Southern Seduction (2 page)

He turned when Brooke reached them.
“Miss Shannon and Miss Jocelyn. I have secured hotel rooms for you at the Block House and have established accounts for both of you at the First National Bank in New York, so funds will be available for you to draw upon.”

“How did the money get there?” Brooke asked.

“His Grace had me come to America before his death and make arrangements. I believe he overheard your conversations of wanting to come to America.

“Now I’ll leave you to your good
-byes. Do remember that I’ll be in this country for a good six months, so if you need me just send a wire to Moss Grove and Brooke will know how to get in touch with me.”

Shannon and Jocelyn smiled their thanks, then each of them gave him a hug.

“Hear, hear. We’ll have none of that,” Jeffries blustered. “It’s my job, after all.”

Brooke glanced at her friends, wanting to remember the slightest detail of how they looked.
She was so afraid that they would forget each other.

Shannon was the smallest of the three, but she was feisty, her redheaded temper making up for her lack of size.
Her radiant hair made her stand out in any crowd. Jackson had told Brooke that Shannon’s father had often beaten her when he got drunk. It was probably one the reasons she was a real spitfire.

And then there was Jocelyn.
What could Brooke say about Jocelyn other than the woman just seemed to sparkle from some inner strength? Her burnished mahogany tresses framed a delicately sculpted face. There was an elegance about her that Brooke had always wished she possessed.

“I guess this is good
-bye,” Brooke finally said, hearing her voice crack as she spoke. She held her arms wide.

The women wrapped their arms around her, and she hugged them back, fiercely holding them to her heart.
They were her family and, for that matter, the only family she knew. She’d miss them a great deal.

“’Tis only
good-bye for a wee bit,” Shannon whispered. She managed a choked and desperate laugh, tears sliding down her cheeks. “Dinna make me cry. Let’s promise that we’ll meet in one year at Moss Grove.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” Jocelyn agreed as she brushed the hot, salt tears from her cheeks.

Brooke attempted to give them a brave smile, but her teary eyes betrayed her, as well. “Do you both promise to come? No excuses?”

“We promise.”

“Good,” Brooke said, nodding with finality. “And you must write often so I’ll know how both of you are doing. I promise I’ll do the same.”

After they nodded their agreement, Brooke gave them a final hug and stepped back, making a big pretense of straightening her skirt, fighting against the tears she refused to let fall.
“Now, all I have to do is figure out how to run a plantation,” she said. “So you’ll have someplace to come.”

Shannon tossed her auburn curls over her shoulder, and her face creased into a sudden smile.
“We ken ye can do it. Ye’ve always been the smartest and bravest amon’ us.”

“I agree,” Jocelyn said with a firm nod.
“You can do anything you want to. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

Brooke shifted, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin.
“Well with that vote of confidence, I’ll do my best. But” she added, “I want you both to remember--it doesn’t matter where you’ve been. What matters is where you’re going and how you get there.”

“Och, she’s beginnin’ tae sound like a mother,” Shannon protested, then laughed and nudged Jocelyn in the side.

Jocelyn nodded. “Then it’s time for us to go.”

Since there was nothing left to say, the two women climbed into the hack, and Brooke watched the driver close the door. “You’re going to miss my nagging,” she called to them, her voice cracking slightly.

Gnawing on her lip to keep from weeping, Brooke waved good-bye.
If only they knew how much I wanted them to stay with me
, she thought,
but I’m on my own, and by God I will survive, one way or the other
.

Chapter Two

Her journey had finally reached its end.

Brooke Hammond’s spirits rose as she and Mr. Jeffries neared New Orleans. Though she’d only caught glimpses of the city as they traveled via the main thoroughfares and straight out of town, she liked what she saw and looked forward to returning to town once she’d settled on the plantation.

Brooke settled back
to enjoy the remainder of the ride. It had been a long trip, and she had grown weary of traveling and living out of a trunk, but she tried not to complain. It wouldn’t be much longer now.

The country was lovely
with the lush trees and fields that Mr. Jeffries had described as sugarcane and cotton.

Brooke pressed her dainty white handkerchief to he
r forehead. She noticed a vast difference between the air in New Orleans and New York. There was always a hint of moisture in the air here. That, in combination with the extreme heat, made her skin feel clammy. 

Finally the carriage began to slow, and through the carriage window Brooke caught her first glimpse of a sign announcing they were about to enter Moss Grove Plantation.
Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t seem to utter a single word as a hundred thoughts rush into her head all at once.

At last she’d have her very own home, a home that was hers permanently, not for just a little while.
Most important, she would be the mistress. She’d never have to depend on anyone else’s decisions ever again. A home meant much more to Brooke than money. It was something that she had never had. The years growing up in a boarding school were the closest thing to home she could imagine.

All her dreams were about to come true.

The mansion wasn’t yet visible when the carriage swung between the octagonal, brick
pigeonniers
positioned on either side of the drive, so seeing her new home was once again delayed. However, the red dirt driveway was smooth and unrutted, demonstrating that a great deal of care had gone into the preparation of the plantation. She could just imagine what the house must look like.

So far, Brooke had to admit that she liked what she’d seen of America compared to England’s damp cool days.

Today the sky was beautiful and clear, though the heat would take some getting used to with her thick British blood.
  Perhaps with fall approaching, the days would be very pleasant. “The trees here are a bit unusual and very wide, don’t you think?” Brooke asked Mr. Jeffries who sat across from her.

He slid back the leather flap on the window.
“I believe they are called live oaks. They grow very large and wide,” he explained. “And I see a few pecan trees mixed in the group.”

