“Blind arrogance!” he stormed, his body rigid.
“Yes, and aristocratic conceit as well,” she flared hotly.
He pokered up. “It is obvious we were misled in our affections,” he stated stiffly.
“Obviously.”
“Most likely caused by the novelty each presented to the other,” he went on.
“Precisely.”
“I don’t believe we should be wasting each other’s time. It is obvious to me your affections are shallow—”
“Shallow!” she fumed.
“—and ephemeral. I thank you for your kind offices in nursing me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go pack my portmanteau and return to Trevor’s town house immediately.”
“Yes,” Vanessa said tightly, “I think that would be best.”
He bowed stiffly. “Your servant, ma’am,” he said softly, turned on his heel, and left.
Vanessa stood still for several moments after he left, emotionally stunned by the events that had just transpired. A tiny moan of despair finally escaped her lips, and she slumped down on a nearby bench and wept.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“This is idiotic,” protested Trevor as he watched Hugh pack his portmanteau. “At least stay until after the engagement party.”
“It would be to no purpose, and I would not have my presence put a damper on the festivities.”
“Gammon. Your absence will do that quite nicely. Adeline will be distraught.”
Hugh placed a stack of neatly folded cravats in the corner of his case. “Then I depend upon you to lighten her spirits.”
“Damn it, Hugh, it’s been a week. Don’t you think the two of you could talk about it now?”
“There is nothing to discuss. Miss Mannion made her views eminently clear to me.”
“Well, I’ll tell you something that’s not clear to me, and that’s why you’re so insistent upon returning to England to live. What’s there for you? True, you have an easy competence that will allow you to live life comfortably without worry, but I can’t see you as a man of leisure. What are you going to do? Tend fields? Enter politics? That’s all you’ll be able to do without risking ostracizing the ton. They might forgive this little foray of yours into trade as a lark, but become further involved and they’ll shun you.”
“I doubt that,” Hugh contradicted without looking up, his movements as he packed the bag swift and efficient.
“Do you? Do you really? You can lie to me, but you’d better not lie to yourself,” Trevor warned. “Remember, I lived in England, and coming from trade, I know what reception I received. You’ve been at war for so many years that England has become some Elysian Fields to you and bears little resemblance to reality.”
“Our cases are different. You’re an American.”
“And you would take an American woman to live in England? You tell me our cases are different? Egad, but Vanessa was correct. You are arrogant,” he said with disgust.
Hugh straightened, and one blond eyebrow rose in an otherwise impassive face as he looked at his erstwhile friend. “But as you once told me, no more so than any other Englishman.”
“It appears I was wrong,” Trevor said harshly, flinging the bedroom door open and stalking out.
Hugh stared at the door, then slowly crossed the room to close it gently, his hand resting for a moment on its carved paneling. Trevor was correct, there wasn’t anything for him in England. Nonetheless, Vanessa should have loved him enough to go wherever he went. That she didn’t ripped at his very being like the tearing claws of a lion. He’d been to the center of the maze and managed to come back out, but without the prize, and the wounds from the skirmish would take forever to heal.
His mind was dull, his only thought to travel upriver on a steamboat, and from there he hoped to explore a bit of the countryside, to let its untamed wilderness ease the pain in his chest. Perhaps it was for the best. Their cultures were diverse, and more than likely she would not be happy in England. All the reasons he desired to see her in London society were tied to the fact that she would set the town on its ears, and such circumstance would invariably lead to her own ostracism by the beau monde. He was a veritable cad to wish to see her humiliated so, though she was worth more than any English miss who paid mere lip service to the society’s rules themselves but categorically renounced anyone else who strayed from the proper path.
He had certainly made a mull of his relationship with Vanessa. He was worse than any callow schoolboy. He swore savagely under his breath, then turned back to packing his things.
“Vanessa, what do you think of this orchid-colored material?” Adeline asked, fingering a bolt of filmy muslin.
Her sister didn’t answer.
