Midnight Masquerade

by Shirlee Busbee

  The gaming hells of London had caught his attention and he had whiled away his time in England, losing what little capital he still possessed. When he returned to Louisiana, not only did he not have the select English brood mares he had intended to buy, but of his own mares taken there to be bred, only one remained, Melissa's mare, Moondust, who thankfully had been bred to the St. Leger winner of 1795, Hambletonian, a grandson of the revered Eclipse and one of the outstanding stallions of the day.

  Melissa and Zachary had shared their father's impractical dream and had waited anxiously at Willowglen, eager to see the new stock, pleased to think that some of their very own mares would have been bred to one of the most renowned English Thoroughbreds. It had been a bitter blow to discover that all of their hopes were now tied up in the foal which grew within Moondust. Fortunately, almost from birth Folly had displayed the speed and stamina of his famous ancestors, and Hugh's dream had begun to seem not so impossible.

  A shadow of regret crossed Melissa's expressive face and she sighed. Hearing that faint sound, Zachary asked, "What is it, Lissa? What makes you so unhappy? Surely not this latest dust up with Uncle Josh?"

  Melissa pulled a face and swung around to look at him. "No, it's not Uncle Josh, although I don't like arguing with him. I was just thinking of Father and wishing that he could have lived to see Folly's successes. He would have been so elated to have backed a winner at last."

  Far less sentimental than his sister, Zachary replied, "Just be thankful that he gave our pitifully few horses and cattle to you and that we didn't have to suffer the ignominy of watching our only real hope to salvage Willowglen auctioned off with everything else!"

  Giving him a considering glance, Melissa asked, "Does it bother you? Do you think that Folly and the others should have been yours along with the land?"

  "Are you mad?" Zachary demanded incredulously. "If Hugh hadn't had that attorney draw up those papers leaving all the livestock to you, we wouldn't be sitting here right now. Making certain that the animals were your private property before he died was the only way he could ensure that they wouldn't get sold to cover his debts—and I am damned grateful for it!" Zachary flashed her a lopsided smile. "For once in his life, our father knew exactly what he was doing—Willowglen is my inheritance, and Folly and the other animals are yours—he knew that it wouldn't occur to either one of us not to share our fortunes—whatever they might be!"

  When Melissa remained silent, Zachary's smile faded and, leaping to his feet, he crossed the room to stand in front of her. Grasping her slim shoulders in his strong hands, he gave her a little shake and muttered, "Lissa! You can't believe that I begrudge you the damned horses and cattle! Haven't we always shared everything?" Struck by a thought, he asked, "Is that it? You don't want to share your inheritance with me anymore? You want to leave Willowglen?" His mouth twisted. "I would understand if you did! God knows that there's precious little here for you."

  Appalled that he should even think such a thing, Melissa paled and she hugged him. "Oh, Zack, never that!" she exclaimed. "Don't say such things! We swore that together we would make Hugh's dream come true, and we will!"

  Comforted by his sister's words, Zachary relaxed and, pushing her away gently, smiled wryly. "We will—if our creditors don't win in the end."

  Her chin rising purposefully, Melissa replied, "They won't! All but a very few have been paid, and of those who remain, I've put enough on their accounts to hold them for a while longer."

  "Including the Englishman?" Zack asked.

  Melissa flushed and shook her head. "No! You know we don't have that kind of money. We're fortunate that he has not pressed us. Especially since Hugh's note is so long overdue!"

  In addition to Folly, there was one more legacy from that disastrous trip to England that Hugh had made—a voucher he had signed for gambling debts that was in excess of twenty-five thousand dollars! His children had not learned about this until several months after his death, and with all the other troubles that beset them, it had been a blow—Zachary taking it harder than Melissa.

  The fact that it was Melissa who was supporting him with her horse's earnings at race meets and that it was her frugal planning that was keeping Willowglen from the creditors was a touchy point with Zachary. He hated it. Ashamed of himself for even bringing up the subject, he turned away from her. His young face tight with embarrassment and frustration, he said, "If only there were some way of breaking that damned trust before you lose everything trying to save this blasted place for me!"

