Midnight Masquerade

by Shirlee Busbee

  The siblings were alone at the moment. Julius was seated in a high-backed leather chair, and across the room Deborah was sitting near a small table which held a silver teapot and the remnants of a light meal. The conversation between the two had been sporadic and only mildly interesting to either of them, but Deborah had mentioned Zachary Seymour's name in passing, and that had brought something to mind for Latimer.

  Unlike Melissa, who knew Deborah only slightly, Latimer harbored no doubts about what his sister was up to; after all, they had discussed her actions at length and had decided that Zachary Seymour, now that the trust which had crippled his finances and made him an ineligible party had ended, might prove a valuable source of some extra money. The fact that he also now had a wealthy and generous brother-in-law made him even more appealing to the brother and sister, and they had immediately put in motion a plan that had worked very well for them in the past: Deborah's sweet smiles and artful wiles enslaving their prey while she solicited expensive trifles and gifts from the besotted gentleman. To their satisfaction, everything appeared to be going as planned, Zachary apparently happy to bestow more than one costly gewgaw upon the woman who smiled so warmly and beguilingly at him, allowing him to believe that she found him fascinating.

  But of late, Latimer had begun to wonder if Deborah might be carrying this little charade farther than they had planned—a furious, heart-wounded, rejected suitor was not what Latimer had in mind when he had broached the plan to his sister. A light flirtation, a mild dalliance, had been what they had discussed; and steepling his long, narrow fingers before him, he remarked "Aren't you laying it a bit too thick and rare in regard to the Seymour cub? You've picked up some nice trinkets from him. Those sapphire earrings he gave you last week are particularly lovely and should fetch a tidy sum once we reach London... but we certainly don't want any ugly scenes or complications along the way."

  Deborah smiled. "Oh, pooh! You are just starting at shadows. Believe me, I know how to handle my men, and Zachary is a lamb."

  Julius did not look convinced, well aware of his sister's vanity. "He did not look so lamblike to me the other night when you waltzed off with Slade at the Hampton soiree."

  "Hmm, I know," Deborah replied. "He was quite angry with me, and it provoked a rather excitingly violent passion from him." A dreamy smile on her lips, she murmured, "Zachary is such a virile young man! I nearly gave in to his demands to let him make love to me."

  Latimer's face tightened. His voice dangerously soft, he said, "I thought we'd decided that you were not going to let things get out of hand. You were, if my memory serves me correctly, only to entice him, not seduce him."

  "You worry too much, brother mine," Deborah retorted with a hard note. "I know exactly what I am doing! Besides," she added petulantly, "I deserve some sort of reward for passing up the opportunity to be Dominic's wife and for suffering through that travesty of a marriage with old Bowden." Her lovely features twisted, she muttered, "You don't know what it was like forcing myself to kiss that randy old goat and then letting him touch me and make love to me. If you hadn't taken care of him when you did, I don't know how much longer I could have put up with him without murdering him myself."

  "Will you shut up about that!" Latimer growled. "Your loose tongue is going to send us both to the gallows. The incident with Bowden is behind us, and you needn't keep bringing it up."

  Shrugging her slim shoulders, Deborah took a sip of her cooling tea. "Very well, but stop harping to me about how I'm handling my end of things." A sly look entered her eyes. "You didn't do so well with the hoyden."

  His blue eyes cold, Latimer said icily, "I may not have bedded the wench yet, but I did get the twenty-five thousand dollars—which was what we were after in the first place. It was only when I thought there was little hope of gaining the money that I decided to get some sort of recompense from the situation, and taking that haughty little bitch to bed seemed appropriate." A cruel smile touched the corners of his thin lips. "Teaching her to obey me in every way might have been worth the money."

  "Yes, and if you don't stop gambling the way you have been lately, you're going to lose every penny of it!"

