Gentleman's Trade (22 page)

“Paulette!” Vanessa called out gaily as her friend swept into the front hall the next morning in a flurry of lemon yellow froth. Charles crossed the hall more soberly in her wake, though a faint smile traced his lips.

“Vanessa! We must be off shopping immediately! There is so much to do, and so little time! I must have a new gown, and you, my friend, must help me to choose it, or I shall be lost.”

Vanessa laughed. “Quick, tell me all, I am agog,” she enthused, hooking her arm with Paulette’s.”

Hugh followed her into the hall and laughed at the meeting, exchanging a wry glance with Charles.

“Say, what is this?” Charles demanded, eyeing Hugh’s bandage.

Hugh touched the white material briefly. “A minor misunderstanding,” he said lightly. “More an inconvenience than a problem.”

“Is Richard about?”

“He’s in the library with Russell Wilmot at the moment.”

“Ah—”

“Do you know the situation?” Hugh asked as they turned toward the parlor.

“Not entirely, though I have my suspicions,” Charles admitted.

“Later I will be pleased to tell you the whole sordid details. But what of you, Paulette? How did you fare?”

Paulette giggled and squeezed Vanessa’s arm before answering. “The count, he is a trifle young, for he is only four and twenty—”

“So says the ancient eighteen-year-old,” said Charles. Paulette stamped her foot. “You, you have done nothing but tease me. You know nothing of what it is like to be in my position. Now, I tell you, the count, he is young, but very gallant and oh so handsome. He comes to the city with the Balignys next week. There will be a theater party, and a card party to which we are invited.”

“Louisa has even decided to bring Celeste to the city for a couple of days and join in the merriment,” put in Charles.

“The timing could not be better,” said Hugh as they neared the parlor, his eyes twinkling.

“Why?” Charles asked.

“Because—”

“You’ll regret this, Mannion!” swore Russell Wilmot as he threw open the library door.

The party in the hall stopped and turned toward the library.

“I don’t believe so, sir,” Richard returned coolly as the two men entered the hall.

“I’ll see to it that you don’t get a single inch of warehouse space in the city!”

“Well, you may certainly try, but I would warn you, I have been in this city longer, and though you are accepted, it will raise many eyebrows to wonder why you choose to blackball me.”

“Remember those papers!” Wilmot warned.

“No one would find them more than a curiosity now, and I don’t believe you’ll discover much purchase from them.” Richard looked up and noted the assembled company in the hall. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Wilmot, my son-in-law is newly arrived, and I would pay my respects.” He gestured Mr. Wilmot toward the door.

The man scowled and stalked after him, but he stopped when he came even with Hugh. “You’ll regret your meddlesome interference, Talverton.”

“I? But I am only a visitor to your city and do not expect to be here long. What purpose would it serve you?”

Paulette’s eyes grew round and a fine dark eyebrow rose as Mr. Wilmot took his hat and cane from Jonas and flung himself out the door.

“Me, I think I have missed much in three days! To see Mr. Wilmot so routed, oo-lala, it does my heart good. He is a devil, that one, and you are well quit of him, Vanessa.”

“You have the right of it,” rasped Richard Mannion, striding over to the group. He shook his head as if to clear the last bit of ichor left by Mr. Wilmot out of himself. “Come, let us join Mother and Adeline, and you, you naughty puss,” he said, chucking Paulette under her chin, “may tell us how you fared with your genuine aristocrat.”

Paulette laughed gaily.
“Tres bien,
but I feel I have missed much here,” she said as they all entered the parlor.

“Only a tirade from Vanessa, an attack upon Mr. Talverton and Mr. Danielson, and Adeline’s engagement.”

Paulette clapped her hands. “
Vraiment!
Adeline is engaged?” She ran over to Adeline and hugged her closely. “This is so exciting! Me, I am speechless! Let me guess, it is Mr. Danielson, no
?
I saw you in the garden at Louisa’s, you know,” she said slyly.

Adeline blushed bright red and all looked at her expectantly. “It was nothing; he merely helped me to gather flowers for the ball,” she finished lamely.

Paulette swung around to Vanessa and Hugh. “And you two, have you also settled things between you?”

“Paulette,” scolded her brother.

“What? When they left the estate, they were not speaking. So stupid, when everyone could see how they reacted to each other.”

“Must you arrive and put us all to blush, Paulette?” Vanessa complained amid general laughter.

“Phtt! You still take yourself too seriously,” she stated, sitting on one of the sofas. “But tell me, how have you left things, or have you waited to have me come and put you to right?”

Vanessa blushed anew. “You are impossible.”

“We have agreed to a courtship. Beyond that, we wait and see,” Hugh told her.

“Wait for what? A sign from God?”

“Paulette!”

“
Pardon
, but I do not believe this. Here are two people, so obviously in love to all who see them, yet they play at coy indifference like two children. It is
insupportable
,” she said, sadly shaking her head.

