Angels, Sinners and Madmen

by Cate Masters

  He smiled to reassure her. “It only sweetens the wait, Mrs. Collins.”

  Sam had spoken too soon. The wait extended longer than he anticipated. Upstairs, women’s sharp voices hinted an unpleasant exchange.

  He stood at the window. The servant tasked with holding his horse looked no better nor worse than before. The horse shook his head, the expressionless servant holding fast to the reins.

  Mrs. Collins descended the stairs, gliding toward him. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting so long, Mr. Langhorne. Olivia will be down momentarily. I wondered whether you had dinner plans for this evening?”

  “None whatsoever.” The one meal he’d ordered at the Arcade Hotel had left his stomach roiling. He’d endeavored to eat out since. He could not claim to enjoy the hot spices in New Orleans food.

  Mrs. Collins grasped his arm. “Good. So you must join us. We have a lovely dinner planned, and I know Olivia would welcome your company as much as Wendell and myself.”

  Sam doubted it. If anything, it would raise Livvie’s ire, though perhaps it might provide the needed push to an outburst—one in which she would speak her mind. Or, he should say, another outburst, judging by what he heard. Women were more apt to speak their minds in such times of heightened emotion.

  “I would be happy to join you. Thank you for the kind invitation.”

  Footsteps on the stairs signaled Livvie’s descent. Her flushed cheeks gave away her indignation. “I’m very sorry to keep you waiting so long, Mr. Langhorne.” She kept her gaze lowered.

  “You are worth the wait, Miss Collins. I take it you’re ready now?”

  Her jaw clenched, but her voice was sweet. “Yes, I am.”

  Sam smiled at Mrs. Collins. “I shall return her safely.” He strode to the front door and held it open. Livvie swept through without a word.

  Mrs. Collins followed them onto the porch. “Have a lovely time.”

  Sam took Livvie’s arm, and she stepped up into the surrey.

  She smacked at his hand. “I’m perfectly capable of entering a buggy of my own accord.”

  “I don’t dispute it.” He stood by while she settled into the seat. Crossing in front of the horse, he gave another coin to the servant. “Sorry for the long wait.”

  The boy’s eyes widened. “Thank you, sir.”

  Sam climbed in the surrey and unwound the reins from their hitch.

  Livvie gazed ahead. “If you’re trying to impress me with your generosity, you needn’t bother.”

  He would have to work at loosening her stiff attitude. “Not at all. He did me a favor, and I rewarded him. I don’t believe you have any reason to be impressed by such a small gesture.”

  Not otherwise moving, she narrowed her eyes. “I thought you didn’t like horses.”

  “I don’t.” He snapped the reins across the horse’s back, and the surrey jerked forward when the horse jolted ahead.

  Livvie grabbed the front of the surrey. A loud gasp came from the porch.

  Sam waved to Mrs. Collins. “He doesn’t like me, either, unfortunately.”

  Livvie clutched her seat. “I hope you handle horses better than you do females. You do know how to drive a buggy, don’t you?”

  Sam grinned. “I’m learning. On both accounts.” He eased the reins back, and the horse slowed from a trot to a fast walk. “You see? I’m mastering a new skill.”

  She turned away. “I cannot quite guess at your motives, Mr. Langhorne.”

  “I thought my motives were most obvious, Miss Collins.” Nothing was ever obvious enough for any female. No, apparently he was in for a long session of groveling and apologies.

  Her laugh sounded haughty, so unlike her. “You show up in New Orleans, transformed into a dandy—”

  “I couldn’t very well wear my wrecker’s clothes, now, could I?” A dandy indeed. He despised such self-absorbed men.

  She continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “The toast of high society, and scheme with my sister-in-law.”

  “I am not scheming with Mrs. Collins.” He couldn’t let her turn everything against him.

  She snapped her gaze to his. “You never told me you were a lawyer.”

  Hurt lie beneath her harsh features.

  “I wasn’t a lawyer in Key West. I lived the life I chose, not the life forced upon me by my father. I thought you–of all people–would understand such a position.” To win an argument, one had to use the offensive. To aim for the opponent’s soft underbelly. And oh, how he’d missed that side of her.

