Counterfeit Lady
Page 14
Clay ignored Wes’s jibes. “After a while, I began to see what a gem Nicole was, so I decided to have a talk with her. I said that if Bianca read my letter and decided she wanted nothing more to do with me, I’d like to remain married to Nicole. After all, my first obligation was to Bianca.”
“That sounds fair enough.”
“I agree, but Nicole didn’t. She raged at me for half an hour. She said she wasn’t going to be second choice to any man, and…I don’t know what all else. It didn’t make much sense to me. All I knew was she wasn’t very happy. That night—” He stopped.
“Go on! This is the best story I’ve heard in years.”
“That night,” Clay continued, “she was sleeping in Beth’s room, and I have James’s, so when I heard her scream I went to her right away. She was scared to death of something, so I fed her a lot of liquor and got her to talk.” He put his hand over his eyes. “She’s had an awful life. The French mob carried her parents away to the guillotine and burned her house, then later they killed her grandfather and carried his head around on a pole in front of her.”
Wes grimaced in disgust. “What happened after that night?”
It wasn’t what happened after that night but during it that was so important, Clay thought. Every night, he lay awake remembering the night he’d held her in his arms and made love to her. “The next day she left me,” he said quietly. “Not really left me, but moved across the river to the old mill. She’s running the place now and doing a damn good job of it.”
“But you want her back, is that it?” When Clay didn’t answer, Wes shook his head. “You said women problems, not woman. What else has happened?”
“After Nicole got the mill going, Bianca showed up.”
“What’s she like?”
Clay didn’t know what to answer. She’d been living in his house for two weeks, but he didn’t know any more about her than when she arrived. She was asleep when he left in the morning, asleep when he returned. Once Anders had talked to him about her spending so much money, but Clay had dismissed the complaint. Surely he could afford a few garments for the woman he was to marry. “I don’t know what she’s like. I think I fell in love with her the moment I saw her in England, and nothing’s changed since then. She’s beautiful, lovely, gracious, kind.”
“It sounds to me like you know quite a lot about her. Now, let me look at the situation. You are married to one gorgeous creature and engaged to and in love with another equally gorgeous woman.”
“That’s about it.” Clay grinned. “You make it sound like something desirable.”
“I could think of worse situations. Being a lonely bachelor like me, for instance.”
Clay snorted. Wes was far from needing more women in his life.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” Wes grinned, and slapped Clay on the leg. “I’ll meet both women and take one of them off your hands. You can have whichever one I don’t want, and that way you won’t have to choose between them.” He was teasing, but Clay was serious, and Wes frowned. He didn’t like to see his friend so troubled. “Come on, Clay, it’s bound to work out for the best.”
“I don’t know,” Clay said. “I don’t seem to be sure of anything lately.”
Wes stood up, rubbing his back where the bark had bitten into his skin. “Is this Nicole still at the mill? Do you think I could meet her?” He saw a sudden flash go across Clay’s eyes.
“Sure. She’s there with Janie. I’m sure she’d welcome you. She seems to keep open house for everyone.” There was a trace of disgust in his voice.
Wes promised Clay he’d return to Arundel Hall later for some of Maggie’s cooking. Then he mounted his horse and rode toward the wharf. He rode slowly over the familiar path so he could think. Seeing Clay again after so many months had been a shock. It was almost as if he’d been talking to a stranger. As boys, the two had spent a lot of time together. Then, suddenly, a cholera epidemic had killed Clay’s parents and Wes’s father. Wes’s mother died a short time later. The two families of James and Clay, Travis and Wesley had been drawn closer together by their mutual tragedies. There were long periods of separation as the young men worked the two plantations, but they’d gotten together whenever possible.
Wes smiled as he remembered a party at Arundel Hall when both Clay and Wes were sixteen. The boys had bet each other they could each get one of the luscious Canton twins behind the hedges. They’d both succeeded easily, except that Travis found out about it and grabbed each boy by the scruff of the neck and pitched them into the tile pool.