“We have much to discover about each other,” Vanessa explained softly.

“Yes, and I would like to learn all I can about this woman while we are still in New Orleans. I’d like to see it through her eyes and understand how it worked to make her the most marvelous woman in the world.”

Everyone smiled and laughed, all feeling calmer now that Mr. Wilmot was properly defanged. While Paulette launched into a recital of her past two days, Hugh pulled Vanessa though the French doors onto the gallery.

“What do you mean, while we are still in New Orleans?” Vanessa asked as they strolled in the shade.

“In the time we have here before we sail for England,” Hugh explained absently, more intent on threading her fingers through his.

“To live?”

“But of course to live. Where else would we live?”

“Here,” she said flatly, stopping short.

He looked at her perplexed. “Here?”

“Yes, I have no desire to go to England. I thought you would stay here,” she exclaimed aggressively while pulling her hand free.

“There is nothing for me here, Vanessa—” he began.

“There is me,” she offered simply.

“But if we married, you would come with me,” he said patiently, coming forward to gather her into his arms.

She pushed him away and danced backward. “Ah— Now you have just said the key word—
if.”
She shook her head in amazement. “I cannot believe your blind arrogance, to suppose I would simply up and leave New Orleans just to be with you! No, I take that back,” she said, holding up her hand as another thought occurred to her. She ignored the flare of fire in his tawny eyes and continued: “I have always known you were arrogant, I just thought it was a trait I could wean you of. Obviously I was mistaken.”

“Blind arrogance!” he stormed, his body rigid.

“Yes, and aristocratic conceit as well,” she flared hotly.

He pokered up. “It is obvious we were misled in our affections,” he stated stiffly.

“Obviously.”

“Most likely caused by the novelty each presented to the other,” he went on.

“Precisely.”

“I don’t believe we should be wasting each other’s time. It is obvious to me your affections are shallow—”

“Shallow!” she fumed.

“—and ephemeral. I thank you for your kind offices in nursing me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go pack my portmanteau and return to Trevor’s town house immediately.”

“Yes,” Vanessa said tightly, “I think that would be best.”

He bowed stiffly. “Your servant, ma’am,” he said softly, turned on his heel, and left.

Vanessa stood still for several moments after he left, emotionally stunned by the events that had just transpired. A tiny moan of despair finally escaped her lips, and she slumped down on a nearby bench and wept.

“This is idiotic,” protested Trevor as he watched Hugh pack his portmanteau. “At least stay until after the engagement party.”

“It would be to no purpose, and I would not have my presence put a damper on the festivities.”

“Gammon. Your absence will do that quite nicely. Adeline will be distraught.”

Hugh placed a stack of neatly folded cravats in the corner of his case. “Then I depend upon you to lighten her spirits.”

“Damn it, Hugh, it’s been a week. Don’t you think the two of you could talk about it now?”

“There is nothing to discuss. Miss Mannion made her views eminently clear to me.”

“Well, I’ll tell you something that’s not clear to me, and that’s why you’re so insistent upon returning to England to live. What’s there for you? True, you have an easy competence that will allow you to live life comfortably without worry, but I can’t see you as a man of leisure. What are you going to do? Tend fields? Enter politics? That’s all you’ll be able to do without risking ostracizing the
ton.
They might forgive this little foray of yours into trade as a lark, but become further involved and they’ll shun you.”

“I doubt that,” Hugh contradicted without looking up, his movements as he packed the bag swift and efficient.

“Do you? Do you really? You can lie to me, but you’d better not lie to yourself,” Trevor warned. “Remember, I lived in England, and coming from trade, I know what reception I received. You’ve been at war for so many years that England has become some Elysian Fields to you and bears little resemblance to reality.”

“Our cases are different. You’re an American.”

“And you would take an American woman to live in England? You tell me our cases are different? Egad, but Vanessa was correct. You are arrogant,” he said with disgust.

Hugh straightened, and one blond eyebrow rose in an otherwise impassive face as he looked at his erstwhile friend. “But as you once told me, no more so than any other Englishman.”

“It appears I was wrong,” Trevor said harshly, flinging the bedroom door open and stalking out.

Hugh stared at the door, then slowly crossed the room to close it gently, his hand resting for a moment on its carved paneling. Trevor was correct, there wasn’t anything for him in England. Nonetheless, Vanessa should have loved him enough to go wherever he went. That she didn’t ripped at his very being like the tearing claws of a lion. He’d been to the center of the maze and managed to come back out, but without the prize, and the wounds from the skirmish would take forever to heal.

