by Jen Turano
That the woman had actually given birth to Lucetta but apparently didn’t know her daughter or what values her daughter held was beyond telling, but it went far in explaining the less than warm and tender relationship mother and daughter shared.
“I would hope you’d have a bit more faith in me, Mother, than to immediately assume my very good friend is a gentleman, or more importantly, my lover.”
“You’re being impertinent,” Susannah shot back before she smiled one of her lovely smiles and nodded to something off in the distance. “You’re also being neglectful of your friends.”
Finding herself less than surprised by her mother’s response to something she obviously didn’t care to discuss, Lucetta turned and walked to the edge of the portico, reining in the temper flowing through her as she gestured for Monty to bring the wagon closer.
It would never do to lose her temper with her mother, because Susannah would no doubt disengage from the conversation and dismiss Lucetta before she could warn her mother about Silas.
As the wagon drew near, Lucetta turned back to her mother, finding her smoothing down her hair, even though there was not a single strand out of place in the tidy chignon her mother preferred to wear when she was at home.
“You look lovely, Mother. There’s no reason to fuss with your hair.”
Susannah stopped smoothing her hair and frowned. “Thank you, dear. What an unexpected thing for you to say.”
“I’m sure I’ve told you you’ve looked lovely before.”
“Not since you were a small child, back in the days when you liked me.”
Lucetta blinked. “When have I ever made the claim that I don’t like you?”
Susannah let out what sounded remarkably like a snort. “Please, I may not be as intelligent as you are, or your father was, but I was born with a bit of common sense. That means I can tell when someone doesn’t like me, and you, daughter dear, don’t like me, just as I can tell you’re disdainful of the way I prefer to live my life, finding it far too frivolous for a practical soul like you.”
“I’m not always practical” was all Lucetta could think to respond to something she’d never even considered before—the idea that her mother suffered hurts from slights she believed Lucetta had flung her way.
A trace of uncomfortable truth nudged its way into Lucetta’s thoughts.
She did find her mother frivolous, and . . . perhaps she had been a little disdainful over the years in regard to her mother’s lack of competency with any matters of a business nature, especially matters of finance.
Before she could address the subject further though, she heard footsteps approaching. Turning, she found Bram striding her way while everyone else remained in the wagon.
Her pulse immediately sped up the closer he drew, but she didn’t find herself annoyed by that reaction. Quite honestly, she was getting used to her pulse galloping about at the strangest of times, mostly when Bram smiled, or . . . held her arm, or . . . breathed.
They’d not had an opportunity to speak much about anything since learning Silas had escaped, but now that she knew his secrets, knew he wasn’t a madman, and knew he wasn’t appalled by her rather curious gifts, she’d been thinking over the whole courting business, and . . . truth be told, she’d been . . . considering it.
Blinking straight out of those thoughts, Lucetta realized that Bram had made the decision to approach them on his own, almost as if he’d known Susannah might be a little overwhelmed if she’d been faced with meeting everyone at once.
His inherent kindness had the smallest of sighs escaping from Lucetta’s lips, sighs that disappeared in a flash when Susannah let out a sigh of her own.
“My goodness but that is one handsome man,” Susannah breathed before she breezed past Lucetta, a brilliant smile spreading over her face. Holding out her arms in clear welcome, she went from disgruntled mother to the image of the quintessential southern woman—all smiles and grace—in a split second.
Lucetta couldn’t help but be slightly impressed with her mother’s acting abilities.
“You must be Lucetta’s mother, although I would have said sister if I didn’t already know Lucetta is an only child,” Bram said, climbing up the stairs to take the hand Susannah immediately held out to him. He brought her fingers to his lips even as he inclined his head to her. “I’m delighted to meet you.”
Susannah dipped her head and peeked out at Bram from beneath her lashes, an action all southern ladies learned from almost the moment they could walk. The peeking came to an abrupt end, however, when Susannah shot a glance to Lucetta and raised a perfectly shaped brow.
