Fortune's Flames (8 page)

To distract herself from her somber mood, she turned and gazed into the alcove near the hall door. It was used for private dining, and she imagined a romantic dinner there with Jared: broccoli, steamed and buttered; baby carrots, gleaming with a honey glaze; roast duckling, baked to a crispy brown; wild rice, gathered from the lowlands and cooked to perfection; finger-licking bread and French pastries, hot and fresh from the oven; and a heady wine to top the meal off. Maren licked her lips and sighed dreamily. After dining, they could snuggle before a cozy fire and relax until they were eager to sneak into the bedroom….

“Behave yourself, Maren James,” she chided, then laughed.

She strolled into the alcove. The small area contained a round dining table and two chairs set beneath an exquisite chandelier which held three candles but was made of countless glass prisms. Maren envisioned it sending out glittering light. No doubt it would bathe Jared’s handsome face in a mesmerizing glow. She sat down on one of the chairs and looked across the table, imagining her love was sitting with her, eating, drinking, talking, and gazing back at her. Those hungering thoughts made her squirm in her chair, so she jumped up and continued her exploration of this area.

In the back corners were triangular cabinets which held hand-painted dishes and imported crystal. She noticed that the silver was missing and frowned. Eric again, she decided. Silk hangings were suspended from golden cords on either sidewall. On them Chinese birds and flowers had been painstakingly painted by a talented hand whose signature she could not read. And a Chinese tureen, whose surface displayed fragile butterflies and colorful flowers, rested in the middle of the table. As with the other rooms, the walls were off-white and had a Wedgwood blue trim. Abruptly she realized how many of the objects were from the Wedgwood collection, some designed and made by Josiah himself in England.

Maren walked to the doorway of the adjoining bedroom. Here, too, was a fireplace, but this one had bookshelves on both sides of it. A fourteen-inch-high brass guard and a hand-painted fireboard stood before the hearth, whereas in the other room hinged paneled shutters were used to close off the fireplace out of season. In case there was a chilly morning, a basket of wood sat nearby. Two lowboys contained stored clothing and linen. Hurricane lamps were set on them, and a mirror hung above the one against the far wall. This furniture, too, was made of cherry. Maren marveled at the intelligence of the person who had designed this room, this suite, this house.

Maren strolled into the room, stood on carpeting decorated with pink and blue flowers. The drapes and counterpane matched it perfectly. The bed was canopied, and had a crocheted covering which
looked lacy and delicate but was probably very sturdy. A night table was placed at one side of it, a writing table at the other. Upon this last was a portable writing desk, and a brass sconce hung over it to provide plenty of light. A wing chair and ottoman stood near the fire, a blanket chest at the foot of the bed. She walked to the large armoire which held her clothes, and fingered its artistic workmanship. Yes, this was a beautiful room, a seductive one. She wondered if her parents had ever made love on the canopied bed, wondered if she would. Tonight would be the first time she slept here, and she was looking forward to the experience.

Maren entered the water closet, which was off the bedroom area. It contained a portable tub with an evacuation line through the wall for easy emptying and a cabinet that held bath linens and grooming items. A looking glass and two sconces were placed above the cabinet. As Maren glanced into the mirror, she noticed two more sconces above the tub and the hand-painted chamberpot to her right.

She removed her combs to brush her hair, then changed her mind about the nightly task. Returning to her bedroom, she put on a nightgown, and after putting away her clothes, she began to look through the books on the fireplace shelves. She found nothing about the secret partner in any of them. For hours she searched every drawer, vase, container, and object in the suite. She checked behind, under, around, and in everything, but found no answer.

“Why did you do this, Papa?” she murmured.
“Surely you would leave some clue for me to follow…unless Eric accidentally destroyed it. Maren, Maren, what are you going to do about him?” she fretted.

She wondered why her cousin Marc was keeping his distance. She had expected him to come around her more, to pester her with his boyish antics as he had done in the past and on her first day here. And she could not forget how frightened he had looked when he’d thought he had let something slip about Eric that night at dinner. She recalled the heavy boxes Eric had left in Jamaica, and wondered if some of the British gold had been inside them.

Jamaica… A vision of the night on the beach with Jared filled her mind. She remembered how he had held her, touched her, kissed her, entreated her to meet him again. Surely if his only interest in her was physical, he would have taken her then or he would have charmed her into making a nocturnal visit. He had seemed as bewitched by her as she was by him, yet he had not tried to force himself on her. Didn’t that mean she had made a good impression on him?