What had happened to that Clayton? Wes wondered. The Clay he knew would have laughed at this absurd situation with the two women. He would have grabbed the one he wanted and carried her upstairs. He knew the man who arranged the kidnapping of an English lady, but the man who acted as if he were afraid to go home was a stranger.
He dismounted his horse under a tree by the wharf, then unsaddled him. His guess was that what was wrong with him was the Frenchwoman. He’d said she was working for Bianca—her maid, no doubt. Somehow, she’d arranged to substitute herself for Bianca and had gotten herself married to a rich American. No doubt, she was now somehow blackmailing Clay into keeping her as his wife. So far, she’d already managed to get the mill and some property out of him.
And what about Bianca? Wes felt a surge of pity for the woman. She’d come to America expecting to be married to the man she loved, only to find someone else in her place.
He tied his horse and then went to the rowboat and rowed himself across. He was quite familiar with the mill, as it had been one of his favorite places when he was a boy. He smiled as he saw the twins crouched by the bank of the river, intent upon the complete lack of movement of a bored bullfrog.
“What are you two doing?” he demanded sharply.
The twins jumped in unison, then turned and smiled up at him. “Uncle Wes!” they yelled, giving him the honorary title. They scrambled up the bank to where he waited with open arms.
Wes grabbed them both by the waists and swung them around while they giggled uproariously. “Did you miss me?”
“Oh, yes,” Mandy laughed. “Uncle Clay is always gone now, but Nicole is here.”
“Nicole?” Wes asked. “You like her, do you?”
“She’s pretty,” Alex said. “She used to be married to Uncle Clay, but I don’t know if she is now.”
“Of course she is,” Mandy said. “She’s always married to Uncle Clay.”
Wes set the children down on the ground. “Is she at the house?”
“I think so. Sometimes she’s at the mill.”
Wes rubbed the heads of both children. “I’ll see you later. Maybe you can go back across the river with me. I’m meeting your Uncle Clay for supper.”
The twins backed away from him as if he were poisonous. “We stay here now,” Alex said. “We don’t have to go back there.”
Before Wes could ask any questions, the children turned and ran into the woods. He walked up the hill to the little house. Janie was inside, alone, intent over the spinning wheel. Wes opened the door silently and tiptoed behind her. He planted a loud kiss on her neck.
Janie didn’t move or act surprised in any way. “Nice to see you again, Wes,” she said calmly. She turned to him with twinkling eyes. “It’s a good thing you weren’t born an Indian. You couldn’t sneak up on a tornado. I heard you outside with the twins.” She stood up and hugged him.
Wes hugged her hard, lifting her feet off the ground. “You certainly haven’t been starving yourself,” he laughed.
“But you have. You’re getting downright skinny. Sit down, and I’ll get you something to eat.”
“Not much. I’m supposed to meet Clay for supper.”
“Humph!” Janie said as she filled a bowl with split pea soup with chunks of ham. On a plate she put cold, cracked crab legs and beside that a little bowl of melted butter. “You’d better eat here, then. Maggie’s on the warpath, and her cooking’s not what it can be.”
“Clay doesn’t know the whole story. He’s blind to most of it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? It seems to me it’s simple. All he has to do is get the marriage annulled to this Nicole and he’s free to marry Bianca, the woman he loves. Then he can be happy again.”
Janie was so angered at Wes’s statements that she couldn’t speak. She had the iron ladle from the pea soup in her hand, so she just conked him on the head with it.
“Hey!” Wes yelled, and put his hand over the hot mess in his hair.
Janie was immediately contrite. She wouldn’t hurt Wes for the world. She grabbed a rag and dipped it in cool water to clean his hair.
While Janie was leaning over Wes, blocking him from view, Nicole entered. Janie started to move aside so Nicole could see him but then decided not to. Wes peered curiously around Janie’s substantial form.
“Janie,” Nicole said. “Do you know where the twins are? I saw them a few minutes ago, but now they seem to have disappeared.” She removed a straw bonnet from her head and hung it on a wooden peg by the door. “I wanted to give them a few lessons before supper.”
