Diane T. Ashley (14 page)

But Sarah’s dress put hers to shame. It might have been shipped directly from Paris. Forest green in color, the silk gown nipped in her waist and exposed her dimpled shoulders. The flounce was caught up high on the skirt and cascaded toward the floor in elegant folds. A diamond collar sparkled around her neck, complementing the glittering earbobs that dripped from her ears. She looked like a plate from a fashion magazine.

Sarah touched Jasmine’s elbow with the tip of her fan. “Would you like to go backstage to meet Miss Barlow?”

Jasmine’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t imagine anything any more thrilling.

Lily leaned forward from her seat on the second row. “You’d better close your mouth before an insect flies into it.” Her whisper fell into one of those sudden silences that sometimes happens even in large crowds.

The people in the next box glanced in Jasmine’s direction as a result of her sister’s warning. She heard a chuckle from Blake behind her and saw the smile on Kenneth’s face. A tide of hot blood stung her cheeks. Wanting to bring her hands up to hide her embarrassment, Jasmine trained her gaze on the floor. She wished Lily and Blake had stayed at the Thorntons’ house tonight. The outing would be much more pleasurable without her sister’s constant poking and prodding.

Sarah came to her rescue. “Don’t be so hard on the girl.” Her dress rustled as she stood and looped her arm through Jasmine’s. “Madame LeBlanc arranged it for you, but if you don’t wish to go, I will understand.”

“Oh, no.” Jasmine bit her lip. “I mean, yes, please. I would like that above all things.” The very idea of meeting one of the talented people she’d just seen on the stage made her heart race. She lifted her free hand to check her hair and realized it was shaking. Hoping no one else had seen it, she allowed her arm to drop back to her side. This was the most exciting moment of her life. But she didn’t have to advertise that fact to her naysayer sister.

“Good.” Sarah turned to Kenneth. “Why don’t you take Lily and Blake outside to the carriage? We won’t be long.”

“Actually, Lily and I have decided to go back to the Thorntons’ alone instead of making you drive back to the French Quarter to drop us off.”

Kenneth looked toward his wife, a frown on his normally calm face. “Aren’t we going to Bonhomie for dinner?”

Jasmine could see her dream of visiting the backstage area slipping between her fingers. Life was so unfair. Why did Lily have to spoil things?

“I hope you won’t change your plans because of us.” Lily hid a yawn behind her fan. “I am so tired this evening. I suppose I’m getting too old for all of this excitement.”

“Jasmine may have a conniption if she doesn’t get to visit with that actress.” Blake smiled to remove the sting from his words.

Dr. Cartier’s frown deepened until everyone laughed. He was so serious—an odd spouse for someone as animated as Sarah.

Holding her breath, Jasmine looked at Sarah, who leaned toward her husband and whispered something in his ear.

Kenneth nodded. “We insist you take the carriage home. I will arrange for a cab while the ladies are visiting.”

“That makes no sense.” Blake settled his wife’s cloak around her shoulders. “I can get a cab for Lily and me.”

Kenneth and Sarah exchanged a glance. She lifted her shoulders, and he nodded before turning to Blake. “I’d be most happy to take you home while the ladies are visiting the actors backstage.”

Blake’s refusal was polite but resolute. By the time Sarah’s husband agreed, Jasmine wanted to scream her frustration. “Can we go now?”

Laughing at Jasmine’s obvious fervor, Sarah nodded and led the way out of the box. They were immediately caught up in throngs of laughing, chattering people who were making their way toward the building exits. By the time they made it to the relative quiet of the dressing rooms located in the back of the theater, Jasmine felt bruised by the effort. But she would have turned around and done it again if necessary.

Sarah explained to one of the workers that they were supposed to meet Miss Barlow in her dressing room. The man looked them over with a raised eyebrow before directing them down a hallway.

