Wilde, Jennifer (50 page)

I
took the bills out of my reticule and handed them to him. He peered down at
them, still scowling, finding it difficult to focus.

"What're
these?"

"They're
bills, Jeff. From Lucille. Two. One for my dresses. One for Corinne's."

"So
you found out about that?"

"I've
known about Corinne for months. It isn't that."

"She
loves
me. Did ya know that? Loves me. Been beggin' me to leave you, beggin' me to
marry her. Ain't just th' money either. She's had lotsa men richer'n me, could
find one twice as rich tomorrow. Thinks I'm th' most wonderful man—"

"I'm
not interested in that," I said sharply. "The bills haven't been
paid, Jeff. You've let them go for months. I was humiliated. Lucille works very
hard, and—"

"I'll
pay them tomorrow!"

"See
that you do, Jeff."

I
turned and left the room then before either of us could say words we would
regret later on.

Reaching
my own bedroom, I sighed, forcing myself to calm down and forget the scene just
enacted. Jeff would pay the bills, would be humble and apologetic, and I would
forgive him, just as I always did. I couldn't help worrying, nevertheless. How
many other bills remained unpaid? Was he running short of money? We made a good
profit here every week after expenses, and I had assumed there was a large
amount in the bank. Was there? Jeff never discussed finances with me, had given
me only a sketchy description of the investments he had been making, assuring
me they would bring in piles of profit in just a little while. I wondered just
how much he
had
invested. Jeff fancied himself a shrewd businessman. I
wasn't so sure of that.

I
took my time getting ready, and it was almost an hour before I was ready to go
downstairs. My auburn hair was arranged in waves in front, long ringlets
dangling down in back, and I was wearing the dark-blue velvet gown that was one
of my favorites. I decided to wear the diamond necklace Jeff had given me two
years ago, when we had known for certain that Rawlins Palace was going to be
successful. The diamonds rested against my skin in a web of glittering pendants
alive with silver and violet fires. Inspecting myself in the full-length
mirror, I was satisfied with my appearance. I only wished I felt as serene and
composed as I looked.

I
went down to the kitchen to check with Pierre. He was in a flurry as usual,
slamming pots and pans, snapping orders at his underlings, complaining that the
hams weren't properly glazed, the roast not sliced thinly enough. I flattered
him outrageously, assured him everything would be done to perfection. He begged
me to sample one of the tiny frosted cakes. I did so as the marmalade cat
watched resentfully. Pierre reminded me that we were running out of the
expensive French wine our customers had come to expect. I told him it was
supposed to be delivered tonight, after the place was closed. Pierre made a
face to indicate his disdain of the smugglers, and then he began to stir the
cheese sauce vigorously.

I
went back up to the main floor. The young waiters who would serve food and
drink in the ballroom had all arrived and were standing at attention as Kyle
inspected them with a severe expression. The crystal chandeliers shed dazzling
light over the gaming rooms. The tables were all ready, cards in place, and the
dealers in their handsome uniform jackets were waiting for the first customers
to arrive. Angie hurried over to join me as I entered. She was wearing a lovely
white silk gown adorned with violet ribbons. There was a mischievous look in
her eyes.

"That
bloody Kyle," she said. "I guess I gave him what for. He told me I'd
better watch myself, said he had his eye on me! I've been as honest as the day
is long since the day I arrived, haven't cheated once! I told him to go get
laid. He was terribly upset."

"When
are you and Kyle going to stop this constant bickering?"

"Soon
as he makes up his mind to
do
somethin'," Angie replied. "Oh,
he
wants
to all right. I guess I know that much. You should have seen
the look he gave me when I met him in the hall this morning—I know what's on
his mind. He thinks he's too high and mighty to tumble to a bit of goods like
me, thinks he might demean himself, but he's dyin' to have me."

I
smiled. "You've been teasing him again."

"Bloody
right I have," she admitted. "He's going to break down any day now
and pull me into the first handy broom closet. Truth to tell, I can hardly
wait!"