  “What am I supposed to think, Mr. Langhorne?” Desperation edged her tone, and she sat rigid.

  If only he could find a private place. Damned buggies allowed everyone in the street to hear their conversation.

  He lowered his voice. “You are supposed to see me, Livvie. Sam. The man who traveled from Key West to New Orleans to be with you. Because you didn’t give me a chance to speak to you before you left.”

  “What could you possibly have to say? That you haven’t already said to Millie, I mean?” Her voice broke at the last.

  Anger billowed inside Sam like a full sail. He loosened the reins, and the horse’s jog quickened to a trot with the new leeway. Sam angled toward Livvie. “Will you never stop bringing up that woman? I told you what happened. She came to me—”

  Livvie’s eyes widened. “Look out!”

  The horse whinnied and threw its head. A man pulling a handcart across the street increased his pace to get out of the way, but too late. The horse’s hoof caught the end of the cart, and the surrey wheel smashed into it. The cart overturned, spilling fruit across the street.

  Sam yanked the horse to a stop and handed the reins to Livvie. “Hold this monster.” He jumped from the surrey.

  The man held up a fist and yelled something in what sounded like German. Passing carriages and wagons smashed the fruit.

  Sam dashed into the street to gather what fruit he could from the path of destruction. The man stood at the side of the road and cursed while Sam righted the cart and scooped up the scattered apples and bananas. “I’m very sorry. My horse is to blame. I’ll shoot him later, if it makes you feel better.” He’d shoot him now, except they’d have no way to get the carriage back.

  The man continued his rant. Sam turned in dismay to the roadway. A useless exercise. The fruit lay ruined beyond salvation. He dug in his pockets and pulled out some bills. “Will this cover it? Is it enough to pay for the damage?”

  The man furrowed his brow, his response unintelligible except for the anger. Money acted as a universal language.

  Sam dug for more bills and presented them. “Is it enough? I have no more.” He shrugged.

  The man swiped the money from Sam’s palm and muttered ill sentiments.

  When Sam looked at Livvie, she hid her face behind her hand, though her smile was evident beneath. His spirits lifted, and he strode to the buggy as though walking on air.

  He climbed in. “This is becoming a most expensive trip.” He reached for the reins.

  She held them away. “You’d better let me drive.”

  He sat back in the seat. “Are you sure?” He wouldn’t mind. He could ignore the outraged glares of passersby. He touched his finger to his forehead and smiled at an old man who stared.

  “Oh, yes. Quite sure.” She snapped the reins and whistled, and the horse walked.

  Riding was a much more pleasant experience. This way, he could watch Livvie. Her torso inclined toward the horse, the curve of her back an alluring line Sam’s fingers ached to trace.

  “Where are you taking me?” he asked.

  She clicked to the horse, and it trotted. “To the river.”

  “Will I be returning too? Or do you plan to dump my body there?” He rested his hand on the back of her seat, yet dared not touch her. Not yet.

  A trace of a smile lightened her glance. “We’ll have to see.”

  They drove along the Mississippi. A paddleboat steamed by.

  “I’d love to have one of those. I fear,
however, it wouldn’t last long on the sea.”

  Livvie sighed. “I’d love to get on one and float away.” As if she’d revealed too much of herself, she straightened. “We’d better get home before Marianne sends the cavalry to search for us.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry.” Sam suppressed a smile.

  Since his arrival, Mrs. Collins had been nothing but gracious and done everything to ingratiate Livvie to him. Livvie’s suspicions had been correct. Her brother and his wife would have her married off in no time. And Sam intended to be the groom.

  * * * *

  The excellent brandy helped Sam endure Wendell’s lengthy discussion of the legal affairs of New Orleans.

  Wendell opened a cigar box and pulled one beneath his nose in a long sniff. “These beauties are Cuban, the best of the best. And quite expensive. Would you care for one?”

  “Certainly. If I’d known your preference for Cuban cigars, I could have brought you ten boxes.”

  “Oh?” Wendell’s amused tone riled Sam.

  “We frequently sailed to Havana. Cigars are easily obtained there, and for a reasonable price.”

