Forever (8 page)

Desirée continued to dominate Bradley's attention and the angrier Gussie became, the more she hid it, laughing with apparent delight at an inane joke of Austin's, raising the Shreve boys' hopes by giving them her undivided attention.

As Bradley drove her home she sank into outraged silence, her shoulders tense, her hands clasped tightly around her knees. Instead of taking the turning for her home, Bradley continued to drive out of the city and towards the woods and the lakeside. It was what Gussie had secretly wanted him to do ever since their first date. She swung round in her seat.

‘Just where do you think you are going, Bradley Hampton?'

Bradley changed gear, slipped a look into his driving mirror and said leisurely, ‘Taking you somewhere quiet and dark so I can kiss the hell out of you.'

Gussie choked, her eyes glazing. ‘You turn this car round immediately, Bradley Hampton! If you want to take anyone to the woods, take Desirée! She'd love every minute of it!'

‘I dare say she would,' Bradley agreed with infuriating calm. ‘Only I'm not taking Desirée, I'm taking you.'

‘Oh no you're not! I'm not one of your cheap little tarts! One of your easy pick-ups!'

The city lights were behind them. The road was shadowed by trees and was dark. Bradley pulled over to the verge and switched off the engine.

‘I never made a habit of going out with tarts,' he said, his lazy Southern drawl suddenly very pronounced. ‘Neither have I ever made it a habit to go out with people who bore me. I'm very likely to do just as you demand, Gussie, and turn the car around and drive you home. Because that's what you're beginning to do – bore me.'

Gussie sobbed and drew back her hand to deliver a stinging blow to his cheek. Her wrist was caught in a steel-like grip. There was amusement in his blue eyes.

‘If I didn't know you better, Augusta Lafayette, I'd say you were jealous.'

Gussie struggled but could not free herself. ‘How dare you say such a thing! Me? Jealous of Desirée? And because of you?' The more she writhed to escape his grip, the more his amusement deepened.

‘I think I've been patient with you long enough, Gussie.' His eyes lingered on her mouth and a little pulse began to beat wildly in her throat. At last he was going to kiss her. Against her will and by force.

‘I meant what I said this afternoon, Gussie, and before I take you home this evening, you're going to say the same thing to me.'

‘No …' Her breath was coming in harsh gasps. ‘Never!'

She tried to pull away from him, but he held her easily, his mouth coming down on hers in swift, unfumbled contact. She twisted violently, freeing one arm, but instead of pushing him away she circled his neck, her lips parting willingly beneath his, her body aflame with the desire that had previously existed only in her imagination.

‘Gussie, sweet, darling Gussie.'

There was a depth of feeling in his voice that startled her. This was no casual encounter. This was the real thing. This was Bradley Hampton telling her he loved her. That he wanted to marry her. Bradley Hampton who was heir to millions; whose family was as prestigious as the Lafayettes. Bradley Hampton, whom every girl in New Orleans would have given a year of her life to date. Bradley Hampton, who had dark hair and laughing blue eyes, and whom her father would approve of.

He wound his fingers in her hair, pulling her head back so she was forced to meet his compelling gaze.

‘Tell me you love me, Gussie.'

There was a menacing edge to his voice.

Gussie wanted him to kiss her again, to feel the sweetness of his lips on hers.

His hand twisted tightly in her hair.
‘Tell me, Gussie!'

Desperately she thought of Beau, but Beau was dead. Beau would never hold her as Bradley did. Beau would never kiss her until her bones melted.

‘I love you,' she whispered helplessly. ‘I love you, and I'll marry you.'

The Hamptons were pleased. Mrs Hampton had not anticipated her only son marrying so young, but, she reflected, Bradley had never yet made a decision he had regretted. Mr Hampton silently congratulated himself for his good fortune. Augusta Lafayette was one of the three daughters-in-law to whom he had secretly given his seal of approval.

Charles Lafayette, after a few days'speculation, was also pleased. Gussie had begun to worry him lately. She had continued to be unusually withdrawn and introspective. Brooding when she should have been laughing. Silent when she should have been gaily chattering. Marriage to Bradley Hampton would dispel her moroseness. There was a likeable maturity about Bradley. He would make Gussie happy. And there would be no more sleepless nights worrying about fortune hunters and other such undesirables.

