Gentleman's Trade (18 page)

“Thank you,” Adeline murmured, sniffling slightly, though her eyes shone like jewels.

“Tell me all,” insisted her sister, an admonitory expression on her face.

Adeline gave a watery chuckle and did as requested, though mindful of her sister’s temper last evening when she discovered their attempts to protect her from Wilmot, she prudently skirted the subject of the reason for the continued deceptions.

“So, when is Mr. Danielson going to declare himself to Father?”

“Well,” Adeline hedged, “he feels Father has some weighty business matters plaguing his mind at the moment that need resolution first.”«

“Stuff and nonsense! Tell him to speak to Father at once.”

“No! No, please, Vanessa, allow us to handle this in our own way, after all, it wasn’t long ago Trevor was your suitor, and we don’t wish the transition to be a shock.”

“So, what may I do to help, marry Mr. Wilmot?” Vanessa tossed out whimsically.

Adeline blanched. “Don’t joke about that! Please, promise me you won’t agree to marry Mr. Wilmot out of some misguided notion of rescue.”

“Rescue?” Vanessa chuckled. She rose to her feet, extending her hand to help her sister to rise. “I believe, dear sister, you’re picking up Paulette’s melodramatic tendencies. Come, let’s find Mr. Danielson and the children and get this picnic organized. I can’t wait for the opportunity to twit that gentleman,” she teased.

“Oh, Vanessa,” sighed Adeline again, earning a raised eyebrow and twisted smile from her sister as they left the room in search of the Danielson family.

For the better part of an hour Hugh Talverton wrestled with himself on the advisability of, versus his desire to, join the picnic party. He had made a mull of it last evening by kissing Vanessa, breaking all her strict unwritten rules for acceptable behavior. Perhaps it would be best to follow Mr. Wilmot’s example and make an early departure, not that that would be the easiest solution, for he was staying in Trevor’s lodgings above the offices of the Danielson and Hailey Company. It might raise more questions than he was currently willing to answer.

Truthfully, he was uncertain as to the reception he would receive in Vanessa’s company. He was loath to face the same skittish behavior she directed toward Mr. Wilmot. It would twist his soul to endure such a reception from her as was his due. Why had he played the incontinent fool last evening and given in to his temptations? He was not some callow schoolboy.

His thoughts churned, and he remembered her pliant body in his arms. After her initial shock, she’d succumbed willingly to his kiss, reveling in it as much as he. Why? She never accepted Wilmot’s clumsy, arrogant machinations. Why had she responded to him? Was it possible that she felt a modicum of feeling for him? She’d spoken of the pull between them. He’d recognize the feeling within himself but had not realized, and, in truth, verily denied, that she should feel likewise. Was it so unheard of? Could he now be the chosen over Trevor? The questions reverberated in his mind as he paced the canal, searching for peace and answers.

Finally, drained from the efforts of a virtually sleepless night, he made his way back to the plantation house to seek out the company, stoically preparing himself for rejection but feeling he had to see Vanessa again.

The servants directed him to a corner of the property where the vegetation resembled a forest glade versus the ubiquitous swamp. The little party he sought was encamped on blankets under the shade of a large tree. They were all laughing and looking up to where Trevor’s six-year-old son was swinging from a thick branch and little Mary sat in the crook of two massive limbs. Adeline stood beneath her, urging her to climb down, but the little girl just shook her head defiantly, inviting Adeline to join her.

Vanessa urged her sister to climb the tree, her face alight with mischief. Hugh saw Adeline steadfastly shake her head, a false frown remonstrating her sister for making the suggestion. As he drew near, Hugh heard Trevor add his voice to Vanessa’s, and offer to give her a boost. Laughing, Adeline acquiesced, and Trevor gave her a leg up onto a low branch of the tree.

Adeline swung her legs and chatted animatedly with Mary. Hugh saw her sweep her arm wide to indicate the view, her gaze following a moment later, catching sight of him on the path.

“Mr. Talverton!” she called.

Vanessa swung around, a deep rose blush staining her cheeks. Deliberately she looked away, unable to maintain eye contact with him lest she show where her heart lay.

Hugh understandably interpreted her action as rejection. He would halve turned on his heel if Trevor was not approaching him and the children not screaming with delight.

Reluctantly, he joined in their merriment. Alex dropped to the ground and ran to his side, tucking a trusting hand in his arm. Mary squealed and called for him to help her down. Laughing more freely now, he pinched her cheeks and lifted her off the branch.

“Help Miss Adeline, too,” the young girl instructed with curiously grown-up presence.

