Heart of Glass (26 page)

The hand she placed over his heart trembled. Colin closed his eyes. She was too close. He fought the urge to run his fingers through her hair, to cup her head, pull her close, and kiss her.

“Why are you here?” He was afraid to hear the answer. Had he gone too far earlier?

“On our wedding night you told me that you would never press me for more than I am willing to give.”

“And I never will. I promise.”

“Nor I you,” she whispered. “But I am here now, if you want me.”

“Oh, Kate.”

She tried to pull away. “I’m sorry if I misunderstood.”

“Don’t go.” He drew her back into his arms. “You understood very well. You understood more than I. You felt what I’ve been trying to deny for weeks. I want you, Kate. I want more than a business arrangement. I want ours to be a real marriage. I want to be your husband in every way.”

“As I want to be your wife, Colin, but …”

“What is it, my darling?”

She dropped her gaze. He tightened his arms around her.

“I don’t like to fail, Colin, which is why Amelie’s death shook me to the core. I try to rise to every challenge, but tonight, I …” Her words faded into a whisper. “I have no idea what to do.”

He cupped her chin, forced her to meet his gaze, and smiled. Then he lowered his head and whispered against her lips.

“Trust me, Kate. By tomorrow morning you will be an expert wife.”

A
shaft of sunlight streamed through the window and woke Kate. It took her a moment to realize that she was not in her own bed, but in Colin’s. She slid her hand across the sheet. He wasn’t there. She sat up and called his name. There was no answer. There was nowhere in the small six-sided room for him to hide.

She glanced over at the cuckoo clock that ticked on despite the sad wooden bird dangling by a wire from its broken perch. She was too far away to read the time so she got out of bed and crossed the room.

Nearly nine. She shoved her tangled hair back off her face and tried not to panic. The children were early to bed and early to rise. By now they would have been up for a good three hours, no doubt asking after her.

She pressed her hands to her burning cheeks and stared down at her bare feet. How was she going to sneak back to the house without anyone seeing her?

Maybe Colin was with the children already. Had he told them where she was? What about Eugenie?

She pressed her palms to her cheeks. She had planned to return to the house long before dawn, before anyone knew she had spent the night in the
garçonnière
.

She found her wool shawl hanging over the back of a chair and then tried to finger comb her hair into some semblance of order.
Looking around for her glasses, she remembered leaving them in her room and groaned.

Padding over to the window, she didn’t see a sign of anyone about. She opened the door and slipped outside.

She darted across the lawn toward the hedge and followed it around until she was at the front of the house. Thankfully, there was still no one in sight. She hiked up her nightgown and started running across the sun-warmed grass.

The gallery was empty so she hurried upstairs and locked herself in her room.

Eugenie always brought hot water upstairs just after dawn. It was tepid now. Kate washed up, changed into clean clothes, and pinned up her hair. She grabbed her glasses and walked to the mirror to survey the damage.

She looked tired. Her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep. She leaned close to the mirror and stared at her lips. They were tender to the touch and a bit swollen.

No sense hiding all day, as if anyone would allow it. Sooner or later Colin or the children or all of them together would come looking for her. Better to face the world head on, suffer the embarrassment, and be done with it. They were married. They’d done nothing wrong. She took a deep breath.

Yesterday she was a well-educated, twenty-nine-year-old spinster who thought she knew all she needed to know about life and love. How very wrong she’d been.

But last night had been worth a little embarrassment.

The smell of coffee drew her out to the kitchen. As soon as she entered the small building Eugenie turned and smiled a knowing smile.

“Good mornin’, Miz Delany.” It was the first time Eugenie had ever addressed her by her married name. “I kept the coffee warm for you, but it’ll be a might strong by now.”

Kate thanked her and quickly glanced at the table, which was already cleared.

“Where are Colin and the children?”

“Mr. Colin told them to let you sleep in this morning and turned them over to Simon. They’re corralled in back of the barn pitching horseshoes.”