Mae was slightly disappointed that Gussie had not done as she had promised, and devoted her life to unrequited love. It would have been so romantic. She used to sink into unusual silence whenever anyone mentioned Beau Clay's name, but, fortunately, her fears had proved groundless. She was glad she had not divulged them to the practical Eden. Gussie was blatantly happy. Bradley would look after her.

Gussie was in seventh heaven. First there was her eighteenth birthday party in August and then there was her wedding to look forward to. It was planned for October and was eagerly entered into social diaries.

All through the hot, sultry summer, Gussie told her friends that she had never been so happy in her life. At the masqued balls and parties, the parades and barbecues, she was like a diamond, a host of facets seeming to sparkle at once as she laughed and danced, her handsome husband-to-be at her side.

‘Everything is perfect, just perfect,' she said happily to Mae and Eden as she swung on the old porch swing. ‘I never dreamed I could be so happy.'

‘I'm going to marry Austin early next year,' Mae said, sipping on her iced mint julep. She giggled. ‘Mrs Mae Merriweather. It's quite a mouthful isn't it? What's the matter, Gussie? You're not listening to me.'

Gussie had halted the gentle rocking of the swing and was looking around her with a bewildered expression in her eyes.

It's nothing Mae. I just thought someone called my name.'

‘For goodness'sake. I thought you'd stopped all that ages ago. Look at your arms. You've got goose bumps. There must be something wrong with your blood.'

A dragon-fly hovered above them in the motionless air.

Gussie rubbed her arms and sat down, her eyes troubled. ‘I keep thinking someone's
looking
at me. It's most weird.'

‘Someone usually is,' Eden said complacently, swirling the ice cubes round in her glass. ‘With your hair and eyes you can't expect anything else.'

Gussie laughed, dismissing the uneasy feeling that assailed her with such unpleasant regularity.

‘Let's have another drink. We're big girls now,' Eden said, wondering if she should point out to Gussie that Bradley was uncannily like Beau in lots of respects. Not as intimidating, of course. There was nothing satanic in Bradley's handsomeness. Still, he had a way of commanding respect from even the oldest and most revered of New Orleans citizens, and his thick black hair and teasing eyes were nearly as devastating as Beau's film-star looks had been. But Eden kept her thoughts to herself. She alone had seen the extent of Gussie's hysteria after Beau Clay's death. It would be a long time before she forgot the sight of Gussie, her eyes vacant with grief, her hair tumbling around her shoulders in wild disarray, her gown the one she had worn for the silly ritual the night before. Even to think of it caused the nape of her neck to prickle unpleasantly.

‘Only the best French champagne,' Charles Lafayette said sternly over the phone to the caterers. ‘I don't want any corner-cutting.'

He rose from his desk, puffing on a cigar as he strode to the study windows that overlooked St Michel's rolling lawns. He'd planned everything himself, down to the last detail. Gussie's birthday party was going to be the most memorable event of the year – apart from her wedding. There were going to be no hired, second-rate musicians playing at
his
daughter's big day. He'd paid for the best there was, and it had cost him. He didn't care. He puffed on his cigar contentedly. He'd gone as far as Houston for the experts who were mounting the firework display. Gussie had gone to Paris with his sister Tina for her dress. He smiled a rare smile. Tina had spent even more than Gussie on their whirlwind trip across the Atlantic. Invitations to the party had been practically begged for by the most elite of New Orleans. The guest list had been ruthless, composed almost entirely of families whose names went back to the days of the Battle of New Orleans. Gallatins and St Clairs; Lafittes and Delatours. Far-flung Lafayettes were going to meet together for the first time in living memory. Cousins and second-cousins, uncles and great-uncles, aunts and nieces had been summoned from every corner of the globe, their travelling expenses paid for by himself, and all had eagerly accepted. It was going to be a party to end all parties and Augusta was going to look magnificent. He rocked back on his heels in satisfaction. His little girl. She'd looked like a fairy princess at Mardi Gras. She would look like a dream come true on the night of her birthday. Cigar smoke wreathed his head. Nothing had ever blighted Augusta's life. Nothing ever would. He wouldn't allow it. Not as long as he had breath in his body.