He bowed over her hand. “It shall be my pleasure,” he promised earnestly. But when he turned to face Adeline, Trevor’s hands were already on her waist as he gently helped her down. Hugh frowned darkly when he noted his friend’s hands resting longer than was seemly in polite company. Embarrassed for Vanessa, he cleared his throat loudly.

Adeline and Trevor looked over at him but just laughed. Vanessa’s face bore a curious expression of equanimity. Curious, because it was not a typical emotion for her. She felt things swiftly and heavily, with all emotions registering on the canvas of her face. Because of her usually mobile features, it was odd that she should sit so still and not display her feelings. He was certain she could not have observed the scene with quite the serenity she was displaying.

“Feeling better now?” Trevor asked, his arm still around Adeline. His smile was hearty as it had been earlier that morning.

“I was,” he muttered darkly, his brows drawing forward again. How could his friend treat Vanessa in this fashion, ignoring her and reserving his attention for another woman?

If Vanessa could not come to love Trevor, then it would be on that gentleman’s head. If Trevor did not appreciate her, then damn it, he certainly did, and he was not about to let any man give her slipshod treatment.

Trevor’s arm slipped from the small of Adeline’s back. He came toward his friend, smiling ruefully. “What ails you, Hugh? You are as blue as megrim.”

“It is not what ails me, it is what ails you,” came Hugh’s acid rider, putting his back to the ladies and children so they might be spared his righteous anger.

Trevor’s eyebrows snapped together. “Don’t stand on points with me. Quit behaving like a Tragedy Jack and tell me what has you by the tail,” he said with asperity.

“Your behavior,” Hugh ground out.

“My behavior?”

“Your behavior toward your intended is deplorable.”

“What?”

“The bonds of affection we share are strained by your unprincipled actions.”

The glint of sharpening anger showed in Trevor’s eyes. “Now see here, Talverton,” he said, maintaining a bare degree of civility, “my intended and I have a comfortable understanding, and I’ll thank you to keep out of our affairs.”

The gentlemen’s rising tones captured the attention of Adeline and Vanessa. They exchanged worried glances.

“Let’s go see what different wildflowers you may find for me,” Adeline hurriedly suggested to the children, leading them away.

Vanessa rose from her seat on the blanket and took a step nearer Hugh and Trevor, a concerned frown pulling at her features.

“Understanding—is that the best you have to offer a wife?”

“I repeat, what I offer is not of your concern,” Trevor answered tightly, his face flushing.

Hugh glared at him helplessly, his tawny eyes glowing like cut gems. His fist clenched, his arm swung back then out, to connect squarely with Trevor’s jaw.

The force of the blow spun Trevor around, knocking him off balance. He landed heavily. Hugh stood over him, his hands balled into fists.

“Trevor!” yelled Vanessa, dropping to her knees beside him.

“Oh, is there to be a mill?” asked young Alex excitedly.

“Of course not,” snapped Adeline, picking up her skirts and running toward Trevor.

Alex and Mary looked at each other. “Adults,” Alex said with disgust. Mary nodded her solemn agreement.

“Talverton, you must still be foxed,” said Trevor, nursing his jaw. “I haven’t the foggiest what you’re about. If the children and ladies weren’t present, I’d give you the mill you’re so obviously looking for, and don’t be so cocksure of its outcome.”

Vanessa glared at Hugh. “Barbarian!” she cried, throwing back at him the word he’d once used to describe New Orleans. She drew a handkerchief from a hidden pocket of her dress and dabbed at a slight cut on Trevor’s lip.

“Trevor! Are you all right?” demanded Adeline, sinking down to the ground and placing his head on her lap.

“I’d life be a barbarian than a shocking loose screw,” vowed Hugh, but his tense posture eased, though his face was still dark with emotion. “If I were marrying Vanessa, I’d show her more respect than to cavort with her sister.”

“Vanessa!” exclaimed Trevor, struggling up on his elbow.

“Me!” squeaked the subject of discussion.

“Oh, dear me,” exclaimed Adeline weakly before she was overtaken by a paroxysm of laughter.

Thunderstruck, Hugh stared at them all.

“I thought . . . by your words this morning, I thought you knew,” said Trevor, the beginnings of a laugh welling up in him. He put his hand back to his face. “It hurts too much to laugh, but by Jove, Hugh, you’re a cork-brained fellow. I want Vanessa for a sister, not a wife!”

“A sister?”

“Yes, I want to wed Adeline.”

“Hurrah, hurrah!” piped in two little voices behind him.

Trevor sat up just in time to avoid being trampled by his own children as they threw themselves at Adeline, entwining their arms around her neck.