  "Oh, shut up! I know what I'm doing. Roxbury may have funded this trip and he may have promised us a small fortune when we return to England, but in the meantime, there are appearances to keep up if I am to maintain my standing among these men. The same men, don't forget, whom Roxbury wants me to cultivate and bring over to our side. Taking part in their pursuits is one way of ingratiating myself with them... and there is something else, too, for you to remember the next time you chastise me for gambling. Many of these planters are reckless gamblers, and there is a fortune to be made by a man clever with the cards—far more money than Roxbury has promised us. I intend to take full advantage of this opportunity, and if I seem to lose for a while, so much the better. When I start to win..." A crafty expression entered the cold blue eyes. "And I will start to win soon—then you'll be happy with the results of my gambling, believe me."

  "Have you set your sights on anyone in particular?"

  Latimer nodded. "Hmm, yes. That Franklyn boy is just the sort of careless young fool who makes it almost sinful for me to pluck."

  Deborah snorted. "I just hope he doesn't realize that he has been gulled and there is more of that same nasty business there was in London."

  Latimer brushed her comment aside. "It doesn't matter. Even if he were to suspect that I had cheated him and was stupid enough to challenge me to a duel—what do we care what these provincials think? We'll be leaving here soon—the plan is for us to be in New Orleans before the first of the year, and shortly after that, if all goes well, we'll be back in London, this time with a respectable fortune to command."

  Looking unconvinced, Deborah asked, "Must you lose so much money to him before recouping?"

  "I don't intend to lose much more, but it was important to lull him into being overconfident about his abilities to best me. And by having lost the amount I have, there will be several gentlemen who will think that my luck merely changed and will not be as suspicious as they would have been if I had simply proceeded to strip the silly cub of his fortune."

  "Do you think that your antics will escape Dominic's notice?" Deborah asked dryly.

  An ugly look crossed Latimer's chiseled features. "So much the better, my dear, if they do. I wouldn't make the same mistake I did the last time I faced him on the dueling field. Only one of us would walk away this time, and you can be sure that it will not be me who lies bleeding in the dirt."

  Her petulant expression returning, she complained, "I still don't know why you didn't want me to marry him when I had the chance. He is far wealthier than that old goat Bowden, and I would have enjoyed being in his bed a great deal more."

  "Is that why you are fawning all over him now? Hoping for a taste of what was denied you then?"

  "Why not?" Deborah demanded. "You have your women... I don't see why I can't bed the man of my choice for once, instead of making myself agreeable only to those you choose for their generous pocketbooks!" A pout on her lovely mouth, she muttered, "I would have liked being married to Dominic."

  His annoyance showing, Latimer stood up and walked across the room to stand near her. Pouring himself a cup of tea, he said, "If I had known precisely how wealthy he was, I would not have stood in your way. I thought he was simply an arrogant colonial on the lookout for a bride with whom to impress his yokel friends back home." Stirring his tea with a silver spoon, he mused aloud, "But even if I had known of his wealth, I still don't think your marriage to him would have been a good idea. He is too sharp by half, and I don't believe he would have stood still and allowed us to bleed him—I would have had to finish him off a lot sooner than I did Bowden."

  "Well, we certainly didn't gain very much from that plan of yours." Deborah retorted. "I don't know that I would have wanted you to kill Dominic—who knows, I might have wanted to remain his wife."

  "Now, that I rather do
ubt! Can you picture yourself surrounded by a brood of brats? Living here at the edge of nothing? It is hardly the setting I would choose for you, my dear," Latimer drawled, and when his sister sniffed, he added, "Since we arrived here you have done nothing but complain about how crude and boring you find the country and the people. Do you expect me to believe that you would be content to be buried in this barbarian wilderness? Away from all the glitter and excitement of London? You delude yourself."

  Deborah hunched a shoulder. "You're probably right. And I must say that Dominic is not quite as I remember him. Oh, as handsome, to be sure, but he seems—"

  "Less infatuated? Less likely to overlook your flaws? Less inclined to indulge you?" Latimer asked sardonically. "You forget that he has a wife now—a very beautiful wife."

  "And does it ever gall you," Deborah murmured sweetly. "You may pretend that you don't care that she escaped you and married him, but I know you too well to believe that nonsense."

