"She told me to tell you not to bother, said she'd clear the table and do the dishes and you were to rest your bones. Something the matter? You seem a mite put out."
I wasn't going to lose my temper again. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. I sat back down and calmly picked up the book and pretended to resume my reading. Jeremy stepped over to the mantle and propped one elbow on it, his frock coat hanging open.
"Guess you're mad 'cause I went out," he said.
"What you do doesn't concern me at all, Jeremy."
"No?"
"I'm not the least bit interested. I'm trying to read."
"Dull book. Couldn't gel through it myself. Too much moralizing. Not enough action."
I turned a page. Although I paid not the least bit of attention to him, I was acutely aware of his presence. I could feel him watching me. It made me very uncomfortable, but he'd never know that. A full minute passed as I ran my eyes over the print without seeing a single word. He was growing impatient, I could tell. He was dying to reveal where he'd been. Hell would freeze over before I asked,
"Ship, leaves in two weeks," he remarked casually.
The bastard had my attention now. I put the book back down and turned to face him.
"What ship?"
"The ship that's taking us to France. I went down to the booking office. You've never seen such a mob. Only a few ships leaving, most of 'em booked up months in advance. Had to bribe a few people, naturally, but J finally got us a cabin."
"Us!"
"We'll sail to France, then cross the Channel to England. I understand the cabin's quite comfortable. Couldn't get two separate cabins, had enough trouble getting one. We'll be sailing as Mr. and Mrs. Jeremy Bond, but that little bit of subterfuge shouldn't hurt anyone."
I was on my feet now, cheeks flaming.
"We! Us! What do you—"
"Did you really think I was going to let you go to England by yourself. A long voyage like that, you need someone big and strong to take care of you. I'm going with you, Marietta."
"Oh no you're not!"
Jeremy chuckled. "Wanna bet?" he asked.
Thirty-Four
The great white sails swelled in the breeze, carrying Le Bon Coeur over an endless expanse of water that rippled gently like watered gray silk, all blue long since faded. The sky was gray, too, a deepening pearl gray smeared with blurry gold and orange streaks in the wake of the sun that had already disappeared on the distant horizon where sea met sky. It was cool. I should have brought a cloak with me From the cabin. Resting my hands on the smooth mahogany railing, J stared at .the emptiness, barely aware of movement as the huge prow cut smoothly through the water. Passengers leisurely strolled the deck, talking quietly, all of them elegantly clad. It look a great deal of money to sail on Le Bon Coeur and, with the revolution still raging in America, passage was even more expensive now.
I was in a pensive mood, a mood that had prevailed ever since our departure over two weeks ago. That had been a busy, bustling, frantic morning with hundreds of people crowding the dock, friends and family seeing passengers off with noisy festivity or even noisier sobs, men carrying heavy boxes and trunks up the gangplank, sailors swarming about the ship, bells clanging, incredible confusion on every side. I had been surprised when Lucille came to see me off, her shrewd old eyes full of genuine sadness, her thin face stiff as a mask as she tried to hold back her tears. She had hugged me so hard I thought my ribs would crack, and when I finally reached our cabin I discovered a case of champagne, an enormous basket of fruit and several brightly wrapped presents she had smuggled there earlier, I would miss the outrageous old fraud .
I would miss Mandy, too. She hadn't come to the dock. We Had made our farewells at the apartment, which she would continue to occupy during Jeremy's absence. She had plenty of money now. I had taken her to the bank and opened an account for her, and she had protested that the amount was far, far too much, more than she would ever need. She was planning to start a herb garden in the backyard, in the shadow of the cistern and fig trees, and Camille was eager to help her. The clumsy, disorganized, great lump of a girl who caused Lucille so much distress had been elated when I asked her if she would like to share the apartment with Mandy and watch over her while Jeremy was gone. I wasn't sure who would be watching over whom, but the two had taken to each other immediately, an instant affection established between the ungainly French orphan and the withered old woman I had grown to love so much.
