Forever Waiting (15 page)

After dessert, the waiters ushered everyone out of the banquet hall so it could be rearranged for the ball. Some of the guests wandered into the drawing room and study for after-dinner drinks, while others left the house to stroll on the lawns or in the courtyard.

Charmaine accompanied the girls to the parlor, where their father introduced them to several of his guests. All were gracious. Helen Richecourt had learned both girls knew how to play the piano, and she asked Jeannette to play. Before long, a small audience had gathered around to listen as the twins took turns with their favorite pieces. Frederic looked on with pride, and Charmaine was satisfied she could take some credit for these two cultivated young ladies.

“Charmaine? Charmaine Ryan?”

She turned toward a couple she recognized. “Mr. and Mrs. Stanton! It is so good to see you!”

Raymond Stanton was a Richmond merchant and business associate of Joshua Harrington. He and his wife, Mary, had not attended the dinner, so Charmaine assumed they had just arrived for the ball.

“It is good to see you, too, dear,” Mary rejoined. “Loretta and Joshua asked us to look for you. They send their love.” She smiled, assessing Charmaine from head to toe. This polished young woman could not be the same insecure girl she’d met at the Harringtons a few years ago.

“I’m always pleased with news of the Harringtons. How are they?” Charmaine inquired, ignoring her discomfiture over the woman’s blatant perusal.

“Quite well and getting ready for a visit with Jeremy in Alexandria.”

“That’s wonderful. Travel will be much easier now it is spring.”

“Yes, yes,” Mary agreed, dismissing the topic, her eyes surveying the room. “My, this house is truly magnificent! What is it like to live in such opulence?”

Charmaine glanced over her shoulder. Frederic was only a few feet away and within earshot. “I enjoy my life on Charmantes, Mrs. Stanton. It is certainly very different than Richmond.”

“I’m sure you do. That Paul Duvoisin is quite a handsome fellow. I daresay, he must turn many a maid’s eye. Do you see him often?”

“Almost every day, Mrs. Stanton. He lives here, too.”

“And I see Mrs. London is with him tonight. That is quite surprising. The talk last year was that she was as good as engaged to his brother, John.”

Charmaine was about to speak, but Mary babbled on. “Is
he
here?”

“Yes … ” Charmaine sighed, as the woman’s eyes lit up.

“You’ll have to point him out to me. I’ve heard so much talk about him, but have yet to meet him. Raymond’s partners complain he can be quite difficult.”

Before Charmaine could respond, the twins came dancing over. She introduced them to the Stantons quickly, as Yvette was tugging on her arm. “Come, Mademoiselle Charmaine, let’s find Johnny!”

Mary’s eyebrow arched, but Charmaine quickly murmured an apologetic “good evening” and allowed Yvette to draw her into the foyer, relieved to be rescued from the busybody. When John was nowhere to be found, she suggested they return to the nursery to rest and freshen up.

George was miserable. He could not stop thinking about Mercedes and how he wished she were at his side this evening. John had tried in earnest to convince him to propose to her. The widow London’s threat of dismissal would be moot, and Mercedes would be free to attend the ball. But last night when George had walked Mercedes to her door, he’d grown cold feet, his tongue thick in his mouth. He knew he’d come off the utter oaf if he managed to stammer those four fateful words, but now, he regretted his cowardice.

As Frederic stepped onto the portico to share a cigar and talk politics and commerce with two gentlemen, he noticed Paul on the lawn with a small group of guests. Anne was still at his side. Frederic had been surprised when his son escorted the widow and not Charmaine Ryan to the dinner table. After his conversation with Paul some weeks ago, he was convinced Charmaine meant more to him than just a casual affair—that Paul intended to squire her tonight. And Jeannette had mentioned something about a new gown. So why had she appeared for dinner plainly dressed and with the twins by her side? Frederic thought back on his affairs with Agatha and Elizabeth and shuddered, uncomfortable his son was so much like him. He could only hope Paul wouldn’t make the same mistake.

