When he pulled away, Adella tried to draw him back, but he held her at arm’s length and chuckled. “As much as I would like to continue, my love, we can’t. Not yet.”
A cool breeze drifted between them and brought her back to her senses. Heat filled her face, and she touched her lips, still burning with his passion. What must he think of her, acting so brazen? Oh, but his kisses ignited something in her she’d never imagined.
The grin on his face revealed his own pleasure. “I think I am going to enjoy being married to you, Missy Ellis.”
They stood and slowly made their way back to the house, dark but for a few candles in the parlor window.
“Seth,” she said, remembering she needed to speak to him about Jeptha. “I know you have to keep Jeptha in the shed and follow Papa’s horrid rules, but will you please make sure he has fresh water and bread each day?” She glanced at him in the darkness and thought she saw him nod.
“I will.”
When they reached the front steps, Seth brought her hand to his lips again. “Promise you will come back to me, Adella Rose,” he whispered, though she couldn’t make out his expression in the dim light of the house.
A shiver of happiness ran its course through her entire body. “I promise.”
On quiet feet, Adella entered the house, her heart full with the knowledge she would soon be Seth’s wife. She would make the trip to Le Beau to appease her father, but when they returned, she was determined to put an end to the charade.
She loved Seth Brantley.
Nothing her father nor Marshall Brevard could do would change that.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“I said, Adella Rose, I wondered if you might like to have the parlor redone before the wedding.”
Marshall Brevard’s voice broke into Adella’s reverie and dragged her back to the present. Sitting on a blanket in the shade of an enormous oak tree, surrounded by the beautiful grounds of Le Beau, she’d become lost in daydreams of her future with Seth. He’d hinted he had some ideas of where they would live and how he would make a living, and her imagination conjured all manner of delightful possibilities. Truthfully, she’d be happy living in a tiny cabin, as long as Seth was by her side.
Turning, she found Papa and Marshall looking at her from where they sat in wicker chairs. Judging by the frown Papa wore, her woolgathering had not gone unnoticed. “The parlor?” she asked, hoping to convince them she’d been paying attention. What had Marshall said about that room?
“Yes.” A patient smile rested on Marshall’s narrow face. “It has not been redone since before Helen passed away. I thought you could start with it since it is smaller. Then once we are married, and you are living here at Le Beau, you can take on the larger rooms. I know how women like to redecorate when given the opportunity. Any changes you wish to make are fine with me. No expense is too great to make my wife happy.”
Knowing Papa watched her closely, she offered a small smile. “Thank you, Marshall. I will give it some thought.”
Stifling a sigh, she turned her gaze back to the small lake in front of them. The strain from the pretense of the past three days was beginning to wear on her. When they had first arrived at Le Beau, she thought she could continue to hold off Marshall by acting the shy maiden. Though he’d been a perfect gentleman in his physical approach to her, his persistent references to their wedding and their life afterward had sufficiently rubbed her nerves raw. She wanted nothing more than to stand and shout that she would never be his wife. Instead, she had to endure his attempts to woo her.
“What do you hear from your friends in Washington about who will be the next President, Marshall?” Papa sipped from the small glass of amber liquid one of the Le Beau servants had poured for him shortly after they’d walked down to the lake. Adella frowned, knowing Mama hadn’t liked it when Papa imbibed. He had the tendency to become loud and unpleasant when he drank. “With less than a year before the Democratic convention convenes, I am concerned that we haven’t heard any rumblings of a frontrunner. The papers say this could be the most important election since the country was formed.”
Marshall offered a grave nod. “I, too, am concerned. As you know, I am on good terms with Senator Ward. I received a note from him a short time ago expressing similar sentiments. The Democrats must nominate a man who can silence the northern abolitionists once and for all. Their assiduous calls for the end of slavery simply cannot be tolerated any longer.”
“Hear, hear!” Papa lifted his glass in salute before downing the last bit of drink. A young black man dressed in a coat with tails, despite the warm day, stepped forward to take the tumbler. He set it on the tray he held with white-gloved hands. He refilled the empty glass and set it next to Papa on a small table.
“Matthias has it on good authority the Republicans are anxious to elect a man who will make it his priority to end slavery throughout the Union. It matters not to them that the Southern states are dependent on cotton and sugarcane production.” Marshall’s upper lip lifted in disdain. “Their only concern is for the darkies. We growers who pay their salaries through our taxes are of little importance.”
While Adella had heard some discussions between her father and brother regarding northern abolitionists’ calls for the end of slavery, she hadn’t paid much attention. Of course, she agreed that slaves should be free, but there seemed no possible way for this to happen. Slavery was legal in all the southern states as well as some in the middle of the country. Only in the North were black men and women free to move about and obtain jobs.
But Marshall’s comments made her wonder if perhaps freedom for the slaves was indeed possible. “Do you truly believe a new president could change the laws regarding slavery?” She thought of Jeptha, sitting in his own filth inside a shed where he couldn’t stand up straight, all because he had defended a helpless woman against an animal of a man.
Marshall turned surprised eyes to her. Papa met her question with a deep scowl.
