“You should have come to my room,” Eliza said as she perched on the end of the bed. “I would have kept you company.”
Brooke felt her face flush. “I didn’t think about it at the time.” She hadn't really been capable of thinking. She didn’t add that it would have been much safer than where she ended up.
“Guess what?”
“What?” Brooke asked, seeing that Eliza was trying to tell her something.
“Cousin Travis said I may go to the party tonight for a little while. So I need your help to pick out the perfect dress.”
“I’d love to,” Brooke said, strolling over to the child and offering her hand. At least this was a distraction that would set her mind on something other than Travis. “Let’s go see what we have to work with.”
In Eliza’s room, they went through her wardrobe, examining each garment carefully. Brooke would hold up a dress and then they’d promptly reject it, quickly moving on to the next gown.
“They all look too childish,” Eliza fretted. “I will be thirteen years old in three more months, practically a woman. I don’t want to look like a little girl.”
Brooke smiled. Eliza was in such a great hurry to grow up just like all girls her age. “I have an idea.” Brooke pulled out a soft pink dress of watered gauze. “This one is lovely," she said, holding the dress up to the girl's face. "I have some dark rose feathers in my room that we can use to accent the gown. We can ask Mammy to find us someone who can sew the feathers around the bottom of the dress. With a little lace across the top it will be quite fetching. What do you think?”
Eliza clapped her hands. “That sounds lovely. You are absolutely wonderful. I’m so glad you are here instead of Hesione.”
Brooke turned. “You don’t care for her?”
“No.” Eliza sighed. “Not really.”
Brooke placed the dress on the bed and busied herself with the adjustments. She tried not to act interested, but was dying to know about the other woman. “Your cousin obviously has a different opinion.”
“I think Travis has motives.”
"Motives?" Brooke arched an eyebrow as she considered the girl's statement. Then she said, “You mean you don't think love is his reason for marrying her?”
“I guess he likes Hesione well enough, but I think he’s marrying her because she comes from an affluent Creole family.”
“Travis doesn’t impress me as someone who cares about affluence.”
“You know him quite well already, I see,” Eliza said with a smile.
“I’m not too sure how well I know him, but he doesn’t impress me as someone who can be forced into doing anything he doesn't want to do.”
Eliza shrugged. "True, and I shouldn’t be gossiping, but I think he is marrying Hesione to please my aunt.
"You see, her father disowned her when she had Travis out of wedlock. I heard my mother talking about it once. Of course, she didn't know I was listening. She said my grandfather had plans for Aunt Margaret to marry a respectable Creole, but she met the duke and fell madly in love with him. She thought he’d leave his wife and stay with her, but that wasn’t to be.
"Instead he left Aunt Margaret and returned to England. The scandal that came upon the family turned my grandfather into a bitter man.”
Brooke didn’t want to care, but found she couldn’t seem to stop herself from commenting. Beside, the more she knew about Travis, the easier it would be for her to bend him to her wishes. “I can see how that would have caused a scandal, but when Jackson claimed Travis as his son and gave him the plantation, didn't that change things?”
“No.” Eliza shook her head. “You see, Creoles are very proud people and not very forgiving. I shouldn’t say this, but my aunt is also a bitter person. She’s always been good to me, but she constantly reminds Cousin Travis how he is to blame for her ruined life.”
“But Travis had nothing to do with it. He didn’t ask to be born,” Brooke jumped in quickly to defend him. “He was only a child. Margaret was the one who behaved badly. She was to blame."
Eliza gave Brooke a funny little smile, before saying, “I think you like my cousin.”
For a moment Brooke gave Eliza a stunned look. Why would the child think such a thing? She was only asking questions because she was interested. And, perhaps, just a wee bit curious. “Let’s just say that he’s growing on me. I must say, you seem to bring out a different side of him.”
“I love my cousin -- most of the time,” Eliza said with a giggle. “Unless he’s being grumpy. Then I try and keep my distance.”
