Lady Vixen (35 page)

Nicole,
too, was almost happily resigned to the first step in her eventual return to
England. She had secretly dreaded meeting Mrs. Eggleston again. She did not
know what she would have done if Mrs. Eggleston had snubbed her.

She
realized now how outrageous her behavior had been. Looking back on it, she
wondered at her own temerity and was deep inside overwhelmingly grateful that
Christopher was, for whatever reasons, smoothing her path back to England.

Suddenly
and unaccountably depressed, she gave a tiny sigh as she showed Mrs. Eggleston
to her room.

It
was a room admirably suited for an elderly lady—a cozy room, with soft pink
walls; a thick carpet of muted pinks, blues, and greens on the floor; several
small comfortable chairs in rose damask; and a very inviting bed draped in the palest
pink imaginable.

The
fire had already been lit by the efficient Galena, and after helping Mrs.
Eggleston with her outer garments, Galena inquired in her soft voice if Madame
would care for something hot to drink.

Nicole
left Mrs. Eggleston in her room after seeing that she was comfortable and tea
was prepared. "I'll see you at dinner," Nicole said, tactfully
withdrawing to allow the older woman some time to rest and to gather her
thoughts after the long journey.

Some
minutes later, sipping an excellently steeped cup of tea, her feet resting
comfortably on a small velvet footstool, Mrs. Eggleston stared thoughtfully at
the fire. She was not as entirely satisfied with Christopher's story as she
pretended. She had known him from a child and knew, as clearly as if he had
told her himself, that he was lying. Some of what he had related to her, she
was certain, was true, but she knew that Christopher was shrewd enough to
include a trace of truth in his tale.

But
where did the lie begin? And why? With an ease that would have startled
Christopher, almost absent-mindedly she considered the possibility that
Christopher had dishonored Nicole. Sighing, she set her cup down. She didn't
want to think that he was capable of such a thing, and remembering with a smile
his treatment of herself, she pushed the thought aside as unworthy.

Yet,
there was definitely some tension, some attraction between her two young
people. After all, she had known them both from the cradle, and she had watched
both change from toddlers into a young man and a young woman on the threshold
of adulthood. She shook her head slowly and wished for the millionth time that
she and the Colonel had not been away when Annabelle had told her spiteful
story.

Mrs.
Eggleston had known from the first moment she had heard the rumors that they
could not be completely true, and remembering the almost gentle, sensitive
youth Christopher had been and comparing the wary, hard man he had become, she
hardened her heart against the dead Annabelle. She had always been aware that
Annabelle was an unprincipled little harlot, but Mrs. Eggleston would never
have guessed just how unprincipled until that terrible summer. That was all
behind them, she thought thankfully. Now Christopher and Nicole were both
adult, and perhaps something good and worthy would come out of this odd, yet
providential meeting of the three of them so far from England! Her mind
relatively satisfied, she dozed happily before the fire, truly at ease for the
first time since she had left Beddington's Corner all those years before.

If
Mrs. Eggleston was at ease and Nicole resigned, Christopher was neither, for he
knew that what lay ahead was not going to be as simple as it appeared to the
two women. He was satisfied, though, with the way events were going—except for
the situation between him and Nick.

And
in the weeks that followed he was to curse again and again his growing
preoccupation with Nicole. He was continually thrown into her company. Granted,
Mrs. Eggleston was there beaming at them as Christopher would gracefully seat
Nicole and then for a few minutes exchange the required polite conversation,
only to have to do it again because Mrs. Eggleston felt Nicole had been too
stiff, too unbending in her movements.

Smiling,
her blue eyes kind, Mrs. Eggleston instructed, "My dear, you must learn to
relax when in the company of gentlemen. Do not . . . er . . . poker up that
way. Now we'll try it again. You meet in the hall as before and Christopher
will then escort you in to be seated."

And
so they did it again, and this time Nicole was able to move less stiltedly, yet
all the time unbearably conscious of Christopher's presence.

Grimly,
Nicole threw all her efforts into eradicating the past five years. She learned
to smile with just the right degree of friendliness at Christopher as he
pretended to solicit her hand for a dance; she became adept at making polite
conversation as the three of them dined together; and under Mrs. Eggleston's
guidance she overcame the intricacies of afternoon tea. Her scholastic education
was not neglected either, although how much she could be expected to absorb in
the time they had was questionable. And as Mrs. Eggleston had commented, young
ladies were not particularly scrutinized for their well-educated minds! It was
their graceful movements, their polite conversation, their pretty faces, and
their delightful manners that counted in polite society.

It
quickly became second nature for Nicole to expect the services of Mauer and
Galena and the deferences shown by the other servants. And only occasionally
did she yearn for the freedom that had been hers such a short time ago. But
this way of life, too, had its compensations, and Mrs. Eggleston's company made
the situation with Christopher much easier to bear. And as the days passed and
she exhibited more and more naturally the manners and conversation that Mrs.
Eggleston felt were imperative, their social sphere at Thibodaux House widened.

The
easiest, and by far the pleasantest, was the first time Hans and his young wife
were invited to tea. With a grace and charm worthy of the role she played,
Nicole made them at ease, acting just as if she really were Christopher's ward.
Dinner at a nearby neighboring plantation was next, and despite a certain
nervousness at first, she passed without conscious effort.

Christopher
viewed the emerging Nicole with half-admiring, half-hostile eyes, for while he
was satisfied with the way she was quickly becoming a model of the wellborn
young woman, he detested the apparent ease with which she accomplished it.
Watching the way she smiled at him, as if he were nothing more than the
guardian they pretended, he was reminded painfully of her mother's deceit. So
had Annabelle pretended in front of others, smiling at him so disinterestedly
and then sneaking away to let him rain passionate kisses on her willing mouth.
They were both alike, he thought contemptuously.

