Gypsy Lady (41 page)

So it
was with a sparkle of adventure in her blue eyes that Rachael placed her
affairs in the hands of a respectable agent and an equally conservative
banking firm. Ignoring Edward's comments that she was mad and foolish, she
continued to make preparations for joining her children. And before she
sailed, her mind finally made up after many sleepless nights, she paid a visit
to London and sought out the duke of Roxbury.

The
duke, his gray eyes quizzical, showed no surprise when she laid Catherine's
letter before him and said a trifle defiantly, "I've known where Catherine
was for a number of months. I never would have told you where she was, except
for the birth of the boy. I don't intend
this
child to be denied his birthright!"

Imperturbably,
Roxbury picked up the letter and read it slowly. "So, Jason is the father
of a son—and isn't aware of it," he said finally. "Do I take it you
wish me to apprise him of the fact?"

Rachael
hesitated, and the duke, staring at her still youthful face, her soft curling
locks and bright blue eyes, wondered idly if the child born to her so many
years ago resembled her or his father.

Roxbury's
straying thoughts were quickly brought to order when Rachael said, "I'm
going to join Catherine and my son in Natchez, and I intend to attempt to unravel
this tangle. I would suggest that you write to Jason and explain that he is to
do nothing until I see him. I would do it myself, but
you"
—she shot him a challenging look—"are adept at
smoothing over affairs of this nature and would no doubt do a better job!"

"No
doubt," he answered dryly. Then he asked casually, "Do you still
hold it against me, m'dear? It was for the best you know."

Rachael
blushed painfully, as she hadn't in years, and stammered, "Of—of course
not!"

His
eyes narrowed, Roxbury stared at her discomfiture for a minute. Finally he
asked, "Do you think your decision to go to Natchez is wise?"

Rachael
didn't pretend to misunderstand him. "It may not be wise, but I see no
reason why I should remain a lonely old woman in England when I can live near
my children. I'm not, you know, a possessive woman."

The
duke nodded slowly, suddenly feeling very tired. Quietly he said, "If your
mind is made up, I will not try to change it. I'll write Jason this evening.
Shall I tell him you will meet him in New Orleans?"

"No!
I must talk with Catherine first. I feel I'm betraying her as it is. She is
adamant that nothing will reconcile her to being Jason's wife."

"Then
what in heaven do you possibly hope to accomplish?" he snapped.

Unanswering,
her eyes locked with
his,
and her soft mouth set.
"I intend that at least Jason and Catherine agree to share their son
between them. It's not right that a boy should grow up without knowing his
father. And if they cannot live together, they can at least meet politely."

Rachael
left the duke's home unsettled by the meeting and was extremely thankful to
reach her rooms at the hotel where she was staying. Composing herself with an
effort, she sat down at a small spindle-legged desk and began to write
Catherine. As she wrote, her agitation lessened, and, a small smile of
anticipation hovering about her mouth, she finished the letter.
They
were not to have all the adventures and fun. Soon,
very soon, she would join them, and then they would have a tremendous time
together.

If
Rachael had any inkling of the contents of the letter the duke was sending to
Jason, her smile would not have been happy, and she would have been justly
incensed and equally horrified at his complete disregard of her request. Jason
could have told her
never
to
trust Roxbury, he always did precisely as he saw fit—and Rachael should have
remembered that fact herself!

May was a lovely month. The
humid heat of summer hadn't yet begun, so Catherine took full advantage of the
delightfully warm days. The month before, her milk had dried unexpectedly, and
an indignant Nicholas had been regretfully turned over to a wet nurse. Since
she no longer had to nurse him and since there was a staff of black servants
ready to leap at his slightest cry, Catherine found herself with more and more
time on her hands.

She
had met several of Adam's companions, but as these for the most part consisted
of young bachelors like
himself
, she had little social
life. Her pregnancy had naturally curtailed the acceptance of the invitations
that had been extended when she had first arrived. Now, however, she made a
determined effort to widen the scope of her acquaintances; after all, she was
going to make Natchez her home.

One
of Adam's more respectable Mends was Stephen Minor, a former governor. His
wife, Katherine, and Catherine took to each other instantly. Katherine Lintot
Minor, a cool, long-faced blond, admired Catherine's aloofness, unaware it was
brought on by shyness and the fear of meeting someone who knew Jason,
The
"Yellow Duchess," as Katherine Minor was
known, gave Adam's sister her smiling nod of approval, and so Catherine found
herself at the hub of Natchez society. And never having known the delights of
the balls and soirees that were commonplace to the planters" wives and
daughters, she delighted in them as well as reveled in being the latest rage.

Her
horizon, though, was not without its black cloud, and there were a few eyebrows
raised
that so lovely a creature's husband never
seemed to put in an appearance. Of course, no one was quite forward enough to
ask outright where her husband was, but nonetheless it created a good deal of
feminine speculation.

