessman who never lets sentimentality rule my mind.”
“Ashford?” Nicholas pondered for a second. “The banker?”
Edward Ashford beamed proudly. “One and the same. Opened one in St. Louis last year, and making plans for one in Natchez next year. I’ll have a whole string of banks along the Mississippi one day.” Mara now realized why he might indeed be a successful businessman, for his genial and mild-mannered outward appearance actually masked a deceptive strength and quick mind, the gentle brown eyes missing nothing.
“You shall have to begin to court Nicholas, Edward,” Etienne said with a sly smile of amusement at the banker’s sharpening interest. He explained, “Nicholas has returned from California a very wealthy man. But I don’t suppose your banks would have room for all his gold, eh?”
“You’ve recently come from California, Monsieur de Montaigne-Chantale?” Edward inquired with keen curiosity, his opinion of this particular Creole undergoing a quick revision. Here was a man who actually had money in his pocket. “I would be interested in discussing your adventure, m’sieu—especially if you tell it truthfully and without making it
sound too exciting,” Edward pleaded with a suffering smile, “for I have been trying for over two years now to talk my young brother out of sailing for California.”
“I’m afraid a man must find that out for himself, Monsieur Ashford,” Nicholas told him dryly, “for the lust for gold and adventure burns too strong to be extinguished by words.”
“Well, you must speak with him anyway,” Ashford continued. “And please, call me Edward,” he invited with an ingratiating grin. “I do hope we might find the time to discuss your financial situation. I know of several investments you might be interested in, and of course,” he added as if the thought had just come to him, “if you are newly arrived here in Louisiana, you’ll want to open an account. I think you and I could come to a mutually satisfying agreement.”
“Please, Monsieur Ashford,” Nicholas replied with a dismissive look. “I wouldn’t dream of insulting my hostess, or the ladies, by engaging in business while being so graciously entertained. I think Nicole grows impatient standing here while she sees her friends dancing in the other room. Shall we join the others?” he inquired softly, his manner stopping any further mention of business.
“Oh, Edward, you’ve not met Mademoiselle O’Flynn,” Amaryllis quickly eased the tension, but her pale blue eyes seemed to reflect the hardness of the diamonds around her throat when she noticed for the first time the rubies glowing against Mara’s breast.
“No, I’ve not had that pleasure, mademoiselle,” Edward returned gallantly as he bent over her hand. “And I doubt whether there has ever been a lovelier beauty than yours to grace the parishes of Louisiana,” he complimented as he assessed her in a single sweep, no doubt setting her worth as his pudgy hand lingered against hers for just a second too long.
Amaryllis frowned with displeasure at his fulsome flattery. She caught sight of an attractive man making his way toward the group, and with a smile of triumph that widened into one of excessive welcome, she reached out and captured his arm, turning his attention to Mara O’Flynn.
“You’ve not met Edward’s brother. Carson Ashford,” Amaryllis declared as she maneuvered him closer to the red velvet figure, “this is Mara O’Flynn, and she’s been to California. You must get her to tell you all about it. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I must introduce Nicholas to the rest of my guests. Come along, mon cher,” Amaryllis neatly separated the group, leaving Mara to handle the ardent glow in Carson Ashford’s brown eyes.
After only a moment’s conversation with him Mara had concluded with unerring accuracy that the man was a pretentious boor who was long overdue for a crushing set-down. Mara raised an eyebrow superciliously as he touched her arm with familiarity and handed her a glass of champagne. His eyes roved over her bare shoulders with speculation.
“And here I was envying ol’ Edward,” he said with a leer, “but ma’am, you make Amaryllis pale by comparison. Is it true that you’ve actually been out to California? Heard tell there aren’t many women out there, excepting for some sunbonnets. Meaning no offense, mademoiselle,” Carson said with an odious little smile, “but you sure don’t look like any pioneer woman I’ve ever seen! I don’t believe I saw who accompanied you here this evening, ma’am?” he inquired. His eyes never left her face, letting her know that he had every intention of becoming her escort for the evening.
“With that man over there,” Mara said lazily, nodding her sleek head in the direction of Nicholas.
Carson glanced around carelessly, but as his eyes came into contact with the green eyes staring so intently at him from across the room, the bluster and swagger seemed to escape him like hot air from a deflated balloon.
While he stood there looking stricken, Mara made her escape and wandered off into a crowd milling aimlessly around the room. Nicole was holding court and gossiping with a group of her contemporaries on a sofa in the corner of the parlor while, across the room, Mara caught sight of Etienne’s silver head bent attentively over a bejeweled woman who seemed to be holding a one-sided conversation.
