But Erin wasn’t listening; instead she was set on venting long-held resentments. She’d hated slavery from the time she’d been old enough to understand what it meant. “It’s not fair. It’s not right. Oh, why couldn’t Virginia have been a free state?” She threw up her hands in agitation. “All the debate in Congress over trying to balance free states with slave states isn’t going to solve anything. It’s still cruel to hold people in bondage. And if Virginia hadn’t been admitted to the union as a slave state, this nightmare wouldn’t be happening.”
“Erin, you aren’t being realistic. I don’t like it any more than you do, but the divide on the slavery issue is only becoming wider. Industry in the North is growing,” Arlene said, “while the South just becomes more and more dependent on agriculture for survival. The use of slave labor is the basis of that survival, cruel though it may be. That’s the way it is, the way it always will be, and poor Negroes like Letty are slaves, and all we can do is try to make their lives a little bit easier every chance we get.”
“My father didn’t own slaves. You told me that.”
A dreamy smile touched Arlene’s lips at the thought of the man she had loved with all her heart. Marriage to Jacob Sterling had been the only true happiness she’d ever known. “No, he sure didn’t, but you have to remember he wasn’t a farmer; he was a fisherman. I told you how we lived in a shanty by the ocean near Charleston. We didn’t have much except each other, and then you, but that was enough for us.”
“You told me once he didn’t believe in slavery.”
“That’s true. If he’d owned a hundred acres of cotton, I think he’d have let it rot in the fields if he couldn’t afford to pay pickers. He would never have used slaves.”
“And Zachary?” Erin prompted. “Did you know he had slaves when you married him?”
A shadow crossed Arlene’s face as she bit back the response that there was actually a lot she hadn’t known about Zachary Tremayne back then. “He told me he had a large plantation, and I suppose that implied as much, but I didn’t want to believe anything in those days except that I loved him, and he loved me, and that you and I were going to escape poverty to live in luxury in Virginia. Your father hadn’t been dead very long, remember, and I was having a terrible time eking out a living at the waterfront. I cut bait, scrubbed floors, begged for handouts when there was no money at all. Then Zachary came along one day and decided he wanted me, then and there.
“It was only later,” she went on dismally, “that I found out things weren’t going to be as wonderful as I’d dared to hope, but then there’s never anything certain in life.”
Erin bit down on her lip thoughtfully. At the time, she knew her mother had truly been desperate—a starving, penniless widow with a baby depending on her for survival. She could easily understand how her mother had allowed herself to be swept off her feet by a wealthy man. Still, she was compelled to find out. “What if he hadn’t proposed? What if, instead, he’d asked you to just be his mistress?”
“His mistress?” Arlene echoed, eyebrows rising. “Why would he want me for his mistress if he didn’t have a wife?”
Carefully, with a flippant shrug as though she weren’t really serious, Erin said, “Well, you said you were begging, scrubbing floors. That’s not exactly the kind of background a rich man looks for in a wife, is it? So, if he felt you weren’t good enough, but still found you beautiful, desirable, wanted you just for his mistress, what would you have said?”
Suddenly, Arlene was struck by what she suspected might be Erin’s motivation in asking such a question. Could it possibly have something to do with the scene she’d witnessed yesterday? She’d got there late, yet saw them lying on the ground embracing, kissing, just before Erin appeared to become upset; angry. Embarrassed Ben should see her daughter in such a situation, she’d made him turn his head and look the other way.
“Well, what would you have done?” Erin persisted when her mother didn’t respond, just sat there looking at her, her mind a million miles away.
Taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she carefully framed her answer, Arlene finally pronounced, “I can’t say, because it didn’t happen. I suppose, however, I’d have held out for the respectability and security of marriage, even though it would’ve been a tempting offer due to my situation. I would’ve thought how once I relegated myself to being his mistress, I’d have been at his mercy. He could’ve kicked me out any time he chose, and then what would I have done? As I said, it hasn’t all been apple pie and peaches as his wife, but at least I had some security.”
Erin nodded, for that was her way of thinking also.
