The Barefoot Bride (39 page)

"Nonsense," Eugenia cut her off. "I owe Chickadee thanks for saving the dinner. The very least I can do is allow her to make whatever changes she wishes."

Having been given permission, Chickadee smiled smugly at Hester and then went to Max's table. "Git up, Cynthia."

Cynthia withered in her chair. "But... but I don't want to change seats with anyone." She smiled up at Max, her eyes begging him to assist her.

But Max was grinning at Chickadee and wondering what she was up to. He'd been glad to have been seated by the lovely Cynthia, but the green twinkle in Chickadee's eyes made her plans for him seem much more amusing.

"You ain't a-settin' by Max, Cynthia. Yore cousin Bunny's gwine set here with him." She looked up and caught her friend's surprised gaze. "Bunny, come on over here."

Bunny blushed deeply, but realizing it would do little good to argue with Chickadee, she went to Max's table.

"Now git up, Cynthia," Chickadee repeated. "Git up or I'll—"

"I'll see you after dinner, Max," Cynthia blurted, her ivory complexion splotched with fiery red as she went to the chair Bunny had vacated.

Once Bunny was seated beside Max, Chickadee proceeded to her own chair. "You the duke?" she asked the man who was standing by Saxon. "The feller all this frolickin's gwine on fer?" When he nodded, she picked up his hand, pumping it vigorously. And then, remembering Saxon's instructions to be extra polite to Lord Cavendish, she reached out and slapped the duke's back as good friends often do.

A loud, horrified gasp rose from the crowd, many people shaking their heads, others covering their faces with their napkins. Some even slithered from their chairs as if they wanted nothing more than to hide beneath the table, embarrassed no end that the duke was being treated in such a fashion.

"I heared yore a lord, but you ain't
my
Lord," Chickadee continued. "I'll be nice to you and all that, but I ain't s'posed to bow to you or nothin', am I? Cain't do that, y'know, Mr. Duke. Cain't do it on account o' I don't bow to nobody but God, and you ain't Him."

Lord Cavendish frowned fiercely. The ripple of whispers in the room gave way to an ominous hush as Time itself seemed suspended.

Then, his deep brown eyes closing, his lips twitching, the Duke of Amherst threw back his head and laughed out loud.

Chapter 21

After a dessert of warm oatmeal cookies, the guests returned to the ballroom. Araminta, however, lingered in the dining room, Thelma, Hester, Eleanor, and Millicent circled around her. The four matrons were still chilly toward her, but as Araminta unfolded her seemingly infallible plan, they all listened avidly.

"Queen Eugenia has lost her crown tonight, ladies," she said. "Society cannot,
must not
ever forgive her for condoning that mountain twit's behavior."

Thelma fiddled with her ruby ring. "But the duke—"

"His grace's exquisite manners are the sole reason for his congeniality to that girl," Araminta injected smoothly. "He cannot very well show his real feelings if he believes that hill person is accepted here."

"True," Hester whispered thoughtfully.

Araminta slid her cane through her fingers. "And even if he
were
drawn to her for some ridiculous reason, Lord Cavendish does not live here. He will be departing for England soon."

"We, unfortunately, must stay and endure her," Millicent hissed. "For though she seems to have changed in some subtle ways, she remains as uncivilized as she was the day she arrived. When she slapped the duke's back... well, I almost died! And Saxon doesn't appear to be the least ruffled over—"

"Saxon," Araminta broke in, "believes he has made a lady of her. He has spent hours trying to educate her. He sees this night as her debut or some such nonsense, and hopes it will mean her acceptance into society. I'm sure none of you want that to happen."

"But how can we prevent it?" Thelma asked.

"There really are people besides Eugenia who seem to be warming toward her," Eleanor whined. "I heard several guests talking about her beauty and grace. And many people enjoyed that crude meal she made."

"We will bring about her failure ourselves and prove to everyone she is unworthy of their approval," Araminta announced. "And we will use Saxon to do it."

The women frowned in confusion.