"You're
incorrigible, Angie."

"I
know," she sighed. "When I see a man I fancy I just can't seem to
help myself. Kyle's ever so intriguin'— never met a man so hard to get. He's so
bleedin' solemn and so
big.
Gives me goose bumps just thinkin' about
it!"

"Poor
Kyle. He doesn't stand a chance."

"Not
bloody likely. You look smashin' tonight, Marietta. That blue dress, cut so
low.
Goes well with your hair, too. And those diamonds! You look like a
duchess."

"Thank
you," I said, distracted. "Angie, have—have you seen Jeff?"

"He
came down almost an hour ago," she replied. "I smiled at him and said
'Good evenin' and he just walked right on past, like he wasn't aware I was
there."

"He
went out?"

Angie
nodded. "Looked like he was ready to tear one on. Looked like he'd already
started, if you want to know the truth. The smell of whiskey almost knocked me
over."

I
shook my head and gave a weary sigh.

"Did
you two have words?" she asked.

"It
was foolish, really. He'd been drinking, and it wasn't terribly pleasant. I
spoke rather sharply. We didn't really argue, but I do wish he hadn't gone off
like that."

"He'll
be all right. Always is, isn't he? Oh, he'll have a wretched hangover tomorrow,
of course, but then he'll be a bloomin' prince for two or three weeks, charming
as can be, trying to make up for slipping again."

"I
know it's silly to worry. It's just—I've had this curious feeling, as if
something dreadful is going to happen."

"Nonsense.
He'll probably be back before we close. Cheer up, luv. Oh dear, here come the
bloody marks. Got to get to my table. Old Langley looks full of mischief, must
have a big roll on him. Don't you worry now. Have a glass of champagne."

Angie
hurried over to her table, greeting Charles Langley with a ribald remark that
caused him to bellow with laughter. She was vastly popular with the customers,
saucy, spirited, enjoying herself immensely every night. That enjoyment was
infectious, and her table was always crowded. The place began to fill up rapidly
with merry, optimistic gentlemen who would become tense as the evening
progressed, with lovely, amoral women who would become quickly bored and prowl
restlessly. I immersed myself in my duties, greeting the regular customers,
smiling at new ones, circulating around the rooms. I let one of the regulars
buy me a glass of champagne and agreed to play a hand for another. An hour
passed, then two, and still I couldn't get Jeff off my mind, couldn't stop
worrying about him.

I
took a second glass of champagne and wandered into the ballroom. It was filled
with guests who weren't playing. Women in gorgeous gowns sat on the sofas,
gossiping and flirting. Men in elegant attire talked about their winnings,
their losses, drinking steadily to give themselves courage to return to the
tables. Food was being served. Corinne was holding court in one of the corners,
sumptuous in pink satin, her dark, lustrous hair gleaming. Although she was
surrounded by attentive men, she kept glancing around restlessly, making no
effort to conceal her boredom. So Jeff isn't with her tonight, I thought. He
and his boisterous friends were probably in some waterfront tavern, getting
ready to wreck the place.

A
gruff, noisy voice assailed my ears as I stepped back into the hallway. Kyle
was standing in front of the door, barring the way to a tall man with powerful
shoulders. His brown suit was decidedly shabby, his yellow stock creased and
stained. His mouth was too wide, his nose hawk-like, his blond locks tumbled.

"Ain't
my bleedin' money good enough for you?" he cried huskily. "See here,
I got five pounds. Who do ya think you are, mate? I'm warnin' you better step
aside or fists are gonna fly! You may be a bloomin' giant, but that don't
bother me one bloody bit. Reckon I could take you on with no trouble. Shove off
now, mate. Don't wanna hurt you."

I
stared at the man, unable to believe it, and then I felt a rush of pleasure. I
hurried over to the door. Kyle had been patient enough, but I could tell he was
ready to take the necessary measures. The blond had his fists doubled up.

"Let
him in, Kyle," I said.

"I
think not," Kyle replied grimly. "He's riff-raff. A troublemaker as
well."

