Southern Seduction (21 page)

“She died of consumption, I’m afraid,” he said sadly.

“I’m so sorry,” Brooke murmured, glimpsing his pain.

“Don’t be sorry for me, my dear.
For I have my memories,” he said, reaching across the table and patting her hand. “But I will say, however, that you do know what love is like."

Brooke frowned, and Mr. Jeffries went on.
"Remember how you felt when you had to say good-bye to Jocelyn and Shannon?"

"It was very sad to leave my friends.
But is that love?"

"Well, my dear, if you hadn't loved them you wouldn't have cared that they were leaving, nor would it have mattered what happened to them.”

"This is true. But surely it must be different between a man and woman.”

Mr. Jeffries patted her hand again.
“It is the same, yet different -- more powerful. Don’t fret over this, my dear. You’ll know when you’re in love,” he assured her before he stood. "If you will excuse me, this old man must rest his weary bones. I assume I have the same room?"

Brooke nodded.

"Then I shall retire, and I will see you when we are ready to leave for the church." He headed for the door, but stopped and reached for something inside his coat. He extracted an envelope. "I almost forgot. Jocelyn sent you a letter."

Brooke smiled with anticipation.
In fact, she couldn't stop smiling. Her melancholy suddenly vanished as she took the envelope from him.

"Thank you so much for bringing this to me," she said as she hurried out behind him, seeking her room before reading the letter.
Now that she had an address for her friend, she’d finally be able to keep up with Jocelyn and share with her everything that had happened.

Once in the privacy of her room, Brooke scurried over to the rose-colored chair. Barely containing her excitement, she opened the letter, unfolded the parchment paper, and began to read.

Dear Brooke,

I hope this letter finds you well. I picture you as a queen in her new home without a care in the world. If anybody deserves something good to happen to her, you do. Shannon sends her love. Yesterday, she boarded the train that will take her part of the way to her new home. From there, she’ll have to travel by stagecoach which her new employer arranged.

However, you will not believe what she told me before she left . . . it seems Mr. Griffin stated in his advertisement that he wanted an older woman to care for his children.
So Shannon lied about her age to get the position. Can you believe she did such a thing? Sometimes I wonder if she has a brain in her head. I worry about what will happen once she arrives and the man discovers that she isn't the old woman she claimed to be.

"Oh, my goodness," Brooke exclaimed to the empty room.
"What has that child gotten herself into?"

Shannon would be too far away for either she or Jocelyn to help, Brooke realized.
Then Brooke thought of something else. How could any man with blood in his body send Shannon away? And Shannon was feisty, with a lot of fight in her. She would most certainly stand up to the man despite her lie about her age. Brooke shook her head. Knowing there wasn't anything she could do, she went back to reading the letter.

As for me, I have found a room in a nice boardinghouse.
The lady who runs the place is a bit bossy, so I have to ignore her. She is also very nosey. I choose not to answer her personal, questions though she has many. However, the good news is -- tomorrow I'm going to talk with a Mr. Peter Parley about working at his small magazine. He seems to need help as he suffers with the gout, so wish me luck.

I will write more when I can.
In the meantime write to me at my new address and let me know what is going on in your new life. I’m sure it’s wonderful, and not nearly as disorganized as mine. You always knew what you wanted from the start.

I miss you so much and look forward to the day the
three of us can see each other again.

Love,

Jocelyn

Brooke sighed and placed the letter in her lap. She might have known what she wanted, but what she got was far more than she had bargained for. She'd give anything to be able to talk to Jocelyn and Shannon and tell them about all her doubts and fear. They had always looked to her as if she had the answers to everything, and yet, Brooke lacked any of the answers she needed for herself.

Since there was time before she had to dress for the wedding, Brooke sat down to write to Jocelyn.
Brooke poured her heart into the letter . . . all her doubts and fears, and then she told her friend about Travis.

When she finally placed the pen down, she realized that some of her jitters had fled.
She also realized that she hadn’t reported one bad thing about Travis.

Could the man be growing on her?
Surely, she wouldn’t be so foolish as to fall in love with him?

"It's time t’
gets ready, Miz Brooke," Millie Anne called out as she knocked on the door.

Brooke had been lolling in a hip tub, trying to relax.
If felt as if every muscle in her body was tied in a knot. Never would she have dreamed that she'd be nervous about getting married. The closer the time drew near, the more the butterflies multiplied in her stomach. "Come in, Millie Anne."

The girl hurried in and held out a bath sheet.
Brooke stepped out of the tub and wrapped the sheet around herself.

"Aren’t you real excited?"
Millie Anne asked.

Brooke half-laughed.
"Is that what all these butterflies are?"

"Yes
’um," Millie answered. She strode over to the wardrobe and fluffed the skirts of Brooke's gown. "Dis is real pretty. Mr. Montgomery is gonna be speechless when he see you."

Brooke slipped into her satin chemise trimmed with pink ribbons, then stepped over to the dressing table.
"I can't imagine me ever striking Travis speechless.” She chuckled. “He seems to find an abundance of words when I'm around."

“But he’s mighty taken wit
’ yo’ just de same,” Millie Anne persisted. “I can tell.”

Brooke let the comment pass.
She would let the girl have her illusions because she knew better.

"Let's fix your hair," Millie Anne said, grabbing the hairbrush from the table.
She brushed Brooke's hair until it shone like gold threads.