His mind was dull, his only thought to travel upriver on a steamboat, and from there he hoped to explore a bit of the countryside, to let its untamed wilderness ease the pain in his chest. Perhaps it was for the best. Their cultures were diverse, and more than likely she would not be happy in England. All the reasons he desired to see her in London society were tied to the fact that she would set the town on its ears, and such circumstance would invariably lead to her own ostracism by the beau monde. He was a veritable cad to wish to see her humiliated so, though she was worth more than any English miss who paid mere lip service to the society’s rules themselves but categorically renounced anyone else who strayed from the proper path.

He had certainly made a mull of his relationship with Vanessa. He was worse than any callow schoolboy. He swore savagely under his breath, then turned back to packing his things.

“Vanessa, what do you think of this orchid-colored material?” Adeline asked, fingering a bolt of filmy muslin.

Her sister didn’t answer.

“Vanessa?” Adeline called, dropping the bolt to look around the small shop. She spotted her sister staring at a magnificently attired quadroon woman. She laid her hand on her arm. “Vanessa?”

“What? Oh, I’m sorry, did you wish to show me something?”

“Yes, an orchid fabric over here,” she said, leading her to the bolt of cloth. “But why were you staring at that woman?” she asked softly.

“Because she has been staring at me, and has done so in the past three shops we’ve entered.”

“She’s been following us?”

“So it would appear, but it’s me who’s captured her interest for some reason, for I’ve purposely separated myself from you and Paulette to see if she followed either of you. She hasn’t. It’s me who has her interest, so I decided it would be best to stare back at her and let her know I am aware of her regard.”

“I don’t like this, Vanessa. Perhaps we should return home,” Adeline said nervously, glancing around the small establishment. It was filled with bolts of fabric creating hidden shadowed corners. “Where’s Paulette now?”

“Purchasing some ribbons to refurbish her pink silk hat, I believe.”

“Well, let’s get her and leave,” she suggested.

“No, I don’t believe so,” Vanessa said slowly. “I want to discover what this woman wants.”

“But you don’t know anything about her, and she looks like—like—”

“A man’s mistress? No, don’t blush so, Adeline. I agree. That’s what has me even more curious. What could such a woman, and a woman obviously fashionably well maintained, want with me?”

“You don’t think that Mr. Talverton . . . .”

“Has taken her up?” A quick little pain pierced her heart at the mention of his name. She ruthlessly shoved the feeling aside, as she had pushed aside all errant thoughts of Hugh Talverton for the past week. “I wouldn’t have said she suits him, but then, I don’t know him all that well,” she said bitterly.

“I’m sorry I said anything. I didn’t mean to cause you pain,” Adeline said lamely, a worried little frown creasing her brow.

Vanessa smiled lightly, a weary, wan smile that was all she had been able to manage on any occasion during the past week. “I know. Well, talking won’t pay toll, so I suggest we find Paulette and be on our way. Or did you mean to buy this material?”

Adeline looked at the bolt in front of them. “No, no I don’t think so. Now, somehow, it seems just too depressing a color.”

“I’m sorry, Adeline. I am not good company for someone with happy plans on her mind.”

“Oh, Vanessa, no, please don’t say that. I wish, I just wish you would talk to Mr. Talverton. Trevor says he’s determined to leave New Orleans today. I know he wouldn’t go if you’d just talk to him.”

“Mr. Talverton and I have nothing to say.”

“But—” Adeline protested.

“No buts. We would not suit. Hugh Talverton was an educational interlude for me, and I an amusing dalliance for him, that’s all. I neither wish to see the man again, or hear his name mentioned.”

“You may find that before this day is out, you have cause to regret your words, Miss Mannion.”

Vanessa whirled around, shocked to hear a melodious, and lightly accented woman’s voice directly behind her. It was the quadroon woman. She was beautifully attired in a glowing turquoise silk gown and was redolent of a heavy rose scent. She smiled down at Vanessa, her wide mouth open, revealing pearly white teeth. She was a beautiful woman, and a woman obviously well versed in the pleasures of men.

Vanessa glared at her, and tilted her head up haughtily. “I beg your pardon?”

The woman merely laughed, not at all put off by Vanessa’s manner. “It is perhaps well that you care so little for this Mr. Talverton,” the woman said serenely while fingering a brilliant swath of red silk, “as he is not long to be alive.”

“What are you talking about? What do you know of Mr. Talverton?” Vanessa demanded, suddenly very frightened for there was something about the woman’s calm manner that instilled belief in her words.

Adeline pulled on her sister’s arm. “Come away, Vanessa. Don’t talk to this woman.”

Vanessa ignored her, her eyes locked with those of the beautiful quadroon.

“My—ah—gentleman has arranged for his demise this very day,” she said with a smile, her dark eyes expressive. She ceased her contrived interest in the fabric around them. “It seems this Mr. Talverton has caused him no end of inconvenience.”

“What? Are you Mr. Wilmot’s . . .” Vanessa began then stumbled to a stop, uncertain what to say.