“Colin left?”

Eugenie handed her a mug of coffee and then shooed her over to the table.

“I got a plate of grits and eggs for you in the warmin’ oven.” She walked over to the stove. “Mr. Colin went into N’awlins with Mr. Bolton. Said to say he took your plans in for you and that he’ll drop ‘em by the architect’s office. Said today was a special day for him too.”

Embarrassed, Kate dropped her gaze.

“Special seein’ as how you are done with your plans and he and Mr. Bolton were going to see about gettin’ a loan.”

Kate glanced up so quickly she sloshed the hot coffee on her hand and winced. She carefully set the mug down and went after a dishrag.

“Colin went to New Orleans for a loan?”

Eugenie nodded. “He left a letter on your desk.”

“I’ll be right back.” Kate eyed the plate of food. She was ravenous but wanted to read Colin’s note. She hurried into the dining room to her desk.

The letter was centered beneath the carving of
Belle Fleuve
.

Kate stared at the page in her hand.

Until I return, love
.

Kate folded the letter and tucked it into her bodice, then picked up the miniature of
Belle Fleuve
. She thought of Marie and Patrick and smiled. At long last she was a Delany.

T
here was no other city in America like New Orleans.

The
Vieux Carre
, situated on a bend of the Mississippi, spoke of old-world charm transplanted from Spain and France. That charm thrived behind walled courtyards and balconies hanging over narrow streets. A languid pace masked the constant hum of life on the crowded streets of the French Quarter, the ongoing commerce at the wharf, the constant ebb and flow of the gulf tides. The mighty river carried money and people from all over the globe into New Orleans.

Colin and Jason arrived in town in the late afternoon. Jason introduced Colin to the Edisons, a young couple who had offered them accommodations. Jason had served with Derek Edison during the war until Derek had been wounded and captured, spending months in a Yankee prison camp. Since then he had not been able to cope with everyday life or hold a job, so his wife took in laundry and sewing. They had no children as Derek refused to bring a child into what he believed was a world of darkness.

The man’s depression and lack of interest in the simplest tasks reminded Colin of himself. He’d existed in the same void, the same darkness. If only it hadn’t taken Amelie’s death to inspire him. What would he have done without Kate?

Colin soon left Jason alone with his friends and ventured out
to deliver Kate’s plans. He found Roger Jamison’s quietly elegant home situated on a shady street in the Garden District. The man was obviously surprised to see him so late in the day but ushered him in with a warm welcome nonetheless. He offered tea, which Colin declined.

“What brings you to the city?” Jamison asked.

“I’m here on business. I wanted to meet you and drop off Kate’s plans for Captain Stevens’ house.” Colin handed the architect Kate’s drawings.

“She’s well, I hope.”

“She’s very well indeed.”

“I knew your father. Fine man. Great architect.” Jamison carried the plans to a long table and looked eager to see what Kate had done. “I see the rumors of your insanity are greatly exaggerated.”

“Insanity?”

“It was all over town that you returned from the war a madman. When people heard Katherine Keene had gone to your rescue, there were those who feared for her life. All gossip fed by unfounded rumors, I see. You can imagine how surprised I was to hear that the two of you were married.”

“No more surprised than I.” So everyone was certain Kate had rescued him from the brink of madness.

Roger continued to study Colin. “I’m happy for both of you. Patrick would be so pleased to have an architect in the family again. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thank you, sir.” Colin tapped his hat against his thigh and felt heat rise to his face. He couldn’t stop thinking of Kate in his arms last night. She’d done so much for him. What exactly had he contributed to their marriage?

He wished he’d been there when she awoke this morning. Wished he’d been there to say good-bye.

Jamison smiled as if he could read Colin’s thoughts. “Kate is a very charming and intelligent woman.”

“She has great plans for
Belle Fleuve
.”

“I agree. I’ve seen them myself.”

