Elusive Hope (25 page)

“If you are intent on ignoring me, might I at least have some rum?” She’d seen Hayden purchase a flask in Rio, and the liquor would do much to relieve her tension.

He studied her, assessing her like a schoolmaster assessing a child. Finally he reached into his knapsack and handed her the flask. “Just a few sips.”

“Am I to be rationed as well?”

“Until you learn to control your drinking, yes. I’ll not have a besotted nymph running around the jungle.”

“Nym…I do not overdrink!”

He snorted out a chuckle.

She frowned. “Then, why did you purchase it?”

“To control your shakes,” he said. “And yes, I noticed.”

Heat stormed up her neck as she uncorked the flask and tipped it to her mouth. Spice and fire slid down her throat and warmed her belly. Now, if it would only make the toad disappear. She took another sip.

“Easy now, Princess. Ladies don’t gulp.”

“How dare you!” Magnolia seethed. She attempted to rise but her insufferable crinoline pushed her back down. Carefully setting down the rum, she dropped to her knees, planted both hands in the dirt, and shoved herself up with a groan that she was sure would also be dubbed indelicate. “I am not a lush.” She plucked the flask from the ground.

“When are you going to get rid of that cage you wear under your skirts?” He pointed his knife at her gown.

“Of all the…I…” She inhaled a breath. “What is under my skirts is none of your affair!” Mercy me, what had she just said? A tidal wave doused her in heat. She pressed a hand to her cheeks, certain that they were as red as pomegranates.

He grinned and continued whittling.

She sipped the rum, praying it would loosen the tight noose around her nerves. “What do you know about ladylike behavior, anyway? I imagine the only ladies you associate with are those who make taverns their home.”

He chuckled. “In which case, I should not consider your behavior out of the ordinary with all the spirits you consume and the way you kiss a man without provocation.”

“Without prov…kiss!”Rage strangled her. Followed by humiliation as the truth of his words struck home. Was she nothing but a common hussy? Had it been her lack of moral character that had caused her to fall for Martin’s lies? Was that the reason her father constantly reprimanded her about her appearance? To hide her wench’s heart? The old woman’s words blared like a trumpet in her mind.
Here and henceforth your reflection will reveal the true beauty of your heart, the way you appear to those who inhabit eternity
.

Dropping to her knees, she set down the flask, opened her valise, and yanked out her gilded mirror. Eyes blurry with tears, she slowly raised it to view her reflection. Gray hair, frizzled and scorched, circled a face furrowed with lines and marred with dark spots. Her thin, leaden lips were drawn and cracked. Dark wells tugged at the skin beneath her eyes as hooded lids slanted over her once luminous eyes.

Magnolia screamed.

C
HAPTER
20

M
agnolia’s scream sent Hayden leaping over the fire, knife drawn, ready to defend her against some reptilian, multilegged invader. But when he landed beside her, no such creature was to be found either on the mirror she continued to hold up to her face, or on her arm, her skirts, or anywhere around her. Her screaming reduced to sobs as she continued to stare at her reflection, gingerly touching her cheeks.

“What is it?” He nudged her hand and the mirror away, grabbed her shoulders, and forced her to look at him. Tears streamed from blue eyes as liquid as the sea. “She was right. She was right. The old lady was right,” she kept repeating.

“Who was right? About what?”

“How can you look at me?” Jerking from his grasp, she turned her back to him. “I’m grotesque.”

Hayden could make no sense of her ramblings. It couldn’t be the rum. She’d only had a few sips. “You’re anything but grotesque, Magnolia. You know that.” He touched her shoulder but she moved out of reach. “Why all the theatrics?”

“You used my common name.” She sniffed. “Not Princess.” Her shoulders rose and fell upon a sob that seemed to calm her until she glanced in the mirror and started wailing again.

“By all that is holy, what is wrong?” Hayden’s patience was fast coming to an end.

“Can’t you see? Look.” With her back still to him, she held the mirror up and gazed at him through the reflection. Nothing but her beautiful tear-streaked face stared back at him. Her eyes assessed him, the terror within them fading into confusion.