“If the Republicans are successful in putting their man in the White House next year,” Marshall said, “they will have a fight on their hands, to be sure. No Democrat worth his salt will vote to end slavery.” He offered a benevolent smile, the kind you would give a child who didn’t understand a grownup conversation. “But you needn’t worry your pretty head over it, Adella Rose. You will have much more pleasant things to occupy your mind next year. I hope to hear the sound of small feet running about Le Beau soon enough.”
Irked by his rebuff of her interest in the subject, she didn’t stop to feel mortified that he insinuated marital intimacies in front of her father. Ignoring the comment, she continued the conversation. “If there is no concern that a new president could change things, then why does it matter which side wins the election?”
Before Marshall could answer, Papa slammed his glass down on the table. “Leave politics to the men, Adella Rose. You know little about the issues at hand, and your prattling questions are wearisome. Of course it matters what man is elected. The rights of Texas and every other slaveholding state are at stake.” He looked heavenward with a heavy sigh and shake of his head, as though seeking divine help for his addlebrained daughter.
Several tense moments ticked by, with Adella sitting in humiliated silence, before Marshall cleared his throat. “I am sure everything will right itself, my dear. We have God on our side. He won’t let the will of the ungodly take away all He has given us.”
Her brow raised. “You believe God gave you slaves? What then of the slaves’ belief that God will one day set them free?” Involuntarily, she glanced at the young black man who stood nearby yet gave no indication he listened to the conversation.
“Adella!” Papa rose from his seat. With wobbly steps, he stomped toward her. “I told you to stop this nonsense.”
She drew back in fear, thankful when Marshall stood and intercepted her father. “See here, Luther,” he said, taking Papa by the arm in a respectful yet forceful manner. “I am not offended by Adella’s questions. On t
he contrary, I am pleased to see that my future wife and I will have lively conversations from time to time. There is no harm in her asking questions.”
Papa stared at Marshall, clearly taken aback by his response. After several seconds, he huffed. “You will have your hands full with her, Brevard. She has no comprehension of all that goes into the running of a plantation. Her silly ideas … her befriending the darkies. I am glad to be rid of her.” Without a backward glance in Adella’s direction, her father stalked off toward the gleaming mansion, up a slight rise from the lake.
Hurt by his disrespectful outburst, she could only hope the liquor provoked him to say such mean things. They’d had their disagreements over the slaves before, but his behavior of late had grown decidedly harsh toward her for no apparent reason.
“I am sorry our discussion ended so poorly.” Marshall took a seat on the blanket next to her without asking her permission. He pulled a blade of grass and twirled it in his long fingers. “I am sure your father’s intentions toward you are, in his mind, for the best. Southern women, especially, are seen as too delicate to participate in the rigorous and often tempestuous conversations surrounding politics and business and the like.” He turned and studied her with a familiarity Adella found uncomfortable. Finally, he smiled. “I am pleased to discover my beautiful rose has a thorn or two. It will serve to keep me on my toes, I think.”
The charade became too much for her. She had to bring this farce to an end immediately. “Marshall.” She closed her eyes for a long moment. What could she say to lessen the blow? When she opened them again, she found his face very close. “I … I can’t …”
Before she could utter another word, his mouth descended upon hers. His moist lips moved over hers in such a possessive way, she sat wide-eyed and stunned, unable to think. When he reached to draw her closer, Adella pushed him away, removing herself from his grasp.
“Stop, please,” she said, putting distance between them on the blanket. Her gaze darted to the servant behind him, and when Marshall turned to look likewise, she hurriedly wiped his kiss from her mouth.
When his ardent gaze returned to her, he looked pleased. “You mustn’t be so timid, Adella Rose. My servants are quite discreet. We are, after all, betrothed.”
“That is what I need to speak to you about.” She scooted another inch or so away.
Hope shone in his gray eyes. “Are you ready to set a date? Tomorrow isn’t soon enough for me, you know.”
For a moment, Adella felt a pang of guilt. She should never have gone along with the engagement. Marshall would be hurt when she told him the truth. He deserved a woman who loved him, and who would bear him all those children he longed for. That she was not that woman didn’t bother her, but her role in his pain and embarrassment did.
“Marshall.” She took a deep breath, and sending a silent prayer heavenward said, “I can’t marry you.”
He stared at her, confusion replacing the hope she’d seen in his eyes only minutes before. “Of course I didn’t mean we would marry tomorrow, Adella Rose. I was jesting. Let us decide together on a date. Say, a month from now. That will give you enough time to have your trousseau made and begin on the changes to the mansion you wish to make and—”
Adella shook her head, silencing him. “No, Marshall. I mean, I can’t marry you, ever.”
Making a slow study of her face, he narrowed his gaze. “You are quite serious, aren’t you?” When she nodded, he turned to the servant. “Leave us.” His angry voice startled the young man, who immediately hurried away.
“Please, let me explain,” she began, her stomach in knots, but he held up his hand.
“There are things you need to know, Adella Rose, before you make any rash decisions,” he said, a deep frown pulling his sandy brows together. “Your father doesn’t believe you should know details regarding his business affairs, but suffice it to say agreements have been signed and put into place. Agreements that are irrevocable.”
