Vanessa compressed her lips in an amused smile as she studied them. She cleared her throat noisily and gently asked, “Am I the last to know?”
Guiltily, Adeline turned toward her sister, a pink blush surging over her features. “Oh, Vanessa, I’m sorry—”
“For what, you ninny hammer?” asked Vanessa, sliding off her chair on to the floor beside her sister. She took Adeline’s hands in hers, squeezing them gently. Behind them, Trevor gently extricated himself from his children’s embrace, and taking their hands in his, led them from the room, closing the door behind them with a soft click.
Copious tears now trailed down Adeline’s cheeks. “Oh, Vanessa,” she murmured.
Vanessa’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “Is that all you can say to me, Oh, Vanessa? And stop that crying! Here, take my handkerchief,” she said, removing a small square of embroidered linen from the neckline of her dress and handing it to her sister. “I swear, Adeline, you’re a watering pot. Now stop this lest you have me in tears as well.”
“Thank you,” Adeline murmured, sniffling slightly, though her eyes shone like jewels.
“Tell me all,” insisted her sister, an admonitory expression on her face.
Adeline gave a watery chuckle and did as requested, though mindful of her sister’s temper last evening when she discovered their attempts to protect her from Wilmot, she prudently skirted the subject of the reason for the continued deceptions.
“So, when is Mr. Danielson going to declare himself to Father?”
“Well,” Adeline hedged, “he feels Father has some weighty business matters plaguing his mind at the moment that need resolution first.”«
“Stuff and nonsense! Tell him to speak to Father at once.”
“No! No, please, Vanessa, allow us to handle this in our own way, after all, it wasn’t long ago Trevor was your suitor, and we don’t wish the transition to be a shock.”
“So, what may I do to help, marry Mr. Wilmot?” Vanessa tossed out whimsically.
Adeline blanched. “Don’t joke about that! Please, promise me you won’t agree to marry Mr. Wilmot out of some misguided notion of rescue.”
“Rescue?” Vanessa chuckled. She rose to her feet, extending her hand to help her sister to rise. “I believe, dear sister, you’re picking up Paulette’s melodramatic tendencies. Come, let’s find Mr. Danielson and the children and get this picnic organized. I can’t wait for the opportunity to twit that gentleman,” she teased.
“Oh, Vanessa,” sighed Adeline again, earning a raised eyebrow and twisted smile from her sister as they left the room in search of the Danielson family.
For the better part of an hour Hugh Talverton wrestled with himself on the advisability of, versus his desire to, join the picnic party. He had made a mull of it last evening by kissing Vanessa, breaking all her strict unwritten rules for acceptable behavior. Perhaps it would be best to follow Mr. Wilmot’s example and make an early departure, not that that would be the easiest solution, for he was staying in Trevor’s lodgings above the offices of the Danielson and Hailey Company. It might raise more questions than he was currently willing to answer.
Truthfully, he was uncertain as to the reception he would receive in Vanessa’s company. He was loath to face the same skittish behavior she directed toward Mr. Wilmot. It would twist his soul to endure such a reception from her as was his due. Why had he played the incontinent fool last evening and given in to his temptations? He was not some callow schoolboy.
His thoughts churned, and he remembered her pliant body in his arms. After her initial shock, she’d succumbed willingly to his kiss, reveling in it as much as he. Why? She never accepted Wilmot’s clumsy, arrogant machinations. Why had she responded to him? Was it possible that she felt a modicum of feeling for him? She’d spoken of the pull between them. He’d recognize the feeling within himself but had not realized, and, in truth, verily denied, that she should feel likewise. Was it so unheard of? Could he now be the chosen over Trevor? The questions reverberated in his mind as he paced the canal, searching for peace and answers.
Finally, drained from the efforts of a virtually sleepless night, he made his way back to the plantation house to seek out the company, stoically preparing himself for rejection but feeling he had to see Vanessa again.