“I know the feeling well,” Brooke admitted wryly. She reached for Eliza’s dress. “Let’s go find Mammy and see if she can find someone to perform a miracle with this dress.”
Travis made sure he stayed away from the main house and Brooke in particular. He’d been a fool last night. How in the hell had he let the woman get so close to him? Now, having tasted her, he found he wasn’t satisfied as he hoped he’d be. Instead he wanted more.
But at what price?
Travis wondered how Brooke would feel about being his mistress. Dare he ask her?
He reigned in his horse. There was no time to think of that now for he had reached the sugarcane field. The plantation came first. It always came first.
And what Travis found in the cane didn’t please him one bit. He’d lost half the crop from the way it looked, and if the workers couldn’t get back into the field quickly to salvage the rest of the crop, the entire harvest could be in jeopardy.
Was even the weather conspiring against him? He railed inwardly as he watched the hands struggling to get the carts unstuck from the mud.
“Damn,” he muttered as he dismounted and stepped up to a cart, shouldering the wagon as he pushed against the clinging mud. He might as well get dirty too.
Brooke stood wrapped in a bath sheet and gazed into her closet. She wanted to make just the right impression tonight. It would be the first time she’d meet her neighbors, and she wanted to look her best.
Millie Anne swung into the room. “Sorry fo’ bein’ late, Miz Brooke, but I had to takes Miz Eliza’s dress to her. You ready to start gettin’ dressed? Folks be arrivin' soon.”
Finally, Brooke pulled out a royal blue dress of silk and satin. "I think this is what I’m going to wear."
“Ooowe, that color will suit you just nice,” Millie Anne said as she shook out de cream-colored petticoats. "I wants you to lie on the bed so I can rub you with de almond oil. Mammy said to make sure I did dis so you’d look your very prettiest tonight.”
Brooke smiled. Maybe Mammy was beginning to like her after all. That would certainly be a major accomplishment, she thought.
By the time Millie Anne had finished, Brooke was so relaxed she thought about going to sleep and forgoing the party, but she knew that wouldn’t do. So she got up and slipped into her French corset, holding it together while Millie Anne pulled the pink ribbons tight. Then she slipped the petticoats over Brooke’s head.
“Dis here’s the finest gown I’ve ever seen,” Millie Anne commented as she carefully lowered the blue gown over Brooke’s head, the rustle of silk filling the room as the gown fell into place.
Brooke held the back so Millie Anne could fasten the rows of tiny hooks, then she adjusted the top so that it fell fetchingly off her shoulders. The bodice was cut low, reveling a tempting glimpse of cleavage beneath a froth of creamy lace, giving her a very seductive appearance.
“My, my, my,” Millie Anne exclaimed. “You're going to be de finest lady at de whole ball.”
“Thank you. This dress is one of the latest French fashions. I had it made just before I left England. This is the first chance I've had to wear it.” Brooke ran her hand through her hair. “Can you tame these curls?”
“How about if we sweep your hair to de side? I can twine de curls with gold and blue ribbons. De gold will match your eyes.”
Brooke smiled her approval. “Work your magic,” she said as Millie Anne began to finger her
rich, thick tresses.
Brooke was well pleased with her maid's finished coif. She opened her jewelry box and selected a sapphire necklace Jackson had given her. The necklace was a fine gold rope that wrapped around her neck. A dark blue sapphire dangled on the end. The gem rested seductively in the cleavage between her breasts. It was perfect, Brooke thought with a satisfying smile.
“Ooowe, Mister Travis ain’t going to be able to take his eyes off'n you,” Millie Anne said with a grin.
That’s the idea, Brooke thought as she left the room.
She could hear the soft music wafting up to the second floor and the murmur of the guests' conversations as she started down the stairs, her blue gown swishing about her as she walked.