“Vanessa?” Adeline called, dropping the bolt to look around the small shop. She spotted her sister staring at a magnificently attired quadroon woman. She laid her hand on her arm. “Vanessa?”
“What? Oh, I’m sorry, did you wish to show me something?”
“Yes, an orchid fabric over here,” she said, leading her to the bolt of cloth. “But why were you staring at that woman?” she asked softly.
“Because she has been staring at me, and has done so in the past three shops we’ve entered.”
“She’s been following us?”
“So it would appear, but it’s me who’s captured her interest for some reason, for I’ve purposely separated myself from you and Paulette to see if she followed either of you. She hasn’t. It’s me who has her interest, so I decided it would be best to stare back at her and let her know I am aware of her regard.”
“I don’t like this, Vanessa. Perhaps we should return home,” Adeline said nervously, glancing around the small establishment. It was filled with bolts of fabric creating hidden shadowed corners. “Where’s Paulette now?”
“Purchasing some ribbons to refurbish her pink silk hat, I believe.”
“Well, let’s get her and leave,” she suggested.
“No, I don’t believe so,” Vanessa said slowly. “I want to discover what this woman wants.”
“But you don’t know anything about her, and she looks like—like—”
“A man’s mistress? No, don’t blush so, Adeline. I agree. That’s what has me even more curious. What could such a woman, and a woman obviously fashionably well maintained, want with me?”
“You don’t think that Mr. Talverton . . . .”
“Has taken her up?” A quick little pain pierced her heart at the mention of his name. She ruthlessly shoved the feeling aside, as she had pushed aside all errant thoughts of Hugh Talverton for the past week. “I wouldn’t have said she suits him, but then, I don’t know him all that well,” she said bitterly.
“I’m sorry I said anything. I didn’t mean to cause you pain,” Adeline said lamely, a worried little frown creasing her brow.
Vanessa smiled lightly, a weary, wan smile that was all she had been able to manage on any occasion during the past week. “I know. Well, talking won’t pay toll, so I suggest we find Paulette and be on our way. Or did you mean to buy this material?”
Adeline looked at the bolt in front of them. “No, no I don’t think so. Now, somehow, it seems just too depressing a color.”
“I’m sorry, Adeline. I am not good company for someone with happy plans on her mind.”
“Oh, Vanessa, no, please don’t say that. I wish, I just wish you would talk to Mr. Talverton. Trevor says he’s determined to leave New Orleans today. I know he wouldn’t go if you’d just talk to him.”
“Mr. Talverton and I have nothing to say.”
“But—” Adeline protested.
“No buts. We would not suit. Hugh Talverton was an educational interlude for me, and I an amusing dalliance for him, that’s all. I neither wish to see the man again, or hear his name mentioned.”
“You may find that before this day is out, you have cause to regret your words, Miss Mannion.”
Vanessa whirled around, shocked to hear a melodious, and lightly accen
ted woman’s voice directly behind her. It was the quadroon woman. She was beautifully attired in a glowing turquoise silk gown and was redolent of a heavy rose scent. She smiled down at Vanessa, her wide mouth open, revealing pearly white teeth. She was a beautiful woman, and a woman obviously well versed in the pleasures of men.
Vanessa glared at her, and tilted her head up haughtily. “I beg your pardon?”
The woman merely laughed, not at all put off by Vanessa’s manner. “It is perhaps well that you care so little for this Mr. Talverton,” the woman said serenely while fingering a brilliant swath of red silk, “as he is not long to be alive.”
“What are you talking about? What do you know of Mr. Talverton?” Vanessa demanded, suddenly very frightened for there was something about the woman’s calm manner that instilled belief in her words.
Adeline pulled on her sister’s arm. “Come away, Vanessa. Don’t talk to this woman.”
Vanessa ignored her, her eyes locked with those of the beautiful quadroon.
“My—ah—gentleman has arranged for his demise this very day,” she said with a smile, her dark eyes expressive. She ceased her contrived interest in the fabric around them. “It seems this Mr. Talverton has caused him no end of inconvenience.”
