Southern Seduction

by Brenda Jernigan

  Now she would have to face him again. Would he have forgotten her? She could only hope.

  As soon as Travis delivered the hysterical Hesione to her room and his mother to hers, he tried to excuse himself. He had no desire to be around either of them, but he knew he wouldn't get away from his mother so easily.

  "How could you have married a stranger?" Margaret rounded on him, her face a mask of fury.

  "My father died.”

  Margaret stopped short and gasped, her hand coming to her mouth. “How do you know?”

  Travis folded his arms and leaned against the door. “His solicitor, Mr. Jeffries, came to see me.”

  “Did your father leave you anything?”

  Travis nodded. “Yes, he did. He left me half of Moss Grove.”

  His mother gave him a questioning look. “Half?”

  “That’s correct. The other half was left to Brooke.”

  “Well, I’ve never!” Margaret protested, and then she began to pace. “Jackson told me, himself, that you were the only child he had. Who was this woman to Jackson? And why did you marry her?”

  “There was a stipulation that if I married Brooke, Jackson’s money would go toward the plantation. The sugarcane crop was ruined by a storm, leaving me virtually penniless. I had no choice.”

  "I see now. You did it for the money,” Margaret concluded, the wheels spinning in her head. “But if you had married Hesione, you would have had money, too,” she pointed out. “This other woman isn't one of us.” Margaret stopped pacing and faced her son. “You know that by marring Hesione we would have finally received my father's approval. I can well imagine what he thinks with you marrying that little tramp."

  "Do not call my wife names," Travis warned.

  "She means nothing to you,” Margaret stated as if she knew with certainty. Then she began pacing again. “And she won't be your wife for long. You can have the marriage annulled and then you can marry Hesione."

  "I don't want an annulment,” Travis told her in a terse voice. “And I most definitely don't want to marry Hesione any longer. I do not love Hesione, so I see no reason to undo what I have done. She can find somebody else.

  “Mother, you might as well get used to the fact that I don't give a damn whether Grandfather approves of me or my wife. The only people I need to please are myself and Brooke. This marriage started out as a business arrangement, but it has become more than that now."

  Margaret whirled around. "You fool. You love her, don't you?"

  "Mother, do not push me on this,” Travis warned. “Yes, I do love Brooke. I don’t expect you to feel the same, but I expect you to accept her. If you cannot do that, I will make arrangements for you to live elsewhere."

  "I cannot believe you are speaking to me like this. Don't you love me?"

  "Yes, Mother, I love you,” Travis said patiently. “I've tried to provide you with a good life. However, I intend to live my own life and be happy. Hopefully, I will give you many grandchildren with Brooke, but I won’t have constant bickering in my house, so if you cannot be civil to the woman that I have chosen, then you can find someone else to take care of you."

  Margaret swayed. "I think I'm going to faint."

  He steered her toward the bed, then let her go. “I suggest you get some smelling salts," Travis said. Then he left her alone. He’d seen this routine before.

  As soon as Travis left, Margaret straightened. Her son didn’t know what was good for him, and she did. Hesione was Travis’s intended and Margaret intended for him to have her. Whether he wanted her or not.

  When the sound of Travis’s footsteps had faded away, Margaret made her way out of her stateroom to see to Hesione.

  Margaret knocked on the door. Not waiting for an answer, she stepped inside. "Are you all right, dear?"

  Hesione’s eyes were red and puffy from crying. "Yes," she said, wiping her eyes. "But your son has shamed me. How will I hold up my head when we get home?"

  "I don’t know what is the matter with him. It’s obvious that he doesn't realize what he has done. He's probably been bewitched by the girl,” Margaret said as she turned back the bed for Hesione. “It's clear that I will have to fix this situation."

  "But what can you do?" Hesione sniffed. "He's married," she wailed. “And not to me.”