Arlene knew then her suspicion was correct. Ryan had asked Erin to meet him at the stream, instead of properly calling, because breaking his engagement to Ermine Coley was the farthest thing from his mind. He wanted a mistress, and when he’d let that fact be known, Erin had balked. Good for her, Arlene thought with pride, washed with relief to have figured out this new development. Now she had another weapon to help her achieve her ultimate goal.
Wanting to end the conversation so she could move on with her plan, Arlene suggested, “Why don’t you run along, take your afternoon ride? Zachary will be back later this evening, and I’ll talk to him then, see if I can persuade him to change his mind.”
Erin couldn’t hold back any longer and cried, “He beats his slaves, you know!”
Arlene winced. “I know, but there’s nothing I can do. Nothing you can do.” With a sigh, she suggested, “Maybe Letty would be better off if she were sold to another family. Maybe her life would be a bit easier.”
“But what about Rosa? She doesn’t know what happened to her sons as it is. If Letty is taken away too, it’ll finish breaking her heart. No.” She shook her head firmly, adamantly. “That can’t happen. I won’t let it happen. You tell Zachary I’ve sworn to you the friendship has ended. I’ll have nothing more to do with Letty except as a—a slave.” She spat the word contemptuously.
“I’m sorry it has to be this way. I can’t even guarantee that my telling him will make him change his mind.”
“How did he find out she was slipping into my room, anyway? What was he doing prowling around the house in the middle of the night?” Oh, how she ached to come right out and tell her mother what a true fiend he really was.
Arlene felt a wave of guilt. If she hadn’t been prowling around herself, eavesdropping to try and hear what Erin was telling Letty about Ryan Youngblood, Zachary probably wouldn’t have found out. She could only say, “It’s his house. He has a right to do anything he wants to in it.”
Erin gritted her teeth. Her mother didn’t know just how far he thought that right extended. She knew what he was up to. No doubt, he’d been lurking outside her door, gathering nerve to attack. He’d heard Letty’s voice, knew she wasn’t alone, and now he wanted to get rid of Letty so he wouldn’t have to worry about her next time. Well, by God, she fumed, if he did sell Letty, and he did find a way into her room, he’d live to regret it—if he lived at all! She wasn’t hiding that knife under her mattress just to threaten. She’d use it if it came to that. “You have my word,” she said finally. “Do what you can.”
Erin left, shoulders slumped, deep in thought over what to do if Zachary did indeed put her beloved friend on the auction block. What could she do?
If only, she reflected sadly, Ryan had wanted to marry her, everything would have worked out. She’d found him handsome, appealing, warm, and sensitive—enjoyable company. Drawn to him, she knew he would’ve been so easy to love, and she’d have found a way, somehow, to make him love her.
Now, she could only feel loathing, due to his insult and humiliation.
And never would she forgive, nor forget.
Ryan sat in his favorite leather chair, feet propped on the table before him. He chewed an unlit cheroot absently as he stared into the clean-swept fireplace. A half-empty bottle of whiskey at his elbow, he’d lost track of time. What difference did it make, anyway, he
moodily reflected, how long he retreated to his study? Jasmine Hill was still efficiently run by competent overseers. There wasn’t anything for him to do, except ride into Richmond for another wild, passionate night with Corrisa, or any one of a dozen other eager doxies. But he didn’t want them. What he did want, he contemplated with narrowed eyes, was Erin Sterling.
She was beautiful. Gold-dusted eyelashes brushing gently against peach-colored cheeks, her lovely ebony hair falling softly about her face. Her breasts firm, pointing. Her incredibly long and curvaceous legs. Perfect, rounded buttocks that ached to be caressed. Erin was the finest woman he had ever seen, the lushest, most appealing body he had ever held in his arms. Feeling a tightening in his loins, he knew he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman in his life. He wanted to enter her and stay there until everything in him was drained into her. He wanted her beside him through the night, every night. He wanted to kiss those pouting lips into submission, make her want him every bit as damn much as he wanted her.