"What is the one thing that girl has expressly forbidden us to do?" Araminta slyly asked.

The matrons frowned again.

"Hasn't she threatened to...
meller
each of us if we dare blacken Saxon's name?" Araminta reminded them and smiled when the women nodded. "Then we shall goad her into it. We shall—"

"You mean let her hit us?" Eleanor asked, shocked.

"I doubt it will come to that," Araminta said and tapped her brooch. "I believe all she will do is abuse us verbally. And we will push her into losing her temper by slandering Saxon. Oh, I realize it will take some time to do since he has drilled all those manners into her, but I cannot believe he has changed her through and through. She became aggravated with you at dinner, didn't she, Hester?"

Hester raised her chin. "That little heathen—"

"Exactly my point," Araminta said. "Beneath her elegant exterior, there still lies a heathen. Her natural tendencies will overpower her newly learned social graces, and once people witness the fit she'll throw, they'll realize she is unworthy of—"

"But Araminta," Millicent interrupted, "if people hear us trying to annoy her, they won't blame her for her reaction. Why, they may defend her right to be angry!"

"Not if our insults are for her ears only," Araminta explained. "You see, we must whisper them to her in passing. We can catch her when she's alone for a moment, or when she's walking by. Any time will do as long as there is no one else around to hear. And once we've planted the seeds of wrath in her mind, we'll rush away before she has time to retaliate. If we can keep her simmering throughout the evening, I am certain she will explode before the night is over. No one will understand her sudden rage, and all will condemn her violent behavior!"

"And if she accuses us of provoking her," Thelma ventured, "we will act as innocent as newborn babies. No one will believe her. Society has known
us
longer that it has known
her."

"Besides that," Eleanor said, "most everyone has heard the gossip about her anyway. And as for those who have not, we can make sure they hear it tonight. Everyone will think about her past behavior, add it to what she does this evening, and that will be the end of her!"

The matrons smiled at Araminta and gathered close to perfect the plan that would bring about the downfall of the Appalachian princess.

Saxon, blithely unaware of the vicious scheming taking place mere yards from where he stood, was again searching for Chickadee. She'd mumbled something about a surprise for him, and before he'd understood what she meant, she'd disappeared into the crowd. He strode across the marble room, his anticipation and apprehension rising steadily.

But when he finally found her, saw the new arrival she was escorting into the ballroom, his anxiety was replaced with astonishment. His legs might as well have turned to stone, for he could not move them. The other guests were in awe also, every pair of eyes in the room directed at Chickadee and the young woman she was embracing.

The girl was beautiful, her loveliness rivaling that of any woman in the room. She wore a dazzling gown of violet silk that matched her eyes perfectly. Her ebony hair was arranged in tiny ringlets, some swept up to the top of her head to form a soft bed for her crown of flowers, the rest cascading to her alabaster shoulders.

Desdemona.

As his sister floated toward him, Saxon tried to swallow but discovered his throat was as paralyzed as his legs. Why had he never noticed Desdemona's elegance or her arresting features? Was this vision really the painfully shy and reclusive Desdemona?

"Well, Saxon," Chickadee said, "what do you thank about this purty little surprise I had Candy brang fer you?"

"I... Desdemona, I can't believe it's really you," Saxon stammered, his eyes widening when he saw his sister blush. Blushing, of all things! This girl who never spoke, who rarely showed emotion, was actually blushing!

"Now go on, Desi," Chickadee prompted.

Desdemona found the encouragement she sought in the mountain girl's sparkling eyes. Her own eyes fluttered closed briefly before she reached for Saxon's hand, squeezed it gently, and gave him a tremendous smile.

Chickadee laughed at Saxon's disbelief. "Lord o' mercy, outlander, yore shet up tighter'n a mornin' glory! Ain't you gwine say nothin'?"

"Does... does she talk too?"

"We ain't got that fur yet, but we're a-workin' on it, ain't that right, Desi?"

To Saxon's utter amazement, Desdemona nodded.