  Margaret patted Hesione’s hand. "I know, dear. But we'll do something to undo this. I just have to think about it for awhile." Margaret was certain that Travis had been blindsided by that woman, and given a little time, he'd come to regret the marriage and want out. Or at least she hoped. Hesione would have been the way to finally please her father, but Travis had ruined that. She’d have to find a way to undo the damage her son and that woman had done.

  Margaret hurried back to her room. She'd have to tread carefully around her son. He definitely had a mind of his own and could be very stubborn when he wanted to be.

  But she’d have to think of a way to make him want the same thing she did.

  When Travis returned to his room he found Brooke pacing. "I suppose our peace and quiet has come to an end,” Travis remarked dryly. “I had no idea that we would encounter them on our wedding trip. Then again, I guess this was bound to happen sooner or later."

  "I would have preferred later,” Brooke said. “Much, much later.” She gave him a small smile. Then she placed her hands on her hips. “She was none to happy to see me, but then again, I can understand the shock. I'm sure it will be a long while before she evens considers the idea of liking me."

  "If ever," Travis said with a slight chuckle.

  "You have a point there.” Brooke couldn’t help giggling. “I can see a lot of your grandfather in her."

  “Yes, you can,” he said with a nod. “We’re having dinner at the Captain's table tonight, so mother shouldn't make a scene. I'm going to the salon to play some cards again this afternoon. We must appear as if nothing were out of the ordinary, especially after the scene a few minutes ago."

  "Grand," Brooke said with a sarcastic frown. She wondered if she could convince him to stay with her in the cabin. Not only did she have to deal with a disgruntled mother-in-law, but she also had to worry about the earl. He was someone who could bring her past to the light of day.

  Brooke took great care dressing for dinner. She swept her hair up into a glorious heap on the crown of her head, then pinched her cheeks. She wore a dark blue gown that was cut low and worn off the shoulders.

  She had just finished dressing when Travis returned. He'd dressed earlier then taken a stroll around the deck while she finished getting ready. This was one of the times when she wished she had brought her maid with her. At least, she’d have another woman to talk to. Of course, now she had Travis’s mother, but Brooke doubted that the woman would ever want to chat with her.

  When Travis opened the door, he stopped in the doorway. Every time he saw his wife, she appeared more beautiful than the last time. Just the sight of her made his blood run hot.

  Brooke waited for him to say something. "Is something wrong?"

  "My God, you are beautiful," Travis said, coming out of his trance.

  Seeing desire in his eyes, Brooke smiled. "Thank you, kind sir. Are you ready to go to dinner?"

  "After seeing you, I'd be happy to go hungry," he murmured, taking Brooke in his arms and kissing her soundly.

  “Since I've gone to the trouble to get dressed...” Brooke said with an amused smile on her lips. “However, I am more than willing to forgo dinner,” she said but didn’t add that it would save her a lot of worry about running into the earl.

  “We must have dinner first, then afterwards ...” Travis gave her a wicked smile. “Besides mother and the captain are probably all ready there. We cannot leave the them waiting.”

  “I guess not,” Brooke said. She just lost her appetite.

  The dining room hummed with conversation when Brooke and Travis arrived. They entered and waited for the maitre d’ to take them to their places. The dining room was the finest on the riv
er. Black and red carpet adorned the floor. Round tables draped with white linen and red-velvet covered chairs were scattered around. Each table would seat six.

  Finally the maitre d’ came to seat them at the Captain’s table, where Margaret and Hesione waited.

  Brooke groaned inwardly.

  “Mother. Hesione,” Travis greeted them.

  “I hope you had a pleasant afternoon,” Margaret said, the comment directed only toward Travis.

  “As a matter of fact, I did,” Travis replied as he pulled the chair out for Brooke. “I played poker with an old school chum from England, and he played as lousy as he ever did.”

  Brooke’s stomach twisted. She could only hope his chum was not Whatsbury.

  “Anyone I know, dear?” Margaret asked.

  “I don’t believe so,” Travis replied then addressed the captain. “How is the race going?”

  “If Blake beats me to St. Louis, you have my permission to hang me from the crosstrees,” Leathers stated grimly.