  Aware of his bruised pride—there was always a furious argument whenever she put what little extra money there was into small improvements to the plantation—Melissa hid a smile. Calmly she said, "Well, I suppose we could just let it be sold... which would really be a shame, considering that Willowglen would make a wonderful stud farm. Besides, I thought we were saving it for us." Innocently she added, "Wasn't that the understanding? That we would use Folly's winnings to keep us going until the trust ended? That we are partners and that we share our few resources?"

  Zachary gave a reluctant laugh. "Oh, Lissa! You always make it sound so sensible. As if someday I can repay you and that we will succeed in making Willowglen profitable again."

  "Do you doubt it?" Melissa asked. "Haven't we managed so far?"

  "So we have," Zachary admitted a little shamefacedly. "It's just that I don't like to think of you forsaking your own future for me, or"—his face darkened—"think of you having to put up with Uncle Josh and Aunt Sally trying to marry you off to anything in breeches!"

  Her eyes dancing with laughter, she replied, "Not anything, Zack! The man they want me to marry must be a wealthy landowner, of the right background and family, someone they can be proud of."

  Curious, Zachary asked, "Have you ever wanted to marry anyone? I mean, I can understand you turning down John Newcomb, but there are several other gentlemen in the neighborhood who I know wouldn't be averse to receiving a bit of encouragement from you."

  Melissa made an impatient sound. "It's hard to explain—I don't even understand it myself. I suppose it's just that I've never met anyone yet who makes me feel like Aunt Sally does about Uncle Josh. They adore each other! He would do anything for her and she would be willing to die for him! I want that sort of love, not some tepid emotion that wears itself out in a few months or years and leaves me married to a man who has a mistress tucked away in town, while I content myself with bearing a child every year and exchanging pickling recipes with Aunt Sally!" Embarrassed by the intensity of her words, Melissa flushed and muttered, "I know it all sounds rather silly to you, but you did ask!"

  Zachary flung an affectionate arm around her shoulders and grinned down at her. "Well, I just hope that when you do finally succumb, you have the good sense to fall in love with someone who will benefit us! A wealthy man would be very nice indeed!" At the militant sparkle that sprang into Melissa's eyes and the expression of outrage that crossed her features, Zachary's grin widened. "There, now! That took that unhappy look off your face! Come along, sweet sister, we have work to do, and if we don't want your growing bevy of rejected suitors mooning about the place, we're going to have to do something about your appearance—even I will agree that you're a tempting handful."

  Her spirits lightened by Zachary's teasing, Melissa left the room with him, a smile on her face. But later, as she groomed and brushed Folly's already satin coat, the events of the morning came back to devil her.

  Laying her head against Folly's strong neck, her fingers playing with his luxurious black mane, she asked aloud, "Am I being a fool? Silly to yearn for a true and lasting love?"

  Folly seemed to guess that she was troubled and he nickered softly, turning his elegant head to brush her shoulder. Melissa grinned at his actions, for a moment her self-searching thoughts vanishing.

  She stepped back from the stallion, admiring his tall, powerful body. He was a beautiful animal, from the well-shaped, intelligent head to the long, almost delicate legs. Bay in color,
his coat shone like polished mahogany, the black legs, mane and tail contrasting nicely with the reddish shade of his body. As if sensing her approval, Folly arched his neck, preening before her.

  Melissa laughed. "Showoff!" she scolded gently, and as if agreeing with her, Folly tossed his head.

  There was a great bond between Melissa and the stallion. She had been present at his birth, had seen his first wobbly attempts to stand, and it had been she who had begun his earliest training, teaching him to lead and stand and obey simple commands. He would accept her slightest order, but with others, although he would obey—he was too much of a gentleman not to—there was not the same slavish desire to please that he showed with Melissa. She returned his devotion, sometimes wondering if she didn't love her horse more than she did some humans. Certainly she found him far more entertaining than the suitors for her hand!