Hugh slumped down to the ground, holding his head in his hands. “This is a devil of a muddle. I must be worse than cork-brained for I’ll confess I don’t understand.”

“I’ll admit I once contemplated wedding Vanessa, but that was before I realized I was in love with Adeline. After we realized our true affections, we, Adeline and myself, decided it would be best if I were to continue to court Vanessa publicly for the reason we discussed: Wilmot. I’ll admit there was another reason, too, but I didn’t realize the strength of your feelings and commitment not to be thwarted again,” Trevor said wryly.

“What do you mean?”

“We reasoned you and Vanessa had the potential for more than an antagonistic relationship; you just needed the proper incentive. I thought if I continued to court Vanessa, you’d see the parallels to the courtship of Julia and get jealous enough not to want to lose again.”

“Oh, he saw them all right,” said Vanessa, rising and brushing the dirt and grass off her gown. “But that’s not the lesson he came away with.”

Tears shimmered at the edges of her eyes, blurring her vision. “I cannot believe the lengths you all have gone to protect me from something I may not wish to be protected from. I would just like the opportunity to find out for myself. Is that so much to ask? Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take my leave of you. I find I have a splitting headache.” Her voice caught in her throat as she whirled away to stumble down the path.

“Vanessa! Please!” called Hugh, rising to his feet and starting after her.

“No, don’t, Mr. Talverton. Give her some time. I know my sister. Though she may be quick to anger, she does come around to seeing the humor in life. Let Vanessa work her frustrations out of her system.”

Hugh looked at Adeline and then back to Vanessa uncertainly. He exhaled deeply and shook his head. “Truly, I don’t know what the proper course is any longer.” He laughed shortly, remembering Paulette’s words. The minx knew exactly what she was saying. Joining the picnic had been an enlightening experience.

“Hugh!” Trevor cried, bursting into the small study where his friend sat writing a letter to his family. “Russell Wilmot is the worst type of vermin to crawl upon the earth. You would not believe what my contacts have discovered.” Leaning back in his chair, his quill held lax between his fingers, Hugh looked up. Trevor’s countenance conveyed a deep agitation. His sable hair, normally neatly waved back off his high forehead, spiked outward at the sides of his head, augmenting his wild-eyed appearance.

Despite his own low spirits and depression, Hugh was moved to listen to his friend, albeit dully.

“Mannion took some loans out this spring, and guess who holds the notes?”

“Wilmot,” Hugh said flatly.

“How did you guess?”

Hugh snorted. “I’ve know that since Wednesday.”

“Wednesday! That was nearly a week ago. Why didn’t you tell me?” Trevor expostulated.

“I believed the information to be given into my trust in strictest confidence.”

“But how? Who would know such a thing?”

“Richard himself.”

“Richard!”

“Please Trevor, must you continually sound like an echo? Soon you’ll have me believing I’m back in the Alps.”

“The Alps!”

“See what I mean?”

Trevor shook his head, his mouth set in a grim line. “This is not a time for levity.”

His friend sighed. “If I don’t laugh, I vow I shall be consumed with a burning anger or quaking sadness.”

“This maudlin mantle you wear is not like you, Hugh.”

“I don’t think I know what is like me anymore,” he responded whimsically.

“Hugh!”

“All right. All right,” he placated. “Tell me. There is a chance Richard did not disclose all, and there may be more to be gleaned from the matter.”

Trevor pulled a chair around in front of Hugh and straddled it, resting his forearms on the gracefully carved wooden back. “Word has it Mannion’s invested almost all of his blunt on this year’s cotton harvest. Overextended himself so he was forced to seek loans. Wasn’t from the gull gropers, but might as well have been for the rates he’s to pay are usurious. They say he didn’t borrow conventionally because he wanted his dealing kept private in order to instigate some sort of coup in the marketplace come fall. Funny, I’d never have taken Mannion for that type of gambler. Thought he was a straight, conservative fellow, actually.

“Anyway, it seems Wilmot somehow found out about the loans and bought them up, paid top dollar, too, I heard. Now he’s using his possession to put some sort of pressure on Richard. It’s true he wants to marry Vanessa, but it’s not as if he’s possessed of a grand passion for her or anything. They say he’s got a quadroon mistress in a nice house on Rampart Street that he’s not about to give up. Evidently she’s pure class. But back to Vanessa. For some reason Wilmot’s blackmailing Richard to try to force him to grant him Vanessa’s hand in marriage, as a willing or unwilling bride. I’ll tell you, though, a number of heads are scratching to figure out just why. I mean, it’s known Louisa’s dowry was hefty, but there are plenty of other debutantes whose dowries are plumper. Vanessa’s can’t be that different from her sister’s.”