The sadness had haunted me ever since the ship set sail, and it continued to haunt me now. I should be filled with a wild elation. I should be charged with excitement, I had finally left America behind me, and I was on my way to join the man I loved. After all these years, I was going back home to England, returning to my roots, but, curiously, it seemed I was leaving my roots in the great, sprawling, tumultuous country now forever lost to me. Loss. That's what I felt. The past seven years had not been easy. They had been tilled with turmoil and tragedy, with conflict and disaster, but I had known great happiness as well and joy that sang in my blood like glorious music, and, somehow, without my being aware of it, I had become a part of that country in which I had spent those years. England, with its stately homes and sleepy villages and misty green fields, could never stir those feelings inside me that the country I was leaving did. I was English, but after all this time I no longer felt a part or the land of my birth.
As the orange and gold streaks faded against the dark gray sky, as sails billowed and cracked stiffly in the breeze, propelling the enormous ship over the gently rippling water, I thought of Em, longing to have her here beside me, longing to pour my heart out to her. My heart ached as I realized she was lost to me, too, that I would never see her again, nor Mandy, nor Lucille, nor any of the others whose lives had become a part of mine during those years in America. I thought of Adam and Cassie, whom I had helped escape from Shadow Oaks and sent north to freedom. Had they found happiness there? I thought of Helmut's sister, Meg and her beloved James, young people free at last to love openly after Helmut's death in the blazing Roseclay. So many people. So many memories, not all of them painful.
I sighed, shivering a little as the cool breeze stroked my bare arms and shoulders. Seven years ago I had left England in chains, falsely accused of a crime I hadn't committed, terrified of a future of bondage but determined to survive, learning quickly in that squalid prison ship, learning from Angie, the blonde, angelic-looking guttersnipe who had become my closest friend and taught me to pick locks, learning from Jack, the brawny sailor who had made love to me in a secluded spot on deck and had brought me food so I wouldn't starve or succumb to scurvy like so many of the other prisoners. Auctioned off like a slave in Carolina, I had survived . . . and I had experienced a shattering love that racked my very soul and was still alive inside of me.
Derek. I would be with him soon. Derek was in England, and when he finally clasped me into his arms and held me tight, this perplexing melancholy would vanish forever. I belonged to him. My place was at his side. Once there, I would forget everything else and share with him a future that would be filled with a happiness few women were fortunate enough to know. All the anguish, all the conflict would be behind me at last.
I rubbed my arms to warm them, hesitating to return to the cabin. The sky" was an even darker gray now, streaked with amethyst, and there were purple reflections on the water. Turning away from the railing. I saw Madame Janine Etienne strolling down the deck toward me. I stiffened, staring at her with a hostility that startled me. Madame Etienne smiled to herself, sensing the hostility, delighting in it. Thirty years old, undeniably beautiful with her sparkling green eyes flecked with brown, her glossy blue-black hair and cool, aristocratic features, she was returning to Paris to join a wealthy, middle-aged husband who had left New Orleans several months earlier on business, sending for her when he discovered it was going to keep him in France for the next two years.
Madame Etienne nodded to me as she drew nearer. I didn'
t return the nod. I observed that her rouged pink lips were a bit too full, her eyelids too heavy, and her nose was definitely too long. She was gorgeous nevertheless, her rich jet hair pulled back sleekly from her face and worn in an elaborate stack of waves in back, fastened with diamond clips. Her low-cut green velvet gown and the sweeping green velvet cloak edged with soft gray fur were chic indeed, as chic as anything Lucille ever created, and the diamonds that flashed in her hair, at her throat, and on her fingers were quite genuine. Janine Etienne had that special quality only certain French women seemed to attain, a combination of worldly allure and aggressive self-confidence. Her demeanor, her eyes proclaimed her a woman with numerous love affairs to her credit, and that was all very well, but I bitterly resented the fact that her latest was with a man who was traveling as my husband.
She stopped and smiled a coy, mocking smile. Her perfume was heavy, exotic, suggesting crushed flowers and bedrooms. I longed to grab the hussy by her hair and hurl her overboard.
"Goor evening, Madame Bond," she said in that purring, heavily, accented voice. "Where is that handsome husband of yours?"
"I've no idea," I retorted. "I assumed he was with you."
She lifted one of those perfectly arched eyebrows, pretending a surprise she was far from feeling. "La! Avec moi? Whyever would you think that?"