Although Sandrose was not near so beautiful and gracious an establishment as Beaumarais, it had been better maintained. The rugs were obviously new, their colors still bright. The wallpaper was not faded. There was a feeling of gloss over everything in the room. Undeniably it was an elegant room, but not one that exuded warmth. Vases of exotic blooms filled the mantel and tables and blended with the heavy scent of many perfumes. Across the wide hallway Mara could see couples dancing in the ballroom where the orchestra played a gentle waltz. Mara steered clear of the small groups of laughing, chatting young matrons, the disapproving dowagers seated in chairs along the sides of the room as they kept watch over their granddaughters or over stray males who emerged from the smoke-filled study where the gentlemen had gathered to drink and joke. Mara contented herself with sampling some of the hors d’oeuvres being passed around by the waiters and sipping her champagne as she watched with the objective interest of an outsider the various dramas being enacted around the room. Mara had just finished a small, hot patty filled with oysters when she felt someone beside her and looked up to see Nicholas smiling sardonically down at her.
“You seem to find something amusing, my dear,” he commented softly.
“I should really be grateful to you for bringing me this evening. I’ve always wondered how the other half lived,” Mara remarked mockingly, a look of amusement in her eyes as she added, “and just think how this experience will help my acting the next time I play a society lady.”
“You, my sweet, could be giving some of these women lessons in deportment and the fine airs a genteel lady should adopt at all times,” Nicholas laughed.
As Nicholas stood beside her Mara became aware of curious stares being sent both openly and discreetly their way, some admiring, most hostile. “Could it be me dress, d’ye think?” Mara asked as she pretended concern.
Nicholas stared at her blankly for a moment before understanding dawned. He followed her amused glance to a middle-aged woman whose thin body vibrated with indignation as she stared with imperious disdain at Nicholas’s tall figure.
“I’m afraid, my dear, that not all people are of a forgiving nature. Quite a few of the disapproving are here this evening,” Nicholas told her quietly as he allowed his eyes to roam freely over the rudely staring woman’s person. She turned a bright red with mortification. “Some of these people never forgive or forget,” Nicholas commented impersonally as he glanced around the room.
“But they will have to when they hear that your father sent for you,” Mara reassured him. She hoped he wasn’t being hurt.
Nicholas covered her hand briefly before he said with a derisory look around the room, “It wouldn’t matter even if I paraded the real murderer around the room. They would still prefer to believe the worst of me. It makes for far more interesting gossip. I have been cast in the role of villain, and that is where they will keep me. They are all probably dying to know just who the devil you are, my dear, and just what the relationship is between us. Come,” Nicholas said abruptly as if suddenly making up his mind. Taking her champagne glass and placing it on a tray passing nearby, he pulled her with him from the room. “Shall we give them something new to discuss?” he asked as he swung her into his arms. Their closely moving figures joined the other dancers. “Let them talk about your beautiful silken ankles for a change, and the shocking manner in which I hold you pressed so close to my body,” Nicholas laughed in Mara’s ear as he swirled her around the ballroom, Mara’s red velvet skirts billowing and revealing a tantalizing length of silken leg.
Around midnight supper was served on a huge oak table covered in a rose damask tablecloth. An ornate epergne, holding assorted sweets and flowers, sat squarely in the center. One end of the buffet held stacks of plates and silver, while the rest of the table was filled with silver bowls of salads, tureens of soups, large platters of whole turkeys, roasts, and hams, brimming dishes of vegetables and accompanying sauces, and rich cheeses. Should the diners still have the appetite, pies, cak
es with thick icings, creamy custards, and mounds of ice cream were within arm’s reach. Champagne and wine flowed freely.
After the guests had eaten their fill, the orchestra struck up a livelier tune and the dancing continued until the early dawn hours.
Mara stepped out on the gallery after a while and breathed deeply of the cold, wet air. It was so stuffy and crowded inside. She needed just a few minutes respite from the constant chatter, as well as a break from the persistent attentions of Carson Ashford. He couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself. Mara had not seen Nicholas since being separated from him shortly after they’d dined. She wondered how much longer he intended to stay, hoping he hadn’t planned on participating in the traditional gumbo and black coffee she heard was always served at dawn.
Mara sighed, thinking she’d better return, for it was quite cold and damp and she didn’t have her wrap. Mara remembered seeing Etienne in the parlor and she was thinking about seeking him out when she heard voices from the partially opened door behind her.
“Why, it’s absolutely scandalous, my dear. Can you imagine it? After all these years he’s come back!” an incredulous voice demanded. “He is a handsome devil, isn’t he, Marie?”
“Some might think he is. But that’s not surprising, is it?” Marie snickered. “Who but a devil would shoot his own brother?”
“I’m surprised he had the nerve to come back. But then he always did do the most daring and outrageous things, my dear,” Marie spoke again. “But he will find it pretty rough going this time. Some people have not forgotten, or forgiven him. The Fouches won’t acknowledge him, nor will the Bruniers. In fact, they left early. They all remember him well, let me tell you.”
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