Returning to their suite, Colt grumbled as he changed for dinner. He did not mind the new false shirt cuffs, fitted into the sleeve of his coat like a wristband, nor did he mind the semi-cutaway coat, which ended at his waist in front but slanted to semi-tails in back. It was the shoes he despised, bending to use the little silver hook to fasten the buttons that went all the way up to the ankle. “I feel like an old lady.”
Jade could not help teasing, “But it’s the latest fashion, darling, and remember, you’re the one who said we’re royalty among commoners, and that means we have to dress the part.
“And just think,” she continued to goad him as he made a face at her, “tonight isn’t even formal, because it’s our first night out. Tomorrow night, you can really dress up.”
Colt snapped that he had a good notion to just eat in the cabin, much preferring casual clothes, but knew she was right. No more Western boots and denims, not that he’d dressed in Paris the way he’d dressed back in Nevada, but it seemed those days of leisure wear were in the past. They were moving into high-society New York, with all its glitter and glamour, and they had to dress the part, like it or not.
Jade preened in front of a mirror. She was wearing a gown of French satin in a luscious shade of gold that made her eyes look even greener against the sheen. The modestly plunging neckline accentuated her slender neck, and she wore her long red hair swept up, with waves on the side.
“Conformity was never my forte,” he stated grimly, then stepped up behind her to slip his arms about her tiny waist and huskily whisper in her ear, “But beauty, my lovely wife, is certainly yours.”
She whirled about in his arms, coquettishly murmuring, “Flattery, my handsome husband, will get you anywhere, as I’ll show you later tonight…in bed.”
“Hussy!” He patted her bottom, pointed to the door. “Out, or I’ll drag you to bed, and you’ll go to sleep hungry.”
She winked at him. “Only for food. You satisfy every other need.”
He made as if to grab her, and she squealed in mock terror and jerked open the door to rush into the narrow hallway, only to crash into a woman passing by, knocking her against the opposite wall.
“Watch where you’re going, you idiot!” the woman snapped furiously, struggling to regain her balance. “You could have knocked me down. As it is, you’ve mussed my dress,” she added waspishly, hands moving to smooth her gown.
Jade stepped back, at once apologetic and embarrassed. “I’m sorry, truly I am.”
“Oh, get out of my way!” The woman lifted her chin, gave an indignant sniff.
She was, Jade surmised, in her forties but looked much older due to her unpleasant air. She was dressed in an expensive gown of navy blue with a high lace collar, her waist nipped in tightly to give her that fashionable hourglass look. She wore a tiny beaded hat with pink feathers atop her severely bunned graying hair, and Jade had to swallow a giggle at such a ridiculous creation.
There was another woman with her, Jade now noticed, who seemed hardly more than a child to look at her. The outfit she wore, a pale pink taffeta dress with long puffy sleeves and a wide, ribboned cummerbund, made her appear quite young; that, plus the obvious fact that she seemed unusually shy. She had glanced only briefly at Jade, then turned away, staring down at her feet as if uncomfortable and embarrassed by the scene.
“Well,” the woman snapped, “are you going to get out of my way and allow us to pass? Or do you possess no manners at all? And are you sure you’re in the right section of this ship?” she added tartly. “Third class is several decks down.”
Jade allowed the remark, and the hateful woman, to pass, biting her tongue against an angry retort.
“Who was that?” Colt peered out of the door to stare after the two women as they continued on their way.
Jade frowned with disapproval. “Oh, just the sort I hope we never get to be.”
The first-class dining room was one deck below, reached by an elegant paneled stairway which curved from left and right, coming together at a small landing beneath an arcade with a huge clock in the middle. From there, one could look down into the dining room, which was in the Louis XVI style, complete with gilt-banded columns and chintz-backed chairs.
Waiters in white jackets and dark trousers scurried about to serve a sumptuous fare. The air was permeated with the delicious smells of roast duckling, chicken, and various beef dishes.
Colt gave the maître d’ their names, and he checked them off on his list, motioned they should follow him to their assigned table. Just then, Jade remembered she’d left the ring Kitty had given her on her dressing table. Turning to Colt, she whispered, “My ring. The one your mother gave me. I left it in the cabin.”