The woman laughed again. “You ladies are all so prim and formal. Yes, I am his mistress, and he belongs to me. You are lucky you did not see fit to marry Russell, for if you had, you would not have lived long. I would have seen to that,” she ingeniously added, as if it were no great matter.

“How dare you!” exclaimed Adeline. “Come Vanessa, this woman is obviously a troublemaker.”

“No, wait,” Vanessa said, grasping her sister’s hand when Adeline would have left. She cocked her head to the side as she considered the quadroon. “You have some reason for telling me all this.”

The woman’s finely plucked brow rose in appreciation for Vanessa’s understanding. “Indeed.” The woman’s eyes darkened, and she seemed to look past Vanessa as she spoke, her voice low and vibrant with conviction. “Though Mr. Talverton has defeated Russell at his game, it is still for me to strike a lesson home. I wish to teach Mr. Russell Wilmot that I am not a trifle he may shuffle aside at his convenience. I take second place to no one.” She looked back at Vanessa, her sultry eyes gazing into hers. “So, I tell you of Russell’s plans for Mr. Talverton, and leave it to you to effect a rescue, if you’re able.”

“What does he have planned?” Vanessa asked hoarsely, her grip tightening on Adeline’s hand.

“An accident at the docks. Before he boards the steamboat.”

“How? When?”

The woman shrugged expressively. “I know not, but you may be certain he shall not escape as easily as he did last week, for I understand a certain river man is also out for his life.”

“Trevor said he was to be off at noon, or as soon as the last of the cargo was loaded,” Adeline offered.

Vanessa glanced around until she spotted a lovely ornate clock in the corner. “It’s after eleven, now!” She dropped Adeline’s hand and reached out tentatively to touch the quadroon. “Thank you,” she said simply, then grabbed her skirts and turned to run from the store.

“Vanessa, wait,” called Adeline, starting after her.

The quadroon woman threw back her head and laughed richly. “Run, mamzelle, run.”

“Adeline, what’s going on?” called Paulette from where she stood by the door, waiting for her package to be wrapped.

“Mr. Talverton’s in trouble,” she said as she pulled open the shop door.

“Hold that package, I shall return,” Paulette ordered the shopkeeper over her shoulder as she followed in Adeline’s wake.

The banquette was crowded and forced Vanessa to walk in places as she threaded her way through the people. Tears of frustration nearly blinding her, she finally lightly jumped off the walkway to the dirt street, moving faster among the carts and dray animals on the thoroughfare. At one point she passed so near a horse that ends of her shawl, fluttering behind her, lightly flickered in the corner of the animal’s sight so it reared in its traces causing his driver to ring down curses loudly and fluidly on Vanessa’s head. She ignored him, her concentration centered on her achieving the docks.

She turned down the Rue St. Pierre alongside the Place d’Armes, dismayed to find it busier than the street she’d left. Now, however, her determination increased, for straight ahead of her, across the Chemin des Tchoupitoulas, lay the harbor.

Her heart pounded loudly in her head, drowning out the oaths and comments her undignified flight aroused from those she brushed past. She paused on the levee, looking frantically up and down the docks. There were so many ships and boats that for a moment she despaired of going in the right direction until she spotted the tall chimneys of a riverboat. It was the only steamboat in the harbor. She inhaled deeply, her eyes frantically searching for Hugh Talverton. She couldn’t see him but she knew that did not mean he wasn’t down there. It was just that the harbor was so crowded, and finding one man was difficult. She hoped it was as difficult for Mr. Wilmot’s henchmen.

She set off in the direction of the steamboat, her eyes darting about, searching out a location for a possible ambush or accident on the busy dock. Barrels of sugar were being loaded onto the steamboat when she approached. She passed men who stopped and stared rudely at her, some so close she was forced to brush against them as she passed. The impropriety of her presence, alone on the docks, did not escape her. She trembled slightly but bit firmly down on her lower lip and lifted her chin. Her eyes shown bluer than normal, her agitation clear in her expression. There were so many big, rough-looking men on the docks, any or all of whom might be willing to accept blood money. What could she do even if she found Hugh? She should have gone for help, but there just wasn’t any time! And where was Hugh?

She leaned against a stack of sugar barrels to rest, only to jump back hastily when one teetered precariously. Then she saw him striding confidently toward the steamboat. “Hugh!” she called, wildly waving her arm. She turned to run toward him, panic seizing her when she also saw a gang of men in dirty leathers skulking nearby. “Hugh!” she cried louder as she tripped over a tangled rope. Her arms traced mad circles as she fought to keep her balance. She staggered backward, bumping into the sugar barrels again. The top barrel, already uneasy in its position, tumbled down the stack, sending another barrel sliding in its wake. Vanessa screamed as the barrel crashed heavily onto the dock and began rolling on its side, headed straight for the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Hugh Talverton.