“Don’t you see me?” she finally asked.

“Of course I see you. Lovely, alluring you.”

“I look the same to you in the mirror?”

He studied her reflection again. “Except for your red, swollen eyes.”

Leaning over, he picked up the flask, suddenly needing a drink himself. The pungent liquor warmed his throat. And heated his suspicions. “You did all this, behaved like a rattlebrain, just to lure a compliment from me?” He shook his head. “Of all the conceited, egotistical, selfish—”

“I did no such thing!” Stomping to her valise, she tossed her mirror in and slowly turned to face him, studying him as if gauging his reaction. Finally she planted her fists at her waist. “How could you think something like that? Do you find me so shallow?” Her eyes flashed like lightning, but then the anger faded, and she lowered herself onto a log, skirts puffing about her. Caked mud covered the hem from their long trek through the jungle, her new gown already ruined. But she didn’t seem to care.

Instead, she stared at the fire as if in a daze, her tears drying on her cheeks. Hayden had no idea what to do. The great confidence man who could see past any facade, who could read people and match his own behavior to theirs in order to achieve his goals, now found himself at a complete loss.

Yes, he’d been furious at her for tricking him, for being the only one who had ever managed to swindle the infamous swindler. But perhaps that was just his pride. Besides, how could he blame her for doing something he did for a living? They both had good reasons for their deceptions. She to escape her father’s tyranny, and he, of course, to finally end his quest for the man who had killed his mother and ruined his life.

The croak of a frog joined an owl’s hoot in the distance as a breeze stirred the leaves into a crescendo of laughter. Laughing at him, no doubt. At his weakness for this Southern sprite. Slipping the flask inside his pocket, he squatted and poked the fire, sending sparks into the dark sky. Still, Magnolia didn’t move. Hayden had been outwitted by a conceited debutante. But what bothered him more than her lie was the pain he’d felt when he discovered it—the agonizing pain of betrayal by someone he trusted. Sure, he had his suspicions. In his profession, he’d learned to be leery of most people. But deep down he supposed he had truly believed Magnolia. Otherwise, why would he feel such a palatable ache deep in his heart?

Something bit his neck and he slapped away the offending varmint. Had any of his victims felt this gut-wrenching pain? Memories of his vision of Katherine pricked his conscience. She’d seemed so upset, so tormented. But that hadn’t been real, had it? In truth, he had no idea what her reaction had been. He’d never stuck around to witness the trail of destruction he’d left behind. By the time his targets discovered they’d been swindled, he was long gone. He’d always imagined their fury, their rage, but he’d never thought about their heartache.

Not until now.

Magnolia began mumbling something about being ugly inside and some old woman in a church, but Hayden couldn’t make sense of it. Zooks, was the woman going mad now on top of everything else? He pictured himself hoisting a foaming-at-the-mouth lunatic over his shoulder and attempting to carry her through the jungle. The idea held no appeal. Finally, he suggested she retire, and much to his surprise she nodded and crawled into her shelter.

Two hours later, her deep breathing assured him she was asleep. Squatting by the opening of the shelter, he stared within, cursing himself for making the frond roof so snug that not a sliver of moonlight gave him a view of her face. What was it about this woman that had him so bewitched? She was spoiled, pompous, self-centered, and whiny. Besides, she hailed from a class of landed gentry that was as far from his own heritage as Queen Victoria was from a chimney sweep. To make matters worse, she had a viper’s tongue in that sweet little mouth of hers. Sweet indeed! He rubbed his lips, remembering her taste. Honey and spice and passion. His body reacted, and he shifted his stance.

But she was also witty and smart and charming and feminine and passionate, and deep down she cared for others. And much like him, she’d also been given a rough start in life. Maybe she hadn’t grown up a destitute orphan, but she’d grown up equally unloved by a critical, demanding father who valued her only for her beauty and held her captive to a mysterious debt she couldn’t pay. It was no wonder she behaved the way she did.