"Riff-raff,
am I! No one calls Jack Reed names like that without gettin' a bloody
nose!"

"Let
him in," I repeated.

Kyle
looked at me with dark, resentful eyes, but he stepped aside nevertheless. Jack
Reed sauntered into the hall with that swinging, bouncy walk that betrayed his
years at sea.

"Bloody
lackey," he said. "You'd think he owned th' bloody place. Thanks for
the help, ma'am."

"Hello,
Jack," I said quietly.

"I
say, how'd ya know my—" He cut himself short. He stared at me, eyes wide
with dismay. "Sweet Jesus!" he exclaimed. "It
is
you,
isn't it?"

I
nodded, smiling warmly. Jack's wide mouth split into a grin.

"I
knew it! I knew you'd end up wearin' fancy gowns an' diamonds! A lass like you,
it was bound to be. What's it been—four years? Five? I say, this is bloody
wonderful, seein' you again."

"Come
to lose your money, Jack?"

"Come
to
win
is more like it. Five pounds is all I got to me name, but once I
get to them tables that's gonna change. I'm feelin' real lucky, and runnin'
into you's gotta be a good omen. I still can't believe it!"

"Have
you had supper yet, Jack?" I inquired.

He
shook his head. "Didn't wanna waste any of my money on food. Asked 'em
what was th' best gamblin' place in New Orleans and they give me this address.
Then your bleedin' lackey tried to keep me out. I'm rarin' to get to them
tables."

"Perhaps
you'd like a little food first," I suggested. "We could dine
together. You could tell me what you've been doing. You'll be my guest, of
course."

"Wouldn't
mind a bite or two," Jack admitted. "You own this place?"

"I
help run it. My—my good friend owns it."

"I
see," he said, eyes twinkling. "Always figured you'd get yourself
hooked up with someone important. Knocks me over to see you doin' so well. Sure
you wanna waste time talkin' to a rowdy bloke like me?"

I
smiled and took his hand. "Quite sure," I told him. "Come along.
We'll have a lovely chat and some food, and then I'll turn you loose in the
gaming rooms. I've the feeling you
are
going to be lucky."

Kyle
watched with stern disapproval as I led Jack down the hall and into the
ballroom. I summoned a waiter and asked him to bring food and wine, then led
Jack over to the alcove where Jeff and I usually dined. There was a small
table, covered with a snowy white cloth, and two comfortable chairs. Although
it opened directly onto the ballroom floor, an urn of tall greenery gave us
some privacy. Jack was a bit uncomfortable now, awed by all this splendor,
aware of his shabby suit, his shaggy, uncombed locks. The waiter brought
champagne in a silver bucket and returned a few moments later with our food. I
smiled warmly at Jack, doing my best to put him at ease.

"What
brings you to New Orleans?" I inquired.

"On
my way to Natchez," he explained. "Done my last bit o' seafarin', I
'ave. Thought it was time for a bit of settlin' down. They say Natchez is th'
comin' spot. Up in th' Colonies ain't nothin' but bleedin' rebels stirrin' up
trouble and bein' disloyal to England. Lotta folks loyal to th' King 've been
movin' down to Natchez, sendin' their possessions down by flatboat."

I
had heard about that. A General Lyman had brought a group of military people to
Natchez and laid out several townships in the vicinity, and it was estimated
that over four hundred families had emigrated to the budding city in the summer
of '73 alone. Jeff had predicted that it would soon grow to rival New Orleans,
and it looked as though his prediction was going to come true sooner than
anyone expected. Actually, Natchez was a fourteenth colony of Britain and,
because of its remoteness, blessedly removed from the conflicts boiling in the
other thirteen.

"Reckon
I can find work easily enough," Jack continued. "New buildings are
springin' up every day. They need men to help build. Friend o' mine told me all
about it, urged me to come."

I
opened the bottle of champagne. The cork popped loudly. Jack shook his head,
sighing, as I poured the sparkling beverage into our glasses. He smiled,
studying me with fond eyes.