To
those who were inclined to probe deeper than good manners dictated, Catherine
was usually able to return an airy answer, but she had felt a chill of fear
when one old woman, resplendent in diamonds, had murmured, "Savage, you
say?
Any relation to the Beauvais Savages?"
Catherine had pretended not to hear, swiftly offering a new topic of
conversation.

But
there was one who would not take a hint that the subject of her absent husband
was one she did not care to discuss, and she grew to dread the sight of the
slim, smiling Spanish lieutenant, Bias Davalos.

The lieutenant
appeared to be an ardent admirer, but Catherine disliked the flicker of
conjecture that had leaped to his black eyes at the mention of her married
name. He paid her determined court, always managing to gracefully cut ahead of
her other admirers, and she had no choice but to suffer his compliments and advances.
Despite Catherine's repeated reminders that she was a married woman, Davalos
openly pursued her, much to the disapproval of the older matrons.

One
night when Davalos whisked her out of the bright ballroom at Concord, Minor's
grand home built in the Spanish style, for a walk in the warm night air, Catherine
was compelled to mention his actions.

"This
is not seemly. I am a married woman, and you should not place me in such a
compromising position. Take me back inside at once!"

Bias
only smiled lazily and, ignoring her command, urged a step-dragging Catherine
down a brick path that wandered between tall, sweet-smelling roses. He added to
her growing disquiet by asking silkily, "But are you, my dear?"

Warily,
Catherine glanced at him in the light from gay lanterns that were strung
overhead. "Am I what?"

"Married?"

Angry
yet frightened, she snapped, "Of course I am! How dare you question me so
intimately!
"

"I
notice you don't threaten me with your husband's wrath. Could it be your
husband is unaware that you are living in Natchez—or that you even exist?"

Catherine
had no answer. Pulling her arm away from Bias's light clasp, she turned on her
heel and walked determinedly back in the direction of the ballroom, her topaz
silk gown billowing out behind her. Bias halted her retreat by musing aloud,
"I wonder—did Jason marry you? Or did he only dishonor you? Your son
certainly reminds me of Jason, and I cannot blame you if you invented a
marriage to hide your disgrace."

Aghast,
the color draining from her face, Catherine brazened it out. "I can see
little reason for me to discuss my husband with you! And if you think this
J—J—Jason is my husband, why don't you ask
him?"

"I
might do that! But I would prefer that, instead of my asking him,
you
behave much nicer to me than you have!"

Sick
inside at the implied threat, she threw him a look filled with loathing.
"You are despicable! Go ask Jason whatever you wish, but I would rather
die than stay one minute longer in your company!"

Her
head held high, she marched back towards the ballroom, and whatever else
Davalos would have said was stilled when Godfrey Anderson, another of her
admirers, came walking down the path obviously in search of her. Smiling
blindingly up at the besotted youth, she let him escort her back into the house
and flirted with him for the rest of the evening, effectively allowing Davalos
no chance for further conversation.

The
conversation scared her, and for days she lived in fear that Bias would carry
out his threat. When she heard by accident that he had been recalled for duty
in Louisiana, her alarm increased. But then a note from Bias, delivered the following
week in which he stated his sorrow at their unpleasant parting, made her hopeful
that he would say nothing to Jason—if he really knew Jason Savage.

The
sly curiosity about her absent husband continued, but with the former governor
and his wife obviously finding her very pleasant company, Catherine was
universally accepted into even the most high-stomached planters' homes. The air
of mystery that hung about her only added to her charm as far as the young
gentlemen were concerned, and there were few gatherings that she attended, in
which Adam didn't find himself shouldered out of the way by a bevy of gallants
eager for her company.

Catherine
strove very hard to act the part of a young matron with a growing son, but it
was very hard to sit and converse quietly with the older women when her feet
were unconsciously tapping in time with the latest waltz. It was especially
hard when there were so many delightful gentlemen who were more than willing to
whirl her around the gleaming, polished dance floors.

"You
had better watch it, m'lady," Adam warned her one night as they rode home
from another pleasant evening at Concord. "There are a few who think that
your husband is merely an invention to explain away Nick's birth. If you're
not careful, someone is going to take the time to discover if there really is a
Mr. Savage! It's too bad we didn't give out another name besides your true one.
But more to the point, I don't like the calf looks young Anderson is throwing
you. His father is a stiff-rumped old Tory, and you can wager that if he thinks
his only son is about to propose marriage to a woman with a questionable past,
he'll have your pedigree run clear back to Eden!"

A
sleepy smile curving her mouth, Catherine teased, "Adam, you sound rather
stiff-rumped yourself! And," a gurgle of laughter spilled out, "at
least fifty years old!"