“They’ll come home, and besides, you’re too tired to work with them.”
Wes was aware that Janie was purposefully hiding him yet allowing him to watch Nicole. Of all his thoughts about her, he knew she’d never been anyone’s maid. She walked with a quiet grace and elegance that showed she’d never been a servant to anyone. And what Clay had said about her beauty was an understatement. His first thought was to throw roses at her feet and beg her to leave Clay and take him.
“Clay sent a message over today,” Janie said.
Nicole paused, her hand on the stair rail. “Clay?”
“You remember him?” Janie said, watching Wes’s face. “He asked if you’d attend supper with him tonight.”
“No,” Nicole said quietly. “I can’t, though maybe I should send something. Maggie hasn’t been cooking much lately.”
Janie snorted. “She’s refusing to cook for that woman, and you know it.”
Nicole turned and started to speak. Then she stopped. Janie seemed to have grown two new legs. She left the stairs to walk closer to Janie.
“Hello,” Wes said, then brushed Janie’s hands away and stood. “I’m Wesley Stanford.”
“Mr. Stanford,” she said politely, holding out her hand to him. She gave Janie a troubled look. Why had she hidden this man? “Won’t you please sit down? Could I offer you some refreshment?”
“No, thank you. Janie’s already taken care of that.”
“I think I’ll go look for the twins,” Janie said, and was out of the house before anyone could speak.
“Are you a friend of Janie’s?” Nicole asked as she poured a mug of cool cider for him.
“More a friend of Clay’s.” He watched her face, his eyes always going to her mouth. The upper lip intrigued him. “We grew up together, or at least we spent a lot of time together.”
“Tell me about him,” she said, her eyes wide and eager. “What was he like as a little boy?”
“Different,” Wes said, watching her. She’s in love with him, he thought. “I think this…situation upsets him.”
She stood and walked toward the fireplace behind him. “I know it does. I assume he told you the story.” She didn’t wait for his nod. “I tried to make it easier for him by moving out. No, that’s not true. I tried to make it easier for me. He’ll be happy again when our marriage is annulled and he’s free to marry Bianca.”
“Bianca. You worked for her in England?”
“In a manner of speaking. Many of the English kindly took us in after we fled our own country.”
“How did the kidnappers get you instead of Bianca?” he asked bluntly.
Nicole blushed, remembering the scene. “Please, Mr. Stanford, let’s talk about you.”
Wes knew that her blush told more than her words. What sort of a woman would be so generous as to offer to prepare food for the man she loved when she knew he’d be eating with another woman? He’d already made one wrong judgment, and he wasn’t going to make any more. He’d wait until he saw Bianca before he developed another opinion.
An hour later, Wes reluctantly left the quiet orderliness of Nicole’s little house to go to Arundel Hall. He hadn’t wanted to leave, yet he was looking forward to meeting Bianca. If Nicole was Clay’s second choice, then his first must be truly an angel.
“What did you think of her?” Clay asked as he greeted Wes at the end of the garden.
“I’m thinking of sending some kidnappers to England. If I do half as well as you, I’ll die happy.”
“You haven’t seen Bianca yet. She’s waiting inside and is anxious to meet you.”
Wes’s first look at Bianca was one of shock. It was like seeing James’s wife Beth again. He was instantly taken back to the days when the house had been full of love and laughter. Beth had a talent for making everyone welcome. Her loud laugh could be heard throughout the house. There wasn’t an itinerant peddler within miles who wasn’t welcome at her table.
Beth was a large woman, tall and strong. Her energy affected everyone. She could work on the plantation all morning, ride in a hunt with James and Clay all afternoon, and Wes suspected from James’s constant smile that she could make love all night. She used to gather children to her bosom and hug them exuberantly. She could bake cookies with one hand and hug three children with the other.
For a moment, Wes felt his eyes blur with tears. Beth had been so alive that it was almost possible to believe she’d come back to earth.
“Mr. Stanford,” Bianca said quietly. “Won’t you come in?”
