To Love a Scoundrel (32 page)

"That's all right." Harry laughed, genuinely amused by the childish curiosity that seemed so much a part of the younger Connors's personality. "Many people wonder the same thing."

"That may be, sir," Brent said, decidedly unamused, "but how many of them are idiotic enough to ask you about it?"

Again Harry laughed. "Please do not concern yourself about Beau's curiosity. I find it refreshing." He turned to the younger brother. "Yes, son, it is quite real. In fact, this particular diamond was a gift to me from the Prince of Wales."

"Whales?" Beauregard began to laugh. "Where in tarnation is that?"

"Not
whales,
son,
Wales.
Let me explain..."

As Harry spoke to Beau, Brent observed the pair, concentrating on his brother's reactions to their 'esteemed' guest. Then he realized Jewel was speaking to him.

"I'm sorry, Jewel. Did you say something?"

"Yes," she said, ignoring the lively discussion between Beau and Harry. "I think your father has fallen asleep."

Brent glanced to his right, then looked back to Jewel. "Happens often. Perhaps I ought to take you two to your rooms now and let you freshen up. The womenfolk should be coming downstairs before too long. You might want to take a short nap yourself before you meet the rest of my little family," he added with a wink.

"They can't be as, well, as—" For lack of respectful word, she glanced at Beau and raised her eyebrows.

"Worse," Brent said through a chuckle.

"Then perhaps I'd best retire for a short while." She laughed along with him as she rose from the chair. Her amusement soon died as she took another look at Raiford Connors. In sleep he appeared even more fragile, and so close to the end of his life that she wondered how his sons would bear to look at him. Again she fretted—how could Brent possibly subject his father to the scene between Harry and his mother? How could he allow the poor man to discover that he was a cockold?

Abruptly turning away from Brent, she snapped at Harry. "Let's go to our rooms, Faathah. I suddenly have a headache."

"Probably the mint julep, my dear," Harry said, oblivious of her sudden anger. "Is it possible you did not realize you swallowed a dash of Kentucky whiskey in that very refreshing drink? Perhaps it didn't agree with you."

"Perhaps," she agreed, tired of the charade, dreading the inevitable confrontations to come. "In any event, I'd like to rest now."

"Of course." Harry finished his drink, then joined her and Brent.

As the group started on through the library, Brent issued an order to Beau. "Go on ahead and round up Maxwell. Have him take Dad to bed. He'll need plenty of rest if he's going to join his company at the supper table tonight."

After waiting until his brother was out of earshot, Brent explained to the Poindexters as they made their way to the stairway, "You'll have to forgive Beauregard's lack of common sense. He means well, but even at twenty-four years of age, I'm afraid he's still got a heap of growing to do."

"Oh, I think he's delightful," Harry said with a laugh. "You don't often find an innocent sort like him."

"No," Brent said, barely able to hold back a knowing sneer. "I don't suppose you do." He had turned to Jewel and was about to show her the way up the winding stairway when a feminine voice called to him from above.

Like the whistle on the
Delta Dawn
, she spoke in a rare combination of five tones. Sweet, soft, and lilting, Miriam Sebastian Connors's voice could also carry an underlying strength and the distinct crack of a cat-o' -nine-tails.

"Why, it is you, Brent," she said, using only the first three tones. As she made her way down the steps, her soft gray eyes widened and she gasped, "And I see you've brought some friends home with you."

Chapter 15

Three pairs of eyes glanced up to the top landing where the sound of gently rustling crinolines heralded the descent of an ethereal figure. The flounced hem of Miriam's white muslin wrapper swished back and forth, lightly dusting the hardwood steps as she made her way toward the trio, her ghostlike appearance becoming more dense with each step she took.

"Sorry if we disturbed you, Mama," Brent said, climbing several steps to greet her midway. "I brought some folks home with me. I do hope you don't mind the surprise."

"Not at all, son," Miriam said as she kissed his cheek and allowed him to escort her down to the foyer.

Jewel's gaze flitted from Harry to the woman, and back to Harry as she looked for some sign of shock, recognition, fear, or a combination of all three. She saw Miriam's cool, clear appraisal of her, but no acknowledgment of the man standing beside her. By the time the Connors's were within a few feet of the Bentons, Jewel's heart was thundering in her ears, and her mouth was dry with anticipation.

Brent, amazingly calm and collected, smiled at her and said, "I'd like to present my mother, Miriam Sebastian Connors. Mama, this is Jewel Poindexter and her father, Harrison."

"A pleasure to meet you, dear," Miriam purred, lightly touching Jewel's hand before she finally looked at Harry and extended her greeting. "Sir, welcome to our home. I do hope you both understand and forgive the state of disrepair. These have been trying times."

"The honor is mine, madam," Harry responded as he lightly kissed the back of her hand. "And never apologize for a stately mansion like Sumner Hall, Mrs. Connors. It is truly one of the finest showplaces I've ever had the pleasure of visiting."

Jewel's gaze, piercing and perceptive, remained riveted on the pair as they exchanged pleasantries. She studied the handsome woman, looking for some glimmer of surprise, but her countenance was serene and contained no more than a casual interest in her guests. Miriam's features, alive with animation, were, Jewel decided, nearly a mirror image of her older son, right down to the dimples. But there the resemblance ended. Where Brent's hair was dark, as his father's had once been, Miriam's curly locks were faded blond, almost washed out in appearance. Her pale gray eyes were almond shaped and thoughtful, whereas her son's, honey brown in color, were round and playful.