“I’ll go,” Colt offered.
Jade shook her head. “You’d have to look for it, and I know exactly where I left it. I’ll be right back.”
She scurried up the stairs before he could protest, retrieved the ring, and returned to the dining room in less than ten minutes. The maître d’ saw her behind three other couples and indicated she should come ahead. “Mrs. Coltrane, I’ve seated your husband. Follow me.”
Then he was pulling out a chair for her, and Jade prepared to seat herself next to Colt but hesitated when she noticed the mischievous, knowing gleam in his eye as he fought to keep from laughing out loud. Still leaning slightly forward, not yet seated yet no longer standing, she darted a glance about the table—and saw the scowling face of the woman who’d questioned her right to be in the first-class section of the ship.
Colt politely stood up, guided Jade to her seat. “My dear”—there was no mistaking the amusement in his voice—“I’d like to introduce you to the ladies with whom we’ll be sharing a table for the duration of our voyage.”
Inwardly, Jade groaned, for the woman was glaring at her belligerently. It was obvious she had no intention of forgetting the incident, however trivial it had been.
Colt was enjoying himself. He nodded to the imperious woman. “Mrs. Triesta Vordane of New York, and”—he smiled at the young girl sitting so cowed beside her—“her daughter, Lorena. Ladies, I’d like you to meet my wife, Jade Coltrane.”
The girl called Lorena almost smiled, but a nervous glance at her mother caused her to merely nod her head and return her interest to the salad on the plate in front of her.
Colt readjusted his napkin across his lap as he informed Jade that Mrs. Vordane had just informed him they were returning to New York after a brief holiday in France. “I told her we were moving there, that I’d be working with the Vanderbilts, and she knows them well, says I’ll enjoy them immensely,” he added with a flourish.
Jade wanted to stuff his napkin in his mouth. So what if she had bumped into the twit of a woman? She’d apologized and was not about to spend the rest of the voyage attempting to make amends. After a polite nod of acknowledgment to her tablemates, she turned her attention to Colt and the delicious meal they were being served, not including Triesta or her daughter in their conversation. All the while she was wondering how she could endure such tension three times a day for more than three weeks. She had already decided that Colt ask they be seated elsewhere. Such an unpleasant person as Triesta Vordane could ruin an otherwise beautiful and memorable trip.
Jade was in the middle of telling Colt about something she remembered his mother’s saying she’d like them to see in New York when Triesta Vordane suddenly interrupted, addressing herself to Colt. “You said your name was Coltrane.” She gave him a fawning smile. “By any chance would your father be Travis Coltrane? I saw his picture in the paper once, and you resemble him. I never forget the face of a handsome man,” she added with a ridiculous flutter of her eyelashes.
Jade coughed, nearly choked on a bit of tomato. Colt gave her a gentle jab under the table with his foot.
“Why, yes, ma’am,” he replied with a mock Southern drawl, “I’m blessed to be the son of Travis Coltrane.”
She gave Jade a brief, disdainful glance, then muster
ed her charm once more for Colt. “I should have known you were someone from a distinguished family. You have that extra grace and charm that come with good breeding.”
Jade was astounded that the woman could make such an issue of something as harmless as being bumped into. Heavens, was she mad? Then Jade saw how Lorena was suddenly staring at Colt as though she’d just seen the face of God Himself. Jade did not, however, find this surprising. After all, Colt was a strikingly handsome man, and she’d long been aware of the way women looked at him with unconcealed longing.
Colt could not suppress a chuckle, nor a chance to thrust Jade into the unwanted limelight. “Well, thank you, ma’am, but if you want to really see grace and charm, I suggest you look to my wife. She’s a prima ballerina, and—”
Jade kicked him. Hard. With fire in her emerald eyes, she shot him a look that warned him to say no more.
Lorena Vordane spoke for the first time, exclaiming in awe as she turned adoring eyes upon Jade, “Oh, how marvelous! A real ballet dancer!”
Triesta sucked in her breath so loudly that the people at the next table glanced about to see what the sound was. She ignored them as she sharply admonished her daughter. “Stop fawning, Lorena. A dancer is nothing to be excited about.”