Wes felt like a fool and knew he must look like one. He blinked a few times to clear his eyes, then looked at Clay. He knew and understood the turmoil inside Wes.
“We have so few visitors here,” Bianca was saying as she led the men into the dining room. “Clayton promises me that quite soon we will be able to have visitors again. That is, as soon as all of this unfortunate situation is put to rights and I am truly mistress here. Won’t you have a seat?”
Wes was still mesmerized by her, by the resemblance to Beth; but the voice was different, the movements were different, and there was a dimple in her left cheek that Beth didn’t have. He took a chair across from hers with Clay between them. “How do you like our country? Is it a great deal different from England?”
“Oh, yes,” Bianca said as she ladled a thick pile of sauce over three slices of ham. She handed the silver gravy boat to Wes. “America is so much more crude than England. There are no towns, no places to shop. And the lack of society—decent society, that is—is appalling.”
Wes paused with his hand on the gravy ladle. She had just insulted his country and his countrymen, but she didn’t seem at all aware of her rudeness. Her head was bent over her plate. Wes dipped some of the gravy onto his plate and then tasted it. “Good God, Clay! Since when has Maggie been serving bowls of sugar with her ham?”
Clay shrugged disinterestedly. He watched Bianca as he ate.
Wes was beginning to be suspicious of the whole relationship. “Tell me, Mrs. Armstrong,” he began, then stopped. “I beg your pardon, but you’re not Mrs. Armstrong—yet.”
“No, I’m not!” Bianca said, casting a malevolent look at Clay. “My maid thrust herself at the men who were to take me to Clay. Then, while she was on board the ship, she persuaded the captain that she was Bianca Maleson and managed to get herself married to my fiancé.”
Wes was beginning not to like the woman. It had taken a few minutes to get past her resemblance to Beth, but even now that was starting to fade. She was soft and fat where Beth had always been strong and firm with large bones. “Your maid, you say? Wasn’t she an escapee from the French Revolution? I thought only the aris
tocracy had to flee the country.”
Bianca waved her fork. “That is what Nicole tells everyone. She says her grandfather was the Duc de Levroux, or at least her cousin told me that.”
“But you know better, don’t you?”
“Of course. She did work for me for some months, and I should know. It is my guess that she was a cook somewhere, or a seamstress. But please, Mr. Stanford,” she said and smiled, “do you really want to talk about my maid?”
“Of course not,” Wes smiled back. “Let’s talk about you. It’s rare that I am in such charming company. Tell me about your family and more about your ideas of America.”
Wes ate slowly as he listened to Bianca. It wasn’t easy to keep eating and still listen. She told him of the pedigree of her own family, of the house her father once owned. Of course, everything in America was dreadfully inferior to what was in England, especially the people. She itemized the faults of all of Clay’s servants, told how they mistreated her, refused to obey her. Wes made little sounds of sympathy, all the while amazed at the quantity of food she was eating.
Once in a while he stole looks at Clay. Clay remained passive, as if he didn’t hear or understand Bianca’s words. Once in a while, he looked at Bianca with a glazed expression as if he didn’t really see her.
The dinner seemed to go on forever. Wes was amazed at Bianca’s sense of security. She never seemed to doubt that she and Clay would be married quite soon and that she would own Arundel Hall. It was when she started talking of tearing the east wall out of the house and adding an ornate wing, “not so plain as this house,” that Wes wanted to hear no more.
He turned to Clay. “Why are the twins staying across the river?”
Clay frowned at Wes. “Nicole could give them an education, and they wanted to go,” he said flatly. “Would you care to join us in the library, my dear?”
“Heavens, no,” Bianca said sweetly. “I wouldn’t think of intruding on you gentlemen. If you would excuse me, I think I will retire. It’s been an exhausting day.”
“Of course,” Clay said.
Wes muttered goodnight to her, then turned and left the room. When he was in the library, he poured himself a stiff shot of whiskey and downed it in one gulp. He was pouring a second one when Clay entered the room.