  “That’s a bit drastic, captain,” Brooke said with a wry smile. “I assume we are ahead.”

  Leathers laughed. “Not exactly, but there is still hope.”

  Travis and the captain continued to talk about the race as dinner was served. It consisted of Praline Chicken topped with pecan sauce, catfish, and roasted red potatoes.

  Too bad their dinner company couldn’t be as pleasant as the food, Brooke thought.

  The women were unusually quiet throughout dinner, and that was fine with Brooke. She could endure all the hateful looks from Hesione, but Brooke didn’t know whether she could keep a civil tongue and be nice if they were nasty, so maybe quiet was better for all.

  “We’ll be in Saint Louis tomorrow if the fog is not too bad,” Leathers said. “I believe that is where you wanted to go, Mrs. deLobel.”

  Margaret replaced her coffee cup. “It was where I wanted to go originally, but since seeing my son our plans have changed. Hesione and I will continue on back to New Orleans.”

  “That can be arranged,” Captain Leathers said. “I know you are anxious to get to know your new daughter-in-law. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to visit the other tables so they do not feel neglected.” He stood. “Be sure and enjoy the bread pudding. It’s the best on the Mississippi.”

  Brooke leaned over to Travis, “I bet it’s not as good as Prosper’s.”

  “Prosper’s is the best,” Margaret stated.

  “I definitely agree,” Brooke said with a smile. However, she didn’t receive one in return.

  “Just how long have you been at Moss Grove?” Margaret asked, bluntly.

  “I came toward the end of September.”

  “And none of your family accompanied you?”

  Brooke felt as though she were being interrogated. “I have no family. I was accompanied by Mr. Jefferies.”

  “He was Jackson’s solicitor,” Travis interjected.

  “I well know who Mr. Jeffries is.” Margaret pushed back her chair. Travis leapt up to assist her as she turned to Brooke. “That is highly unusual,” Margaret said, her voice haughty. “You didn’t even have a lady’s maid with you?”

  “I was accompanied by several friends,” Brooke said. “It seemed pointless to disrupt some poor woman’s life when I knew I’d have other servants at Moss Grove,” she tried to keep her voice pleasant.

  “And who is your maid?”

  “Millie Anne,” Brook supplied. “She’s wonderful.”

  “Millie Anne works in the fields.”

  Brooke looked at the old bat, her patience wearing thin. However, she forced a smile. “Not any more. She has become a wonderful companion for me.”

  “Come, Hesione,” Margaret snapped. “It’s time for us to turn in. Travis, accompany us to our rooms.”

  “Yes, Mother.” He took her arm, but turned to Brooke. “I’ll be right back, my dear,” Travis told her, giving her a smile not intended for his mother or her companion.

  Brooke decided that Hesione must be a timid little mouse. She looked as if she’d like to hide behind Travis’s mother. It probably was a good thing that the girl hadn’t married Travis. He would have chewed her up the first week.

  Brooke was just finishing her coffee when she heard a crisp English accent from behind her.

  “Bloody hell, I can’t believe my eyes,” Whatsbury said as he invited himself over to Brooke’s table. “It is a small world, I dare say. I see you have decided to try America.”

  Brooke didn’t answer him.

  “What’s wrong? The men in Europe didn’t have enough money for you?”

  She glared at the earl, who once again had had too much to drink. “Do I know you, sir?” Brooke finally asked, hoping he’d think he’d made a mistake.

  “Don’t play coy with me, Brooke Hammond. I couldn’t ever forget a face like yours.”

  Brooke stood. The only thing she could do was play dumb. “Excuse me, sir.” She made her way across the room to where Travis had just stepped back inside.

  “I see you’ve met Whatsbury,” Travis said. “He’s a bit odd.”

  “Yes, he is,” Brooke agreed. “I have a headache. I’m going to our room to lie down.”

  “Certainly. I’ll walk with you. I just need to collect some money from Whatsbury first.” Travis placed his hand on her arm.

  “It’s just a short walk. I’ll be fine,” Brooke told him.

