Wilde, Jennifer (62 page)

"You
wanted something, Trevelyan?" he inquired. His voice was deep and
guttural, just as I remembered.

"I
didn't think you'd be here," Bruce replied. "Miss Danver wanted to
see the house. I thought I'd bring her by to have a look. I suppose I owe you
an apology."

Ignoring
Bruce, Schnieder stared at me. I met his stare with a cool, level gaze, not at
all intimidated. I felt sure he didn't remember me. If he did, he certainly
gave no indication. I was amazed anew at the presence this man possessed. He
would easily dominate the largest gathering without any effort. Those cold blue
eyes seemed to be offering a silent challenge, one I was all too ready to
accept.

"It's
my fault," I said. "I insisted. I've heard a great deal about
Roseclay—and about you."

"Indeed?"

"The
house certainly lives up to my expectations."

I
placed the slightest emphasis on the word "house," subtly indicating
that its owner did not impress me. Schnieder didn't miss that. The eyes
continued to challenge me. Bruce gathered up the reins. I had almost forgotten
that he was there beside me, so strong was Schnieder's effect on me.

"You
must see the rest of it," Schnieder said. "Let me show you around
inside."

"We
have to be going," Bruce replied.

"I'd
enjoy showing you around," Schnieder said, ignoring Bruce and speaking
directly to me."

"I'm
afraid there isn't time, Mr. Schnieder."

"No?"

"Some
other time, perhaps."

"You
must come to my ball, Miss Danver."

"I
—"

"Young
Trevelyan can bring you."

"That's
quite impossible," I said.

"Not
at all," Bruce informed me. "It would give me great pleasure."

"It's
out of the question, Bruce."

"You
don't care to come?" Schnieder inquired.

"I
hardly think it would be seemly, Mr. Schnieder. I'm a—a seamstress. I feel
quite sure your other guests would be very perturbed if I were to appear."

"I
shouldn't think that would bother you, Miss Danver."

So
he did remember me, after all. I could tell from his tone of voice that he had
recalled that tattered creature in the soiled red dress who had wanted to book
passage to New Orleans. He remembered, yet he had invited me to his ball. There
could only be one reason: Helmut Schnieder was interested. I observed him
coolly, sizing him up as an opponent.

He
had commanding presence, yes, but he did not appeal to me physically at all. He
was too large, and that powerful, heavyset body suggested brutal strength he
would employ mercilessly to achieve his ends. Those blunt, harsh features
augmented that impression, and there was an undeniable cruelty in the curve of
that wide mouth. He might not attract me physically, yet that combination of
power and authority was intriguing. What satisfaction it would be to use him as
he used others. Schnieder awakened something hard and vengeful inside me. He
would be a worthy opponent indeed.

"We'd
better leave now, Bruce," I said. "We've already taken enough of Mr.
Schnieder's time."

"I
shall look forward to seeing you both at the ball," Schnieder said.
"I feel sure you can persuade her to come, Trevelyan."

"I
imagine I can," Bruce replied.

He
clicked the reins and turned the horses around on the drive. The German's eyes
never once left me, and even as we drove away I could feel them boring into my
back. I could hardly believe how well things had gone. How simple it had been.
I intended to go to the ball, of course, had had every intention of doing so before
we even set out this afternoon. But I had anticipated a subtle and rather
taxing campaign to bring Bruce around to asking me, and Schnieder's sudden
appearance had saved me the trouble. As we drove back through the portals and
Bruce alighted to close the gate, I felt a sharp sense of triumph.

Schnieder
had been interested in me four years ago— had wanted to buy me—and I hoped to
reawaken that interest. There could be no doubt about the fact that I had done
so, today. He had thrown down the gauntlet, presenting me with a challenge no
woman could mistake.

Bruce
was silent for a long while after we resumed our ride toward the river road.
Immersed in thought myself, I was pleased with the silence. After he took me to
the ball, Bruce would be of no more use to me. I was pleased it hadn't been
necessary to build up his hopes. As it was, he would be able to get over me
much more easily. I sighed, brushing a strand of hair from my temple. We were
driving alongside the river now, blossoming dogwood trees on either side of the
road, pink and white and soft, pale red. Bruce let the horses slow to little
more than a walk, holding the reins loosely and turning to me with solemn eyes.

"You
will come to the ball, won't you?"

"I
shouldn't, Bruce."

"Because
of what people would say?"

"That's
one of the reasons. I'm a seamstress with a terribly wicked reputation. You're
a young man with... much to lose."

"I
don't give a hang what people say, Marietta."

"Your
parents—"

"I'm
twenty-two years old, no longer tied to any apron strings."

"They'll
be outraged."

"Let
them be," he replied.

The
blossoming dogwood branches reached out over the road, almost touching us. I
reached out and gently moved aside a branch laden with fragile pink flowers.
Bruce had a determined look in his eyes, and his mouth was set in a stubborn
line.

"I'm
in love with you, Marietta. You must know that."

"I
know, and... I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

"I
never meant you to fall in love with me. It—it could never lead to anything,
Bruce."

"Because
you're a seamstress? Because you're a few years older?"

"Partly."

"That
doesn't matter to me in the least."

"I'm
not in love with you," I said gently.

"You
will be. I'll see to that."

The
horses had stopped of their own accord at the side of the road. We were almost
engulfed in pink and white blossoms. The river was only a few yards away on the
other side of the road, moving along with a pleasant music. A breeze caused the
dogwood branches to tremble, and soft petals sprinkled down. Bruce was
frowning. He looked so young and sincere. I wanted to smile and touch his
cheek, but I knew I mustn't. I couldn't give him any sort of encouragement.

