Tired from dancing, Charles and Stephen found an empty table. A waiter brought them drinks.
"New Orleans is amazing. We should visit more often," Charles said with enthusiasm.
"I'm sure with all of our responsibilities of being landowners we can just pack up and visit whenever we want," Stephen responded, his voice full of sarcasm.
"Don't remind me. If my uncle hadn't agreed to watch the plantation, I wouldn't be here now."
Stephen sipped his drink. "How did you convince him to stay?"
"I just asked him."
Stephen's glass banged the table. "What?"
Charles shrugged. "I told him you wanted company on a trip and he agreed to run things until I returned."
"Aren't you suspicious?"
"Of course." Charles blotted his mouth with his napkin. "But I don't see the harm. It's not like there's anything of great value there—besides the property. Let's stop worrying about home and start thinking about tomorrow. Have you arranged our transportation?"
"A carriage will pick us up at nine."
"And where will we stay when we reach Beaumont Lane?"
"All guests are to be placed within the house."
"The plantation must be huge. When we were at the market I heard people speaking of the party. It seems the girl has yet to come out for marriage. Every eligible bachelor will be vying for her hand."
"You can't be serious?" said Stephen, sitting up straighter.
"I confirmed it. Besides, you indicated the girl's letters all but said the same thing. She fears marriage. Now we know why. Some of the characters seeking her hand seem shady."
"What shall I do? I thought her letters nothing more than innocent ramblings."
"You thought to be the only eligible male?"
"Foolishly, so it seems."
"Not to insult a friend, but you should have realized there would be competition. Her father, after all, is a wealthy landowner. Her dowry must be hefty."
"She never mentioned it, but I would imagine so."
"Maybe you should consider staying here and finding your mystery woman. She would probably be more accessible to you."
As couples swirled across the dance floor, Stephen pondered Charles' words. Over the rim of his glass, he spotted his dance partner leaving the room.
While Charles distracted himself by chatting with other females, Stephen pushed away from the table and followed her. Cool night air blasted him and he shivered.
"You should always bring a jacket; even in a place as warm as New Orleans."
The feminine voice chastising him from behind had him spinning. The mystery woman leaned casually against a stone railing, moonlight bathing her pale skin. A mask covered her features.
"In the future, I will heed your advice." Stephen stepped slowly toward her.
"See that you do. Oh, and you must stay away from the mosquitoes. The nasty little critters like to bite and spread disease. Before you visit any place you should research the area. Dangers lurk in the most unexpected places."
"Yes, I've heard the rumors. But what makes you think I'm not from here?"
"Your accent."
"Ah, of course." Stephen inhaled sharply as she took a step toward him, closing the gap.
"And have you faced many dangers since you arrived?"
"Only one."
"Really? What might that be? Was it a disease infected insect, a creature that rips a person apart, or a criminal?"
"None of those."
The young lady placed her long slender fingers against her chin. Her small tongue darted out and touched her top lip. If he took one step they would be practically touching.
"If none of the above, then what? I'm dying of curiosity," she said.
"A woman."
"Pardon? I don't think I understood. Did you say the only danger you've faced is a woman?"
"Yes."
She spun as if to walk away, but he reached for her arm and tugged her to his chest. He could feel her heart racing and see a vein beating wildly in her neck.
He moved his hand to the back of her head. Silken tresses fell over his fingers as he leaned forward and placed his lips against hers. A sigh escaped her parted lips and she pushed up on her tiptoes to press her mouth more firmly to his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he splayed his hands around her tiny waist, fighting to control his growing desire.
****
His lips tasted of salt and sweet wine. The heady mixture caused Millicent to feel lightheaded. Sated by their kiss, she pulled free. With her forehead placed against his chin, she drew in ragged breaths, her heart pounding in her ears. Suddenly she became aware of the man speaking again.
"As I was saying, the only danger I've faced is that of a woman."
Millicent covered her mouth as a giggle escaped.
"I'd like to invite you inside for a drink?"
She shook her head.
"If not a drink, then would you sit at my table so we can talk?"
Again, she shook her head no. His fingers caressed her waist before he released her altogether. Taking a step backward, he ran a hand through his thick black hair. His blue eyes shone through his mask with an intensity magnified by the moonlight.
"You don't mean to stop talking now that we've shared a kiss, do you?"
She shook her head.
He walked to the railing and leaned against it. Not looking at her, he asked, "Then what would you like to do? Pretend this never happened?"
"That would be for the best."
"What if I can't pretend?"
"I beg you to forgive me for my forward behavior. Now I must leave."
He stepped to touch her arm. Even as she looked at his hand, he slowly ran it the length of her exposed skin, sending tingles all the way to her shoulder. He said, "Don't go. I promise to ask for nothing more than what you can give."
Millicent glanced upward toward her family's suite of rooms. Lanterns burned brightly behind the curtains. Before long her father would come for her. If he found her in the arms of a man, he would be livid. Since her new dress would have her mother at odds with her, she couldn't bear to have her father angry as well.