Several young men crowded around one of the doorways, jostling with good-natured rivalry in their attempts to gain entry into one of the dressing rooms. As they drew closer, Jasmine realized it must be Miss Barlow’s room. She had never imagined such a throng all seeking the same goal. Would they be able to see the actress, after all?

“May I be of service to you young ladies?” A tall figure separated from one of the shadowy corners of the hallway.

When he came fully into view, Jasmine thought she might faint. She recognized him—the actor who portrayed the hero, Vance Hargrove. He was even more handsome up close than he’d been on the stage.

Sarah seemed unfazed by his good looks or fame as she nodded and once again explained their objective.

Mr. Hargrove bowed. “She is inundated for the moment, but perhaps you ladies would care to join me for dinner. We can return here in an hour or so once her admirers have cleared out. I’m certain Miss Barlow would be delighted to spend time visiting with such charming ladies.”

Sarah shook her head. “I’m afra—”

The opportunity of a lifetime was within her grasp. Unable to let it slip past, Jasmine interrupted Sarah’s response. “Perhaps you could join us for dinner instead, Mr. Hargrove. I would love to ask some questions about the theater.” Fear struck as she wondered what had possessed her to be so forward. What would Mr. Hargrove think of her?

A smile appeared on the man’s handsome face, lending him a worldly look. “Are you perhaps an aspiring actress, Miss …?” He held onto the last syllable, inviting her to offer her name.

“Jasmine. Jasmine Anderson.” She curtsied as gracefully as possible in the narrow confines of the hallway.

Mr. Hargrove took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. As he placed a lingering kiss on her knuckles, his soulful gaze seemed to consume her. “What a lovely name for a lovely girl.”

He turned to Sarah. “And this gorgeous young creature must be your sister.”

A sharp pang ate at Jasmine’s heart as Mr. Hargrove took Sarah’s hand and kissed it with the same lingering attention.

But Sarah didn’t seem to mind. She fluttered her eyelashes at the man as he straightened. “You are quite the flatterer, are you not, Monsieur Hargrove?”

He put a hand to his chest and staggered back a step. “You wound me, mademoiselle. If I cannot remark on beauty where I see it, what use is this tongue?”

Sarah laughed. “How would you earn wages without it?”

“This is very true.” He winked at her before turning his attention back to Jasmine. “If you can convince your sister to include me in your family party, I would be most delighted to join you.”

Jasmine’s pang intensified. She wished for a moment she’d paid more attention to Camellia’s advice about learning the art of flirtation. But she had never needed it before this evening. Could she even flutter her eyelashes? “I’m sure Mrs. Cartier wouldn’t mind.”

From the odd expression on the actor’s face, Jasmine’s attempt to flutter was not going well. She closed her eyes for a brief moment as she realized how gauche she must appear to him. When she opened them, he had recovered his aplomb. He bowed to her and offered his arm … to Sarah. Didn’t he hear her say that Sarah was a married lady? Jasmine trudged behind them and wondered how she might regain Mr. Hargrove’s attention.

“My heart is broken to learn that some other man has stolen your affections. Dare I hope that your family forced you into a marriage with a doddering old fool who is at the point of demise?” His voice was pitched low, but Jasmine had no trouble overhearing him.

Sarah giggled and rapped his hand with her fan. “You are a rascal. Dr. Cartier won my heart a decade ago.”

“He is in poor health, though?”

“My husband is in the prime of his life.”

Mr. Hargrove shook his head. “Then I am doomed to worship you from afar.”

Jasmine rolled her eyes. By the time they found Kenneth and performed the introductions, she was wishing she’d not been so impetuous.

The drive to the restaurant changed her opinion slightly as Mr. Hargrove recounted several humorous stories of past performances. He accompanied his tales with admiring glances in her direction. By the time the coachman pulled up, she found herself in better humor.

The men climbed out first and turned to offer their assistance to the ladies. Sarah accepted her husband’s arm. Jasmine had to wait a moment before Mr. Hargrove reached inside for her hand, so by the time her feet touched the ground, the Cartiers were almost at the entrance.