  Wendell held a match to the cigar Sam held to his mouth. “What a shame. For me.”

  Sam puffed the cigar. “They are excellent.”

  A knock at the door, and Wendell said, “Enter.”

  The maid peered around the door. “Mrs. Collins said to tell you dinner is ready, sir.”

  Wendell stood. “Shall we?”

  Sam followed him to the dining room. Livvie trailed Marianne, who suggested Sam sit across from Livvie. Sam held her chair, and Livvie strained to say thank you.

  Looking pleased with the arrangement, Marianne sat and straightened a napkin across her lap. “Tell us, Mr. Langhorne, what brings you to New Orleans?”

  Livvie set her gaze on Sam in mock interest.

  He suppressed a smile. “I have a number of pursuits here, Mrs. Collins.”

  While the maid set their plates before them, Marianne asked, “Will you be staying long?”

  “It all depends, ma’am, on how long it takes me to conclude my business.”

  Wendell said, “I hoped I could persuade you to stay indefinitely.”

  “I wouldn’t rule it out entirely, Wendell. As I said, it depends.” On the host’s sister, though Sam would not say it aloud. Not yet.

  “New Orleans could use a top attorney. The shipping business will increase in the coming years, and you’ll never want for work.”

  “A desirous position, to be sure.” Desirous to someone else. Sam choked at the thought of being cooped up in an office drowning in paperwork.

  “Enviable, among our profession. Your expertise is needed here. New Orleans is a major trade port, you understand.”

  “I’ll certainly give it serious consideration.” He hoped he reassured the man enough to drop the subject.

  Wendell narrowed his eyes. “You have other prospects elsewhere?”

  “Several, yes.” Sam flicked his gaze to Livvie, who feigned sudden disinterest.

  Wendell grunted. “We’ll have to sweeten our deal somehow.”

  Sam’s intense gaze burned into Livvie. After several irritated glances, she pushed away her plate in favor of wine.

  Marianne leveled a disapproving gaze as Livvie drained her glass.

  Marianne touched her husband’s sleeve. “Wendell, why don’t you offer Mr. Langhorne a nightcap? We could all adjourn to the courtyard. The cool evening air is so refreshing.” She smiled at Sam.

  Wendell rubbed his stomach. “Excellent idea. Shall we?”

  Sam flashed a grin. “Sounds perfect.” More perfect if he could be alone with Livvie again. They had much to discuss, and time did not favor him. Livvie appeared to grow more irritated by each passing moment.

  Wendell opened the wide doors to the courtyard. Sam’s attention wandered from his chit chat to observe Mrs. Collins speak in hushed tones to Livvie in the dining room. Their conversation was barely audible, but the hostess appeared to be scolding her houseguest, who brandished an envelope like a sword. Livvie finally tucked it away, perhaps inside her sleeve, Sam couldn’t quite tell.

  As Livvie stepped toward the courtyard, Marianne blocked her path and took hold of Livvie’s hands. Sam thought he heard Mrs. Collins ask Livvie not to disappear to her room, not to insult Mr. Langhorne; tonight was too important to Wendell.

  Mrs. Collins could not have been more pleasant when she approached the men. Livvie’s eyes flashed in a glare.

  * * * *

  In the courtyard, Livvie stood at one end of the stone bench where Marianne sat. Sam stood at the other. She would prefer more than a bench between them. For now, it would suffice.

  Wendell puffed his chest like a rooster. “How about a brandy?” he asked Sam.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Excellent.” Wendell strode to the door.

  “Might I have a small glass?” After the discovery she’d just made in the dining room, Livvie needed something to loosen her tight nerves.

  Marianne laughed nervously. “Perhaps a glass of wine instead, sister?”

  Livvie knew she couldn’t weaken her sister-in-law’s resolve by arguing. “Of course.” Though she might be tempted to dump it over her brother’s head. Another liar.

  He returned carrying the drinks and two more cigars. Sam declined the cigar and gulped the liquor while Wendell droned on about business matters.

  Livvie clenched her fist and touched the envelope in her sleeve. Opened, though not by her. By Wendell. Never would she trust him again.