But what of the stranger? He was the man from the dining room that morning; the one she had touched so boldly, and now the one with whom she had shared a kiss. A kiss she would never forget as long as she lived. If she married an elderly gentleman who could offer little in the way of romance, at least she had this one moment to remember. Unfortunately, it had to end.
Lifting her skirts, she met his gaze. The mask hid most of his face but she had already memorized his strong chin and muscular neck. She glanced at his broad shoulders and firm chest. Without warning him, she turned on her heel and ran. Over her shoulder, she called, "I will never forget you."
Chapter Eight
"Where have you been?" Millicent's father whispered harshly as the door clicked shut.
Millie held her hand over her chest and tried to slow her rapid breathing. Facing her father, she casually touched her lips. She'd left the mask behind in the lobby and used a mirror in the hallway to adjust her gown, straighten her hair, and check her appearance. There were no visible signs of the kiss, yet her lips felt puffy and tingly.
"I asked you where you've been. I've been worried sick. Amelia said she had no idea where you'd disappeared to."
Millicent bowed her head. "I'm sorry, Father. As I entered the hotel, a group of strangers grabbed me and whisked me away into the dining hall for a masked ball. I got away as soon as I–"
"Millie, sit."
Her father's tone made her cringe. She was in for a scolding. At least she was old enough now that it would be with words and not over his knee.
He grabbed her hands and held them in his own. Creases lined his eyes and mouth. Every time she looked at him he appeared to have aged.
"Millie, we need to talk. Please do not interrupt until I have finished. I understand you have reached a milestone in your life. Soon you will be married with
children of your own–"
"Father–"
"Listen, please. I know you are eighteen. I know you are worried about your party because you fear marriage, but just because your life is about to change is no reason to go crazy. You have always been stubborn and impetuous but I've never really worried. That is until now.
"Ever since we arrived you've been acting strange. I don't know what has happened, but it has to stop. Your mother isn't herself and I need all my girls to help me. I can't be distracted with your silliness. Do you understand?"
Millie nodded and her father sent her off to bed. Amelia and Cora tried to instigate conversation. They wanted to know what she had been doing while she was gone, but she refused to talk.
The kiss was her secret and no one else's.
****
Stephen hit the hotel wall with his palm.
"What is wrong with you? Don't you realize if you damage something we'll have to pay for it?" Charles sat in a lounge chair with one ankle crossed over his knee,
"I don't care. How could she? What kind of girl does something like that?"
"Are you going to explain or am I supposed to guess what you're talking about?"
"I found the girl."
Charles untangled his legs and sat straighter. "You did?"
"I did. I followed her onto the balcony."
"And?"
"And…she started talking about the dangers of New Orleans and bringing a coat when you travel."
Charles wrinkled his nose. "Was that all?"
Stephen felt heat rush his cheeks.
"It wasn't, was it?" Charles leaned closer.
"No, it wasn't. She asked me if I'd experienced any dangers on my visit and I told her only that of a woman."
"You did? And what did she say?"
"She didn't say anything. I kissed her."
Charles leaned back and laughed loudly.
"Why do you think this is funny?"
"Because we've traveled all this way to find the girl of your dreams and you meet some stranger at the hotel and fall madly in love with her."
"I didn't say I was in love."
"Infatuated then? What happened after you kissed her? Did she slap you?"
"Hardly. She deepened the kiss. It was indescribable." Stephen sighed. "I sound like a ninny."
Charles laughed. "So she deepened the kiss, then what?"
Stephen threw his hands in the air as he paced the room. "Then she just stopped and laid her head against my chest. The next thing I know, I'm asking her to come back in for a drink, or to just talk, anything, and she says no. Then before I know what's happening, she runs away. I was so startled I waited too long to follow. When I did, she was gone."
"Interesting. Sounds like she doesn't want a long lasting relationship."
"I wouldn't know because she refused to talk to me." Stephen shook his head in frustration and hit the wall again. Wall hangings rattled but nothing fell.
Charles leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. "Are we still going to the Beaumont Plantation tomorrow?"
Stephen sighed. "Why not? Maybe Millicent Beaumont will be more receptive."
****
Why did a bed feel the most comfortable the moment you had to leave it?
Millie had tossed and turned the entire night with images of the mystery man dancing behind her eyelids—hair as dark as coal, eyes the color of sapphires, lips as sweet as honey—unmatched attractiveness.
"Millie, get up. Father wants us downstairs in thirty minutes."
Millie groaned and covered her head with her blanket.
The blanket flew back and she blinked trying to focus.
Amelia stared at her. "Get up. I'm not going to warn you again. We've already eaten and everything is packed. We're leaving in thirty minutes."
"But it's still dark," Millie whined.
"Mother is insisting we leave early. You do realize guests will begin arriving today, don't you?"
Millie sat up so rapidly stars swirled before her eyes. Steadying herself, she said, "That can't be."
Amelia sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed Millie's hand. "You need to get ready and not worry. Everything will be fine."