Huge live oaks, of which Brooke had already counted twenty, lined the long drive on either side.
As the carriage traveled down the lane, the limbs were laced overhead like fingers, dripping with a queer, graybeard like growth that Brooke had never seen before.

She pointed out the window.
“What is the greenish-gray substance?”

Jeffries again peered out the window, and this time smiled.
“It is Spanish Moss. Quite common in this part of the country, I believe.” He leaned back in his seat. “The moss actually lives on the tree limbs and will spread from tree to tree. It resembles a graybeard and can absorb water ten times its weight. Quite lovely, I think.”

“Yes, it is.
Perhaps it’s where the name of the plantation came from,” Brooke murmured. The moss was indeed beautiful, yet it also gave her an eerie feeling. She hoped it wasn’t a warning sign that something sinister lurked ahead. A slight chill shuddered through her as she shook the qualms from her mind. Surely the staff would welcome a new mistress.

When she thought she could bear the suspense of waiting no longer, a magnificent plantation house came into view.
A two-story, white house with one-story wing pavilions on each side sat gracefully at the end of the sweeping circular carriageway, and it was hers . . . all hers.

Ten white columns stood at attention across the front like soldiers,
adding to the feeling of grandeur. There was a full second-floor balcony, making for a lovely veranda supported by the columns and bordered with wrought iron. Two curved staircases in the shapes of half moons led up to the main floor. Brooke could only gape, awestruck at the opulence she saw before her.

“I see you’re impressed,” Mr. Jeffries commented quietly.

“This is not like anything I’ve ever seen before,” Brooke whispered, afraid that someone would pinch her and wake her up from this wonderful dream. How could she be so lucky? “I’m surprised that Jackson stayed in England when he had such a magnificent home and this beautiful sunny weather.”

“I believe he had other ideas for Moss Grove.”

The carriage pulled to a stop before the wide steps at the front of the house. The driver swung down, opened the door and let down the step for them.

Brooke gathered her skirts so she didn’t trip, then accepted the driver’s hand.
She had just stepped down from the carriage when a man came galloping up on a magnificent white stallion, clouds of dust swirled around the horse’s hooves. For a moment, Brooke recalled her girlhood dream of being swept away by a handsome prince on a white horse. Of course, the silly child’s dream had faded as she’d grown, and she hadn’t thought about her prince in a long time.

Until now.

The man riding toward her made an awesome picture as he sat tall in the saddle. He reined in his horse a few feet away from them, but said nothing, allowing Brooke another moment to look at him. He was dressed in riding clothes, but he wore no jacket as most gentlemen did, just a white billowing shirt and black riding breeches. His blue eyes flashed, then narrowed as he leaned forward in the saddle and looked down as if they were insects to be trod upon.

The sun played on his sun-streaked hair, wind-tossed and rather long, Brooke noticed as he examined them.
In spite of his superior attitude, his bronzed skin gave him a rakish air that Brooke found quite appealing.

She really shouldn’t be ogling him, but she couldn’t help herself.
He was truly breathtaking.

Back in England, the gentlemen she had known had always been pasty and white dandies, most of whom had been old enough to be her father.

But not this one.

He was handsome, recklessly so, and he simply took her breath away.
She wondered who he was.

The overseer, perhaps?
Entertainment?

She could only hope.

“Jeffries,” the man muttered curtly, finally acknowledging them. He dismounted and tossed the reins to a young stable boy who had come trotting up while Brooke had been looking at the man. “I had word that you were coming, but I wasn’t expecting your wife.”

Brooke noted that the stranger had a deep, commanding voice, but she almost laughed out loud at the notion that he thought she was Mr. Jeffries’
s wife.

“Travis,” Jeffries said as he extended his hand.
“It has been a long time since I last saw you. You look well.”

“As do you,” Travis commented, then glanced at Brooke.
“Will you introduce me to your lovely companion?”

“Certainly.
But she isn’t my wife.” Mr. Jeffries motioned toward Brooke. “May I introduce you to Brooke Hammond.”

Travis lifted her hand to his lips then kissed the back ever so lightly,
just enough to make chills sweep over and through Brooke’s body. For some odd reason her pulse raced while he murmured, “My pleasure, Miss Hammond.” He turned back to Jeffries. “I presume then, that she is your fiancée?”

“Certainly not,” Jeffries answered.
“She is a friend of your father’s.”

Travis’s ga
ze was riveted on her, then moving over her body slowly. He stopped abruptly as he glanced back to the solicitor. Travis’s brows drew together. “My father? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Brooke had a hard time tearing her eyes from Travis’
s compelling gaze, but she, too, turned and looked at Mr. Jeffries. “His father?” Brooke repeated. “Pray tell, who is his father?”

Jeffries’ face turned a bit red before he answered, “May I present Travis Montgomery, Jackson’s son.”

Brooke couldn’t hide her startled look as she said, “Jackson never said anything to me about a son.” What she didn’t add was ...
and if he had a son why did he leave the plantation to me
?

“Madam, that does not surprise me one bit,” Travis snapped, his eyes turning cold.
Evidently, Travis Montgomery wasn’t any happier than she was about this turn of events because the interest she’d noted only a moment ago had disappeared as his next words were directed to Mr. Jeffries. “What is she doing here?”

Brooke hated to tell him, but he really wasn’t going to like the answer.

The next hour passed slowly as Jeffries tried to calm Brooke and Travis down to where they were not shouting at each other. Neither had taken the news well at all.