John knocked on Mercedes’s door on the third floor. It opened partway, only her face visible, her eyes red and swollen. “You’ve been crying,” he said.

She looked away.

“I’ve come to take you to the ball.”

“But—I can’t,” she stammered. “Mrs. London will dismiss me if I dare.”

“She won’t make a scene. She’s trying too hard to impress my brother.”

“Really, I mustn’t. She will be furious and dismiss me in the morning.”

“I have a hunch it won’t matter tomorrow, Mercedes,” John replied with a crooked grin, “but if it puts you at ease, I will see to it you’re taken care of, one way or another. I’m in desperate need of a farrier at my plantation.”

She smiled, and the door opened completely. “Really?”

“I owe you this for ministering to Phantom.”

“But I haven’t anything appropriate to wear!”

“Sure you do,” John countered. “The armoire in Mrs. London’s dressing chamber must be packed with expensive gowns. Pick one she has never worn.”

Jeannette and Yvette began to fidget. The hum of voices and instruments tuning up drifted upstairs, and Charmaine could tell the crowd had grown larger. She and the twins watched from the balcony as carriage after carriage rolled up and men in top hats alighted, lending assistance to elegantly dressed women. The last one pulled away, and it was time to go down. As they stepped out the door, Charmaine took one last look at her lovely gown.

The twins charged jubilantly into the glittering ballroom. Couples were already on the dance floor, and the first number was coming to a close. George was partnered with a very pretty young lady. Her jet-black hair was tied back with a simple ribbon, her dress plain. She had to be an islander. Anne was dancing with Paul, her eyes fixed on his face, her arms ensnaring him whenever the cotillion brought them together. Though the woman irked her, Charmaine was indifferent to the sight of them in each other’s embrace. Perhaps she’d grown accustomed to seeing them together.

Robert Blackford stood in the shadows close to the orchestra and watched his sister. As the musicians tuned up for the first waltz, Agatha led Frederic to the dance floor, where she placed one possessive hand on his shoulder and the other on his waist. Her exquisite blood-red gown accentuated a curvaceous figure that every woman her age would envy. Her fine jewelry glittered in the light of the chandelier. Robert admired her anew. She was still beautiful, the most beautiful woman in the room. As Frederic stepped into the waltz, Robert fantasized … He crossed the room with an authoritative step, tapped Frederic’s shoulder, and took the man’s place. But now, as the couple drifted past him, his sister’s radiant face shattered his idyllic musings. Though Frederic worked hard at the cumbersome steps, Agatha’s eyes were suffused with pride, satisfaction, and love as she looked up at him. Yes, love was the word. After all these years, the truth struck Robert like a full broadside. His sister was, and always had been, in love with Frederic Duvoisin.

As the second waltz began, Yvette and Jeannette took to dancing together, until Yvette caught sight of Joseph Thornfield leaning against the wall holding a tray. She broke away, grabbed the tray, and deposited it on a table. She paired him off with her sister, prodding them to waltz together. They danced off awkwardly, much to the guests’ amusement.

A hush and then murmurs near the main archway caught Charmaine’s attention. John walked in with Mercedes on his arm. She wore a gorgeous tawny gown, her uncoiffed hair falling to her waist. She was stunning.

Charmaine felt betrayed, consumed with jealousy. Her eyes searched the dance floor to see George’s reaction, but he was still partnered with the black-haired girl.

Yvette ran over to her brother and pointed out Jeannette and Joseph. A smile broke across John’s face, but Mercedes’s gaze was riveted on George.

The music stopped. John grasped Mercedes’s elbow and led her to George, who was now quite alone. They exchanged a few words, and George’s smile widened when Mercedes fell in at his side. He placed a possessive hand on the small of her back, and Charmaine’s envy ebbed. Mercedes was beaming.