Stepping forward before her mother did something worse than raise a brow over what she evidently thought was Lucetta’s grave lapse in manners, Lucetta summoned up a smile. “Mother, I’d like to introduce you to a friend of mine, Mr. Bram Haverstein. Bram, this is my mother, Mrs. Nigel Wolfe, Susannah to her close friends and family.”
“Which means you must call me Susannah,” her mother all but purred. “Any friend of my daughter’s is certainly a friend of mine.”
“I would be honored to call you Susannah, and you must call me Bram,” he said as he released Susannah’s hand, earning a sigh of obvious disappointment in return.
Lucetta had almost forgotten how flirty southern women tended to be, no matter their ages. Before her mother could begin flirting in earnest though, footsteps marching up the steps drew Lucetta’s attention, and to her relief, she found that Millie had decided to join them.
“What a marvelous house,” Millie exclaimed when she reached Lucetta’s side, beaming a smile Susannah’s way. “I’m Mrs. Everett Mulberry, Mrs. Wolfe, but please, call me Millie, since I’ve been fast friends with your daughter for what feels like forever and you apparently feel that any friend of Lucetta’s is a friend of yours. Why, I’m sure you must feel as if you and I are fast friends already since I lived with Lucetta for years and years before I got married, which means I know she must have told you all about me.”
Susannah’s forehead puckered ever so slightly as she looked Millie up and down. “Lucetta has never mentioned a word about you, Mrs. Mulberry.”
Millie’s eyes immediately took to narrowing, and for such a small lady, she suddenly looked quite intimidating. “Millie, please, and clearly I’ve arrived just in the nick of time. You and Lucetta are obviously suffering from a less than desirable relationship, which means the two of you need someone to intervene on both of your behalves, and, well . . . here I am.”
With that, Millie stepped forward and, with Susannah eyeing her warily, reached out, took a firm hold of Susannah’s shoulders, and pulled her into an enthusiastic embrace.
“Oh . . . my” was all Susannah seemed capable of saying as Millie gave her a last squeeze and stepped back, immediately entwining her arm with Susannah’s.
“Now then, since it’s clear a bit of a heart-to-heart talk is long overdue between you and my dear Lucetta, I’m going to suggest we repair to . . .” She tilted her head. “Do you call them parlors down here in the South?”
“We have a receiving room,” Susannah said slowly.
“Excellent. We’ll repair to the receiving room, where I’m hopeful some of that sweet tea I keep hearing about will be served as I tell you about the many, many things I don’t believe you know about your daughter.”
With that, Millie prodded Susannah into motion and disappeared with her into Plum Hill.
“Millie’s a little frightening, isn’t she?” Bram asked slowly.
“This coming from a man who owns his own dungeon,” Lucetta replied right before she caught sight of someone walking around the corner of the house.
Before she could get a single word out of her mouth, however—as in a word of warning to the unfortunate soul who’d rounded that corner—Mr. Skukman came dashing out of nowhere, launched himself into the air, and knocked none other than her dastardly stepfather, Mr. Nigel Wolfe, straight to the ground.
24
Luc
etta braced herself for the wrath she knew was about to be unleashed as she watched her mother hover over Nigel, temper having colored Susannah’s cheeks a vivid shade of pink.
“I would really like to know why anyone would find it acceptable to accost poor Nigel when the man was simply trying to enter his own home,” Susannah suddenly said, pausing in her act of mopping up Nigel’s bleeding lip with a wet cloth in order to send everyone now gathered in the receiving room a glare.
Mr. Skukman, who was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window on the far side of the room, pulled his gaze away from studying the back lawn and settled it on Susannah. “I thought he was Silas Ruff.” Apparently believing that went far in explaining everything, Mr. Skukman immediately returned his attention out the window again, sipping the sweet tea Susannah had provided him after he’d carried Nigel into the receiving room.
In the South, good manners and hospitality were never to be neglected, not even if the man you were extending those manners to had just knocked your husband to the ground.