It came out fie-evah vould jew zink zat, charming , so French, so quaint. I might not hurl her overboard. I might just scratch her eyes out. The taunting smile continued to curl on her lips. The flecked green eyes sparkled with feline amusement.
"It's a habit he seems to have acquired of late," I said.
"La! Such a thoughtful man, so kind, so attentive to a poor woman traveling all alone. We play the cards. We sip the champagne, It helps to pass the time."
"I'll just bet it does."
She pulled the cloak closer about her shoulders, the soft, silvery gray fur framing the lower part of her face. Her chin was too sharp, I noted, her cheekbones a bit broad, much too heavily rouged. The overall effect was devastating, though, I had to admit that. She exuded a brazen sexual magnetism that made every man on board long to bed her. I wondered if Jeremy was the only one who had. Probably not. We had been sailing for over two weeks, and there were twenty-four hours in a day.
"You are upset?" she inquired.
"Not at all. Should I be?"
"Some wives, they would resent it. You, though, you are very wise. You understand men. Is very French of you."
I'll tell you one thing, sweetheart, I said silently, if I really wanted him you wouldn't have a prayer. You're doing me a favor. You just don't know it.
"Well," she said, "ta-ta, as you English say. Perhaps we will see each other when we dine. Filet of sole tonight, I believe."
Maybe you'll choke on a fish bone, I thought as she strolled on down the deck, wafting perfume in the air behind her. Several men turned to watch her progress, openly longing to sample her delectable wares. A shy, rather handsome blond man with a book in his hand trailed after her, trying to summon up enough courage to speak. Janine paused, gave him a provocative look over her shoulder and waited for him to catch up. The blond blushed, closed his book and stammered something I couldn't hear. The two of them moved on together, Janine showering him with admiring looks, Jeremy just might find her cabin a bit crowded tonight.
It really was quite amusing, I thought, going below, and it was foolish of me to let it bother me this way. Jeremy Bond and I were traveling together as husband and wife, yes, and we were sharing a rather luxurious cabin, but I slept in the bed alone and had, from the first, let him know that it was worth his life if he dared try to climb in with me. There was a chaise longue under one of the portholes, perfectly comfortable with soft, plump pink satin cushions. He had slept on it exactly four times, grumbling and complaining bitterly that it was much too short for him, which it was, and adding that if I had any style at all I'd give him the bed and take the chaise longue myself, unless we could work out some other arrangement. I coldly vetoed that "other arrangement" and refused to give up the bed. Jeremy had not spent another night in the cabin. I couldn't really blame him.
The movement of the ship was much more pronounced as I walked down the narrow but richly paneled passageway with doors on either side. I had to admit that we had been fortunate indeed to get passage on this ship with its elegant dining salon, its luxurious trappings and its courteous crew. Le, Bon Coeur accommodated only fifty passengers, transporting a cargo of dry goods in its hold, but those fifty passengers were treated like royalty. I opened the door to our cabin and stepped inside. Jeremy wasn't in. He only came to the cabin to change clothes. It was just as well. The less we saw of each other the better.
It was seven o'clock. Jeremy and I dined at eight. As the plush dining room could only seat twenty people at a time, each passenger had been assigned a different hour for dining, six, seven and, by far the most desirable, eight. The captain dined then, as did the most fashionable passengers. I wondered how Janine had managed to get on the eight o'clock list, All those diamonds, perhaps. More likely a quick and satisfying tumble with the right ship's officer. Jeremy, of course, had bribed our way onto the list, putting the proper amount of money into the proper palm. Charming he might be. Fashionable he wasn't, nor was I, for that matter.
Although the gown I was wearing was perfectly suitable, I decided to change for dinner, particularly if I was going to have another encounter with the formidable Madame Etienne. Examining the gowns that hung in the wardrobe trunk standing open in the corner, I selected a deep red satin with narrow black stripes and laid it out on the bed along with the matching petticoat with its layers of floating red tulle underskirts. That should do it, I thought, removing the clothes I was wearing and hanging them back up. I would wear the long black velvet gloves as well, and perhaps a narrow black velvet ribbon at my throat. No, that would be too much, too obvious. The gloves would be enough.
