Indigo (17 page)

Galen grinned. It felt so good to have her near again. "Frederick and I made arrangements with a farmer at a house back up the road. He promised to hold the animal and the wagon until I send a man for it tomorrow."

LeVeq had already draped tarps over a portion of the bench like seats inside the coach to protect the fine velvet covering from the mud clinging to the new passengers. While he transferred the trunks from the wagon to the boot of the coach, Hester took a seat across from Foster and Jenine, who were whispering and nestling like lovebirds. Hester tried to ignore them, preferring to concentrate instead upon the interior's gleaming wooden panels carved with dragons. Galen entered shortly thereafter, and settled onto the undraped portion of the seat beside her.

Hester could not get over his elegant attire. The voluminous great coat appeared expensive and well made. Beneath it she glimpsed a gray silk waistcoat and a cravat the color of snow. On the seat between them lay an elegant black walking stick. He used the golden crown to tap the roof, and the coach pulled away.

"I apologize for the tarp, but I recently had the interior redone."

For the first time, Hester noted that the seats were the color of indigo. Her startled eyes flew to Galen's. He met her gaze with a slight smile. "I had a difficult time finding the exact shade I had in mind. What do you think of my choice, Miss Wyatt? I'd appreciate your opinion as a woman."

Hester surveyed the plush indigo fabric and replied, "I think you chose well, Mr. Vachon."

Hester sensed herself being drawn into Galen's spell. She was glad to hear Foster ask, "Why did you decide to settle in Whittaker, Vachon? Surely a man of your class could afford to live elsewhere."

"True, but I've recently relocated some of my business to Detroit. It would be simpler to live there but I enjoy the solitude Whittaker offers. How long have you lived in Whittaker, Mr. Quint?"

"Just a few years. I'm Canadian by birth."

"How long have you and Mrs. Quint been married?"

Jenine replied shyly, "Less than two weeks."

Galen said, "Ah, newlyweds."

Foster gazed into Jenine's long-lashed eyes. "Yes, Jenine and I met on a steamer crossing the Atlantic nearly a month ago."

She took up the tale. "The purser wouldn't let anyone of color have a cabin, so most of us slept in the hold. It was awful and damp and filled with large rats. Fostie offered to sit with me when he saw how afraid I was. He was so gallant, I couldn't help falling in love with him."

"She is the best thing to ever come into my life. Are you married, Mr. Vachon?"

Galen shook his head. "No, and frankly, I never had a desire to be, but after viewing how happy you two seem, I may be inspired to change my mind."

While Foster and Jenine shared a long, loving look, Hester glanced Galen's way and gave him a tiny roll of her eyes. He raised a covert eyebrow in response. She hid her grin by looking out of the small portal at the passing landscape.

The three made small talk to pass the time. Hester was still amazed by Foster and his bride Jenine. She wanted Foster to be happy, but she harbored reservations over his choice. How could he find happiness with a woman who professed no interest in the things that interested her husband? Hester couldn't believe her ears when Jenine sunnily confessed she had never attended a lecture of any kind, nor had she a desire to do so. Hester and Foster had attended many lectures and conventions over the past few years and the experiences were always uplifting. But in response to Jenine's declaration, he'd done nothing but smile indulgently, as if her stance hadn't mattered.

She sat that conundrum aside for a moment to concentrate on a riddle of another sort. Galen. So far, he had treated her with the distance one would afford a stranger, but even so she still found it difficult to relax. Every time their eyes met the memories resurfaced. How could she look at him and not remember the night in her kitchen? His kisses had been magical; they left her breathless. Even now, as she thought of the way he'd opened her gown then feasted so lustily, her nipples tightened in heady anticipation. She willed herself to direct her thoughts elsewhere.

Galen asked Foster, "Where were you returning from when you and your wife made your fateful meeting?"

"I was returning home from Oxford. I am pleased to report I am now a certified graduate."

Jenine clapped heartily.

Hester joined in. She could not help but be proud of his accomplishment. He'd worked hard. The children of the area would benefit greatly from having such a learned teacher.

Galen appeared properly impressed. "What was your discipline?"

"Philosophy," Foster replied importantly. "The race needs more men like myself wouldn't you agree? Men able to debate the opposition on an equal plane. Men able to strike back with the words of Plato and Aristotle."

Galen gave Foster a slow, assessing perusal. "The race has enough philosophers, Mr. Quint. What we need are more men with guns."

Foster stared. "Surely you are making sport of me."

"Unfortunately, I am not. Philosophers can debate until the Second Coming but only bloodshed will resolve the issue once and for all."

"I agree that is a possibility but—"

Jenine tugged on his arm. "You promised no politics. Remember?"

Foster smiled. "I'm sorry love. Mr. Vachon, maybe you and I will have an opportunity to discuss this at length in the near future."

Galen inclined his head. "I'd be pleased."

Jenine asked, "Where are you from originally, Mr. Vachon?"

"Louisiana."

"Ah," she said. "I knew a man from Louisiana. Creole, just like you. He used to get in fights all the time."

Hester asked, "Why?"

"Folks kept telling him he wasn't Black. You ever have that problem, Mr. Vachon?"

"Occasionally, and I find it is always a pleasure to meet someone from the Race Inclusion Board. After all, where would the race be without them telling us who may be in the race and who may not?"

Everyone chuckled.

Jenine asked, "So you consider yourself a member of the race?"

It was an odd question, Hester thought. Galen's eyes met Hester's for a fleeting second before he turned his attention back to Jenine.

"Yes, Mrs. Quint. I consider myself a member of the race, why would I not?"