Instead of releasing Jasmine’s hand, Mr. Hargrove tucked it into the crook of his arm. He leaned over so that his mouth was close to her ear. “I trust you understand that I must appease your chaperones if I am to have access to your company.”

She didn’t know if she should be relieved or repelled by his explanation. “Sarah is very beautiful and accomplished.”

“But she lacks a very special quality that you have in abundance.” His eyes shone in the light of a nearby lantern.

Jasmine felt the blood rushing upward to stain her cheeks and hoped he could not see it. Prying her tongue from the roof of her mouth, she swallowed hard. “Wh–what is that?”

“Innocence.” His smile made her heart stutter. She could hardly believe such a handsome, sophisticated man found anything interesting about her at all.

He found her lack of experience a good thing? Jasmine could hardly believe he wouldn’t prefer a female who could match his own qualities. He was so suave, so comfortable in social situations. Perhaps he was teasing her? But a glance at his face showed nothing but admiration. She didn’t know how to answer him.

The atmosphere inside was conducive to a romantic mood. Small round tables covered with white linen were scattered between vine-wrapped white columns of varying heights. Large potted ferns and tropical trees gave the illusion of privacy while kerosene lamps turned low made each table an intimate island. Jasmine felt as though she’d left America altogether and been magically transported to a romantic Greek ruin.

A waiter dressed in black formal wear led them to a table and gave menus to the gentlemen.

After glancing at the restaurant’s offerings, Mr. Hargrove leaned toward her. “I don’t know anything about your tastes, Miss Anderson. Do you wish to order for yourself?”

Jasmine didn’t much care what food was brought to the table as long as she was in his heady company. The only thing that would make the evening better would be if she and the actor were dining alone. “I trust you to make a proper selection, Mr. Hargrove.”

“I don’t know how proper my selection will be if you are involved.” His heated look set butterflies loose in her stomach. “It would give me great pleasure if you would use my Christian name, Vance.”

Kenneth cleared his throat and gave a tiny shake of his head before handing his menu back to the waiter. “I’m sure we’ll all enjoy the braised lamb.”

Taking the reprimand in stride, Vance smiled at his host. “I was telling your wife earlier that you’re a very lucky gentleman.”

“Why is that?” The frown on Kenneth’s face did not bode well for the rest of the evening.

“Because you snatched up Mrs. Cartier before any of the other men in New Orleans could. I am sure you’re the envy of everyone you know.”

Sarah beamed at both men and put her hand over her husband’s. “I’m the lucky one.”

Kenneth sat back, his features easing a tad.

Jasmine was relieved. She listened to the two men discuss politics and the general state of the country, Sarah tossing in a witty comment now and then. The meal came, but she found herself unable to consume much. The butterflies still fluttering inside her stomach forbade her. She played with her fork, picked at a loose thread on her napkin, and managed to swallow a few sips of water. If tonight was a preview of what New Orleans had to offer, perhaps she should reconsider staying here.

A black police officer studied David’s badge, a furrow between his brows. “Didn’t I see you here yesterday?”

David held out his right hand. “That’s right. My name’s David Foster. I’m investigating the Citizen’s Bank robbery.”

“Levi Campbell.” The officer’s grasp was firm. “The chief’s down at the mayor’s office, but Lieutenant Moreau might be able to see you.”

It was a place to start. David knew he needed to enlist the support of the department if his plan was to succeed. Putting his badge into his coat pocket, he smiled at Officer Campbell. “Lead the way.”

The constable who’d escorted him the day before sat at one of the wooden desks in the main room of the police station. A look of concern crossed his features as he recognized David. “Is something wrong?”

David wracked his memory for the man’s name. French. Long. That was it! Longineaux. “Morning, Constable Longineaux.”

A look of surprise and appreciation replaced his concern.

Before he could say anything, Officer Campbell blew out a breath to show his exasperation. “Pinkerton here wants to see the chief.”

“Does it have something to do with the robbery?”