Wilde, Jennifer (48 page)

"It's
getting late," I said. "I'd better get back. Jeff will be worried
sick if I don't show up soon."

Angie
made a face. "Guess I'd better get back to my bloody Spaniard, too. He's
not much, but he's all I've got at the moment."

"You
met him on the boat?"

"It
was a dreary trip, I don't mind tellin' you. Don Rodriego livened it up a bit.
The captain was shocked when I moved into Rodriego's cabin. He's a diplomat,
rich as the devil, has a grand house here in the city and more servants that I
can count."

"What's
he like?"

"Tiresome,"
she admitted. "He's got this Latin temperament, you see. Seethin' with
passion and rage. One minute he's threatin' to kill me, and the next he's
smotherin' me with kisses. He's got some mighty funny ideas about what should
take place in bed, too, but I won't go into that. He's generous, bought me all
these gorgeous gowns soon as we landed, keeps me in grand style, but... it's
not much fun! I'd leave him in a minute if I had any place else to go."

I
suddenly had an idea. "Angie, do you really mean that?"

"Course
I do. Who needs all that aggravation?"

"Tell
me, do you know anything about cards?"

"Playing
cards? There's nothing I
don't
know! The colonel had a passion for them.
He and his cronies would sit up half the night, playing for high stakes. I sat
in, learnin' all the tricks. Couple of months later I was cleanin' up. They
finally refused to let me play, said I was a bloomin' sharp."

"How
would you like to be a dealer?"

"At
Rawlins Palace?" Angie's eyes flashed with excitement. "That'd be
fantastic!"

"You
know you'd have to be honest."

"I
guess I could try," she said.

"You'd
receive a regular salary, of course, and there's a guest room upstairs, right
down the hall from mine. You could move in. We'd see each other every
day."

"Done!"
Angie exclaimed. "When do I start?"

"Tonight.
We desperately need a dealer. We lost one two nights ago. I'll have one of the other
dealers show you the ropes late this afternoon before the customers start
arriving."

"What
will your man Jeff think?"

"He'll
be delighted," I assured her.

Ten
minutes later we entered the still dim main entrance hall and walked up the
marble staircase to the private living quarters. Angie was a bit nervous. She
wasn't about to part with all those lovely gowns Rodriego had bought her, and
she feared he would fly into one of his wild Latin rages when she went back for
them. I told her I would send Kyle along with her, explaining that he was six
feet five and had the kind of grim, formidable expression that made the
strongest men grow pale.

"Your
Don Rodriego won't say a word," I promised, "not with Kyle at your
side. Come on, I'll take you upstairs and introduce you to Jeff. He's probably
still in the office."

He
was indeed, sitting at his mahogany desk and frowning over a stack of papers.
His dark-gold hair was unruly, a deep line dug a furrow above his nose, and his
brown eyes were perplexed. Jeff handled all the business transactions, and of
late he had been investing profits in various shipping ventures, none of which
had yielded anything yet. I sometimes worried about that, but I assumed he knew
what he was doing. He looked up irritably as we entered and then, spying Angie,
got to his feet, reaching for the jacket he had discarded earlier.

I
introduced them. Jeff was charming and gallant. Angie was enchanted. He was
slightly taken aback when I told him she was to be our new dealer, was going to
move into the guest room, but he quickly recovered, agreeing that it was a
dandy idea and graciously adding that having such a pretty dealer at the table
was bound to stimulate business. Angie expressed her delight in ribald terms,
her choice of words causing Jeff to grin. We left him with his paperwork and
went downstairs to find Kyle.

He
was just coming up from the cellar as we reached the bottom of the stairs. Kyle
had been one of Jeff's cronies during the old days, had fallen upon hard times
and, when Jeff finally located him, had been living in a sordid room on the
waterfront, sick, hungry, resigned to his fate with the deep melancholy that
was part of his nature. He was the first employee hired, the highest paid. He
opened the door for guests with impeccable servility, never spoke except to
answer a question, and barred the way to anyone who didn't meet the standards of
Rawlins Palace. When he had to remove one of the guests, he did so firmly,
silently, rarely finding it necessary to employ his awesome strength.