"I
want to marry you," be said firmly.

"I
couldn't marry you, Bruce. I... like you too much."

"That
doesn't make sense."

"I
suppose it doesn't—not to you."

"You're
trying to tell me something."

"Yes,
Bruce."

"Look,
I know about your..." He hesitated, the frown deepening. "I know all
about your reputation. When we started going for our drives any number of
people made it their business to inform me of your 'past.' I know you worked in
a gambling house, know there was some sort of scandal. It doesn't matter."

I
did not reply. A bird warbled throatily in a tree nearby. Bruce studied my
face, and I feared he would pull me into his arms at any moment. So, I sat up
very straight, deliberately hardening myself, refusing to be moved by this
wonderful young man who had come into my life much too late. I must keep my
mind on the goal in front of me, must curb any tenderness that might stir in my
heart. I had let my heart guide me before, and the results had been disastrous.

"I'd
like to go back home now," I said crisply.

Bruce
looked crestfallen. "But—"

"Please,
Bruce."

"Very
well," he said.

During
the ride back to the shop, I could tell that he was both disappointed and hurt,
but I couldn't think about Bruce. He was merely a tool, and my need for him
would soon be over. He climbed down from the carriage and helped me alight,
then held the gate open for me. I stepped inside and closed the gate, shutting
him out. Bruce caught hold of it, looking at me with eyes that were once again
determined.

"You're
coming to the ball with me," he said. His voice was firm. "I won't
take no for an answer."

"As
you wish, Bruce. If it means that much to you, I'll go."

"And
you're going to forget all this nonsense about— about class distinction and age
differences and the past. I'm going to
make
you fall in love with
me."

"Goodbye,
Bruce. Thank you for the lovely ride."

"I'll
be here Friday at seven-thirty. You be ready."

"I
will be," I promised.

I
didn't
keep my promise. I wasn't ready when Bruce arrived. Wearing only a robe, I let
him into the shop and led him upstairs to the sitting room to wait. That was
over half an hour ago. As I stood now in front of the mirror, making a final
inspection, I could hear him pacing impatiently. We were already late, would be
even later by the time we drove out to Roseclay, but that was my intention. I
planned to carry this through with all the verve I could command, and it suited
my purpose to arrive after all the other guests had already assembled.

I
had
spent the past four days working on my dress, finishing it just this afternoon.
It was a deep brown, embroidered with floral patterns in glittering black and
bronze beads. The shimmering beads drew attention to my full, swelling breasts
more than half exposed by the daring neckline. The dress was bold and dramatic
and pleased me immensely.

My
hair was carefully arranged on top of my head in glossy, coppery waves, three
long ringlets dangling down, and I had applied my makeup carefully. The good
ladies of Natchez were going to see their scarlet woman at her best. And Helmut
Schnieder was going to find her cool and composed and, I hoped, irresistible. I
was playing for very high stakes, and I had every intention of winning.

Opening
the door connecting the two rooms, I stepped into the sitting room. Bruce was
standing at the window, peering out at the night. He turned. He stared with
something like incredulity, taken aback by the sight of me. I could see that he
was most appreciative, but as he was essentially a conventional young man, he
was also a bit dismayed by the amount of bosom the gown revealed.

"You're
dazzling," he said. "It was worth the wait."

"It
was wicked of me to keep you waiting like this. I wanted to look especially
nice for you."

Flattered,
convinced that I had gone to all this trouble for his sake, he smiled. He
looked very handsome in his dark wine breeches and frock coat, his
maroon-and-white-striped waistcoat and white silk neckcloth. He had never been
so appealing, that wavy brown hair so dark and glossy, those serious blue eyes
filled with pleasure. Some young woman was going to be lucky indeed, I thought.

The
carriage was waiting in front of the gate, horses standing patiently in the
moonlight. Bruce handed me into the seat, and I adjusted my skirts. There was
hardly room for him to sit beside me, but I pulled the rustling material aside
to make room. The seat made a groaning noise as he took his place and gathered
up the reins. A moment later we were off. It was a lovely night, the sky an
ashy gray-black alight with gleaming moonrays. The weather was warm, almost
sultry, and the night air was laden with the perfumes of spring.

"I'm
glad you decided to come," he said.

"I
had no choice," I replied. "Remember?"

"I
recall being rather masterful."

"You
were," I agreed.

"I
intend to be even more so in days to come."

"Oh?"

"I've
decided to change my tactics," he informed me. "I've been altogether
too polite, too considerate. From now on, I'm going to be insistent and very
firm, and, incidentally, I'm going to make you very happy."

He
was like a young knight, I thought, a strong, handsome Sir Galahad who wanted
to make me his lady fair. After tonight he would probably hate me, but that
would ultimately be for the best. It would leave him free to find the girl he
deserved, as young, as inexperienced as he, with whom he could build a future.

"I
told my parents I was bringing you," he said.

"Did
you?"

"I
told them Schnieder asked me to bring you. That put a whole new light on it as
far as they were concerned, made it much more acceptable. Both are prepared to
like you."

"How
very encouraging," I remarked, not without irony.

Bruce
realized that he had been tactless and concentrated on his driving. Lights
burning in windows made warm yellow squares against the darkness, and as we
left the town behind and rounded a bend we could see the Mississippi far below,
a pale silver ribbon shimmering in the night, the steep banks dark blue-black. The
horses moved along at a brisk pace, the wheels skimming over the road. Clouds
drifted across the moon, causing a constant play of moonlight and shadow below.
Fireflies swarmed among the dark shrubbery, tiny golden lights flickering on
and off.