He reached for the bottle, took a swig. Several drinks ago he’d stopped bothering with a glass. Now, as the afternoon sun began to move toward early evening, shadows were creeping about the room. He didn’t care, didn’t give a damn for anything right then except trying to figure out what kind of game Erin was playing. She knew, damn it, she didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of ever marrying into wealth or prominence. Her mother knew that, too, or else she’d never have been so desperate as to push her way into the Rose Ball. But it hadn’t worked, and now what else was there for her? As he saw it, she had two options: marry anybody that would have her, which meant the lower class, or live a life of luxury as someone’s mistress.
She knew that, so why had she reacted with such surprise and indignity when he’d made his offer? She sure as hell had given the impression she knew what he was after by the innuendoes she’d made. And there was no mistaking her response when he’d kissed her. It was all puzzling, and he wished he could get her off his mind, but he couldn’t. All he could do was sit there and drink and be miserable, and the truth was, he was mad because he hadn’t gone ahead and taken her then and there. It wouldn’t have been rape. He knew how to make women beg for it, but he’d never done so when they weren’t willing in the first place. And Erin had made it quite clear she wasn’t.
He wondered if he dared ride over there, walk right up to her front door, demand to see her, and then come right out and ask her why she had led him on. But the truth was, he didn’t dare. It would be misconstrued as calling on her, and her mother would jump to conclusions, and it could turn into a bigger mess than it already was. The best thing to do was forget all about those limpid brandy-colored eyes and that luscious body. Just get up, take a bath, get dressed, and ride into town and find Corrisa. At least she was eager and willing, knew what he liked. He had nearly two months free before his mother and Ermine returned from Europe, so maybe he’d just move Corrisa into the house. The servants wouldn’t dare gossip about it. Jasmine Hill was composed of nearly a thousand acres, so it wasn’t likely anyone would even know she was about. Most importantly, he knew he had to get his mind on something else. He’d probably wind up making Corrisa his mistress, anyway—a possibility that didn’t particularly excite him.
He reached for the bottle again and took a long swallow. He was just sober enough to realize he didn’t have any business riding into Richmond alone. He’d either fall off his horse or make easy prey for any outlaws that might be about. He’d go in the carriage, get Ebner to take the reins.
With a yawn, he got up, stretched, and was about to ring for Ebner to have his bath drawn, when he heard a hesitant knock on the door. “Mastah,” Ebner called softly, “I’m sorry to bother you, but you got company.”
Ryan shook his head, which felt a bit cobwebby. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and people knew better than to call without being invited. “Who the hell is it?” he barked, tone a bit slurred from drink. “Get rid of them and get my bath ready.”
“She says her name is Mrs. Tremayne.”
He quickly went to open the door, sure he’d heard wrong. “Erin’s mother? Are you sure about that?”
“Yes, he’s quite sure,” Arlene stated crisply, as she breezed by Ebner and on into the room. She wasn’t about to be put off, and when he’d instructed her to wait in the front parlor, she had stubbornly followed after him.
Ebner nervously began to explain how he’d asked her to wait, but Ryan waved him away. “Just get me some strong coffee. Tea for the lady.” Closing the door, he wished he hadn’t drunk the afternoon away so he could think, speak, clearly. “Mrs. Tremayne,” he greeted thickly. He held out his hand, slightly swaying. “An unexpected pleasure—”
“Unexpected?” She raised an eyebrow. She was carefully removing her gloves, one finger at a time. Her gaze flicked over him critically. He was disheveled, wearing wrinkled trousers, a shirt with the tail hanging out. No shoes. His hair hadn’t been combed, and he hadn’t shaved. With an intimidating air, she said, “I would say so. I’d hate to think this is the way you normally receive guests.”
He didn’t like the way she was looking at him and instinctively began to stuff his shirt into his trousers and to glance about for his shoes. “Forgive me for saying so,” he couldn’t resist, “but you seem to make a habit of appearing unexpectedly, Mrs. Tremayne. Had you been an invited guest, you’d have certainly found me appropriately dressed. Sit, please.” He gestured to the leather sofa. “And tell me why I’m honored with this visit.”