He turned once more and sat at his desk. The flower arrangements for the house and garden still had to be decided upon. For dramatic effect he had stipulated that every bloom must be white. It would be a stunning contrast to the more usual riots of colour.

‘I had to practically plead with Daddy to allow Eden and her parents to come to my birthday party,' Gussie said happily, her arm wound through Bradley's as they strolled through City Park. She giggled. ‘He actually referred to them as upstart Yankees, and they're French Canadians. Can you imagine how mad Mr Alexander would be if he knew? Daddy also allowed invitations to go to the Jeffersons, although he wasn't happy about it. Mrs Jefferson isn't his favourite person, but he was very nice about it, considering …'

‘Considering what?' Bradley asked, gazing down at her with amusement.

The smile faded from Gussie's face and a troubled expression touched her eyes. ‘Oh, he's never liked the fact that Mae is my closest friend.'

Bradley raised a querying brow. ‘Why? The Jeffersons are pillars of New Orleans society and have been from time immemorial.'

‘I know. It's silly.' Her arm tightened around his waist. ‘It's just that years ago Mae's grandmother and mine were as close as sisters and …'

‘And what?' Bradley asked tenderly.

She gave a little shrug. ‘Mae's grandmother went dotty and lives all alone, way out in the bayous and my grandmother …'

Bradley waited expectantly.

Gussie forced a smile. ‘My grandmother died young.'

Committed suicide: drowned herself. Should she tell him? Would he think her grandmother as crazy as Mae's?

To tell him now would spoil their sun-filled afternoon. She would tell him later. Bradley wouldn't mind. He loved her too much to mind about a thing like that.

The shadow touched her lightly, the whisper barely audible. She swung round swiftly.

‘Hey, what is it?' Bradley asked, steadying her. ‘You'll twist an ankle doing that.'

‘Did you see it, Bradley?' she asked urgently, all thoughts of her grandmother vanishing, her face strained. ‘It's gone now, but it was there, I swear it was!'

Bradley frowned, circling her shoulders with his arms and feeling her tremble. ‘What was, sweetheart?'

Gussie shivered. ‘A shadow. It falls across me from nowhere. You must have seen it.'

He shook his head, pulling gently at her arm, but she remained standing in the pathway, gazing round her with bewildered eyes. ‘It's always happening, Bradley. It makes me feel so strange. There's never anybody there.'

Bradley shrugged. ‘Then there's nothing to worry about,' he said reasonably.

‘Yes, but …' She halted. She couldn't tell Bradley that she kept hearing her name called. Her eyes swept the pathway and gardens once more. There was no one within two hundred yards of them. Reluctantly she turned and continued walking.

‘But what?' Bradley prompted.

‘Nothing,' Gussie said miserably. ‘I guess it was my imagination after all.'

Bradley gave her a searching look. It wasn't the first time Gussie had swung round to face someone who was not there. Her nerves were getting jumpy and he blamed her father. He was making far too much of an event of her birthday party. He pulled her head down on his shoulder. When they were married there would be no repeat of the Paris nonsense. If Gussie went away it would be with him. Charles Lafayette might love her to idolatry, but Charles didn't know what was best for her. He, Bradley, did. The scent of her hair sent the blood coursing through his veins. He was going to love her and look after her for the rest of his life.

‘Eighteen years old,' Charles Lafayette said his eyes suspiciously bright as he gave her a birthday kiss. ‘I find it hard to believe, Augusta. It seems only yesterday that you were a baby.'

A spasm of pain crossed his face as he thought of his long-dead wife and the pleasure she would have gained from their beautiful daughter if she had lived.

‘This was your mother's,' he said gently, handing her a satin-ribboned box. ‘I bought if for her on our first wedding anniversary.'

‘Oh Daddy!' Gussie's violet-dark eyes glowed. Reverently she undid the satin bow and lifted the white embossed lid.

The bracelet lay on a bed of black velvet, diamonds and sapphires flashing as if with an inner life.

Gussie gasped and lifted the bracelet from the box. She allowed her father to clasp it around her wrist. In link after link, diamonds circled sapphires like petals around the hearts of flowers.