Travis stood at the bottom of the stairs, apparently waiting for her, but engaged in conversation with Jeremy. Jeremy noticed her first, his eyes widening with admiration as he nudged Travis, who slowly turned her way.
Travis was impeccably dressed in black with a white waistcoat and shirt. His sandy hair was wavy where it brushed his collar, the white contrasting beautifully against his tanned skin. There was an air of strength about him and confidence that radiated from him.
Travis was so handsome, it took her breath away. When he turned his crystal blue eyes on her, Brooke felt her cheeks heat to what she could imagine were two red spots on her face. His gaze was so hot she wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. She didn’t even remember taking the last few steps until she reach the bottom.
Jeremy politely held out his hand. “You look lovely tonight, my dear," he said, not trying to hide his admiration.
“Thank you,” Brooke replied, barely noticing that Jeremy was almost as good looking as Travis. She’d bet he’d broken several hearts.
“Madam,” Travis said, drawing her attention back to him. He offered his arm so she could place her hand upon his sleeve. Evidently, he wasn’t going to comment on her gown, much less give her a civil greeting. At least, she had the satisfaction of knowing that he had noticed her, even if he refused to acknowledge it. There was no denying the lust she’d seen in his eyes before he quickly hid it.
With her head held high, Brooke strolled into the ballroom where the guests were waiting for the dancing to begin. Travis stopped once they reached Eliza and guided Brooke into position in the receiving line so that they might greet their guests.
“You are so beautiful,” Eliza whispered beside Brooke. “How do you like my dress?” The child whirled around for her.
“If we were in England,” Brooke said, pausing for a moment, “I would think that you were at least fifteen.”
Eliza beamed with the compliment.
There was no more time for conversation as the guests started filing past them and the introductions were made. Though she struggled to keep them straight, their names and faces became a blur: all but two. The first was Travis’s grandfather who looked down his nose at her as if she were dirt. Brooke pretended not to notice. Although she long to give him a good set down for being such a snob.
Then another gentleman escorting his wife glared at her so intently that for a brief second, Brooke thought she’d glimpsed hatred in his eyes.
Once the couple moved on, Eliza leaned over and whispered, “Those were Hesione’s parents.”
Well, no wonder they were so cold, Brooke thought. Before she could comment, Travis asked, “Are you ready to go into the ballroom? I believe we are required to begin the dancing.”
“You mean you can dance?” Brooke teased. Travis didn't reply. He simply gave her a mocking look in return.
Travis didn't know how he was going to resist this bewitching creature. Every inch of his body was tense and had been since he’d turned and saw her floating like a spirit down the long, curved staircase.
The last thing he needed was to be this close to Brooke, but the first dance was required. Maybe, the quicker he got it over, the quicker he would be done with her. Travis guided Brooke out onto the dance floor. She was so close that he could smell her unique fragrance. It reminded him of gardens and marzipan candy. She may have smelled sweet, but he knew Brooke wasn’t sweet. She was a woman after something that he didn’t want to give up.
Travis gave himself a mental shake, turned the woman toward him and fitted his hand at her slender waist. He felt all the men’s eyes on them, though he knew they were really looking at Brooke. And it annoyed the hell out of him, but seeing how the cut of her gown --which was much too low -- how could he blame them?
Travis nodded toward the musicians, and they began the soft melody of a waltz.
Sweeping Brooke into his arms, he whirled her around the dance floor, noting the surprised look on her face. Her cheeks were flushed, and he’d give anything to read her thoughts. “So, how am I doing so far?”
She laughed, her golden eyes twinkling like stars. “Quite nicely, I must admit. I see you’ve waltzed before.”
“Many times, I’m afraid. I learned when I was taking my tour of Europe.”
Brooke tilted her head to the side and said, “And broke many hearts, I’m sure.”
Travis didn’t bother to comment. Instead, his eyes kept going to the sapphire that teased the tops of her breasts. “Don’t you think your bodice is cut a little low?”
“It is the latest fashion in Paris.”