“With any luck we’ll have the money for restoration someday.” Colin’s mind wandered. What was Kate doing now? Was she with the children? Or working at her desk? Perhaps she and Marie were in the garden painting watercolors, or maybe Damian was on her lap learning his letters —

“She could have built her own mansion to her taste, from what I hear.”

Built her own mansion? Exactly how rich was she? Colin didn’t know what to say.

“I’m eager to see what she’s designed for Captain Stevens,” Jamison said again. Taking note of Colin’s reaction, he added, “I can tell by the look on your face there’s a problem.”

“Ezekiel Stevens showed up at
Belle Fleuve
to speak to Kate personally.”

“You don’t like him.”

“I don’t mean to interfere with Kate’s opportunity, but you should know he was very forward with her. At least I thought so.”

“I’ll make certain he doesn’t bother her at home again.” Roger peered at Colin over his spectacles. “In fact, she needn’t be present at our meetings. I can certainly confer with them separately.”

Colin could just imagine how Kate would take that news.

“That won’t be necessary. My wife has put much time and effort into the plans even though she wasn’t in agreement with his suggestions. I’d not jeopardize the project or Kate’s presence at the necessary meetings simply because I … well, because I may be overreacting to what might have been completely innocent overtures.”

“I understand. You just wanted me to be aware.”

Colin nodded. “That’s right. Thank you for understanding.” He extended his hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you. Now I must be off to my business meeting.”

“Best of luck to you, Delany.” Jamison walked him to the door.

“Thank you, sir,” Colin said. “I’ll need it.”

Colin found New Orleans much the same and yet things were
different. The city’s most talented chef, Antoine, had moved his restaurant to St. Louis Street and then gone back to Marseille to die, leaving his wife to run the place.

Colin stopped on the street outside the restaurant to gaze through the windows at rooms aglow with golden light from the chandeliers. Silver and crystal sparkled on a sea of starched white linen tablecloths. He pictured Kate seated at one of the tables, her bright blue eyes shining. This was the lifestyle she was used to, the kind of life the Keenes had given her. Gilbert Keene had left her well off: Kate’s clothing was of the finest fabric and latest styles and her suite at the St. Charles hadn’t come cheap — but her money was her own.

He wasn’t about to take charity from his wife.

His wife
. It still seemed impossible — incredible even — that Kate was his. And now she was his in more than name only. Colin stared at his own reflection in the restaurant window. Dark, worried eyes stared back. His tall form listed to one side as he leaned heavily on his cane. He was thin but not as gaunt as before. The lines etched on his face belonged on someone much older. He was in need of new clothes. The black suit he was wearing, which he’d owned before the war, showed its age. If he wasn’t so thin it wouldn’t fit at all. As it was, the jacket was snug across his shoulders.

He didn’t have much to show for a life of thirty-two years. How had Kate ever agreed to his proposal? Colin had definitely gotten the best of the bargain.

He headed for Tujague’s on the corner of Madison and Decatur. As he drew closer, his mouth watered for the restaurant’s special shrimp
remoulade
. Dinner at the eatery would cost more than he wanted to spend, but one splurge in ten years could be forgiven.

Nearly there, Colin hitched his horse to an iron post and was about to cross the street when someone approached from behind.

“Why, if it isn’t Colin Delany.” The woman’s throaty voice sounded familiar.

Unable to place it, Colin was careful not to trip on the
cobblestones as he turned and found himself face to face with Tillie Cutter, the red-headed prostitute he had met on the train from Texas. She’d chatted on for hours though he hadn’t been in the mood to talk. He had told her his name and little else, but somehow she managed to track him down at
Belle Fleuve
. Had Tillie showed up at the
garçonnière
on the very day Kate had arrived? He’d been too drugged at the time to be able to recall exactly.

Without warning or invitation, Tillie slipped her hand into the crook of his free arm. She was so heavily doused with cheap perfume that the air quickly became thick with the scent.