The servants directed him to a corner of the property where the vegetation resembled a forest glade versus the ubiquitous swamp. The little party he sought was encamped on blankets under the shade of a large tree. They were all laughing and looking up to where Trevor’s six-year-old son was swinging from a thick branch and little Mary sat in the crook of two massive limbs. Adeline stood beneath her, urging her to climb down, but the little girl just shook her head defiantly, inviting Adeline to join her.
Vanessa urged her sister to climb the tree, her face alight with mischief. Hugh saw Adeline steadfastly shake her head, a false frown remonstrating her sister for making the suggestion. As he drew near, Hugh heard Trevor add his voice to Vanessa’s, and offer to give her a boost. Laughing, Adeline acquiesced, and Trevor gave her a leg up onto a low branch of the tree.
Adeline swung her legs and chatted animatedly with Mary. Hugh saw her sweep her arm wide to indicate the view, her gaze following a moment later, catching sight of him on the path.
“Mr. Talverton!” she called.
Vanessa swung around, a deep rose blush staining her cheeks. Deliberately she looked away, unable to maintain eye contact with him lest she show where her heart lay.
Hugh understandably interpreted her action as rejection. He would halve turned on his heel if Trevor was not approaching him and the children not screaming with delight.
Reluctantly, he joined in their merriment. Alex dropped to the ground and ran to his side, tucking a trusting hand in his arm. Mary squealed and called for him to help her down. Laughing more freely now, he pinched her cheeks and lifted her off the branch.
“Help Miss Adeline, too,” the young girl instructed with curiously grown-up presence.
He bowed over her hand. “It shall be my pleasure,” he promised earnestly. But when he turned to face Adeline, Trevor’s hands were already on her waist as he gently helped her down. Hugh frowned darkly when he noted his friend’s hands resting longer than was seemly in polite company. Embarrassed for Vanessa, he cleared his throat loudly.
Adeline and Trevor looked over at him but just laughed. Vanessa’s face bore a curious expression of equanimity. Curious, because it was not a typical emotion for her. She felt things swiftly and heavily, with all emotions registering on the canvas of her face. Because of her usually mobile features, it was odd that she should sit so still and not display her feelings. He was certain she could not have observed the scene with quite the serenity she was displaying.
“Feeling better now?” Trevor asked, his arm still around Adeline. His smile was hearty as it had been earlier that morning.
“I was,” he muttered darkly, his brows drawing forward again. How could his friend treat Vanessa in this fashion, ignoring her and reserving his attention for another woman?
If Vanessa could not come to love Trevor, then it would be on that gentleman’s head. If Trevor did not appreciate her, then damn it, he certainly did, and he was not about to let any man give her slipshod treatment.
Trevor’s arm slipped from the small of Adeline’s back. He came toward his friend, smiling ruefully. “What ails you, Hugh? You are as blue as megrim.”
“It is not what ails me, it is what ails you,” came Hugh’s acid rider, putting his back to the ladies and children so they might be spared his righteous anger.
Trevor’s eyebrows snapped together. “Don’t stand on points with me. Quit behaving like a Tragedy Jack and tell me what has you by the tail,” he said with asperity.
“Your behavior,” Hugh ground out.
“My behavior?”
“Your behavior toward your intended is deplorable.”
“What?”
“The bonds of affection we share are st
rained by your unprincipled actions.”
The glint of sharpening anger showed in Trevor’s eyes. “Now see here, Talverton,” he said, maintaining a bare degree of civility, “my intended and I have a comfortable understanding, and I’ll thank you to keep out of our affairs.”
The gentlemen’s rising tones captured the attention of Adeline and Vanessa. They exchanged worried glances.
“Let’s go see what different wildflowers you may find for me,” Adeline hurriedly suggested to the children, leading them away.
Vanessa rose from her seat on the blanket and took a step nearer Hugh and Trevor, a concerned frown pulling at her features.
“Understanding—is that the best you have to offer a wife?”
“I repeat, what I offer is not of your concern,” Trevor answered tightly, his face flushing.
Hugh glared at him helplessly, his tawny eyes glowing like cut gems. His fist clenched, his arm swung back then out, to connect squarely with Trevor’s jaw.