“You’re not in Paris anymore,” he grumbled.
“Well, I’m sorry to embarrass you, but my fashions are European,” Brooke said. His jaw tightened.
“That’s beside the point,” he ground out between clenched teeth, censure strong in his tone. "I request that, in the future, you adjust your bodice before appearing in public.”
Brooke tried to bite back her anger. “You speak to me as if you were my husband,” she retorted. “What right do you have to tell me anything? We are partners in business only. Nothing more.”
A lazy grin swept across his face. “Point taken, madam.”
They didn’t speak again as they waltzed. The music eased their angry tension and soon they were lost to the gentle rhythms as they gazed into each other's eyes.
Brooke was conscious only of him. His arms around her, his dark, handsome face above her and those glorious blue eyes that seemed to command her to do his will. But she had a will of her own, too. “How did you fine the cane fields this morning?” she asked needing to get her mind on something else.
Travis felt as though he was staring into pools of pure gold. He'd enjoyed looking at her so much that he’d momentarily put the cane field completely out of his mind. Brooke had jerked him back to reality. “Not good. I’m not sure we will have a crop. Most of the cane was destroyed by the storm and now the fields are too muddy to move the carts.”
“I told you storms were no good.”
Travis chuckled. “I’m beginning to agree with you.”
She found it impossible not to return his disarming smile. “Well, that’s a first.”
Much to Brooke’s regret, the waltz ended and Travis escorted her to the refreshment table. He’d just handed her a glass of punch when his grandfather, Archie deLobel, approached him.
“I would like a word with you,” the old man said. It might have sounded like a request, but it was obviously a command. He glanced at Brooke. “Alone,” he added. “I am ready to leave.”
Travis took a slow sip of Scotch before answering, “So soon?”
Brooke noted that Travis didn’t sound the least bit disappointed.
“Walk me to the door,” his grandfather ordered as if he were a general.
Travis nodded toward Brooke, “If you’ll excuse me . . .”
Seething, Travis accompanied the head of the family to the foyer. Once there, they stepped into a side parlor where they could talk privately.
The old man stared at Travis, an odd expression on his face, before he spoke. “Do not disrespect this family.”
“What have I done this time?” Travis said, wearily, having had the conversation many times before. He’d been doing every
thing wrong since he was born, including the fact that he was born.
“I don’t like this woman you have living with you.”
“You know nothing about her,” Travis countered. “You make it sound like I went out and picked her up in some street.”
“I know her well enough,” Archie de Lobel informed his grandson. “I expect you to do the correct thing.” With that, he turned and left much like he always had after reprimanding a child.
Several hours went by in a blur of music and idle conversation. Brooke had danced with everyone. Her neighbors were polite but she could tell they were holding back on accepting her. I guess some things never change, she thought.
She was so tired that she didn’t even remember the last time she’d seen Travis.
Travis, however, definitely had his eyes on Brooke, especially when she waltzed. The men couldn’t seem to keep their eyes off her. Each time she accepted a dance with a new partner, Travis felt as though someone were twisting the air out of his lungs. And for the first time, he realized he was jealous of anyone who touched Brooke.
“I will have a word with you,” George D’Aquin demanded.
Again. Travis thought. First his grandfather and now Hesione’s father. What the hell did he want? Of course, he knew, but that didn’t make him feel any better. Travis finally answered the demand, “On the veranda,” he said tersely.
Once outside, they stepped to the side by the railing. Travis turned and waited for the man to speak.
“What is the meaning of this, Montgomery?” D’Aquin snapped. “You are engaged to my daughter, and now you have brought this other woman into your home to live.”
Travis really didn’t care for the man’s accusing tone. “First, I didn’t bring her to Moss Grove. My father’s solicitor did. Second, Brooke now owns part of Moss Grove. It is as much her home as mine.”
“I am appalled that you let this happen. It is not proper to have the woman living here.”
Southern Seduction Page 10