Hayden sighed and rubbed his chin, studying the edge of her lacy petticoat peeking from beneath her skirts and the way her stockinged feet curled at her side. When he found his father and completed his mission, he would take Magnolia back to the States with him. He would hand her over to her fiancé, this solicitor Samuel Wimper…Wimperly or whoever he was. Just the sound of his name created an image of a spare, lanky man with greased hair, spectacles perched on his nose, and wearing a fancy frock coat.

But she obviously loved him or she wouldn’t have gone to such trouble to find her way back to him. Hayden rose and circled the fire, hating the sudden pain that made his heart feel like an anchor. Hating it because he didn’t understand it. Because he’d never felt it before. And because the woman who had caused it was forever outside his reach.

James emerged onto the sandy bank to find Miss Angeline, her skirts hiked up to her knees, standing in the river, slapping clothes against a rock. On the shore, Stowy, her inseparable cat, pounced on leaves and frogs and anything that dared move. Sunlight set Angeline’s hair aglow in spirals of glittering amber trickling over her elegant neck. James had never seen a more beautiful sight.

Despite the rushing river and the warble of birds, she must have heard his boot’s tread, for a pistol appeared in her hands so fast, he hadn’t seen her draw it or from whence it had come.

He raised his hands, taken aback at the familiar way she held the weapon. Not with the hands of a seamstress, but with the hands of one accustomed to handling a gun. “I surrender.”

Her eyes sparkled, and her shoulders lowered…along with the gun. “Do forgive me, Doctor. I’ve been a bit skittish lately.”

“No need. I’m glad for it. It isn’t safe for you to be out here alone.” Which was why he had come in the first place. He’d seen the other women leaving with basketfuls of wet laundry, but not Angeline. Though James hadn’t spoken to her since he’d made a fool of himself and run off during his sermon at church, he’d kept his eye on her. Especially after Eliza had told him about Dodd’s propensity for peeping at the women.

James approached, sweeping a cautious glance over the clearing, then to the bank on the other side of the river. Afternoon sunlight rippled in silver ribbons across water that stretched at least forty yards before thick jungle kept it at bay. No sign of intruders or Peeping Toms. “You should always have at least one other person with you.”

Stuffing the gun into her belt, she waded to shore, but then glanced down at her raised skirts and lowered them immediately, face reddening. James smiled. How refreshing to find such a modest woman. In fact, all of the women in the colony seemed in possession of the highest morals. And if James had his way, he intended to keep it that way. He’d had his fill of unscrupulous women.

“To deliver thee from the strange woman, even from the stranger which flattereth with her words…For her house inclineth unto death, and her paths unto the dead
.
None that go unto her return again, neither take they hold of the paths of life.”

The words of Proverbs, words he had memorized and recited each day, stood to attention in his mind.

“I’m nearly done here.” Angeline’s voice snapped him from his musings. “And though I appreciate your concern, Doctor, I can take care of myself.” She scooped up Stowy and stroked his fur, eyeing James with those exquisite violet eyes of hers. “Is there something I can do for you?”

He shifted his boots in the sand, wondering why the lady always turned his insides to porridge. “I’m checking with all the women to make sure they feel safe in the colony and aren’t being bothered by any of the men.” He invented a half-truth, ignoring the twinge of guilt that came with it. He’d fully intended to talk to Angeline after Eliza told him about Dodd, but he hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

Her brow furrowed. A breeze stirred a pile of leaves, and Stowy leapt from her arms onto the pesky foliage. “Are you applying to be our town’s constable as well, Doctor?” She smiled.

He suddenly felt rather silly, like an awkward schoolboy with his first infatuation. “No, I believe being preacher keeps me busy enough.” He slanted his lips, wondering how to explain his concern without seeming like a lovesick fool. “The colonel and I want to keep an eye on all the single ladies in New Hope.” Truss it, that didn’t sound right either. “I mean we…well, in the absence of a lawman, we feel responsible for the ladies who live alone.”