The force of the blow spun Trevor around, knocking him off balance. He landed heavily. Hugh stood over him, his hands balled into fists.
“Trevor!” yelled Vanessa, dropping to her knees beside him.
“Oh, is there to be a mill?” asked young Alex excitedly.
“Of course not,” snapped Adeline, picking up her skirts and running toward Trevor.
Alex and Mary looked at each other. “Adults,” Alex said with disgust. Mary nodded her solemn agreement.
“Talverton, you must still be foxed,” said Trevor, nursing his jaw. “I haven’t the foggiest what you’re about. If the children and ladies weren’t present, I’d give you the mill you’re so obviously looking for, and don’t be so cocksure of its outcome.”
Vanessa glared at Hugh. “Barbarian!” she cried, throwing back at him the word he’d once used to describe New Orleans. She drew a handkerchief from a hidden pocket of her dress and dabbed at a slight cut on Trevor’s lip.
“Trevor! Are you all right?” demanded Adeline, sinking down to the ground and placing his head on her lap.
“I’d life be a barbarian than a shocking loose screw,” vowed Hugh, but his tense posture eased, though his face was still dark with emotion. “If I were marrying Vanessa, I’d show her more respect than to cavort with her sister.”
“Vanessa!” exclaimed Trevor, struggling up on his elbow.
“Me!” squeaked the subject of discussion.
“Oh, dear me,” exclaimed Adeline weakly before she was overtaken by a paroxysm of laughter.
Thunderstruck, Hugh stared at them all.
“I thought . . . by your words this morning, I thought you knew,” said Trevor, the beginnings of a laugh welling up in him. He put his hand back to his face. “It hurts too much to laugh, but by Jove, Hugh, you’re a cork-brained fellow. I want Vanessa for a sister, not a wife!”
“A sister?”
“Yes, I want to wed Adeline.”
“Hurrah, hurrah!” piped in two little voices behind him.
Trevor sat up just in time to avoid being trampled by his own children as they threw themselves at Adeline, entwining their arms around her neck.
Hugh slumped down to the ground, holding his head in his hands. “This is a devil of a muddle. I must be worse than cork-brained for I’ll confess I don’t understand.”
“I’ll admit I once contemplated wedding Vanessa, but that was before I realized I was in love with Adeline. After we realized our true affections, we, Adeline and myself, decided it would be best if I were to continue to court Vanessa publicly for the reason we discussed: Wilmot. I’ll admit there was another reason, too, but I didn’t realize the strength of your feelings and commitment not to be thwarted again,” Trevor said wryly.
“What do you mean?”
“We reasoned you and Vanessa had the potential for more than an antagonistic relationship; you just needed the proper incentive. I thought if I continued to court Vanessa, you’d see the parallels to the courtship of Julia and get jealous enough not to want to lose again.”
“Oh, he saw them all right,” said Vanessa, rising and brushing the dirt and grass off her gown. “But that’s not the lesson he came away with.”
Tears shimmered at the edges of her eyes, blurring her vision. “I cannot believe the lengths you all have gone to protect me from something I may not wish to be protected from. I would just like the opportunity to find out for myself. Is that so much to ask? Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take my leave of you. I find I have a splitting headache.” Her voice caught in her throat as she whirled away to stumble down the path.
“Vanessa! Please!” called Hugh, rising to his feet and starting after her.
“No, don’t, Mr. Talverton. Give her some time. I know my sister. Though she may be quick to anger, she does come around to seeing the humor in life. Let Vanessa work her frustrations out of her system.”
Hugh looked at Adeline and then back to Vanessa uncertainly. He exhaled deeply and shook his head. “Truly, I don’t know what the proper course is any longer.” He laughed shortly, remembering Paulette’s words. The minx knew exactly what she was saying. Joining the picnic had been an enlightening experience.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Hugh!” Trevor cried, bursting into the small study where his friend sat writing a letter to his family. “Russell Wilmot is the worst type of vermin to crawl upon the earth. You would not believe what my contacts have discovered.” Leaning back in his chair, his quill held lax between his fingers, Hugh looked up. Trevor’s countenance conveyed a deep agitation. His sable hair, normally neatly waved back off his high forehead, spiked outward at the sides of his head, augmenting his wild-eyed appearance.