  At a break in the conversation, Marianne stood. “Please excuse me. I must check on the children.”

  Sam gave a courteous nod. “Certainly.”

  Glancing at Livvie, Marianne arched a brow and discreetly held her hand to her side in a command for her to stay.

  Livvie watched as Marianne flitted inside. At the sounds of girlish laughter, Livvie gazed up to the second storey with undisguised longing. She loved the nighttime ritual—reading to her nieces in bed, tucking them in. After tonight, she would leave this place and hated to think she’d never see them again. Maybe once they’d grown into lovely young women, they would visit her, attend one of her readings.

  Marianne appeared on the balcony. “Dear, come say goodnight to your darling daughters.”

  Wendell grunted. “Pardon me. Duty calls.” He, too, disappeared inside.

  A blatant attempt to leave her and Sam alone. Livvie crossed her arms over her chest and turned away.

  “I neglected to tell you. I have a dog.”

  “What?” She spun to face him.

  He brightened. “Yes. William Whelan–you remember, he owned the dry goods store?” He set his glass on the bench. “His dog had a litter of seven. He’s holding a pup for me.”

  “So you intended to return all along.” The realization deadened her enthusiasm.

  “Actually, I told him if I didn’t return within three months, to find it another home. However, it would be a shame to lose such a fine dog. You’d love him. Light brown fur, not too long to make a mess. He’ll be perfect on the farm.”

  “What farm?”

  “I have my eye on a plot of land. Liam found it, actually. We’d planned…” His voice choked.

  “I was so very sorry to hear about Liam. I know how much you loved him.”

  He nodded, and took a sharp breath. “The farm’s on the mainland of Florida, within miles of the sea. A perfect distance for short sailing trips. Doesn’t it sound lovely?”

  Confused, she moved away as he approached. Grief could ravage a person, send him whirling out of control, make him do and say things contrary to his nature. Losing Liam must have left him unmoored. Who knew better than she how a person in mourning could reach out to grasp someone, anyone, desperate for sympathy? She’d nearly been tempted to look for a husband to remain at home in New York. The allure of a travel adventure equaled the thrilling opportunity to seek publication of her novels. To make her own
way in the world. Now, her dream was within reach. Her fingers itched to hold the letter she’d discovered, re-read each word, but especially Mr. Randall’s glowing praise of her latest novel, which he wanted to publish. Why, he’d asked, had she not responded to his offer to publish her other novel?

  Why indeed. Livvie would be sure to ask Wendell.

  “Yes, it sounds lovely.” Why did he tease her so? He’d come to New Orleans to work for her traitorous brother, hadn’t he?

  “How long do you intend to punish me, Livvie?” he asked calmly.

  “I am not punishing you,” she said over her shoulder. Being with him was torture. Both pretending to be other than their true selves. As much as she wanted to believe Sam had decided he loved her more than Millie, could she trust him? Was he in league with her brother against her?

  His footsteps sounded closer. “Then what?” His voice shook.

  She turned and folded her arms. “I don’t know.” Since his unexpected arrival, her thoughts flowed through her head too quickly to make sense. Her emotions swung from hate to love, relief to anguish. She didn’t know what to think, or believe. And then, finding Mr. Randall’s letter by accident had threatened to unnerve her completely.

  She glanced up at the house praying for salvation in the form of interruption. Time—she needed time to sort it out. To confront Wendell. She already guessed at his response: she was a female in need of a man to guide her. No wonder Father and Wendell never got along.

  Sam stepped in front of her. “What don’t you know? Ask me anything. I will tell you.”

  She spat a laugh. “Really, Sam. And you’d speak the truth?” Her question sounded more of a plea.

  “I have never lied to you.”

  His insistent tone reminded her. Now she knew why he’d always been so well spoken, always had such a ready argument, had such an interest in legal texts. He’d been schooled for legal matters. Trained to present his argument to his best advantage because he wanted to win it.

  She wouldn’t let him outwit her. “You never told me the truth outright, either.”

  He stood in her brother’s house, transformed. The peasant-like Sam Langhorne of Key West now appeared a prince, more handsome than ever. If he thought himself irresistible, she would prove him otherwise.