The grave tone in his voice gave her pause. “What kind of agreements? And what has this to do with me? With us?”
“Everything. It has everything to do with you. With us.” He stood and offered his hand. “Come. Let us sit and discuss this like the business partners we are.”
Adella accepted his assistance and followed him to the chairs he and Papa had occupied a short time before. But his words confused her. “Business partners? Papa and George run the plantation. Papa is correct when he says I know nothing of their business. They don’t think I possess the intelligence to understand the things involved with running the plantation.”
Once they were settled in the chairs, Marshall leaned back, a peculiar smile on his face. “That is where I disagree with your father and brother. I believe you have plenty of intelligence. In fact, I trust that once I reveal the agreement I have made with your father, you will not only understand but will be in a position of power, should you opt to use it.”
He made no sense. Adella had little power over her father and brother, but she remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
“Your father approached me several months ago with a proposition.” He turned to look out on the lake. The sun slipped ever lower in the afternoon sky, making the water sparkle like a sea of diamonds.
“A proposition? Do you mean our engagement was his idea, not yours?” Adella asked, surprised by the feeling of disenchantment that news brought. Although she held no romantic thoughts for the man beside her, it wounded her female pride to think he hadn’t sought the engagement himself.
Marshall chuckled. “Now, now, don’t get ahead of me. The proposition had nothing to do with you. At least, not at first. It seems your father has overextended himself financially. Quite substantially, as it turns out.”
Shocked, Adella gaped at him. “Are you certain? How substantial?”
“To the point that no banks will loan him money. He has mortgaged Rose Hill beyond what he can repay.” Marshall leveled a serious look at her. “Your father is in financial ruin, Adella Rose. His mismanagement has put the plantation in jeopardy. Bankruptcy was his only option. Or it was until I came to his rescue.”
She stared at him, unable to accept what he’d told her. Could it be true? Surely Papa would have told her if he was in such serious trouble. “Does my brother know?”
“Yes.” Marshall nodded. “As your father’s heir, he had to be included in the agreement.”
A sinking feeling began in her gut. “What is the agreement?” she whispered, afraid of what he would tell her.
“I have agreed to a partnership of sorts with your father. A percentage of all profits at Rose Hill will come to me for the next ten years. In exchange, I will carry the bank notes until Luther is able to repay them. With a good harvest the next few seasons, it is very likely he could see himself free of the debts he has incurred within three or four years.”
Adella’s mind whirled, trying to recall anything her father might have said or done that would’ve hinted at the terrible predicament he was in. But there was nothing. They lived as they always had, with plenty of food and gowns and luxuries very few people could afford. Father continued to purchase land and slaves as he’d always done. With Mama so ill for two long years and the year of mourning following her passing, Adella admittedly hadn’t paid much attention to her father’s business dealings. Why should she have? Nothing was amiss, or so it had seemed.
But if what Marshall said was true, then they were indeed in financial ruin. What of the plantation and George’s inheritance? How could Papa be so careless in his spending to put all they had in such danger?
Yet the plantation did not belong to the banks. They’d been saved.
Her eyes sought the man next to her. Their rescuer. The agreement surely must have included more than what he’d revealed thus far. “And me? Where do I fit into all of this?” Adella’s voice held no emotion. The answer to her question was obvious.
Her father had sold her to the highest bidder.
“L
uther needed cash to pay off the additional land he purchased and to buy more slaves to work it. I supplied the revenue … under the condition that you and I marry.” He leaned forward to capture her gaze. “But hear me out, Adella Rose. I had not seen you since you were a small child. I had no idea you had grown into such a lovely woman. When I came to Rose Hill to discuss the business agreement with your father and saw you again, I knew I wanted you to be my wife. It had nothing to do with the agreement.”
“But Papa paid you a dowry.” She grasped at anything to prove his story was not as it seemed.
Marshall shook his head. “I am afraid you are mistaken, my dear. The only dowry I gain in marrying you are the few slaves you will bring with you from Rose Hill once we’re wed.”
Carolina’s sweet face filled her mind. Papa had willingly consented to Adella’s training the girl to become her personal maid, all the while knowing she was little more than a bride-price to him.
A wave of nausea swept through her. She stood abruptly. Clutching her stomach, she started for the house. “I must go. I need to be alone. To think.”
“Wait, Adella Rose.” Marshall hurried to catch up to her as she practically stumbled through the grass. “I know it sounds as though you were bought and paid for, but that doesn’t have to prevent us from having a happy life together. I can offer you a lifetime of luxury. Anything you want, it’s yours. I know you don’t love me, but in time I believe our affection for one another will grow.”
With abandon, Adella shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “No, Marshall. It won’t. I cannot marry a man I don’t love. Not when I love someone else.”
The change in his face took only a moment. It went from soft and pleading to one as cold as stone. “You speak of Brantley.”
She nodded, suddenly aware that her admission could put her family in great peril. She had no idea what legalities were involved in the agreement between Marshall and her father. What if he took Rose Hill from them in retaliation?
When she started for the house again, he didn’t follow.
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