Hugh laughed shortly. “Ah, but that’s where you and all your contacts are wrong. It is quite different.”

“What do you mean?” Trevor asked, straightening in his chair.

“Mannion’s settled half his business on her.”

“What!”

“My sentiments exactly. It is a long story, so I won’t bore you with all the details. Suffice it to say, one other gentleman in New Orleans knew about the arrangement and has held it over Richard’s head for four years. And he’s the only one Wilmot could have learned it from.”

“Who?”

“Jean Laffite.”

Trevor swore viciously. “I suspected Wilmot’s overnight success in business might be due in part to that pirate. They must have been working far closer than I ever imagined, to share that kind of knowledge.”

Hugh shrugged. “‘Whether they were close or not, there is no honor among thieves and, from some things Richard’s said to me, I’d be willing to bet a pony Laffite has no notion of Wilmot’s machinations.”

Trevor nodded. “Laffite has been too busy attempting to reclaim what is rightfully his.”

“So Richard alluded.”

“What was Laffite’s stake in all this?”

“He got to choose the bridegroom and therefore gain control of another legitimate front operation.”

“But why hasn’t he done so before now?”

“I suspect because things began to get a little unsettling for him in 1814, the year Vanessa turned eighteen.”

Trevor agreed. “At that time,” he said thoughtfully, “he was more concerned with saving his own hide than worrying about further aggrandizement.”

“Precisely.”

“Let me see if I understand this correctly. If Wilmot marries Vanessa, he gets half of Mannion’s business, and right now he holds notes worth the other half of his business.”

“Correct, because Mannion is an honorable man and could not, in good conscience, pledge his daughter’s dowry for the loans,” Hugh added.

“So right now,” Trevor mused, “if Wilmot marries Vanessa before the harvest, and Mannion defaults on the notes, which I’m sure Wilmot has in some way orchestrated, probably by demanding a payment just prior to the harvest, Wilmot walks away with the entire business.”

“Exactly.”

“Neat. But what’s to prevent Mannion from borrowing the money elsewhere?”

Hugh shrugged. “A large part is probably pride, though I’d also wager Wilmot’s fuzzed the cards some way.”

“If only there was a legitimate way for Mannion to get the money prior to the deadline, something Wilmot couldn’t even question. If Mannion was able to pay Wilmot off, the man might also lose his interest in Vanessa if he doesn’t stand to get control of the entire business.”

“You know the city better than I. Any ideas?” Hugh asked.

“None, I’m afraid. The only recourse I can offer is to continue to investigate Wilmot, see if we can discover any unsavory skeletons in his closet that he’d life remain hidden,” Trevor suggested.

“Hmm . . . . Yes, I agree we should pursue that avenue, but it is a chancy thing at best,” Hugh said, absently tapping the end of his quill against the letter to his brother, his eyes staring blindly down at the squiggles and curls of his handwriting. Slowly his eyes focused, caught unconsciously by one phrase. Straightening in his chair, a devilish smile curved his lips upward, shooting sparks into his eyes.

“What is it?” Trevor asked, lifting his chin off his folded arms.

“This,” he answered, tapping the letter. “I was just telling my brother I might take some time and tour this country, take a trip up the Mississippi on one of those new steamboats. I told the same thing to Wilmot last week.”

“So?”

“If I am to be on a protracted journey, I will be facing unknown conditions of travel. What if I were delayed in returning to the city at harvest time? Then perhaps, to insure myself the best of the cotton harvested, I should prepay. I don’t fear being gulled, for it’s well known that a New Orleans businessman’s word is his honor-bound vow, and certainly Mannion has an excellent reputation. The prepayment is not a demand of Mannion’s, but a convenience to me, and of course, I am just a crazy Englishman.”

Trevor laughed. “I like it, and it might work. Unfortunately, I hate to see you leave the city in order to give credence to your story.”

“At this point, Trevor, with the mull of things I’ve made with Vanessa, it might be my best course of action.”

“Don’t underestimate her.”

“I don’t. That’s the problem,” he said wryly.

Trevor laughed sympathetically. “Regardless, I feel we should put your plan to work immediately. We’d best see Richard today. Wilmot pulled him aside for another of his private discussions yesterday, and afterward Richard looked decidedly gray. He may have upped the date again.”

Hugh scratched the back of his neck. “Unfortunately, I agree with you, but the mere thought of possibly facing Vanessa makes the hair on the back of my neck tingle. I daresay she’ll be out for blood.”