“Honor?” Again she responded with sarcasm. “An interesting choice of words, Mr. Youngblood, since I’m here to discuss that very matter concerning my daughter.” She sat down primly on the edge of the sofa, keeping her back rigid, stiff, striving to appear imperious.
For an instant, Ryan could only stare at her, bewildered, trying to figure out amid the damn buzzing in his head what the hell she was talking about. He lowered himself into his chair before tersely responding, “I think you’d better explain that remark.”
“Certainly. You see, Mr. Youngblood, the matter of honor is what brings me here. You’ve sullied my daughter’s by attempting to seduce her.”
“Seduce?” He half rose out of his chair, eyes widening.
She regarded him coolly, motioned for him to sit back down, waited for him to do so before continuing, “I’m a witness to that shocking scene yesterday, when you met my daughter down near the grist house. I saw you try to get her intoxicated. I saw you trying to force yourself on her. And I saw her fight you off and run away.”
Arlene paused, wanting to give him time to absorb everything she’d just said, before concluding, “I’m sure we can resolve this amiably, with a minimum of embarrassment to both families.”
Again, Ryan gave his head a vicious shake, wondered what the hell was going on. “Now wait a minute,” he said. “If you were there, then you should know I wasn’t forcing Erin to do anything. I have no idea why she got upset all of a sudden, because she was sure acting like she enjoyed every minute of what I was doing to her.”
Arlene hoped her grimace convincingly conveyed her embarrassment over such a delicate subject. “Surely, Mr. Youngblood, you will agree that it was very improper of you to invite my daughter to meet you there in the first place. When a man is interested in a young woman, he calls at her home.”
“If he’s interested in formally courting her,” he pointed out sharply, leaning forward to grip the arms of the chair, knuckles turning white with the pressure. “I’m not interested in courting Erin, Mrs. Tremayne. In case you aren’t aware, I already have a fiancée.”
“I know,” she said, unmoved, then added challengingly, “So why were you at the Rose Ball?”
“A friend asked me to go with him. Look here!” He bolted from his chair to tower over her, eyes narrowed in anger. “I didn’t try to force your daughter to do anything. Now get to the point, Mrs. Tremayne,” he said, muscles twitching in his jaw. “Why are you here? Did Erin say I tr
ied to force myself on her? Because if she did, she’s lying, and I’m afraid I’ll have to call her a liar to her face if she persists.”
It was only with great effort that Arlene was able to keep from withering before him. Lord, he was angry, but she told herself he’d get over it. Erin would make him a much better wife than would Ermine Coley, and in time he’d come to realize that fact himself. Meanwhile she would just have to help things along. “To repeat myself, I’m sure we can resolve all of this with a minimum of embarrassment to both families.”
He laughed, incredulous. “Just what is that supposed to mean?”
“That my husband will be very upset if I have to tell him all this, how you tried to seduce Erin, even asked her to be your mistress.”
“Mistress!” he roared, then silently cursed. So, Erin was going to use that to try and force him to marry her. Damn the vixen to hell!
“And,” Arlene smoothly went on, “we don’t want the scandal of a duel, for heaven’s sake! After all, I shouldn’t have to remind you that your family honor is also at stake in this unfortunate situation. Now, if we can just quietly arrange the wedding, my daughter’s virtue and reputation will be assured, and your mother, along with your friends, will think you met my daughter and it was love at first sight. Those things do happen. There will be no need for anyone to ever know you tried to seduce a young girl.”
He threw up his hands in absolute frustration, then slammed them down to whirl about, even more agitated, at the sound of the door opening quietly.
Ebner entered the room, carefully balancing a silver tray with teapot, cream, a bowl of sugar lumps, a cup of steaming coffee, and a plate of lemon cookies. With a wary look at his master, he set the tray down on the table in front of the lady, then stood back as she obliged herself by pouring her own tea. “Anything else, suh?” he asked worriedly, sure something was wrong, because he’d heard much of his master’s shouting.
Midnight Rose Page 8