Mardi Gras Masquerade (8 page)

Steve watched her shrinking back against the cushions of the limousine until the chauffeur came around to open the door for her.
 
Maria could not bring herself to return his stare.
 
With a feeling that all hope was gone, she stepped out of the car and stood there with her eyes focused on the gravel of the driveway.

The man followed her.
 
He stood there beside her as the chauffeur went to get her bags out of the trunk.

After a moment, Steve said, “Well, aren’t you going to look up at the house?
 
After all, this is goin’ to be your home from now on.”

Nothing else could have drawn Maria’s attention away from the ground so effectively.

Jerking her head back to stare into Steve’s eyes, she blurted out, “Maria never intended to give up her career and live . . .”

The man lifted an eyebrow as he looked at her in wonder.

“How curious that you should refer to yourself in the third person,” he commented.
 
You get more complex by the moment, my girl.”

Maria’s face paled when she realized her error.
 
She felt a slight degree of relief when Steve provided her with a reasonable, if strange sounding, explanation.
 
She felt it would be best to let that slip drop without further discussion.

“I’m not going to live here,” she replied in a passionate voice.

“For now, you are.
 
You’ll have to take up the rest with Tienne, but I’ll warn you right now, he wants you to live here with him full time, and he is not a man who makes compromises.
 
Come on.
 
I’ll show you to the room you’ll have . . . for now.”

These words left Maria speechless.
 
With drooping shoulders, she followed Steve into the house.
 
As she stepped inside, all of her fears and regrets melted away for one magical instance.

Maria’s mouth fell open as she viewed the elegance of the mansion’s interior.
 
From the gleaming crystals of the huge chandelier to the polished marble of the sweeping staircase, the splendor of a world of grace and affluence that had nearly been extinguished by a civil war came to life before her eyes.
 
The rich brocade of the upholstery, the thick pile of the carpets, the stately grandeur of the portraits that hung on the ornately scrolled walls . . . all of this brought back to her mind her childhood daydreams of a place that lived in the romantic imagery of a forgotten era.
 

This was the house she had pictured to be her home.
 
The details might not be exact, but
all of the
splendor was there.
 
Her roommate’s coarse description of “an old house in the swamps” had never really altered the picture Maria had formed in her mind of the DuPont mansion.

The dream may have died for Maria Fontaine, but Maria Jones had never released her vicarious hold on it.
 
From the first time she heard about the storybook romance, she had interwoven it with her own romantic reveries.
 
Marla had been living her dreams for her.
 
Now, she was living on in the model’s place.

Steve broke into her thoughts by saying, “I’m glad to see you like your prison.”

Maria’s mouth swung shut as she looked up into his coldly cynical eyes.
 
It was disturbing for her to have been caught off-guard like that.
 
Her instinct was to repulse him with criticism of his home, but she could not bring herself to do this.

“It’s lovely,” was all that Maria could say in reply.

There was a smile in Steve’s eyes, but it did not touch his mouth.
 
This, in itself, made Maria feel humble.

She was an imposter, but she had liked this man.
 
If she had come into their relationship with truth, things might have been different right now.
 
Steve’s regard for her assessment of his home would have been natural, especially as the best friend of his brother’s fiancée.
 
The sad message she had to give to Tienne could have been delayed until she and Steve had gotten to know each other better.
 
There was even the slightest chance that their relationship could have deepened into something much more meaningful.
 
He might have shown her this lovely home, not as he was presenting it to a distrusted interloper, but as its future mistress.

Oh, those barely tangible possibilities.
 
How they served to hurt her now that they were lost without the possibility of being retrieved.
 
Regrets, regrets.

Many expressions passed across Maria’s face without her knowing it.
 
Nothing was lost on the keen observation of Steve DuPont.

He eyed the woman coolly for a moment, and then said, “Come.
 
I’ll show you to your room.”

Maria mutely followed him up the long, curving stairway.
 
She cast furtive glances around her, attempting to memorize every detail for the bittersweet memories she knew would pursue her long after she was gone.

The man led her down a long, rose-carpeted hallway at the top of the stairs.
 
One side was railed off from a sweeping view of the entry hall.
 