"Keely, how did you do this?" he asked. "What have you been doing? How—"

"Been a-spendin' ever' bit o' time I can with her, outlander. I talk and talk and talk to her. We near about finished that quilt we been a-makin', and I sang to her whilst we re a-sewin' on it. It don't really matter what all you do with her as long as you do it. She likes ever'thang." She patted Desdemona's cheek. "All right now Desi, what'd I tell you to do next?"

Desdemona turned to look at the dance floor and trembled slightly before she walked toward it, pulling Saxon behind her. Then she looked back at Chickadee and grinned at what her sister-in-law was doing.

Chickadee, in an effort to remind Desdemona of what she was supposed to do, was holding out her arms as if there were a man enfolded between them. She waltzed alone, oblivious to the snickers around her, and was intent on urging Desdemona to copy her actions.

And Desdemona took the cue, slipping her arms around Saxon and moving her feet to the rhythm of the music. Her concentration was evident in her stiff body and in the way she bent her head to watch what her feet were doing.

When he realized how hard she was trying, Saxon snapped out of his silence and lifted her chin. "Let me see your face, sweetheart. Just look at me and let me do all the work." His heart did a flip-flop when she nodded and, ever so slowly, slid her hand up his neck to rest it on his cheek.

Immediately, he stopped dancing. "You remember," he whispered. "Your hand... on my cheek. You loved to put it there when you were a child."

She smiled, her eyes bright with emotion.

"Oh, Desdemona," was all he could manage to say. Holding her close, he swept her across the marble floor, his mind swirling with joy at this wonderful change in her.

Chickadee watched them with the same joy. But her pleasure faded when Hester sidled up to her.

"He looks ridiculous out there," the woman said too softly for anyone but Chickadee to hear. "A waltz should be danced slowly. Saxon looks like he's dancing a jig. Ridiculous. Simply ridiculous." With that, Hester scurried away.

Chickadee started after her but thought better of it. Saxon had warned her about keeping her temper, and that was exactly what she would try to do. Still, it was only with extreme effort that she managed to subdue her anger.

"You've wrought a miracle in Desdemona," Bunny said as she joined Chickadee. "I never believed I'd see what I'm seeing now."

"Desi don't differ from nobody else, Bunny," Chickadee said, still glaring at Hester's retreating back. "She jist needed love and a jag o' pushin' in the right direction."

Bunny's eyes embraced her friend. "I don't imagine Desdemona will ever forget this night, nor will I. I admit I was flustered when you made Cynthia change seats with me, but thanks to you, Max and I got to know one another. We've much in common. We like the same writers, plays, and performers, and we both enjoy composing our own poetry!"

Chickadee nodded in satisfaction. "He say anythang about a-wantin' to see you agin?"

"Well, I told him you and I had been taking long, brisk walks together, and he wants to take one with me tomorrow in the Common! All thanks to you."

"Bunny, I done tole you he jist needed to know you better!"

As the song ended, Bunny went in search of Max, and Chickadee clapped wildly for Desdemona and Saxon.

"You should pat your hands together lightly when applauding," Millicent said quietly over Chickadee's shoulder. "Didn't that imbecile you married teach you anything?"

Chickadee gasped but bit back her hot retort as she watched Millicent melt into the crowd. When she turned around again, she saw Saxon and Desdemona coming toward her.

"Did you see Desdemona out there, Keely? Oh, little one," Saxon whispered, bursting with the need to tell her of his love, "you've no idea how much I—"

"Lord o' mercy, Desi!" Chickadee shouted, reaching out to steady the girl who'd become as white as the alabaster pillar beside her. "You this weared out after jist one dance? Hep me git her to a char, Saxon."

As he led his trembling sister to the row of chairs, Saxon was reminded once again how very frail she was. She would undoubtedly take sick from all the excitement of tonight and have to swallow gallons of her medicines to be well again. Dammit, every time he wanted to tell Chickadee how he felt about her, something happened to stop him!