“Oh, Jared, my secret love, if only you knew the truth about me,” she murmured. “Heavens above, I need someone to talk to! Beth!” she shrieked in excitement. “I must send a message to her.”

Lilibeth Payne was a bundle of energy and mischief, and she had been Maren’s best friend. Though she was a year younger than Maren, the two young women had been close for years, out of touch only for the last two. Since her return on Wednesday,
Maren had meant to send word to Beth at Payne’s Point, their plantation upriver that belonged to Beth’s family. Monday, I will do so, Maren decided.

Suddenly she felt very tired and sleepy. When she saw it was three-thirty in the morning, she laughed. It had been ages since she had stayed up all night. She extinguished the candles and then crawled between the covers. Closing her eyes, she summoned Captain Hawk.

On Monday evening Maren put on the same attire she had worn to observe business on Saturday night. No one had seen her, so there was no need to select another outfit. Besides, she liked the pale green dress because the material and style were comfortable and flattering. The low-cut bodice was provocative without seeming improper, and the hem was just high enough to reveal her matching slippers but not her slender ankles. Maren deftly knotted the black velvet sash under her left breast.

She brushed her hair and pinned it up in the back, letting curls dangle. Then she set tiny white flowers above the curls, to make a contrast with her dark hair and to match the white stripe in her dress. Finally she secured a black ribbon around her neck and settled the gold and jet brooch it held into place.

Maren locked her door as she left the suite, and she slowly descended to the draped section of the
stairway. She halted there briefly to steady her nerves. Music and laughter reached her ears, slightly calming her. She pushed aside the heavy material and gracefully descended the remaining steps.

The two guards, Ned Jones and Harry Peck, ceased their talk to stare at her. They glanced at each other, then grinned and joined her.

“Can this be Cam’s little girl?” Ned asked merrily.

“Can’t be. She isn’t dressed like a boy,” Harry jested.

Maren smiled and teased, “Don’t you think it’s about time I have a clean face and hands, and stop wearing breeches and a cap?”

“I’ll bet we’ll spend more time protecting you than the house’s earnings. Maybe we need to hire another guard just to stick to your side.”

“Thank you, Ned, but I can take care of myself.”

Harry hinted mirthfully, “Maybe she’ll distract our customers so badly that they’ll lose more money and we can get a raise.”

Ned chuckled and agreed as Dan Myers joined them.

“Help me, Dan,” Maren coaxed laughingly. “They’re teasing me mercilessly.”

The Lady Luck manager said, “Let’s leave them to their mischief while I introduce you to our patrons, Miss Maren.” Turning to the two men, he added, “You boys stay on your toes; we have a new boss and she cracks a mean whip.”

Dan guided Maren from table to table so she would meet employees and patrons. From the way she was
received, Maren decided she would not have any trouble taking full control once she set a few flirtatious men and some envious female workers straight. As in most situations, people simply needed to know the rules—her rules. She had to show them she was strong and intelligent and steadfast. Some patrons seemed surprised to discover that the owner of a gambling establishment was “so young” and “so beautiful,” and she read doubt of her ability in their eyes.

Nonetheless, Maren accepted condolences for her parents’ deaths and wishes for success in her business venture. She listened to advice of all kinds, smiled at compliments and flattery, devoured news of the war as well as local gossip, and received numerous invitations to dine or to attend the theater. At nine, she allowed herself to be persuaded to join a few friendly games to see how much she remembered and how skilled she was. It pleased her and astonished the other players when she learned that she was still hard to beat.

“I tried to warn you boys. She’s been playing since the cradle,” Dan remarked, provoking nods of concurrence and glances revealing a new respect.

When four men challenged her to a serious game with larger stakes, she smiled as she refused, “I’m afraid I’ll need more practice before I take on such first-rate players… and it’s closing time.”

One gambler argued curtly, “You’re the boss and owner so you set the hours and stakes. Are you scared, little girl?”

Maren studied the man, without smiling or frowning. She refused to be baited into acting stupidly or rashly. “I am the owner, sir, but not the boss. I employ Dan Myers to set the hours and rules here because I trust him to know what’s best for me and my patrons. If I followed my own whims or accepted dares like yours, I could put myself out of business within a few days. I’m not a scared little girl, sir, nor am I irresponsible. If you want more play, return tomorrow night when we’re open again. In a week or so, I’ll be delighted to accept your invitation for a serious hand of poker or baccarat. I know you nice gentlemen wouldn’t want me to break my bank or embarrass myself on my first night, so I’m certain you’ll be kind and patient with me.”