Jewel stared into those silver eyes, forcing herself to forget the son and search instead for signs of familiarity with Harry. But the woman remained warm, polite and not much interested in the dashing stranger. Had Harry been so well disguised during his assignation with her that he was now unrecognizable? If so, what about Harry himself? Where was the shock of discovering he was in the home of a former paramour?

Miriam abruptly turned her pale eyes back to Jewel, lighting the first sparks in their depths since she'd reached the landing. Again touching her hand, she said, "You'll be staying to supper, I hope?"

Brent drew up close to Jewel as he addressed his mother. "I have extended our hospitality through the entire night, Mama. I do hope that won't inconvenience you."

"Oh?" Miriam glanced at her son, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, then looked back at Jewel. "No trouble at all. It's been too long since we had guests at Sumner Hall." Focusing her attention on her auburn-haired guest, she offered a deep-dimpled smile. "I expect you'll want to go to your room right away to freshen up and change into something a little cooler."

Jewel waved her off as she said, "Oh, thank you, Mrs. Connors, but I'm afraid I've brought nothing to change into. My, ah, luggage and other clothing—"

"It's a very long story, Mama," Brent cut in, saving Jewel the trouble of making up yet another story.

"Well, then," Miriam said, her amused gaze swinging between her son and Jewel, "perhaps we'd better save it for later. I think Mary Mildred will be able to find something suitable for your guest to wear."

"Oh, but I couldn't," Jewel objected.

"Nonsense," Miriam insisted. "The girls have an abundance of frocks. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to run into the kitchen and see about supper. Brent? Would you mind showing the Poindexters to—Oh, by the way," she said, interrupting herself as she turned back to Harry, "you wouldn't be related to the Tennessee Poindexters by any chance, would you?"

"No, madam, but I understand they are a lovely family."

"Yes, they are lovely indeed," she agreed, before resuming her conversation with Brent. "Son, would you mind seeing your guests to their rooms now? And do stop by Mary Mildred's room and see about a dress for your friend."

Brent frowned, then narrowed one eye in warning as he assured his mother, "We were just heading upstairs. I'll join you downstairs in a few minutes."

"Good. I need to go over the books with you. See you all later, then," she said, patting Brent's arm as she nodded to her guests and glided down toward the hallway.

"Lovely woman," Harry commented as he started up the long staircase. "You have a lovely family, Brent, and an extraordinary home. You must be very proud of them."

"I am, sir, and I thank you for your opinion of them," he answered, guiding Jewel toward the top landing. At the apex, the hallway branched off to both sides, leaving a short walk straight ahead to the gilded double doors leading to the master bedroom suite. Brent led Harry and Jewel to the right down the carpeted path to the guest rooms, where he opened the first in a series of elaborate hand-carved doors.

"I think you'll be comfortable in here, Harry."

"Yes, yes, quite, I should think," Benton concurred as he stepped across the threshold and took in the small but well-appointed room.

"If you should require any assistance," Brent offered, "simply pull the cord just outside your door. Maxwell will see to your needs as soon as he can. We are a bit shorthanded, so don't be surprised it it takes him a while to arrive."

"Don't give it another thought," Harry said, waving him off as he resumed his financial appraisal of the Connors family.

"If you come downstairs in about an hour," Brent said, "you and I can have a bourbon before supper. Turn left at the foot of the steps and you'll run into the study."

"I'd be delighted. I'll see you in one hour."

With a nod, Brent closed the door, then grabbed Jewel's hand. "Come on," he said under his breath as he pulled her down the hallway, "you and I have a couple of things to straighten out before the girls wake up."

When he reached a door with a large white magnolia painted in the center, he pushed it open and dragged her inside the room. After checking up and down the hallway to make certain it was still deserted, Brent closed the door and gestured for her to follow him to the window.

Whispering conspiratorially, he said, "It looks like old Harry is a lot more cunning than I first thought. He didn't even blink when I introduced him. Shouldn't we have gotten more fireworks than that?"

"Well..." she hesitated, still appalled by the whole plan and Brent's apparent lack of compassion where his father was concerned. "Yes, I suppose I expected them to be startled at the very least."

"Then how come Harry wasn't recognized? Could he have worn some kind of disguise when he lifted the jewels?"

Jewel shrugged. "He's been described in so many ways that it's difficult to get a clear picture of him from his victims. Even so, Brent." She took a moment to examine her choice of words. "Son't you think your mother, or any other woman he'd been with, would have shown at least some sign of recognition?"

"My mother? What do you mean by 'been with,' and why in hell would she recognize Harry?"

Jewel heaved a frustrated sigh as again she looked for the correct words. "Something should have clued her. His voice, something in his eyes, the way he kissed her hand. A woman doesn't forget subtle little things like that once she's been a man's lover."

"What?"

"Shush." She glanced around as if she expected the door to bang open. "I thought you wanted to keep this little meeting secret."

"I do, but talk sense. What's all this about lovers and mothers?"

Jewel furrowed her brow and took a backward step. "Why, your mother and her little fling with Harry, what else?"

Brent's eyes widened and bulged. "Have you gone completely mad? How can you even
think
such a thing?"

Taking a couple more backward steps, she stammered, "B-but I thought that's what this was all about. I thought Harry stole your mother's jewelry and that we were going to get them back."