They passed several closed doors, painted white with gold-filigreed scrollwork.
 
Steve stopped before one of these to open the door.

With a flourish of his hand, he indicated the interior of the room and said, “
Voilà
.
 
Ton salon à
coucher
.”

“You speak French?” Maria asked in surprise.

“You might have noticed before.
 
I come from a French family and live in a bilingual area.
 
What about you?”

“No,” Maria was forced to concede.

“What a pity.
 
Well, it’s no matter.
 
Tienne can teach you if he likes.”

To avoid further discussion, Maria stepped into the room.
 
It was even more beautiful than she had expected.
 
This was the bedroom of a fairytale princess.

All dressed out in shades of mauve and white, the room was appointed with less elegance than the formal downstairs rooms, but nothing was spared to bring it comfort and luxury.
 
The canopied bed had a shining satin quilt with matching pillows.
 
The dainty Louis XIV armchair, desk, and vanity table revealed that the chamber was meant for a lady.

Maria turned to Steve and said, “I didn’t know that Tienne had a brother before you told me.
 
Do you have any other siblings?”

“No.
 
It’s just Tienne and me.
 
My brother had this room specially decorated just for you when he got back from
Paris
.
 
As you must remember, the
weddin
’ plans were never discussed in detail.
 
Your lack of curiosity always disturbed me, but my brother didn’t seem to mind.
 
He planned for you to stay here after he gave you your engagement ring.
 
By the way, in case you’re interested, the date of your marriage has been set for one week from today.”

Steve paused to note Maria’s reaction.
 
The sudden whiteness of her features told him all he wanted to know.

“Don’t even consider
makin
’ any changes,” he softly warned.
 
“Tienne has gone to a great deal of effort and expense to make this day perfect for you in every way.
 
I wouldn’t be a good brother if I allowed you to change any of his plans.
 
He wouldn’t be happy if you disappointed him.”

Maria managed to smile weakly in his direction as she replied, “I’m sure everything will work out to your satisfaction after I get to see your brother.”

Then, on a second thought, she added, “What about your parents?
 
Do they live here?”

“They have a townhouse in
New Orleans
now.
 
For a girl who’s engaged to marry my brother, you know
surprisin’ly
little about the family.”

“I guess I was too swept away by romance to ask.”

“Undoubtedly.”

A possible plan of escape occurred to Maria.
 
What she dared not tell the brother, she might more easily explain to the parents.

“Will you introduce me to them?” she asked.

“I’ll leave that for Tienne to do after they get back.”

“Get back?” Maria repeated as she felt her last hope dwindling away.

“Yes.
 
After my father retired from the business, he and my mother have always spent the winter in their home on the
Riviera
after New Year’s Day.”

That explained why Marla had not met Tienne’s parents when she was in
France
.
 
It did nothing to relieve her sense of frustration.

“Will they be coming back before the wedding?” she asked with no hope of receiving a satisfactory response.

“The day before.
 
Don’t worry.
 
Tienne will introduce you to them,”

“Shouldn’t I meet them before then?”

“You seem to place great stock in meeting your future in-laws, and I suppose that’s natural.
 
You don’t have to concern yourself over it.
 
My mother is a very gracious lady and my father is as enthralled by beauty as my brother appears to be.”

“How convenient for you,” was her dry
response.

“Come on,” said Steve. “You haven’t seen everything yet.”

Maria resigned herself to following him as he walked over to the lacily curtained French doors that led out onto the balcony.
 
Steve opened them as one with both hands and then stepped outside.

With a heavily laden heart, Maria joined him on the balcony.
 
Her eyes first went to Steve’s face which held a certain glint of suppressed diversion.
 
He was obviously reveling in her discomfort.

Maria looked away to focus on the view beyond the railing.
 
Her misgivings fell away.

For this, she would marry Tienne DuPont, if he could be as deceived by her pretense as his brother.
 
It was the final fulfillment of her dreams.

There, before her, beneath a high embankment, stretched a lazily drifting arm of the
Mississippi River
.
 
The early f1owers of springtime gave the scene a sweetly aromatic, heavenly sense of unreality.
 
Now the picture was complete.