Dan said, “Gentlemen, you heard the lady, it’s closing time. I’ll walk you out.”

The four men rose and then followed Dan out the front door, which the two guards locked until the manager was ready to reenter. Mary Malone and two workers immediately began to clean up, and the musicians departed. When Dan returned, the dealers, croupiers, bartenders, and serving girls lined up at one table to check in before leaving.

One young woman approached Maren and asked if she could speak with her privately. Maren remembered her. Evelyn Sims was two years older than Maren, but they had been in different social circles. Evelyn’s father had worked for Maren’s until he had drunk himself to death. Evelyn had cornflower blue eyes and fair skin with a scattering of
freckles. Her curly hair was the color of polished copper, and her indigo blue gown, trimmed with black lace trim, enhanced her coloring. Maren wondered who had selected the colors and styles the female employees wore.

Evelyn smiled and remarked, “I see you like this pretty gown, Miss Maren. Good, because gowns are what I want to talk to you about. I hope you don’t mind my giving you a little advice, but there’s something you need to know. Is it all right if I speak up? You won’t fire me?”

When Evelyn hesitated, Maren said, “Please go on.”

“I was watching you move around the room tonight, and I saw how the customers reacted. I think you’re dressed a little too prim and proper for a place like this, Miss Maren. Your attire seemed to make our guests uncomfortable. You look too much like a lady, like their wives and daughters and mothers, the women they escape when they come here to have a good time. You’re dressed like… for church or something. I guess I’m trying to say you look too sweet and innocent, and it was making the men tense. Didn’t you notice how many of them left early tonight? Sort of like you reminded them of home and family or made them feel guilty. If you want them to continue coming here, you’ve got to relax them by dressing like a real woman, like an owner. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

“Yes, Evelyn, I understand your meaning. I didn’t think about it, but your observation makes sense. I’ll
check into it tomorrow. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Good night.”

“Good night, Miss Maren, and I’m glad you’re so smart and kind.”

Evelyn joined the girl who was waiting for her outside. As they walked toward the rooms they rented in an old house a few blocks away, the other girl asked, “Did it work, Ev?”

“Of course, silly. She’s eager to fit in and make big money. She’ll do as I said. You waitand see. She’ll fix up her hair and paint her face and buy some sleazy gowns to prove she’s a real woman. I can’t wait to see her come down them steps tomorrow night.”

“Can she get new clothes by tomorrow?”

Evelyn frowned. Samuel Lewis had told her to make Maren so miserable that she would demand to sell Lady Luck to his boss, Eric James, and Evelyn had decided there was only one way to hurt a woman like Maren James without creating evidence— destroy her reputation. Once Maren realized what owning, running, and living at the Lady Luck was costing her, Eric’s cousin would beg to sell the place. “Maybe she can’t by tomorrow night, but soon. We’ll both work on her until she looks and acts like a whore that no uppity person wants to be around. If she does what I tell her, she’ll have men trailing her like a dog in heat, pawing her. We’ll prove to her and everybody that she ain’t no better than us working girls. Within a week or two, she’ll go back where she
belongs, or she’ll try to when she’s treated like a cheap harlot.”

“You’re a mean-hearted person, Ev. Maybe I shouldn’t do this. Miss Maren seems awfully sweet and nice, and she could fire us.”

“If you don’t help me put her down, I’ll tell Dan about you stealing money,” Evelyn Sims threatened. “That means firing and jailing.”

“You wouldn’t, Ev,” the girl wailed. “You’re my best friend. You know I needed the money for Willy’s doctor and medicine, only a few dollars here and there. I can’t lose my job.”

“Then obey me, help me. I have to do this; I have to.”

The other dealer pleaded, “You swear we won’t get into trouble?”

“How can we? We won’t twist her arm. We’re only being kind,” Evelyn Sims replied sarcastically.

Maren stretched out on her bed and closed her eyes. She tried to envision herself in Evelyn’s indigo blue gown or a similar one. If she designed a few gowns carefully, she could look sensational without looking cheap. The redhead was right about choosing clothing that would make her look older, that was more suited to these surroundings. Maren certainly did not want to unsettle her patrons or to discourage their visits. She had looked like a lady tonight. She was a lady, but…

Yes, she concluded, she had to alter her appearance
slightly. Mary had been in this business for years, and she could trust Mary’s opinions. Tomorrow she would obtain the woman’s help in choosing a proper wardrobe.