Kyle
was intensely loyal to Jeff, would have killed for him without a moment's
hesitation. Cheerless, intimidating, he doubled as coachman during the day and
frequently helped out by doing things like taking inventory of the wine cellar,
which had occupied him for most of the day. Kyle had nothing to do with any of
the other employees; he kept to himself. His job and his devotion to Jeff left
room for little else.

When
Angie saw him approaching us down the shadowy hallway, she gasped and gripped
my hand.

"Christ!"
she exclaimed. "He's a bloody giant! That face would make small children
shriek in terror."

Kyle
gave no indication that he had heard. Incredibly tall, with wide shoulders and
a lean, muscular frame, he wore black boots, black breeches, a white cambric
shirt with full sleeves, and a brown-and-white-striped satin vest. He had pale,
sober features, extremely dark eyes, and sleek black hair brushed severely to
one side. Although his manner toward me was invariably polite and formal, I was
still a bit uncomfortable around him. Most people were. He gave the impression
of a man with great violence pent up inside, and he had never been known to
smile. I had the feeling that Kyle disapproved of me, that he disapproved of
everyone but Jeff.

"Hello,
Kyle," I said pleasantly. "This is Angie. She's a friend of mine, and
she's going to be our new dealer."

Kyle
didn't speak. Neither did Angie. They sized each other up, his expression bleak
and morose, hers saucily defiant, as though she were about to thrust her tongue
out at him. Kyle frightened the maids. Pierre broke into a fit of nervous
tremors whenever the giant stepped into the kitchen. Angie wasn't at all
intimidated. Kyle clearly presented a challenge. I had visions of a small,
scrappy terrier nipping and snarling at a gigantic, bored mastiff.

"Angie
needs to go fetch her things," I continued. "She's going to move into
the extra room upstairs. I'd like for you to take her in the carriage and go
inside with her. It might be a bit uncomfortable."

"Not
bloody likely!" Angie cried. "Don Rodriego will take one look at 'im
and crawl under the bed. Are you sure it's safe for me to go traipsin' off with
him? I've been raped before, but never by anything this size! I'm not sure I
wouldn't take my chances with Rodriego's wrath."

Kyle's
dark eyes hardened with disdain, and his wide mouth curled contemptuously at
one corner, but he still made no comment. Instead he fetched his jacket, put it
on, and held the front door open for her. Angie winked at me, emitted a delighted
titter, and sashayed out with high heels tapping and ruffled skirt swishing
noisily. Kyle followed her out like a sober martyr. I rather fancied that he
had met his match.

Three
hours later I was in my room getting ready to dress for the evening when Jeff
came sauntering in. I was in my petticoat, but he was already elegantly attired
in a dark-brown frock coat, matching trousers, and a rather dashing vest of
dark-orange satin embroidered with leaves in brown silk. His boots were
polished to a glossy sheen, his hair neatly brushed. Curiously enough, the
dandified attire emphasized his masculinity instead of detracting from it. I
stepped over to adjust his brown silk cravat.

"You
look quite handsome tonight," I remarked.

"Don't
I always?"

"Always,"
I agreed.

"You're
a lucky wench," he teased. "You look pretty damned fetchin' in that
petticoat, too. If it hadn't taken me so long to get into these fancy duds, I'd
get right out of 'em and give you a treat."

"Oh?
That would be a change."

"Hey,
do I detect a note of resentment? An important chap like me can't spend
all
his
time pleasin' the ladies. I know I haven't come visitin' your bedroom for the
past few nights, but... uh... I've been busy."

"Indeed,"
I said dryly, moving over to the dressing table.