  A hard edge to his voice, Latimer replied, "Keep any thoughts you may have about my intentions for Melissa Slade to yourself. I have worked too hard to regain a friendly footing with her for you to ruin it all by a loose tongue. All you have to do is keep Zachary sweet and, if you wish, amuse yourself with Dominic, but don't get any clever ideas about my relationship with Melissa in that pretty head of yours."

  Deborah shot him a venomous look, but she made no comment. It was only at times like this that she felt a stirring to escape from under Julius' thumb. For the most part she was perfectly happy to let him set the order of her life, even when it involved the disagreeable necessity of marrying a man old enough to be her grandfather. Julius had always dominated her, and since Deborah was essentially lazy, greedy and vain, she had always found it far easier to go along with whatever he planned than to strike out on her own. Dominic's offer had been tempting, but Deborah did not like the idea of being on her own, of being without a man to arrange everything for her; and though there was the odd occasion when she considered taking up with someone other than her brother, she always dismissed it. Julius allowed her more freedom than either a husband or a lover would, and since she loved herself far too much to waste any real emotion on anyone else, it seemed just as well to let Julius see to everything. In her fashion she was fond of her brother, but that didn't mean she was always pleased with his plans, or that she didn't chafe now and then at his arrogant disposal of her wants and desires.

  Sulkily she regarded his handsome face. "It isn't fair," she finally said. "You're up to something with that silly little hoyden, but I'm not allowed to make love with her brother if I want."

  "The lady's husband doesn't satisfy you?" Latimer asked mockingly.

  If anything, her sulky expression increased. "He probably would if I could get him into bed, but we are always surrounded by other people."

  "Since you seem to want him so badly, can't you arrange a rendezvous with him? In the right setting I'm sure that you'd have no trouble convincing him to sample your charms."

  A cunning expression suddenly entered her clear blue eyes. "Of course!" she cried. "Why hadn't I thought of that!" Her sour mood vanished as if it had never been, and now in good humor, she sprang to her feet and danced from the room.

  But upstairs, as she sat behind a lovely little rosewood desk, her light mood vanished. A scowl on her lovely face, she stared at the empty sheet of paper. Composing the note to Dominic was not going to be a problem—she knew just what to write that would bring him on the run. Her problem was selecting a proper place for them to meet and naming a time that would ensure their privacy.

  Nibbling on her quill, she sat there, lost in thought as she selected and then discarded several sites for the type of rendezvous she had in mind. It must be a private and secluded place; it must be romantic and it must be away from the proximity of the house... yet not too far away. With an ill-tempered movement, she threw down her quill and crumpled the blank sheet of paper. There was no point in writing the note to Dominic until she had determined their meeting place. With a droop to her Cupid's bow mouth, she wandered from her bedchamber, casting about for any place that might be suitable for Dominic's seduction....

  Deborah was not the only one planning a seduction, but whether Latimer wanted to seduce Melissa simply for herself or because she was Dominic's wife was unclear to him. He had worked hard these past months to undo the damage he had inflicted by miscalculating Melissa's pride and spirit earlier, and during the past few weeks he had begun to hope that he had managed to restore at least some of her trust in him. It had been difficult for him to act the part of a repentant friend eager to make amends, always having to hide the hatred and envy he felt for Dominic, always having to carefully conceal the rage and resentment he experienced at the knowledge that she had escaped his grasp and married the one man he detested above all others. A smile curved Latimer's mouth. It seemed that finally his meek manner and solicitousness were going to reap him the prize that he wanted.

  Latimer's smile deepened. His sister had helped his cause. Her pursuit of Dominic had driven Melissa closer to him, and that more than any other reason was why he was willing to let Deborah continue her antics. If Deborah did manage to seduce Melissa's husband, so much the better; he would take great pleasure in providing the mistreated wife with an obliging shoulder to weep on, Latimer thought cynically. And if Melissa felt mistreated enough... Latimer smirked. If he read the situation correctly, once Melissa learned that Dominic had actually bedded Deborah, he hoped that she might be willing to pay her errant husband back in kind... and he'd be standing right there with his arms held wide open.