Yet,
lying awake night after night, knowing she slept just down the wide hall from
him, he wasn't so sure. During the day he could cloak himself in indifference,
playing the game for Mrs. Eggleston's benefit, but the nights were long, and he
found sleep particularly elusive, especially those evenings Mrs. Eggleston
insisted upon Nicole's ballroom graces being perfected. It was both an
exquisite pleasure and a painful torment to hold her in his arms as they
circled around the small ballroom that Thibodaux House possessed.

For
Nicole, too, the intimacy of Christopher's arms about her waist, her hand
clasped in his, and their bodies almost touching, was an agony she didn't think
she could bear for any great length of time. Fortunately Mrs. Eggleston did not
believe in spending many hours on such frivolities.

The
day finally came when Christopher, after consulting with Mrs. Eggleston,
decided that they were ready for New Orleans. Upon their arrival, Christopher
immediately called on Jason Savage. Polite conversation quickly covered, Jason
said, "You must have read my mind, for I sent you a message yesterday
requesting you to return to New Orleans if Miss Ashford was at all presentable.
I take it she is?"

Christopher
nodded. "Yes, I believe so. At any rate I felt that whatever deficiencies
were still to be eradicated, it could be done here in the city. She needs to be
out amongst society and not just going through the motions in front of Mrs.
Eggleston and myself."

"Excellent!
In your absence I have made several arrangements that I hope, will meet with
your approval. I must apologize for one which we did not discuss, and I trust
you will not consider that I have been rather highhanded."

A
certain amount of wariness flashing across his face, Christopher asked quietly,
"What is it?"

The
two men were seated in the library at the Savage town house, Jason behind his
large desk and Christopher across from him. Jason picked up one of the papers
from the desk and handed it to Christopher.

It
was a short letter, and it took only a moment for Christopher to scan its
contents. Keeping his features carefully bland, he said, "So, I am to go
as an unofficial representative of the United States. What, may I ask, did you
tell Monroe to get him to agree?"

Smiling,
Jason leaned back in his chair. "I explained that I wanted to send my own
representative to England, to have someone on the scene as it were, but that
such an individual would be much more effective if he had some sanction from
the State Department. And as you see, the secretary of state agreed with
me."

A
wry expression about his mouth, Christopher said thoughtfully, "I can see
to a degree that this will serve considerably better than my own plan—except
that now I will definitely be branded in the American camp. Before there would
have been suspicion of that, but with a letter of introduction from the
secretary of state of the United States there will be no doubt on which side I
have laid my wager."

"Yes,
I realize that. But this does not change our plans in any way, it only
strengthens what I felt was a weak spot. You still have to accomplish the same
task."

"I
agree," Christopher interrupted quietly. "Official sanction will indeed
pave my way, and perhaps if the English believe that I am nothing more than an
observer, they will not be surprised when I ask certain questions. Hopefully,
if I am very clever, they will not look too far beneath the surface. These
letters of introduction Monroe writes of will make my task both easier on one
hand and more difficult on the other."

Dryly,
Jason commented, "I'm sure you will rise to the occasion."

"Naturally.
Perhaps it will even impart an added appeal—running a rig before the British is
something I have grown very adept at."

"It
will certainly give credence to your escorting and guardianship of Nicole
Ashford."

"Yes,
that too," Christopher said flatly, and Jason wondered at the lack of
enthusiasm in his voice and the bleak look that passed swiftly across the dark,
mobile face.

With
apparent idleness Jason changed the subject, drawling, "As you have just
returned to the city, I take it you did not attend the Lafitte brothers' sale
at the Temple?"

"No,
I did not," Christopher returned lazily, but his eyes suddenly narrowed
and shadowed, he inquired, "Why this sudden curiosity about my connection with
Lafitte?" His voice hardening slightly, Christopher added, "I am not
a tool that will be used against Jean."

A
grimace of regret twisting his handsome face, Jason admitted, "You can't
blame me for testing you, especially not in view of what happened at this
latest sale."

His
attention fully on Jason, his features betraying nothing except a certain
alertness, Christopher asked, "What did happen? Something beyond the
normal, I take it?"

"Oh,
yes! Very much beyond the normal," Jason grated. "Lafitte went a
little too far this time—a temporary inspector of the revenue, a man by the
name of Stout, and a force of twelve men were sent to stop the sale. Unfortunately
they were ambushed by Lafitte's cutthroats, and Stout was killed and two others
mortally wounded. The remainder are prisoners at Lafitte's stronghold on Grand
Terre. And as you can imagine, the governor is beside himself with fury—and I
don't blame him. Lafitte's actions are an outrage to New Orleans and
Louisiana."

"There
are others who would disagree."

Sharply
Jason glanced at Christopher. "You?"

With
his lips quirking in a smile of self-derision, Christopher murmured, "Oh,
no, not I. Jean has become too closely linked with the pirates and, as you say,
cutthroats at Grand Terre. He has changed from the days when the smuggling was
done on a small scale and with a certain amount of respectability attached to
it. I've warned him that his day is over if he will not change, but he turns me
a deaf ear."

"That
is indeed unfortunate. There are many admirable traits in your Jean
Lafitte." Jason hesitated and then he asked, "Would you consider
going to Grand Terre and trying to convince Lafitte to release the revenue men
he holds... those that are still alive?"

"I
rather expected that request," Christopher confessed wryly.

"You'll
do it?"

Christopher
shrugged. "Let's just say that I have business of my own on Grand Terre
and it will not inconvenience me to convey your request to Jean. I will not
promise more—indeed, I
cannot
promise more."