The woman lowered her voice. "Indeed, oui. I remember the disgrace as if it happened only yesterday. Gabrielle Montesquieu met the American the year Gustave sent her to visit relatives in France. I believe the man was a common seaman. Gabrielle and this Slaughter fell in love and were married right there in Paris, without so much as consulting her father."
"How dreadful. Was the marriage the reason why Gustave Montesquieu disowned his daughter?"
"Indeed it was. You know what a proud man he is. The disgrace must have been a bitter pill for him to swallow. I have heard that poor Gabrielle has been a widow for years, cut off from her family and friends, living in the wilds of America."
"In my opinion, she brought it all on herself. When one marries beneath oneself, one must suffer the consequences." This pronouncement was delivered smugly by the second woman.
"You are right of course. Dear Sebastian told me that Gustave issued the invitation for his daughter to come home. It is hard to believe Judah Slaughter and dear Sebastian are related. I hope Monsieur Montesquieu will not leave any part of his fortune to this Slaughter. Everything should, by rights, go to Sebastian —he has been so devoted."
"Surely Gustave Montesquieu will never consider leaving anything to this American. Everyone knows how steadfast and loyal Sebastian is. He is such a dear boy, while I doubt this American will ever be accepted."
"Make no mistake about it, if he is the one chosen to inherit the Montesquieu fortune, he will be accepted," the other lady wisely observed. "There will be a rush of mamas who seek to acquire him as a husband for their daughters."
Judah's finely molded lips eased into an amused smile as he listened to the two ladies discuss him in such unflattering terms. If only they knew how little he cared about his grandfather's fortune, they would be shocked.
Judah looked about the room, searching for Sebastian. His cousin had not made a very favorable first impression, but he now seemed eager to make Judah feel welcome. Judah did not trust his motives, however. All those he had met at Bend of the River seemed to be hiding their true feelings. None was as he appeared, and there were hidden meanings behind everything said. Judah decided not to let his guard down around any of them.
Tonight Sebastian had convinced him to attend this ball at a neighboring plantation. It seemed Sebastian was smitten with the elder daughter of the host, and had every intention of marrying her. Judah waited with little interest for his cousin's ladylove to enter. He doubted that anyone could be as beautiful as Sebastian claimed his goddess to be.
Judah felt movement behind him and turned in amazement to see a young urchin standing beside him. It took him a moment to realize the child was female. She was covered with mud from the tip of her head to the toes of her scuffed brown boots. Her skirt was tucked into her waistband, allowing her skinny knees to show, and her strange blue eyes were made more prominent because of her smudged face. Her pert little nose was wrinkled with mirth. As she smiled at Judah, her eyes danced merrily. Lifting her finger to her lips, she cautioned him to be silent.
"In case you don't know it, Monsieur, you have been crucified by the creme de la creme," she whispered. That is Madame Dancy and that, Madame Pessac. Their joy in life is to gossip."
His laughter was soft. "So it would seem. It does not concern me overmuch what they think of me. But, if you are a servant, shouldn't you slip out quickly? I would not want to see you get into trouble."
She smothered a giggle. "Would that I were only a servant—then my penalty would be far less severe. You see before you, Monsieur, a daughter of the house. There is no way for me to reach the privacy of my room but across that dance floor. Someone locked the back door."
"Did you go swimming in the river?" he wanted to know.
"Not by choice. My boat capsized." She gave him a woeful smile. "I will be in disgrace after tonight."
His smile was warm. "You have my sympathy."
The music had stopped, and Judah's face showed amazement when the young girl squared her shoulders and strolled leisurely away, heading in the direction of the massive, polished cypress staircase. Everyone's attention seemed to be drawn to her, but she pretended not to notice. Liberty knew she would face her mother's anger later on that night, but the damage was done so she was determined to make the best of it.
Sharp gasps could be heard from the two matrons who had been discussing Judah in such unflattering terms. "Well I never," one of them declared in horror. "What will Liberty be thinking of next? She is a disgrace to her family. A total disgrace!"