  Melissa's unexpected and unwelcome marriage to Dominic Slade had come as a nasty shock to Latimer. He'd been so sure that he had her trapped, so positive that she would prefer giving herself to his attractive self rather than seeking some other means to meet his demands, that the news of her impending marriage to Dominic had left him dumbfounded. It was weeks before he accepted the fact that she had escaped him and that his wicked plan of sampling her charms before informing her, with a suitable amount of regret, of course, that he had decided he really must have the money after all, had failed. He had been furious, and even the receipt of the money owed him had not lessened his irrational feeling of having been cheated.

  Time in Baton Rouge was growing short for Latimer. In keeping with the schedule that he had agreed to with Roxbury in London well over a year ago, he was to leave for New Orleans in a matter of weeks. If he was to have his satisfaction, it must be soon. And before he left there were several situations he intended to bring to pleasant conclusions, Latimer thought with a smile. Planting a pair of horns on the head of Dominic Slade was only one of the delightful occurrences he had to look forward to before he departed for New Orleans. There was also the matter of the Franklyn boy....

  Whistling to himself, Latimer rose from his chair and walked to his bedchamber. Selecting a fine white silk waistcoat decorated with tiny black polka dots, he began to dress for the evening's entertainment—a small, all-male dinner party at the home of a wealthy young bachelor, Thomas Norton, who lived just a mile from Baton Rouge. Royce Manchester was to meet him here, and together they would ride to the Norton house.

  Thinking of that, Latimer frowned. He was suspicious of Royce's affinity for his company, though he could find no fault with the other man's manner. In London, Royce had been aligned with Dominic, and on a few occasions that Latimer could bring to mind, Royce had been decidedly cool to him.

  It had occurred to him that Royce could be and was very likely spying on him, trying to catch him in the midst of some nefarious deed, and Latimer almost laughed out loud at the thought. The beauty of Roxbury's plan, and the only reason he had consented to take part in it, aside from the very generous benefits, was that it held, at worst, only a nebulous risk. He wasn't about to put his head in a noose for the amount of money Roxbury was willing to pay him.

  Besides, he mused as he wandered down the curving staircase which led to th
e entry hall of the house, why should he risk his neck when there were so many easier ways to make a fortune? Especially when there was such a ripe pigeon for plucking, like the Franklyn heir so close at hand? A cruel little smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. Tonight's party might very well see the turning of Mr. Franklyn's luck at cards....

  Dominic was attending the same dinner party this evening, but unlike Latimer, he was not looking forward to it. Of late, it seemed that he seldom had a moment alone with Melissa, and he had been planning on enjoying a night at home with her. A quiet night alone together that might allow him to, at long last solve the mystery that was his wife. Unfortunately, Royce had thrown a damper on Dominic's much-longed-for evening of domestic tranquility by insisting that he attend the Norton party.

  Eyes glittering with decided annoyance, Royce had said bluntly just three days ago, "You may have to endure Deborah's clinging embraces whenever you happen to attend the same function, but I am forced to be constantly in Latimer's company—and it is damned distasteful, I can tell you! The fellow's a nasty bit of goods that ordinarily I wouldn't pass the time of day with, and for the past six weeks or so, I've been acting as if he's my best friend—so far all for naught. I've wenched with him, gotten drunk with him, attended cockfights with him and generally made myself available to him, and it has not, believe me, been the most enjoyable time I have ever spent. I do not find him either amusing or intellectually stimulating, and if I have to endure another evening dancing attendance on him, I may very well do him a violence." Fixing a burning eye on Dominic, he had concluded, "The least you can do is attend the Norton party and share my misery."

  Reluctantly, Dominic had allowed himself to be persuaded, and so it was that instead of the intimate evening he had hoped for, he found himself committed to several hours of male revelry. Zachary was also attending, and they had planned to ride together to the Norton house. Dominic had just reached for the starched white cravat which Bartholomew was holding when he heard the sound of Zachary's voice drifting up the staircase.