The three stood chatting until Rose grabbed John’s arm and pulled him into a Scottish reel. She broke into a spry step that belied her advanced years, and John had to work to keep up with her. They danced two more numbers before John wiped the sweat from his brow, and handed her off to George.

Charmaine felt miserable—isolated—anxious for her hour with the twins to be over so she could barricade herself in her room and cry herself to sleep.

Frederic was glad when the waltz ended. It had been a test of stamina, not only of body, but of mind. And now, as he walked off the dance floor and left Agatha with a clutch of prattling matrons and their vacuous conversation, he dropped his constrained smile.

A group of men were arguing heatedly in a corner of the room. He headed their way. “. . . no Percival, I’ll leave the first runs to you. You test the waters with
your
goods and
your
money.”

“Once Paul has an established market, there may not be space next year.”

“I’ll take my chances. There are always shippers out there.”

“Yes, but at what price? The Duvoisin fees are too gainful to decline.”

There were murmurs of agreement, quickly quelled when the first man pressed his point. “Yes, with a five-year commitment. I’ve heard too much talk of discord. Some say Frederic and John aren’t on speaking terms.”

“Advantageous to Paul—and anyone using his shipping line. He might very well take charge of his father’s fleet one day.”

The man grunted. “But in the interim, pandemonium may reign.”

Another man said, “I’ve watched the three of them together throughout the week. I’m not fond of John, but I haven’t heard one word that alarms me.”

“A word? No. But what about the hostile undercurrents? Even Paul has turned curt. I met him last year at Edward Richecourt’s office. He was quite affable then. I get the distinct impression he’s annoyed his brother is involved. I also think all three are presenting a grand façade for us.”

“When has John ever ‘presented a façade,’ Matthew? He doesn’t care—”

“When it involves money, and his fortune to boot, he cares. He loves to flaunt his wealth. Take that sign above his plantation gate. It must have cost—”

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Frederic interrupted, the small group falling silent. “Allow me to respond to some of your concerns.” He looked at the man who was arguing most vehemently and smiled. “You make a good point, Matthew. I would ask the same questions if I were in the market for an intercontinental carrier. John and I have often disagreed—it stems from a desire to be in charge—but those disagreements have never adversely affected Duvoisin business. You see, I respect John’s judgment as surely as I do Paul’s. During the ten years he has been in charge in America, my assets have more than tripled there.” Frederic paused, allowing his words to sink in. “Nevertheless, John is not the issue here, Paul is.
His
fleet of ships,
his
shipping concern, the routes
he
has set up, are just that—
his
. Everything you have seen this week, he has planned and built on his own. The only help I’ve provided is financial backing. Neither John nor I will have any dealings with his enterprise, other than to give advice when and if he asks for it. In fact, that should be your primary concern, Matthew—that Paul does, in fact, ask. This area of Duvoisin business is fairly new to him. John has dealt with most of the shipping thus far, and knows, even better than I, the ins and outs that make it lucrative, not only for the Duvoisin family, but for the brokers who utilize his transport. It is the main reason he is here this week—to share his knowledge.”

“Frederic, I meant no offense.”

“No offense taken,” Frederic replied expansively. “Your objectivity in reviewing all aspects of these contracts indicates a sound business mind.” He extended a hand to the gentleman, then shook each in turn. “Now, if you have any other concerns, please come to me. That is why you’ve been invited here.”

Anne was incensed. Her personal lady’s maid had waltzed by in the arms of her smitten suitor, George Richards, wearing
her
finest gown, a gown she had yet to wear, a gown that had cost a small fortune. Her couturier had designed it expressly for her, and she had been saving it for Mass tomorrow, determined to surpass tonight’s stunning effect. That plan was foiled now, and Anne’s blood boiled. How dare she? How dare that snip of a girl deliberately flout her mistress’s authority? Anne inhaled deeply, holding the violent breath for untold seconds.
Well, Mercedes Wells … you will regret coming down here! On Monday, after all the guests have departed, I will dismiss you. Then you shall see how dearly your beau cares for you!