  “If you insist. I’ll see Whatsbury then join you shortly.”

  As Brooke made her way down the walkway, vagrant puffs of fog were lingering in the air. It was an eerie feeling that sent chills up her arms.

  She couldn’t face the earl on Travis’s arm and take the chance that he would publicly humiliate her. Maybe he wouldn’t make the connection between her and Travis unless he saw her talking to him. She hoped the earl kept his mouth shut about her past, but she knew that was very unlikely.

  So she’d go to her room, change her clothes and await her fate.

  Travis strolled over to where Whatsbury stood in a corner looking very much like a peacock. The man had always been full of himself even back in England.

  Whatsbury turned toward Travis. “Damn if you luck hasn’t change, old boy.”

  “If you are talking about cards,” Travis said, “You’ll recall I use to beat your rather soundly back at school.”

  “No. I’m talking about Brooke Hammond, old man,” Whatsbury said with a wicked grin. “I was most surprised when I saw her here, even though she pretended she didn’t know me. No two women could look like that. She was all the rage in England. The finest circles, you know the routine, old chap.”

  “You know my wife?” Travis asked.

  “Your wife!” Whatsbury laughed. “Surely you jest.”

  “Why do you say that?” Travis asked trying to hold his temper and not placed his fist right in the middle of his old friend’s face.

  “You don’t know?”

  “My patience is wearing thin,” Travis warned.

  “She a courtesan, old man.”

  Travis grabbed Whatsbury by the shirtfront. He stared down at him with cold contempt. “I demand satisfaction for that slur.”

  “Wait a minute. Wait a minute,” Whatsbury said holding up his hands in defense. “I’m telling you I tried for her myself, and she turned me down flat. I’m only telling you what she evidently did not. If you don’t believe me – ask her?” Whatsbury said and Travis let him go. “Then you’ll see there isn’t any reason to fight over this. Sorry, old chap. I thought you knew.”

  Travis could only see a red haze as he left the dining room. Had he been played for a fool? Had Brooke been his father’s whore and she’d somehow convinced him to give her a portion of the plantation?

  Travis shattered inside. God, help her if that were true!

  Chapter Sixteen

  The cabin door flew open.

  Brooke’s head snapped up.

  Travis stood in the doorway glaring at her as if she were the enemy. A muscle t
witched in his jaw, and his blue eyes were so cold and distant she actually shivered. Travis’s glance seemed to accuse her without him having to say a word.

  Brooke held her breath. Her pulse began to throb erratically as her panic built and welled in her throat.

  He knew.

  As the tension between them increased with frightening intensity, Travis finally entered the room and shut the door behind him. However, he didn’t come toward her. Instead he went and stood behind one of the two chairs, his hand clenching the back.

  A wave of apprehension swept through Brooke.

  “Would you like to tell me,” he paused and took a calming breath to calm the menacing fury in his eyes, “exactly what were you to my father?” Travis didn’t let her answer before he shot her another question. “Were you his whore?” There was a bitter edge of cynicism in his voice.

  “No. I was not,” Brooke told him. “How could you think such a thing?”

  His contemptuous eyes raked over her. “How?” Travis gripped the chair until his knuckles turned white. Brooke knew he struggled to control his temper. “How?” he repeated. “Whatsbury just congratulated me for succeeding in getting you as my courtesan. Seems he never managed to get you for himself,” Travis grated out.

  Travis made everything sound so ugly, Brooke thought, but he wasn’t finished yet . . .

  “I challenged him to a duel for the insult,” he continued. “Whatsbury merely laughed and told me to ask you if I didn’t believe him. It seems you were all the rage in England,” Travis sneered. “Can you imagine how foolish I felt telling him you were my wife.”

  Brooke new her heart was breaking. “I know how awful this sounds,” she whispered, her stomach twisting into a huge knot as an odd kind of chill enveloped her. “And you deserve answers,” she paused. “But are you prepared to listen? Really listen? Or will you stand in judgment of me before you know the entire story?”