"Oui" agreed her friend. "I fear they will never make a silk purse out of that sow's ear. How unlike her sister she is."
Judah watched the young girl dash up the stairs two at a time. He smiled as she turned back to him and then tossed a woebegone glance at the ceiling. Inspired by her courage, he straightened his snowy-white cravat, stepped out of the shadows, and bowed before the two grandes dames. "If either of you ladies has a marriageable daughter, I may consider her"—he paused for effect—"but only if my grandfather leaves me his holdings. Otherwise, I would not dare aspire so high for a wife."
Hearing a giggle, Judah's attention was drawn to the stairs in time for him to see the girl called Liberty burst into laughter. With a wink in her direction, he walked out the double doors into the garden, leaving the two matrons gaping.
As he gazed up at the crescent moon, he wondered how the young girl had come to be named Liberty. Poor little homely creature, her name was the most promising thing about her. He laughed at the memory of the humor he had seen in her dancing blue eyes. She might never grow into a beauty, but she was certainly an adorable little minx.
The music had started again. Violins sweetly filled the air with a haunting melody. Judah glanced back at the house. He was certain that he did not fit in with his mother's people. He was an American, and proud of it! His father's family, the Slaughters, had come from a distinguished, old family. He would never apologize to anyone for who he was.
Suddenly the balcony doors were pushed open, and he recognized his cousin's voice. "I thought you would never come down. Are you happy now that you made the grand entrance?"
Judah assumed the woman beside his cousin was the femme fatale Sebastian had described. He allowed his eyes to rove to her, and he was disappointed that she wore a mask. There was no mistaking her costume; it was meant to represent Queen Elizabeth of England. Her gown was all red, but for the white ruff at her throat, and her hair was covered with a red wig. When she laughingly removed the mask and the red wig and tossed them aside, ebony locks spilled down her back. Her face was like an angel's, and her voice was musical when she spoke.
"When I have an expensive new gown, I like to show it off," Bandera stated. Opening her fan, she tapped Sebastian on the shoulder. "You cannot deny that I fooled everyone here tonight. At least they pretended not to know me."
"No disguise can hide your beauty, Bandera." Sebastian stared down at her. "I am the envy of every man here because you are with me," he said with feeling. Pulling her into his arms, he tried to kiss her, but she ducked her head and laughed at his attempt.
"Surely you do not expect the Queen of England to be of easy virtue, Sebastian."
Judah was so caught up in the woman's spell that he did not realize he was not alone until he heard Liberty speak. "That's my sister, Bandera. Men always think she's beautiful. I just think she's tiresome." Liberty bit into a carrot and continued talking with her mouth full. "All she ever thinks about is clothes and her gentlemen friends. She never has fun because she is too busy trying to look beautiful."
Judah noticed that the young girl's face had been scrubbed clean and her light-colored hair was now tied back with a ribbon. The shapeless smock she wore was also clean. "And what do you do for fun, Mademoiselle Liberty?"
She tossed aside her uneaten carrot. "Mostly I like to be in the swamps, but I also like to ride horses and to help out in the stable. But I have to sneak off to do that. I like horses more than most people I
know."
Judah smiled. "So do I, Liberty. So do I. Why are you not dressed in costume?"
"I am too young to attend the ball this year. My mother says I have to wait two more years before I can participate in the masquerade ball."
His eyes went back to the balcony where that lovely vision, Bandera, had been joined by three other gentlemen. Her laughter was enchanting—everything about her was enchanting.
"Monsieur, what does it feel like to be an American?" Liberty wanted to know.
Through lowered lashes, he looked down at her. "Comfortable. I suspect you will find out before long. It is my guess that Orleans Territory will soon become a state."
"Do you think so?"
"I do."
"Is it true that you are Sebastian's cousin?"
"Guilty."
"I suppose that will make us relatives of a sort. It seems almost a certainty that Bandera will marry Sebastian. He is considered a prize catch, you know"—Liberty smiled impishly—" unless, of course, you walk off with the Montesquieu holdings as Madame Tulorose suggested. Should that happen, Bandera will probably try for you."