“What? Are you Mr. Wilmot’s . . .” Vanessa began then stumbled to a stop, uncertain what to say.
The woman laughed again. “You ladies are all so prim and formal. Yes, I am his mistress, and he belongs to me. You are lucky you did not see fit to marry Russell, for if you had, you would not have lived long. I would have seen to that,” she ingeniously added, as if it were no great matter.
“How dare you!” exclaimed Adeline. “Come Vanessa, this woman is obviously a troublemaker.”
“No, wait,” Vanessa said, grasping her sister’s hand when Adeline would have left. She cocked her head to the side as she considered the quadroon. “You have some reason for telling me all this.”
The woman’s finely plucked brow rose in appreciation for Vanessa’s understanding. “Indeed.” The woman’s eyes darkened, and she seemed to look past Vanessa as she spoke, her voice low and vibrant with conviction. “Though Mr. Talverton has defeated Russell at his game, it is still for me to strike a lesson home. I wish to teach Mr. Russell Wilmot that I am not a trifle he may shuffle aside at his convenience. I take second place to no one.” She looked back at Vanessa, her sultry eyes gazing into hers. “So, I tell you of Russell’s plans for Mr. Talverton, and leave it to you to effect a rescue, if you’re able.”
“What does he have planned?” Vanessa asked hoarsely, her grip tightening on Adeline’s hand.
“An accident at the docks. Before he boards the steamboat.”
“How? When?”
The woman shrugged expressively. “I know not, but you may be certain he shall not escape as easily as he did last week, for I understand a certain river man is also out for his life.”
“Trevor said he was to be off at noon, or as soon as the last of the cargo was loaded,” Adeline offered.
Vanessa glanced around until she spotted a lovely ornate clock in the corner. “It’s after eleven, now!” She dropped Adeline’s hand and reached out tentatively to touch the quadroon. “Thank you,” she said simply, then grabbed her skirts and turned to run from the store.
“Vanessa, wait,” called Adeline, starting after her.
The quadroon woman threw back her head and laughed richly. “Run, mamzelle, run.”
“Adeline, what’s going on?” called Paulette from where she stood by the door, waiting for her package to be wrapped.
“Mr. Talverton’s in trouble,” she said as she pulled open the shop door.
“Hold that package, I shall return,” Paulette ordered the shopkeeper over her shoulder as she followed in Adeline’s wake.
The banquette was crowded and forced Vanessa to walk in places as she threaded her way through the people. Tears of frustration nearly blinding her, she finally lightly jumped off the walkway to the dirt street, moving faster among the carts and dray animals on the thoroughfare. At one point she passed so near a horse that ends of her shawl, fluttering behind her, lightly flickered in the corner of the animal’s sight so it reared in its traces causing his driver to ring down curses loudly and fluidly on Vanessa’s head. She ignored him, her concentration centered on her achieving the docks.
She turned down the Rue St. Pierre alongside the Place d’Armes, dismayed to find it busier than the street she’d left. Now, however, her determination increased, for straight ahead of her, across the Chemin des Tchoupitoulas, lay the harbor.
Her heart pounded loudly in her head, drowning out the oaths and comments her undignified flight aroused from those she brushed past. She paused on the levee, looking frantically up and down the docks. There were so many ships and boats that for a moment she despaired of going in the right direction until she spotted the tall chimneys of a riverboat. It was the only steamboat in the harbor. She inhaled deeply, her eyes frantically searching for Hugh Talverton. She couldn’t see him but she knew that did not mean he wasn’t down there. It was just that the harbor was so crowded, and finding one man was difficult. She hoped it was as difficult for Mr. Wilmot’s henchmen.
She set off in the direction of the steamboat, her eyes darting about, searching out a location for a possible ambush or accident on the busy dock. Barrels of sugar were being loaded onto the steamboat when she approached. She passed men who stopped and stared rudely at her, some so close she was forced to brush against them as she passed. The impropriety of her presence, alone on the docks, did not escape her. She trembled slightly but bit firmly down on her lower lip and lifted her chin. Her eyes shown bluer than normal, her agitation clear in her expression. There were so many big, rough-looking men on the docks, any or all of whom might be willing to accept blood money. What could she do even if she found Hugh? She should have gone for help, but there just wasn’t any time! And where was Hugh?