An
answering gleam of amusement lit his vivid blue eyes. "You're absolutely
right, Kate! I'm taking my duties much too seriously, and I'm damned if I can
see how you wind the most hardened flirt around your little finger. I can tell
you that lately I live in the greatest dread that I'm going to have to play the
heavy father and turn down several offers for your hand."

Her
laughter gone, Catherine asked anxiously, "You don't really mean that, do
you? I've been very discreet, and I haven't encouraged anyone. I know I'm married,
and I've tried to behave properly."

"That
you have, my love, and that's part of the fascination. You look so inviting,
and there's that hint of a mysterious past that is so conflicting with the
polite, demure young lady you appear to be. You've got them all knocked in a
teacup."

The
slight awe in Adam's voice caused another laugh to peal out, and laying her
head affectionately on his shoulder, she inquired lightly, "Shall I attend
the next outing with my hair pulled back into a neat little bun and dressed in
sackcloth and ashes?"

His
own eyes dancing with enjoyment at the thought, he muttered, "By God! I'd
like to see their faces if you did!"

Both
were smiling as the carriage pulled up in front of Belle Vista, and Catherine
still experienced a happy babble of amusement as she undressed for bed. A
slight sound from the opened doorway caused her to cross quickly into
Nicholas's room, Nicholas, sound alseep, jammed his fist into his mouth and
with a. satisfied sound began to suck quietly as his mother fondly watched.

How
like his father he is, she thought gazing down at him. An unruly mop of black
hair already topped a broad forehead that someday would be exactly like
Jason's, and to Catherine's discerning eyes Nicholas's nose jutted in small
imitation of his father's arrogant one. But it was his eyes that reminded her
most of Jason; closed, the long, silky lashes nearly brushed his cheeks, and
when opened their color was a deep, startling emerald green that was a constant
stabbing reminder of another pair of eyes.

Her
smile went a little wry. Every day Nicholas reminded her more and more vividly
of Jason, and soon
his
resemblance to
his
father would be too marked not to arouse comment; Bias's remark on that same
subject came back to her uncomfortably. Even Adam, with only one sighting of
Jason Savage, admitted that Nicholas looked like his sire.

Well,
she decided, curling up in her own bed, she would take one day at a time. It
was fruitless to argue and fight situations that hadn't arisen. She fell asleep
on that thought.

The
morning heralded another bright, sunny day, and by ten o'clock Nicholas was
happily rutting on a wide, white blanket laid on the.
soft
green lawn, while a black maid sat in attendance. Catherine, her hair unbound
and curling becomingly around, her face, was sitting on a high- backed rattan
chair on the veranda drinking a cup of the strong black coffee so dear to
American hearts. They were at the side of the house, half under the sprawling,
shady branches of a huge magnolia tree, where Adam and Catherine both
frequently began their day. Often they sat here eating breakfast watching
delightedly the antics of young Nick.

Adam
seemed to be running later than usual, and Catherine correctly assumed, it had
something to do with the harassed-Iooking rider who had arrived shortly after
she had wandered outside. Her guess was confirmed a few minutes later when
Adam, his forehead creased in a frown, same out of the French doors at the side
of the house and walked over to her,

"Kate,
it's the damnedest thing! I'll have to leave for ft few days, Harris
here"—a jerk of his head indicated the waiting rider—"has brought
some bad news. The levee broke on that new area we're clearing, and I'd best go
and oversee the mopping up. I shan't be gone for more than a week, or so."

A
half-hour later, Adam mounted his horse and disappeared out of sight, down the
long, sweeping driveway. Feeling a bit fiat after his sudden departure,
Catherine wandered restlessly through the big house. Finally sheer boredom
drove her to order a horse saddled, and she rode off in the direction Adam had
taken.

She
was on her way back from a singularly carefree gallop along the red-colored
bluffs overlooking the Mississippi when Godfrey Anderson joined her. He met
her just as she was guiding her horse into the driveway that led to Belle
Vista. Viewing his blond fairness and
his
blue-eyed, cherubic
handsomeness, she wondered why he aroused nothing more than amusement in her.

She
should have been flattered that one of the richest, most eligible bachelors in
the district had been undeniably smitten with her. It was patently apparent
from the languishing glances he cast her and the stammering earnestness of his
speech. Although he wasn't much older than
herself
,
she viewed him as so very much less mature than herself that Adam's teasing
worry of a proposal hadn't made a very deep impression on her.

But
it appeared that the young man was on the point of declaring himself, and
frantically Catherine tried to torn his thoughts
in
another direction. The news that Adam was not at Belle Vista
seemed to plunge Godfrey into gloom, and Catherine, feeling rather gloomy herself,
quickly realized that Godfrey had ridden forth this mooting with every
intention of requesting; Adam's permission to pay his addresses to Catherine.