“Oh, come now, I’ve never known you to shirk from danger.”

“That’s because the danger has always come from other men. Coming from a woman, it’s a decidedly different matter.”

“Meddling. You all are the aristocrats of meddling! I am shocked. What must be your collective opinion of me? I cannot rate very high in your esteem if all of you find it necessary to manage and order my life for me. What words do you use to describe me? ‘She’s a little ninny hammer, silly widgeon, pea-goose, hen-witted, paper-skulled—”

“That’s enough, Vanessa. You’ve made your point,” interrupted Mrs. Mannion with more asperity than was her wont.

“Now see here, Vanessa, you don’t know all that’s involved,” put in her father.

“You’re right, I don’t. But whose fault is that, may I ask? If you would be a bit forthcoming, Father, instead of treating us like so many baubles to decorate your home, you might discover we have a modicum of brains and could be of assistance.”

“There have been reasons for that, too,” Mr. Mannion said heavily.

“And pray, what might they be?”

“Vanessa, you are becoming unseemly.”

“Pardon me, Mama, but I find I have lost all control over my baser self. Who knows what I might do in this temperament. Perhaps throw myself at Mr. Wilmot and shockingly drape myself over his broad figure.”

“Vanessa! That will be enough!”

Mr. Mannion sighed heavily. “If we are not to find ourselves in seriously straitened circumstances living off Vanessa’s beneficence, she may have to do just that.”

“Mr. Mannion,” his wife said, “I do wish you would speak plainly without roundaboutation.”

“I overextended myself this season and faced the necessity of taking out some loans to tide us over until harvest. I used half my business as collateral. Mr. Wilmot purchased my vowels and is now demanding payment by the end of the week. He will trade Vanessa’s hand in marriage for an extension.”

“Why? Why does he so desire my hand in marriage?”

“Because you are the true owner of the other half of my business.”

“What?” she whispered, sinking down into a chair by the fireplace.

Very quickly he told them his machinations of the past four years, often casting entreaties for forgiveness in Vanessa’s direction. When he completed his tale, he looked old and drawn, and for a moment, no one in the room moved or spoke.

Vanessa’s mind whirled at the implications of all he had said and also left unsaid. She shook her head to clear her dazed mind, then rose and crossed to her father’s side, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Father,” she said softly. “You have given me much to think about. Why don’t you go lie down and rest, or sit in the library and read one of your beloved histories, while I wrestle with these realities. Do not worry, I shall see our ship come in.”

“Not at your own expense!”

“Father, consider this. If Mr. Wilmot was a truly evil man, he would not have even attempted to court me. My distaste for him is derived mainly, I think, from the liberties he took at the theater. I have since had cause to learn that my reaction under the circumstances was extreme. Perhaps I should now offer him an apology.”

“Never!”

“Calm yourself, Father, and allow me to think further on the matter. I’m sorry if I appeared unduly sarcastic earlier. But I don’t believe pairing me with a wastrel such as Mr. Talverton is an answer either.”

He sighed again, and rose from his dejected position on the sofa. His blue-gray eyes, so like Vanessa’s, were glassy. Vanessa’s soul cried at seeing her stalwart father a mere shadow of his usual self. She put her arms around him in a hug. He was surprised, but a faint trace of a smile eased the harsh, sad planes of his face.

She let go and stood away. He walked slowly, almost in a semblance of Jonas’s old, bent shuffle, to the door. Amanda rose to follow him, hooking her arm in his and laying her head on his shoulder as they went out of the room.

With her parents’ exit, Adeline laid aside all pretense of working on the quilt. “So, sister, where do we go from here?”

“I suppose I marry Mr. Wilmot.”

“No, Vanessa, you can’t!”

“Don’t fear, I believe I have a few tricks I may play. When is Charles returning to town with Paulette?”

“I believe early Wednesday morning. I will admit, I myself am astonished to discover Mama corresponded with Louisa about Paulette’s infatuation with Mr. Talverton and between them they orchestrated last weekend just so Paulette could meet Count Baligny,” Adeline said. “Do you think two extra days in the country will solidify Paulette’s relationship with the count?”

“If it can be managed, she shall do it,” Vanessa said, leaning her head back against the sofa. “The young man lacks Mr. Talverton’s worldliness and ability to adroitly step out of the line of fire. Mama and Louisa signally failed to take that into account in their matchmaking. I was most surprised to learn Mama considers Mr. Talverton an appropriate suitor for me.”

“There is a touch of bitterness in your tone,” observed Adeline.

“Do you blame me?” she asked.