Twenty minutes later, wearing only the red tulle petticoat, I was still at the dressing table, putting the finishing touches on my makeup, lips a bit redder than usual, cheeks subtly rouged, eyelids brushed with a suggestion of pale brown shadow. I had brushed my hair, arranged it on top of my head, and then decided to let it fall in natural waves. As I opened a bottle of perfume, Jeremy stepped into the cabin. He looked slightly rumpled, his frock coat wrinkled, his neckcloth loose.
"You might have knocked!" I snapped.
"Why the hell should I?" he snapped back. "This happens to be my cabin, too. You needn't go all modest on me. I've seen you in your petticoat before, you know."
"Go to hell!"
"Aren't we in a dandy mood."
"Aren't we just."
"You know, lass, you're turning into an awful shrew."
"And you, mister, are turning into a surly brute."
"Who's to blame for that?"
"Certainly not I," I said airily.
"Expecting me to sleep on that bloody chaise longue that's a good two feet too short. Acting like a terrified virgin:"
"I've never acted like a terrified virgin. I refused to let you share the bed, yes, but—"
"Forget it!" he snarled, removing his coat.
"If you're going to undress, I'd prefer you do so behind the .screen."
"You've seen me without my breeches before, too," he retorted, peeling off his shirt.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, pulled off his boots and then stood up and proceeded to remove his breeches. I dabbed perfume behind my ears and between my breasts, carefully ignoring him. He pulled on a robe, tied the sash, and then, just to aggravate me, lighted a perfectly foul-smelling cigar. I was not going to give him the satisfaction of complaining about it. I got up and slipped the gown over my head, pulling it down, putting my arms into the short puffed sleeves, adjusting the bodice.
"Planning a seduction?" he inquired.
"Hardly."
"All that perfume. All that makeup. A red dress. Have your eye on one of the officers?"
>
"I'm going to ignore that remark. Mr. Bond. Damn. I can't get it fastened properly—"
He stalked over, shoved my hands away and fastened up the tiny, invisible hooks in back with a nimble skill that proved he had had a considerable amount of practice. The job done, he marched over to his trunk and took out a new set of clothes, black broadcloth breeches and coat, fine white lawn shirt, a splendid sapphire-blue neckcloth. Cigar clenched in the corner of his mouth, he took off his robe and began to dress.
"I ran into the delectable Madame Etienne on deck," I remarked.
"Yeah?"
"She seemed lonely."
"Pity," he said, pulling on his breeches.
"I naturally assumed you'd be with her."
"You assumed wrong."
I took out the long black velvet gloves and began to put them on. Jeremy ,snapped his fingers, took out the deep pearl-gray brocade waistcoat he had forgotten and put it on over his shirt, smoothing it down with his palms. Picking up the neckcloth, he stepped over to the mirror and began to fasten it around his neck, carefully arranging the folds. He was a terrible dandy, I thought, but when he put his boots back on and slipped on the frock coat, I had to admit he looked dashing indeed. I couldn't blame Janine for snapping him up like a plate full of bonbons.
Jeremy crushed his cigar out in a small porcelain tray, tugged at the lapels of his coat and patted the sapphire neckcloth.
"How do I look?" he asked.
"You might just brush your hair."
"Guess I'd better at that. I know you're much too proud to ask, but just in case you're interested, I spent the day playing cards down in the hold with some of the more affluent male passengers. Won a bundle of money."
"How nice," I retorted. "You probably cheated."
"Didn't have to. The chaps on this boat don't know the first thing about cards. There," he said, putting down the brush, "Ready to go? I didn't eat any lunch, and I'm famished."
We left the cabin, and, clasping my elbow firmly, he led me down the passageway, walking with that brisk, bouncy stride. I almost had to trot to keep up. People nodded politely as we entered the dining salon and moved toward our table. Janine Etienne was sharing her table with the shy, handsome blond. He no longer had his book, I noticed, and he seemed a bit nervous and apprehensive about dining amid all these fashionable people at this unaccustomed hour. I pegged him at once as a six o'clock diner. Perhaps, though, he was merely apprehensive about being with the seductive Janine who devoured him with her eyes and clearly planned to have him for dessert. As we took our seats, I couldn't help but smile.
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