Lucetta felt her lips quirk as that odd thought rumbled around her mind, her lips quirking up even farther when she recalled Mr. Skukman’s look of complete surprise when her mother had thrust the tea into his hand before marching off to assist her husband.
“Would there be a reasonable explanation as to why you’d want to accost this Mr. Ruff character?” Susannah demanded, pulling Lucetta back to the conversation at hand.
Mr. Skukman took a sip of his tea, pulled his attention away from the scene outside the window again, and nodded Susannah’s way. “He’s been obsessed with your daughter for years, showing up at all of her performances. That obsession culminated with him recently abducting Miss Plum and holding her captive for days against her will.”
Susannah’s eyes widened before she closed them, drew in a deep breath, and slowly released it. When she opened her eyes again, she appeared perfectly calm, not a trace of concern or surprise lingering on her face—a tactic Lucetta had put to great use over the years as well, although she normally put that tactic to use when she was on a stage.
It was becoming remarkably clear that she hadn’t inherited all of her gifts from her father.
Looking around the room, Susannah’s attention settled on Bram. “And what flimsy excuses are you going to tell me, Mr. Haverstein, about what compelled you to punch my Nigel in the nose? Clearly, he’s not Silas Ruff, nor could he have possibly done anything to you that would have warranted your violence toward him since he told me only moments ago that he’s never seen you before in his life.”
Bram, who’d been standing directly beside Lucetta as she sat on a divan that had once belonged to her grandmother, crossed his arms over his chest and sent Susannah a pleasant smile. “I’m afraid I have no excuses to give you, Mrs. Wolfe,” he said, apparently realizing Susannah’s demand of using informal names was no longer in play. “In all honesty, I can’t even claim I punched Nigel in error, since I heard Lucetta call out his name right after Mr. Skukman jumped on him.”
Susannah blinked and narrowed her eyes. “That almost sounds to me as if you hit him on purpose.”
Bram shrugged. “Someone needed to, especially after he tried to serve Lucetta up as a means of honoring a gambling debt to Silas Ruff—a circumstance that led to all the unfortunate events Lucetta’s been forced to endure ever since Nigel sat down to play cards with Silas.”
Susannah straightened, the wet cloth she’d been using to blot Nigel’s lip now all but forgotten in her hand. “Nigel doesn’t gamble anymore. Everyone knows that, and I don’t appreciate you insinuating otherwise.”
“I don’t believe I was insinuating anything, Mrs. Wolfe, but since you are evidently unwilling to take my word for it, perhaps you should ask your husband about the details surrounding the incident with Silas.” Bram nodded to Nigel, who’d taken to slouching down in the chair he was in.
With mutters of “nasty accusations” and “have no idea what they’re talking about” making it past lips that barely moved, Nigel sunk even lower into his chair and settled into a sulky silence, refusing to say another word.
Giving him an encouraging pat on the arm, Susannah squared her shoulders right before she marched across the room. Dropping down between Lucetta and Millie on the divan, Susannah scooted around in an obvious attempt at getting more comfortable, hardly noticing that her scooting had sent Millie straight off the edge.
Completely unperturbed about that unexpected turn of events, Millie snatched up what had to be her third glass of sweet tea that she’d left on a side table, and clutching it closely to her, she glided across the room, taking a seat in an unoccupied chair.
“Why would Mr. Haverstein believe such a silly tale about Nigel?” Susannah asked after Millie was once again settled. “I told you years ago, Lucetta, that Nigel had given up gambling, and . . . well, he would never lose you in a game of chance even if he did still occasionally sit down to a friendly hand of cards.”
“While I’m sure most people find your naiveté remarkably charming, Mother, I find it nothing of the sort,” Lucetta said as a thread of temper began to weave through her. “You, of all people, should realize that I have more important things to do in my life than compose ‘silly tales’ about Nigel. Everything Bram said is nothing less than the truth. Nigel is still lying to you about everything, and there is no disputing the fact that he did sit down to play cards with Silas Ruff, losing far more than he had available to lose after he apparently drank to excess.”