Despite his own low spirits and depression, Hugh was moved to listen to his friend, albeit dully.
“Mannion took some loans out this spring, and guess who holds the notes?”
“Wilmot,” Hugh said flatly.
“How did you guess?”
Hugh snorted. “I’ve know that since Wednesday.”
“Wednesday! That was nearly a week ago. Why didn’t you tell me?” Trevor expostulated.
“I believed the information to be given into my trust in strictest confidence.”
“But how? Who would know such a thing?”
“Richard himself.”
“Richard!”
“Please Trevor, must you continually sound like an echo? Soon you’ll have me believing I’m back in the Alps.”
“The Alps!”
“See what I mean?”
Trevor shook his head, his mouth set in a grim line. “This is not a time for levity.”
His friend sighed. “If I don’t laugh, I vow I shall be consumed with a burning anger or quaking sadness.”
“This maudlin mantle you wear is not like you, Hugh.”
“I don’t think I know what is like me anymore,” he responded whimsically.
“Hugh!”
“All right. All right,” he placated. “Tell me. There is a chance Richard did not disclose all, and there may be more to be gleaned from the matter.”
Trevor pulled a chair around in front of Hugh and straddled it, resting his forearms on the gracefully carved wooden back. “Word has it Mannion’s invested almost all of his blunt on this year’s cotton harvest. Overextended himself so he was forced to seek loans. Wasn’t from the gull gropers, but might as well have been for the rates he’s to pay are usurious. They say he didn’t borrow conventionally because he wanted his dealing kept private in order to instigate some sort of coup in the marketplace come fall. Funny, I’d never have taken Mannion for that type of gambler. Thought he was a straight, conservative fellow, actually.
“Anyway, it seems Wilmot somehow found out about the loans and bought them up, paid top dollar, too, I heard. Now he’s using his possession to put some sort of pressure on Richard. It’s true he wants to marry Vanessa, but it’s not as if he’s possessed of a grand passion for her or anything. They say he’s got a quadroon mistress in
a nice house on Rampart Street that he’s not about to give up. Evidently she’s pure class. But back to Vanessa. For some reason Wilmot’s blackmailing Richard to try to force him to grant him Vanessa’s hand in marriage, as a willing or unwilling bride. I’ll tell you, though, a number of heads are scratching to figure out just why. I mean, it’s known Louisa’s dowry was hefty, but there are plenty of other debutantes whose dowries are plumper. Vanessa’s can’t be that different from her sister’s.”
Hugh laughed shortly. “Ah, but that’s where you and all your contacts are wrong. It is quite different.”
“What do you mean?” Trevor asked, straightening in his chair.
“Mannion’s settled half his business on her.”
“What!”
“My sentiments exactly. It is a long story, so I won’t bore you with all the details. Suffice it to say, one other gentleman in New Orleans knew about the arrangement and has held it over Richard’s head for four years. And he’s the only one Wilmot could have learned it from.”
“Who?”
“Jean Laffite.”
Trevor swore viciously. “I suspected Wilmot’s overnight success in business might be due in part to that pirate. They must have been working far closer than I ever imagined, to share that kind of knowledge.”
Hugh shrugged. “‘Whether they were close or not, there is no honor among thieves and, from some things Richard’s said to me, I’d be willing to bet a pony Laffite has no notion of Wilmot’s machinations.”
Trevor nodded. “Laffite has been too busy attempting to reclaim what is rightfully his.”
“So Richard alluded.”
“What was Laffite’s stake in all this?”
“He got to choose the bridegroom and therefore gain control of another legitimate front operation.”
“But why hasn’t he done so before now?”
“I suspect because things began to get a little unsettling for him in 1814, the year Vanessa turned eighteen.”
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