Judah glanced back to Bandera and watched her disappear inside the ballroom. "You aren't being very kind to your sister. You make her sound as if she were only after Sebastian for his prospects."
"Not at all. I believe it is a game most women play. My mother says when one is pretty, one needs nothing else. As you have seen, Bandera is beautiful."
He smiled. "How would you classify yourself?"
"I am reasonably intelligent."
The self-appraisal was spoken earnestly. Liberty leaned close to Judah. "Bandera says ladies are not supposed to be intelligent. She says men don't want them to be. Can that be true?"
Judah laughed at the little charmer. "I have very little doubt that you will grow up and outsmart all the competition."
Liberty seated herself on a marble bench and spread her smock out about her. "Is that just a polite way of saying you do not think me pretty?"
His laughter rang out. "You are about the most precocious little girl it has ever been my pleasure to meet."
"I am not a little girl," she insisted. "Just last week I turned — "
"No, don't tell me—allow me to guess. You have just celebrated your twelfth birthday. You see, I am somewhat of an authority on a young lady's age."
"I am not twelve," Liberty said indignantly. "I am much older than that."
"I see." He tried not to smile. "How much older?"
She gave him a supercilious glance. "I ... am fifteen."
"Ah," he said, making a gracious bow before her. "Mademoiselle Liberty, you will forgive my ignorance. How can I have been so mistaken? I see now that you are much older than I first suspected. Is there some way I can make amends for my miscalculation?" The smile that played around his lips was quickly hidden as he bent to kiss her fingers.
When he glanced up, Liberty saw his turquoise blue eyes twinkle with humor. As she stared into his handsome face, she felt a quickening in her heart —a strange feeling she had never before experienced, one which left her shaken.
For the first time, she noticed that Judah Slaughter was taller than the average man. He had not come in costume, and her eyes were drawn to the breadth of his shoulders and to how snugly they fit into his black velvet jacket. Her eyes moved down his long muscular pantaloon-clad legs, to his shiny black boots. He was all male, and she had the feeling there was unleased strength and power behind this man. Before now, Liberty had never dwelled on the differences between a man and a woman. But this man had made her all too aware that he was out of the ordinary. He would stand out anywhere because there was something different about him. It was more than the fact that he spoke French with an American accent; it went past the humor that now curved his lips.
"How may I make amends?" he asked once more, while clicking his heels and giving her an exaggerated bow.
The mischievous smile that hit Liberty's face, made her eyes sparkle. "You could dance with me, Monsieur. I know the quadrille quite well."
He presented his arm, and she placed her hand on it. "As, my lady wishes," he said, the mirth still dancing in his eyes.
While the music filtered through the air and thousands of stars twinkled in the ebony sky, Judah danced Liberty around the garden. While he seemed to find the whole incident humorous, Liberty was having an entirely different reaction. She could feel the corded muscles, the whipcord sinews, as her hand rested on his arm. His gaze was fixed on her face, and suddenly Liberty was finding it hard to breathe. When his hard thigh accidentally brushed against her during a quick whirl, she felt her body come awake with a painful jolt.
Staring through thick lashes, Judah caught her eye.
"You are indeed a fine dancer, Mademoiselle. Rarely have I danced with a partner to equal you." As a lock of her hair brushed against his cheek, Judah became aware of a lingering scent. It was not one of the exotic or powerful scents that most women preferred, but a sweet, soft, haunting scent. One that he was sure he would remember for the rest of his life. And she was soft in his arms—as if she belonged there. With restraint, Judah kept reminding himself of her young age.
Liberty tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat. She was aware of her limitations when it came to holding this man's attention. She realized how young she must appear, dressed in her childish smock. She wished with all her young heart that she had paid more attention to her toilette on this night. She could at least have worn her violet-colored silk gown with the green embroidery around the skirt. She remembered with horror what his first impression of her must have been. He had seen her at her worst in that mud-covered state.