She leaned against a stack of sugar barrels to rest, only to jump back hastily when one teetered precariously. Then she saw him striding confidently toward the steamboat. “Hugh!” she called, wildly waving her arm. She turned to run toward him, panic seizing her when she also saw a gang of men in dirty leathers skulking nearby. “Hugh!” she cried louder as she tripped over a tangled rope. Her arms traced mad circles as she fought to keep her balance. She staggered backward, bumping into the sugar barrels again. The top barrel, already uneasy in its position, tumbled down the stack, sending another barrel sliding in its wake. Vanessa screamed as the barrel crashed heavily onto the dock and began rolling on its side, headed straight for the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Hugh Talverton.
Hugh had stopped the first time he thought he heard Vanessa’s voice calling his name. He looked around, about to dismiss the sound as his wishful imagination, when the call came again. This time there was no mistaking the voice. He turned in time to see Vanessa stumble backward into the sugar barrels. His heart leapt in his throat when he saw the top barrel fall, certain it would crush her slender figure. Miraculously it missed her. He saw it rolling toward him but his mind only vaguely took it in as a threat—he was more concerned for Vanessa. Without conscious thought, he vaulted the barrel as it approached him and ran to her side.
Vanessa cringed and nearly hid her face in her hands when she saw the barrel hurtling toward Hugh. It was only tardiness, and a slim hope that he would escape, that kept her eyes from being totally covered. Nonetheless she was astounded when he jumped the barrel, but her astonishment increased when, looking past Hugh as he ran toward her, she saw his would-be attackers mowed down like tenpin by the runaway barrel! As Hugh reached her and his arms went around her, near hysterical laughter bubbled up within her.
“Vanessa, what are you doing here?” he cried, hugging her tighter as his heart raced at the memory of the falling barrel.
“Yo! Hugh!” called Trevor as he and a band of nine men came running, pounding down the docks.
“Tr
evor?” Hugh said, looking perplexed.
Vanessa hurriedly straightened and pulled herself out of Hugh’s arms. “Get those men!” she yelled, waving her hands in the direction of the keelboat ruffians.
“What?” Hugh asked, his eyes following the direction of her waving hands. When he turned, his eyes widened, and a broad smile split his face. He began to laugh, for there, picking themselves up off the ground and pulling a large sugar barrel off their leader, were the four would-be attackers of the previous week.
Trevor Danielson also recognized the men, and with clear presence of mind, he and his companions quickly surrounded them, rapiers and pistols at the ready. The leader of the attackers snarled ferally at them all, but he was helpless to fight his way out or encourage his gang to do so, for the rolling sugar barrel had landed squarely on his leg.
Hugh turned back toward Vanessa, who was now standing as calmly and elegantly as she could in a dirt-streaked frock with a bedraggled, broken hat feather swaying in front of her eyes. The only signs of her remaining agitation were the rapid pulse visibly throbbing in her neck, and her over bright, feverish eyes. “What’s going on here? How did you know?”
“I was told Mr. Wilmot was displeased with your meddling in his affairs and intended to—intended to—” she gulped, the words catching in her dry throat
“Kill me?” Hugh asked incredulously.
She nodded miserably.
“I would not have thought that of him. It seems I greatly underestimated the man. But how did you find out?”
Vanessa looked down at her hands. “I’d rather not say,” she said softly. She looked up at him swiftly, entreaty evident in her eyes. “Let’s just be thankful I knew.”
“But . . .”
“Mon Dieu, we have missed all the excitement!” Paulette’s voice was heard to lament to Adeline. Behind them trailed a couple of constables who, taking in the situation, passed them by to join Trevor and his group. “I should have left you to fetch Mr. Danielson and the constables yourself, while I joined Vanessa,” she said petulantly as they approached Vanessa and Hugh.
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