  She frowned. There were times that she feared she was not normal. Why else did she prefer a horse's company to that of a man? Why else had she never felt anything but the lightest of emotions when John Newcomb and some of the other young men in the neighborhood had passionately expressed their undying love? Why else had her heart never beaten faster at the sight of one particular man? Her pulse never raced at the touch of a man's hand on her arm?

  Her head once more resting on Folly's warm neck, she made a face as she thought of the young men who had attempted to court her. Mostly all she had felt were annoyance and impatience with them and, remembering conversations with her married cousins as they had recounted the thrills of courtship, the dreamy looks as they had told of stolen embraces and the happy expressions when they had returned from their honeymoons, Melissa sighed. Would she ever experience those feelings? Would she ever look at any man with some feeling stronger than mere liking?

  Sometimes she doubted it. It wasn't, she admitted slowly, that she didn't want to feel as her cousins apparently did; it was just that so far she hadn't met any gentleman who aroused anything but the mildest of emotions. She had genuinely liked John Newcomb; she had even found his polite courtship enjoyable. And while it had been pleasant when his hands seemed to linger on hers longer than necessary as he had helped her from her horse or carriage, she had never felt any reason to encourage an intimacy beyond that which was proper. With none of her suitors had she experienced a burning desire to escape the eyes of her elders to share the rapturous kisses her cousins assured her were a sign of true love.

  Perhaps, she mused unhappily, if Willowglen were safe... If there wasn't so much that had to be done before she could turn her thoughts to more frivolous pastimes... But did she really want a husband? Did she want a man to have control over her, for her life and her body to no longer be her own?

  Hugh had given her an inordinate amount of freedom, and even if their ages were reversed, it would never occur to Zachary to curtail her activities, to tell her what to do, to compel her to do his wishes. But a husband... She swallowed painfully. A husband had rights. Not only to her person, but to all of her possessions. Once she married, what freedom she had would disappear—her life would no longer be hers to command, she would belong to him. It wasn't an unpleasant idea, she admitted, belonging to someone... provided that person also belonged to her!

  She frowned. Would she ever find someone she could love like that? Someone who would love her to distraction? Someone she would belong to and who would belong to her? A man who would make her long to lose herself in his arms? Who would awaken her to passion and desire?

  Well, she thought, she hadn't met him yet, and until she found him, she had no intention of getting married! She wasn't going to let Uncle Josh and Aunt Sally force her into a marriage with a man she didn't love, just so they could gain possession of Sally's share of the trust. And if she never met a man she wanted to marry? Would it be so very bad? Melissa rather thought not—she was happy with her life the way it was! As for love, she was beginning to think that it was a much overrated emotion! And a marriage without it would be purgatory on earth!

  Chapter 2

  Dominic Slade, visiting with his brother Morgan at the Chateau Saint-Andre some miles south of New Orleans, would have agreed wholeheartedly with Melissa's assessment of love. And "overrated" would have been by far the kindest thing he would have had to say about it! As for marriage—ha! It was a trap he'd not fall into—no matter how attractively baited it might be.

  It wasn't that Dominic was against marriage; it was just his marriage that he was violently opposed to! And at the age of thirty-two, he had grown very adept at recognizing that certain gleam in the eyes of matchmaking mamas and their eager daughters. But it wasn't only matchmaking mamas who had tried their hands at capturing the attention of the fascinating and, some would say, far-too-handsome-for-his-own-good Dominic Slade. Within his own family, the female portion of it, at least, had upon occasion approached him with that look on their faces which made him extremely wary of the young lady being introduced to him.

  That Morgan, his much admired older brother, would try such a trick was tantamount to betrayal of the most depraved kind. And just as soon as the company that had dined that evening at Chateau Saint-Andre had departed and Dominic was able to gain a few moments alone with Morgan, he immediately tackled him with his suspicions.