"I like a lady who doesn't talk," he said, sweeping her around a hedge to circle the small fountain.
"I speak three languages," she blurted out, wondering what had ever possessed her to make such a mundane statement. He would not be interested in her trivial accomplishments. Why had she not said something clever to impress him? Bandera would have known just how to keep his attention.
"Do you?"
She lowered her head. "It is unimportant."
Without breaking his stride, he placed a finger under her chin and raised her face to his. "I believe any accomplishment is important. Which languages to you speak?"
"I . . . the obvious, French . . . Spanish and English."
He smiled indulgently, as though sensing her discomfort. Merveilleuse, brava, and hurrah!"
Liberty lifted her lashes, meeting his gaze. A shiver ran through her body, and she spoke quickly, hoping he had not noticed. "My mother says a woman should never point out her accomplishments to a gentleman. She says if she acts with the proper decorum, her attributes will be apparent.
Judah threw back his head and laughed deeply. This little charmer would all too soon have the gentlemen aware of her accomplishments. Even though she was a mere child, he found her fascinating. "What else does your mother say, little Liberty?"
"Her mother says children should be seen and not heard." A musical voice spoke up just behind Judah. Liberty felt her heart thud as she saw her sister standing under the moon's glow, looking like a beautiful princess. "Her mother says that she should not pester the adults."
Judah turned, not at all pleased with the way this woman had embarrassed and humiliated Liberty. He was about to voice his displeasure when his eyes fell on Bandera, and all else was pushed from his mind. Her dark hair seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, as did her bright red gown, and her creamy skin was like alabaster. His heart hammered in his temples as she smiled at him.
"Has my sister been annoying you?"
"To the contrary; I find her enchanting."
Liberty knew she might have been on the moon for all Bandera and Judah cared. Liberty saw the way her sister's eyes assessed their guest, and she knew Bandera was on the trail of another conquest. She quickly glanced up at Judah, hoping he could see through her sister's practiced ploys. But like a man caught in a dream, Judah
released Liberty's hand and gravitated toward Bandera.
"Liberty, where are your manners?" Bandera scolded. "You have not yet introduced me to your friend."
Liberty bit back her disappointment. Now was not the time to act like a spoiled child. "This is Sebastian's cousin, Judah Slaughter. Monsieur Slaughter, meet my sister, Bandera."
"Ah, yes, the sister." Clicking his heels together, Judah bowed from the waist, not in mockery as he had earlier with Liberty, but with politeness and gallantry. "I believe I am in the presence of Good Queen Bess."
Bandera's eyes sparkled with renewed fascination as she stared at the handsome stranger. She could feel her pulse racing as his eyes moved over her face with evident attentiveness. "So," she breathed, "you are Sebastian's cousin."
"I am."
She circled slowly around him, her eyes taking in the cut of his coat, the breath of his shoulders. Magnetism seemed to ooze from every pore of his body. Bandera's movements were graceful, practiced to draw a man's eyes, and she definitely had drawn Judah's attention. When at last she stopped in front of him, knowing he was attracted to her, she smiled. "You do not look like a Montesquieu."
"I am not. I am a Slaughter."
Bandera licked her lips, making them moist and soft, then tapped her black satin fan against her open palm. Both gestures caught Judah's attention. "Sebastian is worried lest you came to steal away his inheritance. Need he be?" Her voice was low and musical. He did not see the urgency in her eyes as she waited for an answer to her question.
"Sebastian need have no fear of me. I will not be staying long enough to take anything away from him."
Bandera's thick lashes fluttered, and she met Judah's brilliant turquoise gaze. "Has Sebastian nothing that would interest you?"
His eyes swept across her face to light on her parted lips. "Perhaps, but it has nothing to do with money."
Low laughter trilled from Bandera's throat. "You will have this country girl's heart all atwitter, Monsieur Slaughter." His smile took her breath away.
"Indeed, that might well be my intention."
Moontide Embrace (Historical Romance) Page 8