I
sat down in front of the mirror. Jeff stepped over to stand behind me, resting
his hands on my bare shoulders, peering at me in the glass. I picked up a sable
brush, dipped it into a pot of rouge, and began to brush a faint suggestion of
pink on my cheekbones. He watched, his fingers gently squeezing my flesh. I put
down the brush, picked up the powder puff, and began to powder my face. Jeff
continued to watch, and I tried to ignore him. It wasn't easy.

"You're
not mad, are you?" he asked.

"Of
course not."

"I'll
be gone for a while tonight. Won't be missed. That's the nice thing about the
place. It almost runs itself, no need for me to hang around all the time."

I
put down the powder puff. "No need at all."

"Fellow
can take a night off every now and then, take care of business, see his old
friends once in a while."

I
brushed my lids with light mauve shadow and applied a touch of cinnamon-brown
paste to lashes and brows with a tiny brush. Jeff's fingers dug into my
shoulders, not gentle, not quite hurting.

"You
know, I wish I could believe you really were jealous. I don't know why I even
bother looking at another woman when I have someone like you right here at my
fingertips. It's just—"

"You
don't owe me any explanations, Jeff."

"You
could stop it. You could put an end to it once and for all. With two words—'I
will.'"

I
did not reply. He was frowning now, his brown eyes dark. He let go of me and
stepped over to the table to pour himself a brandy from the crystal decanter. I
touched up my lips with coral, patted my hair back in place and got up, moving
over to the wardrobe to take down my dress, pale-yellow silk, the skirt
aglitter with flowers embroidered in silver and gold. Jeff gazed into his glass
of brandy, still frowning.

"I'm
sorry, Jeff," I said quietly. "I told you in the beginning I wouldn't
marry you. I appreciate everything you've done for me. You know that. You're
very dear to me. You know that, too. Any time you want me to leave I'll—"

"Don't
talk nonsense!" he said harshly. "You know I don't want you to leave."

I
slipped into the dress, sure his bad humor would pass, as it always did. These
moods came over him rarely, but when they did they usually resulted in some
noisy brawl on the waterfront with the rowdy companions he still saw regularly.
He would drink himself silly, come staggering home in the middle of the night,
and feel wretched and apologetic the next day. And I would feel terribly
guilty, knowing I was to blame, yet unable to do the one thing that would
prevent these periodic outbursts. I would sit by the bed and bathe his temples
with a cloth dipped in cologne, and I would smile and gently scold and reassure
him of my affection in a thousand little ways, giving him affection when he
wanted undying love.

"Sorry,"
he said. "Didn't mean to bark like that."

He
downed the brandy and set the empty glass down.

"Jeff,
promise me you won't drink too much."

"Fellow
needs to loosen up once in a while."

"I
always worry about you."

He
lifted a brow. "Really?"

"You
know I do."

"I
guess that's one consolation," he said wearily.

I
finished fastening the dress and stepped back from the full-length mirror to
adjust the puffed sleeves that fell off the shoulder. The yellow went extremely
well with my auburn hair, gleaming with coppery highlights in the bright glow
of the candles. Satisfied, I turned away from the glass, deciding not to wear
the diamonds tonight.

"How's
your little friend doin'? She get moved in all right?"

I
nodded. "She's downstairs at one of the tables right now. Frank and George
were supposed to be giving her instructions, showing her how to deal. There was
a huge pile of chips in front of her. Frank and George both looked a bit
perturbed."

He
grinned at that. "I like her. She oughta work out just fine."

"I'm
a bit worried about Kyle," I remarked.

"He
scare her?"

"Not
at all. I think she scares
him.
She was cocky and insulting when they
first met, and when they came back she had him carrying her things up like he
was her own personal lackey, bossing him about outrageously. Kyle looked
thunderous."

Jeff
chuckled. "It's about time someone shook Kyle up a bit. Chap's much too
gloomy. Well... uh... I reckon I'd better get goin'. I don't know when I'll be
back. You behave yourself while I'm gone, hear?"