“I’m sorry,” the girl murmured, dropping her gaze once more.
Triesta quickly changed the subject and began to bombard Colt with a host of questions about his father. Jade paid no attention, merely ate her dinner quietly while stealing sympathetic glances now and then at Lorena…such a mousy little thing, so intimidated by her mother that she wanted to be as unobtrusive as possible in order to avoid her anger, scorn, or ridicule. Her eyes were a dull brown, and Jade wondered if they’d ever shone with happiness or joy. Her hair, a lovely golden-blonde shade, was pulled back from her delicate, heart-shaped face with no style, no waves, no curl. She wore no makeup, not even a lipstick. She could, Jade mused, be quite beautiful if given a chance.
Jade was relieved when dinner was over, and as soon as she was alone with Colt she cried, “We’ve got to change tables. I can’t stand three weeks with that horrid woman. Such a snob! All she did was try to impress you with how rich she is. Big mansion on the Hudson River, the Vordane name listed in the Social Register, whatever that is. Good grief!” She threw up her hands in disgust. “I’ve never met such a pompous, arrogant woman.”
Colt shrugged, agreed with her that Triesta Vordane was a bore, but apologetically explained that there was not another table available. “The ship’s full. We’re not even taking on passengers at Southampton, just cargo. Sorry, princess. We’ll just have to make the best of it.”
Jade groaned.
It was going to be a long voyage…and not as pleasant as she’d thought it would be.
Chapter Seven
Breakfast with Triesta Vordane was avoided the next morning when Jade and Colt opted to spend the time on deck, watching the activity dockside in Plymouth, England. That afternoon they took the opportunity to go ashore for a bit of sightseeing, having lunch in a nice cafe near the waterfront. But when the dinner hour came, they had no choice but to go to the dining room as the ship sailed from port.
Jade asked again, in hopes some miracle might have happened during the day, “Are you sure the maître d’ can’t put us anywhere else?”
“Sorry,” Colt replied, his voice as dismal as her mood. “This ship isn’t as large as others making the crossing, and first-class dining doesn’t have that many seats available. He says we can ask around, see if anyone would like to swap tables, but I don’t think that would be very nice.”
Jade agreed but said it was no more than Mrs. Vordane deserved after the way she’d acted. “We’ll just have to try and make the best of it, I guess. Maybe we can eat fast,” she added tartly.
Colt laughed, knowing she wasn’t truly serious about rushing through dinner. It was a relaxing, leisurely time, and usually two hours passed before anyone realized it, after all the wine between courses and demitasse or brandy later. “We’ll take dessert in one of the public rooms, and maybe that’ll relieve some of the misery,” he offered.
Jade chose a gown of white velvet, edged in ermine, that had been one of her favorites in court. Colt went to the purser’s office to take her diamond and emerald tiara from the safe, while she used the heated irons a steward had brought to curl her hair on top of her head.
All eyes were upon Jade and Colt as they made their way down the grand staircase into the dining room. They were a striking couple—Jade in the attire of royalty, and Colt elegant in a white suit, red silk shirt with ruffled cuffs and tie.
Jade gritted her teeth as they walked to their table, steeling herself for another unpleasant encounter with Mrs. Vordane. But to her amazement, they were greeted by a broad smile!
“Lovely!” Triesta Vordane clapped her hands together in childlike approval. “Such a beautiful couple. Don’t you agree, Lorena?” She gave her daughter a nudge with her elbow.
“Yes, Mama.” The young girl nodded obediently, not glancing up.
Jade was surprised but pleased by this new attitude.
“I took the liberty of ordering our wine tonight,” Mrs. Vordane said cheerily as Jade and Colt took their seats. “You’ll be our guests, of course, as I had it placed on our account.”
“Very nice of you, Mrs. Vordane,” Colt murmured. He picked up the menu and began to look it over, absently adding, “You ladies look lovely tonight.”
Jade quietly concurred, noting Mrs. Vordane’s bright blue gown with thick gold beading, in sharp contrast with Lorena’s simple yellow-and-white cotton. Mrs. Vordane was also wearing a lot of jewels, while her daughter had no such adornments.