As Millie Anne fussed, another knock came on the door, followed by Mammy carrying a basket full of flowers and a bouquet, drawing Brooke’s attention.
"I broug't de orange blossoms fo' your hair and your bouquet."

"The flowers are beautiful, but where did you find them?" Brooke asked as she held an orange blossom to her nose, breathing in the soft fragrance.

"To be sure, we’ve our own greenhouse. Su’prised you've not seen it yet, no."

“After this is over, I’ll make sure to see it.
Are you coming to my wedding?"

Mammy shook her head.
"I'll be servin’ at de reception. Prosper's been fixin' food all day. And, tell you de trut’, I better get back t’ help him," she said, smiling. "You look real pretty, you hear. Don’t you worry. Ever’t’in’s gonna be fine, yes."

Brooke gave her an affectionate smile. "I'll try."
For just a brief second, Brooke thought she saw a tear in the old woman’s eyes. Then Mammy turned and left.

Millie began to weave orange blossoms into Brooke’s hair as she twisted the long curls up onto the crown of her head and fastened them with pins.
"I’ve gots a short veil t’ pin on your head, but you’d best slip on your gown first," Millie Anne suggested.

Brooke didn’t argue.
She felt like a puppet going thought the motions of a play. None of this seamed real. She felt that any minute someone would burst into the room and tell her that Travis had changed his mind and wouldn’t be at the church. God, what a thought. What if she went to the church and he wasn’t there?

She’d kill him!

No, wait! Calm down
, she told herself. It was just the jitters. And it wasn’t as though she really cared for Travis, she reminded herself. She looked down at her hand and saw the ruby ring twinkling up at her. He had purchased the ring for her, not Hesione, and something inside Brooke felt good and special every time she looked at it. The ring had been purchased just for her. She liked that special feeling, and she needed to hang on to it to get her through the day.

She put on the cream-colored silk slip, smoothing it over the petticoats.
Brook settled the bodice just off her shoulders and shrugged it into place. The top fit snugly, showing off her small waist, something she always been proud of. Tiny pearls had been sewn into the lace across the bodice and down the front of the dress and into all the folds.

Millie Anne pinned on the short veil, and Brooke was ready.
Millie Anne kept telling her how beautiful she was until Brooke finally began to believe that she had made a lovely bride. Still, she really needed to do something about these jitters.

She thought about stopping for a stiff drink of something, but then chided herself for being such a coward.
Instead, she walked down the stairs like a queen with her head held high.

The carriage and Mr. Jeffries were waiting for her out front of the plantation house.
The carriage was sleek, black and pulled by four white stallions. It made a splendid slight, reminding her of something Jackson would have done. Perhaps, Travis was more like his father than he was willing to admit.

Brooke had to sit on one side of the carriage to keep from crushing her full gown.
Mr. Jeffries sat across from her. He beamed over at her as if he were pleased everything was turning out as though it had been planned from the start.

Brooke leaned against the seat back and kept her thoughts to herself as they rode to the church.
Her mind tumbled thought over thought as she stared out of the window. She was excited, in spite of herself. But what if Travis should find out about her previous life? Of course, there would be no way he could possibly find out, she tried to convince herself. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him.

She wondered what tonight would bring.
She might as well be a virgin, she was so nervous. Tonight, she was going to allow herself to feel and enjoy her new husband, because he would be hers after today.

"We're here," Mr. Jeffries announced, breaking into her musings.
"Would you like for me to escort you down the aisle?"

"That would be wonderful," Brooke said, breathing a sigh of relief.
"I'm not sure my legs will hold me."

Jeffries laughed.
"My dear, you look like you are going to your execution, instead of your wedding,” he chided before she left the carriage. “Perhaps, you should try to smile as you walk down the aisle to your new husband."

Brooke drew in a deep breath, pinched her cheeks for color, and nibbled at her lips for the same reason.
Then she lifted her skirts and allowed Mr. Jeffries to help her as she climbed the several steps to the covered doorway.

As soon as the doors were thrown open and the music began, Brooke pasted a smile on her face and clutched Mr. Jeffries arm as it was the only thing that kept her from turning around and running out of the church.

Everyone turned and watched her enter, but Brooke saw none of them. What she did see was a tall, handsome man waiting for her at the altar . . . and he was smiling . . . at her.

Travis was dressed all in black except for a snow-white vest to soften the color.
He presented a compelling figure -- she couldn’t deny that. But it was his blue eyes that held her with each step she took. There was naked hunger in his eyes that fascinated her, frightened her, yet made her want to find out more about what the man was hiding behind his ice-blue eyes.

No matter how compelling he was, she vowed that she would not allow him to walk all over her.
Brooke tossed her head defiantly, shaking out long, golden tresses that should have stayed pinned up. Her hair was just too heavy to behave, and instead, scattered around her shoulders.

God, she is beautiful
, Travis thought with appreciation as his gaze lingered on Brooke as she advanced down the aisle toward him. She looked nervous, and that pleased him. Tonight, Brooke would belong to him. Tonight, he’d taste those full lips until he had his fill.

It was about time.
Brooke learned that he would be the master in this marriage.

As Travis watched her come toward him, he recognized that stubborn chin lifting.
Defiant as
usual, he thought with a wry smile. Did she have any idea how bewitching she looked at this moment?

And then Brooke was standing beside him.
Her hair had tumbled down, he noticed. So like her, defiant to the end. He liked that, but he wanted to see her face, so he lifted the gossamer veil.