She shrugged. "Because some mulattoes choose not to. They use their skin and their well-connected families to escape the hardships we darker souls must endure."

Hester looked over at Foster with surprise.

He in turn stared at Jenine.

"Did I say something wrong?" she asked.

She raised her eyes to Galen's and must have seen the coolness there because she gasped quickly, "Oh, Mr. Vachon, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. It was just an observation. I meant nothing by it."

Galen offered just the trace of a smile, then inclined his head, "Apology accepted."

The tension in the coach eased somewhat after that, and the small talk continued. Hester thought about Jenine's observation. There were those who believed men and women with mixed blood could not be trusted on matters concerning the race because they were perceived as having divided loyalties. On the other side there were mulattoes who would never let Hester enter their circle because of the darkness of her skin. She thought the prejudices of both sides ridiculous. The fight against slavery consisted of soldiers representing the full spectrum of the race, just because one had a light-toned skin, did not mean that person could vote, or testify in a court of law, or avail themselves of any of the other rights denied their darker brethren.

Hester had never condoned the attitudes of those who took it upon themselves to declare one segment of the race superior to another. It was a divisive and destructive practice, especially in light of all they had to face.

Galen tried his best to appear interested as Foster droned on about the peers he'd been introduced to during his stay in England. He remembered Hester mentioning how Foster tended towards pompousness and she'd been absolutely correct. Galen was certain the man had many positive attributes, but he hadn't been giving a good first impression; the man was a bore, a blowhard reminiscent of a German burgher Galen once knew. Out of respect for Hester, Galen made all the appropriate responses, but even as Foster rambled on, Galen preferred to silently bask in the joy of having Hester seated at his side.

The beauty of Hester's dark face made one overlook the awful bonnet and the well-worn cape with its frayed edges. Instead he found his eyes lingering over the curves of her lushly perfect mouth. He could have been knocked over by a feather when he first saw her sitting atop the wagon back there. He'd no idea his very own Indigo would be one of the stranded women Quint wanted him to assist. He could've kissed the burgher for bringing about this meeting, but now, Galen just wanted him strangled and tossed from the coach. On second thought, Galen decided his presence may indeed be a blessing. Were Foster and his lovely bride not present, Galen would, without a doubt, be seeking ways to cajole sweet kisses from Hester's lips. He wanted to undo the buttons of her shirt and trace the heated scents of vanilla he knew awaited him at the base of her throat and in the valley between her breasts. He could feel himself hardening to the thoughts and so forced himself to concentrate on whatever Foster was saying now.

Hester, too, tried to concentrate on Foster's words but could not because of Galen's disturbing presence. She'd avoided looking directly at him for most of the journey because she'd found out early on that she did not have the ability to remain unaffected by Galen's eyes telling her everything he could not say.

They made it back to Whittaker later that afternoon. LeVeq brought the coach to a stop at Hester's house first. Jenine and Foster were going on to the boarding house where Foster lived. As she prepared to depart, Foster said, "Hester, why don't you come and have dinner with Jenine and me, say in a few days?"

Hester opened her mouth to politely decline.

Galen interrupted smoothly, "I've a better idea, why don't the three of you join me for dinner? It will be my way of showing my appreciation for such a pleasant afternoon."

"Thank you, Mr. Vachon. I'm going to wear my best dress," Jenine said happily.

Hester simply shook her head.

Foster asked Jenine, "Darling, do you mind if I walk Hester to the door?"

Jenine placed her hand against his brown cheek. "Of course not. Just as long as you don't let Hester steal you back."

"Rest assured, Jenine. Foster has eyes only for you," Hester replied.

She turned to Galen. "Mr. Vachon, thank you for the rescue, I hope we didn't put you out too much."

"Not at all, Miss Wyatt. You will join me for dinner, won't you?"

Hester's senses shimmered in response to the heat she sensed veiled behind his eyes. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." She bade him and Jenine farewell, then let Foster escort her up the walk.

When they reached her door, he said, "You've taken this well, Hester. I deserve to be flogged for treating you so shabbily, but you can see how wonderful she is, can't you?"

Hester had to look away a moment before saying, "Yes, Foster. I can."

He smiled. "She has made me very happy."

"Then that is all that matters. But are you certain you wish to pledge your life to someone you've known only a month?"

"A month, a year, it wouldn't alter my feelings. I love her, Hester."

She didn't press, but instead said genuinely, "Then I'm sure I shall also."

"Are you angry with me?"

She looked him in the eye. "I'd be a liar if I said I weren't, but we didn't have a love match, so my heart isn't broken. I wish you happiness."

"Do you mean that?"

"Yes, I do."

He took her hands and kissed them. "You're a very special woman, Hester. Very special."

But not special enough to be your wife,
she thought. "You shouldn't keep Jenine waiting, Foster. I'll see you at Vachon's dinner."

"Thank you, Hester. For everything."

“You're welcome."

Later, after donning clean, dry clothes, and warming up her shivering innards with some hot tea, Hester answered a knock at her door.

She opened it and was surprised to find Galen standing on her porch. Waves of emotion washed over her in that moment. "Why did you come back?"

She could see his coach waiting down by the road. "Is Foster still inside?"

"Interesting man, your Frederick. May I come in?"

She backed up and let him enter.

"How are you
petite?"''

"As well as any other woman who suddenly finds herself replaced."

"She did you a favor."

"How so?"

"You didn't really want to marry him."

"Yes, I did."

"I wouldn't have allowed it. Not after meeting him. I'd have married you myself to keep you from wasting your life with that burgher."

She knew he was only teasing but the declaration set her heart to racing anyway. "He's not a burgher, Galen, and you could not have stopped me from marrying him."