“Please, call me Triesta. Let’s not be so formal, Colt. After all”—she reached across the table to pat his hand—“we’re going to be friends in New York. It will be fun introducing you and Jade to my friends and showing you around town.”
She gave Jade a smile of inclusion, but Jade sensed it was false. The woman’s eyes were cold, her mouth tightly set. For some reason she had yet to discern, suspicion needled.
As they ate their first course of rabbit and golden plum compote, Triesta made herself the center of attention with yet another bragging description of the Vordane wealth, background…their political and social influence.
During the second course, stuffed veal breast, Triesta began to ask Colt questions about his future job with the Vanderbilts, where he and Jade planned to reside once they reached New York. She seemed, Jade noticed, unusually interested in the fact that they were planning to stay at a hotel until they found a place to rent before ultimately buying or building a home.
“Perhaps a temporary residence is a good idea, Colt,” Triesta softly commented. “Your bride might become homesick and return to her own country. You’d have no need of a large home then, would you?” She addressed herself to him as though Jade were not present.
Jade suppressed a laugh, although her ire was starting to rise. It was becoming obvious why Mrs. Vordane was so interested in Colt: if he were available, she’d want him for her mousy little daughter.
Colt sensed Jade’s discomfort, was annoyed himself, and he coolly responded, “There’s no need to discuss such a possibility. Jade won’t be homesick as long as she’s with me.”
Mrs. Vordane dramatically cooed, “Oh, what a sweet thought…” She reached over to touch her daughter’s shoulder. “Isn’t that a sweet thing for Mr. Coltrane to say, darling? One day perhaps a man will love you that much…if you’re lucky.”
Jade did not miss the way Lorena began to blink furiously, as though fighting back tears. She remained silent.
Jade sensed Colt was as bored as she but since Mrs. Vordane had ordered a bottle of rare and expensive cognac for their coffee, they could not very well escape until they’d politely shared the treat, although she was fast reaching the point where she felt they owed the haughty woman no regard.
Then, during coffee, Jade found herse
lf under scrutiny.
“Tell me, dear,” Mrs. Vordane prodded, holding her coffee cup before her with practiced grace, “how is it that you claim Russia as your home when you’re obviously Irish?”
Jade countered with a question of her own. “And how did you know I’m Irish?”
Triesta laughed airily. “Irish eyes, my dear, and you speak with a trace of an accent, and I don’t mean a Russian accent. My husband and I traveled extensively before he died, and we met people of many different racial and ethnic backgrounds. I can certainly distinguish one nationality from another.”
Jade said nothing, merely sipped her coffee. She was not about to allow Triesta Vordane to continue her prying. Besides, she did not want to tell anyone of her- background. Not that she was ashamed. Far from it. It was an honor, she felt, to be a member of the Romanov family. It was just that she felt no need to talk of the past, nor to answer the questions of strangers.
When Mrs. Vordane realized she would get no response from Jade, she pretended sympathetic concern. “Oh, of course, you’d rather not discuss it, you poor child. Forgive me. Why, you’re probably already homesick, aren’t you?” She wagged a scolding finger at Colt. “That’s what you American boys get for marrying foreign girls. Stick to your own kind. A wife crying over her homeland is not the kind of life’s mate you need.”
Jade tensed, struggling to keep from exploding, for she did not want to give this inquisitive woman the satisfaction of seeing her lose control. Tightly, she bit out the words, “For your information, Mrs. Vordane, I am not homesick, nor do I intend to be. My place is beside my husband, wherever he chooses to live, and I rather think it’s his business whether he marries a ‘foreigner’ or an American.”
Mrs. Vordane gasped, but Jade rushed on. “I suggest you look to your own background, and unless you come from a long line of Indians on both sides, I’d say you’re somewhat of a foreigner to American soil yourself.”
Colt dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and coughed to keep from bursting out laughing. Triesta Vordane looked as though someone had just thrown ice water in her face; even her daughter dared to giggle.
Love and Dreams: The Coltrane Saga, Book 6 Page 6