As Maren slipped into sleep she hoped Beth would respond to her letter soon so they could visit. She could hardly wait to see her best friend… and Jared Morgan, who was on her mind most of the time. She wondered if thoughts of her ever troubled him.

Maren would have been delighted to learn she was indeed on Jared Morgan’s mind. He was leaning against the rail of his ship, the
Sea Mist.
If the winds held and if he ran the blockade successfully, he would be in Washington by the middle of the next week, and if the President didn’t have something pressing for him to do, he would put into New Orleans before heading back to sea. He and his crew needed and deserved a rest, and he wanted to solve a few mysteries. With luck, which he often depended upon as much as skill and knowledge, he could locate Maren Slade and figure out why she, like his shadow, was always present, silent, a part of him and yet separate.

For nearly two weeks Maren had filled his thoughts and dreams. She had enchanted him aboard the
Martha J,
but she had bewitched him in Jamaica. And he had been aching for her since that night on the beach when he had somehow controlled his
urgent hunger. She had been warm and willing, but so trusting and open that he had been unable to take advantage of her. He had wanted to share more than sex with her; he had wanted, and still wanted, to make love to her—but when the time and place were perfect. He knew there was a big difference between sating desire and emotional involvement. Maren was pulling at him from all directions at once. She seemed so familiar, yet unlike anyone he had known. He admitted that he wanted her, needed her, and would find a way to have her.

Jared hoped she had reached New Orleans safely. He could not imagine her as someone’s captive, other than his. She had lied to him aboard the ship, but her expression and tone had given her away. Didn’t that tell him she was unaccustomed to deceit, or that she did not want to dupe him? A bitter war was raging, so it was natural for people to be wary and defensive. He must meet her under better and safer circumstances, so they could trust each other and relax. If she was in New Orleans and if he could go there soon, he would find her and he would determine how strong her hold over him was.

“Maren…Maren Slade… Maren Morgan… Wait a minute, old boy, that’s moving a mite fast.”

“I’ve never seen you like this before, Jared,” Kerry said.

Jared turned and looked at his first mate. He had been so deep in thought that he had not heard Kerry Osgood approach. “I’ve never been like this before,
Kip,” he confessed readily. “What is it about this woman that has me brainless and weak? Heavens, man, she haunts me. If I don’t see her again soon, I’ll go crazy.”

“Don’t you think you should slow down a bit until you check her out? She has some bad connections, friend. She could be trouble, big trouble,” the blue-eyed first mate warned.

“What if she isn’t trouble, but she’s in trouble?” Jared reasoned. “I plan to study her very carefully, so don’t worry about me.”

“I can’t help it, Jared. This isn’t like you. She’s a stranger.”

“Only until I see her again. I can’t explain it, Kip. It’s crazy, but the line she cast hooked me, and I’m not sure I want to get loose. Would you feel any better if I let you check her out too?”

“Me? Are you kidding? No way. I’m happy she’s after you, else I would be chasing her and acting weird like you are,” he teased.

“Then you do think the attraction is mutual?” Jared pressed.

“From what I can grasp, she’s either really after you or she’s the best pretender I know. Just be careful, will you?”

“I promise, Kip. No real woman, no wedding ring.”

Kerry stared at his friend and captain, then chuckled. “You’re a devil, Jared Morgan. For a minute there you had me going.”

“You know what they say, Kip: ‘When ye listen tae tha Divil, there be dark days awaitin’ ye.’ I think I’ll put a little light on ’em.”

On Friday morning Maren was sitting
with
Dan Myers while he looked over the papers she had taken from the bank box. She knew something was wrong because the daily receipts for this past week, which she presumed was a normal week, did not dovetail with the amounts listed for her partner. Her suspicions proved accurate.

Dan Myers declared, “This isn’t my handwriting, nor are these my figures, Miss Maren. I suppose Eric James wrote them since he was the one collecting the money.”

Maren immediately asked, “May I see the books you use for our records?”

Dan glanced at her and replied, “Of course, Miss Maren.”

After they went over the real figures, Maren calculated how much was missing. She frowned in dismay. “It’s obvious Eric altered the figures on those papers and kept part of the earnings. That’s a lot of missing money, Dan. Can you help me replace it without burdening Lady Luck?”