  His cool gray eyes full of mockery, his long-lipped mouth curved in an ironic smile, Dominic drawled, "Matchmaking, Morgan? Or did I mistake your manner with Miss Leigh tonight when you pressed me into turning the pages of her music for her?"

  The two men were in Morgan's comfortable office in one of the two new wings which had been added to the house since Morgan's marriage to Leonie Saint-Andre some nine years previously; Morgan had been in the act of pouring them each a snifter of brandy when Dominic had spoken. A grimace crossed Morgan's dark face, and sending his brother a guilty smile, he murmured, "And I thought I was being so clever!" Handing Dominic a snifter, he added, "I told Leonie that you would know instantly what I was about, but she was positive that you would never suspect me of promoting the match."

  Taking the snifter, Dominic said, "I should have known that her fine hand was involved somewhere. Just because she's so besottedly happy being married to you is no reason to assume that everyone wishes for marriage." With more force than necessary, he growled, "If I wanted a wife, I'm perfectly capable of finding one of my own!"

  "No doubt," Morgan replied. With a glint of humor in his blue eyes, he continued. "But you haven't found one yet, have you?"

  "My God!" Dominic burst out, half amused, half vexed. "I do not believe my ears! Don't tell me that you have gone over to the side of the enemy? Will I no longer be safe in your home?"

  Morgan laughed. "Don't start packing immediately. I promised Leonie that I would do my best to make you understand the error of your ways, but I have no intention of throwing you to the wolves. And you should take Leonie's interest as a compliment—she is concerned over the, er, ladies in your life. She thinks it is time that you stopped racketing about and settled down. A wife, she has informed me most solemnly, is the only thing that will make you truly happy."

  "I wasn't aware," Dominic replied dryly, "that I was unhappy." And spreading his hands wide in a deprecating gesture, he asked, "Do I look unhappy?"

  No, his brother did not look unhappy in the least, Morgan decided with amusement. Dominic's muscular legs, snugly encased in a pair of skin-tight black kerseymere breeches, were stretched out comfortably in front of him; his broad shoulders, covered in a superbly cut coat of dark blue cloth, rested negligently against the smooth leather of the chair, and the face rising above the fine cambric ruffles of his shirt revealed only lively good humor. In fact, Dominic looked very pleased with his life as he lounged there in the big wing-backed chair, enjoying the bouquet of his brandy as he wafted the snifter beneath his nose.

  It was difficult for Morgan to view Dominic through the eyes of a woman, but even he, allowing for a certain amount of brotherly pride, had to conclude that Dominic had grown up to be a very hands
ome-featured young man. And when one added a tall, loose-limbed body to that handsome face, a careless charm to the already winning personality and an indecently large fortune, it wasn't surprising that Dominic was much sought after by the ladies. Nor that it drove the women of his family half mad when he showed no inclination to change his single state.

  The Slade family was a wealthy one their various estates spread from Bonheur, near Natchez, Mississippi, down the river to below New Orleans where Morgan lived on the plantation where his wife had been born. It was also a large family. In addition to Morgan and Dominic, there was a forty-year-old brother, Robert, who was just two years younger than Morgan; an elder sister living in Tennessee, and the youngest siblings, the twins, twenty-five-year-old Alexandre and Cassandre. They were all fond of one another and all were married with the exception of Dominic and Alexandre. As Alexandre was still considered a mere youth by his family, the fact that he wasn't married didn't seem to arouse the same passion that Dominic's lack of marriage did.

  Morgan could well understand Dominic's aversion to marriage—hadn't he felt the same way until Leonie had burst into his life? Of course, he amended fairly, he'd had reason to view marriage with a jaundiced eye; his first wife had deserted him for another man, taking their child with her, only for the three of them to be killed by bandits on the Natchez Trace. It had taken Morgan a long time to recover from such a blow, and it was only after Leonie had entered his life that he came to realize that all women were not liars and cheats.