Millie rushed to her feet. Amelia was already pulling out a dress, a pelerine, and a coat. Amelia assisted her as she drew on her clothes and helped her quickly brush her hair and lastly slip on her boots. "I'm ready."
In the carriage with her mother and three sisters, she avoided her mother's disapproving gaze. No doubt she had been discovered.
"Millicent?"
She looked up. "Yes, Mother?"
"I'm glad you could join us."
Millie nodded.
Amelia and Cora studied their hands. Mother glanced back and forth between them. No one spoke and the rest of the trip was uncomfortable. At home, Cora flung the door open and jumped out. Amelia followed close behind. Mother reached to restrain Millicent. "I'm very disappointed in you."
Millie lowered her head.
"I hope your outfit is worth all the stress you've added to my life."
"Mother, I–"
"You never meant to upset me? Well you did. What I can't understand is how you could be so inconsiderate? Since you wanted an outfit for the party, why didn't you ask last month? Why wait until now?"
"But I did ask–"
"Millicent, go inside," her father interrupted.
Millie glanced at her mother before obeying her father. Angry whispers followed her as she descended the coach steps. Inside the house, Mary and Dolly hugged her.
"Amelia and Cora are upstairs changin'. You best run on up and change too."
"But it's still early."
"Child, Zeke spotted a trail of carriages outside of Bayou Sara all headed this way."
"Oh my. Why are there so many?"
"Don't you worry your pretty head 'bout that. Just get upstairs and change."
Dust drifted up from the carpet as she raced to her room. Amelia had already changed into a pretty dress and sat in a chair. Cora was throwing clothing from the wardrobe onto the bed and mumbling under her breath.
Walking to the window, Millie peered out. In the distance she imagined black dots on the horizon.
"They're all coming for you," said Amelia.
Millie jumped. Amelia was correct. They were coming for her; men seeking a wife.
****
"Where is the carriage? I ordered it over an hour ago," yelled Stephen.
"Calm down. The hotel manager said there is a shortage. However, he found us an alternative mode of transportation."
Stephen stared at the scraggly beasts; two gaunt horses tethered to a pole.
"I know they don't look like much, but he guarantees they will make it."
"He lies," said Stephen, turning to walk away.
Charles stopped him. "If you want to go to the party this is your only choice. There is nothing else."
"I don't believe it!"
"Believe it. Our carriage was rented this morning as well as all the others in town. It appears this party is very popular."
"Hmm."
"Let's take the horses. What can it hurt?" asked Charles, his lips twitching.
"We might have to walk," said Stephen.
"That's why we have feet."
Stephen laughed as Charles pointed to their booted appendages. "Fine. Let's grab our things and be on our way."
Before they left, Charles said, "I do have a question. Do you know where we're going?"
Stephen threw his hands in the air in frustration.
A man with ragged clothing hanging from his emaciated body stepped forward. A crooked toe poked through one worn boot. A piece of straw dangled from his mouth.
"Need a guide, you say?"
Charles' eyebrows rose. "Yes."
"I can guide you anywhere you're a-wantin' to go."
Stephen rubbed the bridge of his nose, studying the man from under veiled eyes.
"I don't look like much, kinda been down on my lu
ck, but I promise I can git you anywhere."
Reluctantly, they agreed to hire the man as a guide. Purchasing another nag, they rode out of town.
Soon it was dusk. The man who'd introduced himself as Gunther directed them off the road toward a dilapidated cabin buried in the woods. Lights glowed through paneless windows.
"We'll stop here. These are friendly folks and they'll let us stay the night."
Charles glanced at Stephen, his eyes widening. "I don't like this. No one knows we're here."
"I agree. What should we do?" whispered Stephen, checking the woods for an ambush.
"There must be a town farther down the road. Let's pay the guide, give him the horse, and make our own way onward. Surely someone can direct us the rest of the way."
Stephen nodded. When Gunther returned, they paid and thanked him. He merely shrugged and shook his head.
Nightfall descended as they reached a town. A few pitiful buildings lined both sides of the street—a church, jail, general store, post office, and tavern.
Dismounting in front of the tavern, Stephen and Charles sauntered inside. Smoke and liquor smells lingered. They sat at a scarred table and a waitress in a tight fitting bodice sidled over to them.
"What can I get you gentlemen?"
Charles spoke first, "We're looking for a room for the night."
"That's easy enough. Right here's about the only place to find a room since the hotel burned down."
"Thank you. Can you tell us who to speak with?"
"Gus will help you." She pointed behind the bar and then walked to another customer.
Arrangements were made with the proprietor and then Stephen and Charles made their way upstairs. The beds were lumpy and the room small, but at least there was a lock on the door. After unpacking their gear, they decided to go back downstairs until bedtime.
Chapter Nine
Millicent paced her bedroom. Lantern lights flickered outside as carriage after carriage pulled into the long drive leading to her home.
The sound of the plantation's ornate doors continually opening and closing to allow guests inside echoed upstairs.
Millicent, Southern Hearts Series, Book One Page 4