“Nigel doesn’t drink anymore either,” Susannah said with a sniff.
“You were just standing inches away from him, Mother. Did you not smell the whiskey on his breath? Because believe me, I smelled it from across the room.”
Susannah rose to her feet and presented Lucetta with her back. “It’s impossible to hold a rational conversation with you when you turn all dramatic.”
Lucetta rose to her feet too, as her temper went from simmering to boiling. “He tried to throw the deed to Plum Hill into his card game, and when it was learned that he didn’t have the deed in his possession, he offered me up to Silas Ruff. That, quite frankly, is something I’m convinced Silas was hoping would happen from the moment he conned Nigel into sitting down with him in the first place.”
Susannah turned around and narrowed her eyes on Lucetta. “Nigel would never gamble away Plum Hill. He knows it means too much to me.”
“He can’t gamble it away, Mother. He doesn’t own it.”
Susannah’s eyes narrowed to mere slits. “Oh, here we go again, you bringing up the deed to Plum Hill. As the man of this family, of course Nigel owns this property, Lucetta. I realize you and he had some type of falling out that ended with him allowing you to hold on to the deed, but that doesn’t mean you own Plum Hill.”
Lucetta’s brows drew together. “Is that what he told you—that I forced him to hand over the deed to me? Honestly, Mother, I know you enjoy playing the southern lady to a fault, and playing it so that no one would ever guess you have a brain in your head, but . . . I didn’t get all of my intelligence from Father. Surely you’ve at least considered the possibility, since I hold the deed to Plum Hill, that I do, indeed, own the place.”
Susannah plopped her hands on her hips. “How would you have found the means to buy Plum Hill?”
“I’m very good with investments, something that you should be thankful for since that talent has kept a roof over your head.”
Susannah lifted her chin. “I don’t believe you.”
Considering her mother for a long moment, Lucetta frowned. “Nigel really never told you about any of this?”
“Don’t think for a second you can have me turning on Nigel with the lies you’re spouting. I’ve always known that you’ve never cared for him, never wanted me to marry him, which was really unfair of you since Nigel’s always had your best interests at heart.”
“Did he have those interests at heart when he realized he’d been going through Father’s money far t
oo quickly and was soon going to run out and so decided that I’d be the perfect solution to help him acquire a fortune at the gambling dens?”
“Shut up,” Nigel growled as he got to his feet and took a threatening step toward her. He came to an abrupt stop, however, when Mr. Skukman moved across the room in a flash, his menacing stance blocking Nigel from Lucetta and returning him to his seat.
“Go on, Lucetta,” Bram said quietly, stepping directly to her side and taking her hand in his.
“It doesn’t matter. She’s not going to listen.”
“And that doesn’t matter either,” Bram countered. “You need to get your past out into the open so you can finally put it to rest. This is your opportunity.”
“Her opportunity to spread her lies,” Nigel called from his seat, snapping his mouth shut when Mr. Skukman released a growl.
Bram brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it. “Tell us why Nigel wanted you to accompany him to gambling dens.”
Shoving aside the absurd thought that she really could get used to the feel of his lips on her hand, Lucetta drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. “I’d just turned sixteen when Nigel presented his idea to me. He needed to replenish the coffers before my mother discovered what he’d been about. They hadn’t been married long, you see, but he’d lost his head having the fortune my father had left us at his disposal, and while he was losing his head, he’d managed to lose himself a good chunk of that fortune. Disaster was nipping at his heels, and that, I believe, is what had him watching me so closely.”
Lucetta smiled. “I readily admit I probably came across as a most unusual child, what with my habit of studying the financial sections of the newspaper and trying to budget the household expenses and such. I was in the pantry one day, making an inventory of supplies, when Nigel joined me. I found it peculiar that he’d chosen to speak to me in the pantry, but it didn’t take me long to figure out why he’d wanted to speak with me well away from my mother’s ears.”
