Lily (Song of the River) (12 page)

He picked up his cane and stood.

“Where are you going?” Papa’s voice was dark with emotion. “I’m not through talking to you, Jean Luc.”

“I have a lady to meet.” He threw the answer over his shoulder as he headed out the door. He had absolute confidence in his skill with the ladies. Miss Anderson would be like putty in his hands. He would woo her and win her affection. Then he would force Blake Matthews to sell his interest in the
Hattie Belle.

Even if it meant playing into his father’s hands, Jean Luc had to take advantage of this situation. Papa might have won this skirmish, but Jean Luc was determined to win the war.

S
omeone’s driving up to the house.” Jasmine struggled against Camellia to retain her place at the window.

“Move, Jasmine. I can’t see who it is.”

Lily held her breath, waiting to hear her sisters’ pronouncement. She prayed it would not be Mr. Marvin. She had no desire to spend half an hour in the parlor ignoring her aunt’s pointed looks and thinly veiled suggestions. “Serve Mr. Marvin his tea, Lily. Show Mr. Marvin what an excellent needlewoman you are. Walk Mr. Marvin to the door, Lily.” The incessant directions came each time he visited. Could her aunt make her plans any more obvious? It was humiliating enough to think her relatives wanted to throw her at the first man who came courting. But they could wait until the period of mourning for Grandfather was over, or at least until a few months had passed.

“I don’t recognize the carriage, but the driver is quite distinguished.” Camellia glanced over one shoulder toward Lily. “Do you think it’s another suitor?”

With a shrug, Lily traced the monogrammed initial in her handkerchief. Camellia had been kind enough to sew one to replace the handkerchief lost to the cutpurse in Natchez Under-the-Hill. “I doubt it. More likely a business acquaintance of Uncle Phillip’s.”

Camellia made a face and wandered away from the window. “I wish someone would come visit me.”

“Are you going to marry Mr. Marvin?” Jasmine stood next to Lily’s chair. Her lower lip trembled slightly.

Lily gave her youngest sister a reassuring hug. “No.” She considered telling her sisters about their steamboat, but she had decided to wait until she could show them the
Hattie Belle.
She hadn’t yet found a way to tell Grandmother, either. “I don’t plan to marry anyone right now. Especially if it means leaving you here with Aunt Dahlia and Uncle Phillip.” She reached out, taking one of each sister’s hands. “I have a different idea for my future and yours.”

A knock at the door preceded Tamar’s entrance. “You are wanted in the parlor, Miss Lily.”

Her fearful glance met Camellia’s. Was it Mr. Marvin after all?

Camellia shook her head, her golden ringlets brushing her cheeks. “It’s not Mr. Marvin. His coach is not nearly as fine.”

“I wonder who it can be.” Lily released her sisters’ hands and stood.

Tamar frowned. “You have a spot on your collar.” She hurried over to Lily’s bureau. After a moment of searching, she pulled a length of black-dyed cotton from the top drawer with a satisfied sound. “Here’s a fresh one. Let’s get that one off.”

Lily removed the offending collar. “I don’t know why you must make a fuss.”

“You are my responsibility, Miss Lily. I’d never let you appear to guests looking less than your best.” Tamar smiled as she tweaked a lock of hair into place. “Your grandmother would have a fit if you showed up in her parlor looking like a ragamuffin.”

Knowing it was useless to protest, Lily allowed Tamar to fluff the ribbon around her waist and fuss with her skirt. Finally Tamar stepped back and nodded. “Go on down, now, before your grandmother sends someone to find you.”

A giggle threatened to escape. Lily swallowed it as her gaze once more met Camellia’s. “I’ll be back before long and tell you all about it.”

Camellia shrugged as if she did not care, but Lily knew better. Both girls would be antsy until she returned.

Lily descended the stairs, her heart tripping as she considered who might be awaiting her arrival. Although they had received many visitors since Grandfather’s death, most of them had been older. Perhaps this was another visitor of the same ilk. But why the summons to the parlor?

She stood outside the door and took a deep breath. Pinning a smile on her shaky lips, Lily pushed open the door and stepped inside. The man who rose from the couch made her mouth drop open. It was Mr. Champney, Jean Luc Champney, the son of the man she’d bought the
Hattie Belle
from. Had he come to tell her family of her purchase? Or perhaps he was coming to tell her the sale was invalid.

“Good morning, Miss Anderson.” He bowed over her hand.

She sank into a curtsy, acting on instinct as her mind considered half a dozen reasons their guest might be here. “It’s a pleasure to see you, Mr. Champney.”

His smile was as attractive as she remembered from the afternoon they had danced on the upper deck of the boat she now owned. “I am honored you remember me.”

Lily took a seat on the sofa and nodded toward her grandmother.

He sat down on the sofa, too, but on the far end as was proper. “The weather is so nice today. I hoped you might be interested in a leisurely drive this morning.”

This was better than she’d imagined. He was interested in getting to know her better. Perhaps he was considering a courtship. Lily’s cheeks warmed at the idea of being alone with him. She glanced at her grandmother for permission and received an encouraging nod. “I would greatly enjoy that, Mr. Champney.” Perhaps he would be amenable to taking her to the river so she could tour the
Hattie Belle.
Her boat. The words thrilled her. Did he know she had purchased the boat?

Grandmother sent Tamar for Lily’s cape before giving Mr. Champney strict instructions on their outing. She was to be returned home by the time lunch was served. He was to keep his carriage on the main roads, and they were to take Tamar with them for propriety’s sake.

Once she and Tamar were ready, Mr. Champney helped Lily into the front seat of his fancy cabriolet. His footman assisted Tamar into the backseat located on the outside of the fancy carriage. As Mr. Champney climbed into the front seat and settled himself beside her, Lily hid a grin. Tamar was muttering under her breath about the dangers of traveling. Something about breakneck speed and her desire to use her own God-given limbs.

Mr. Champney raised his riding whip to encourage the pair of horses, and they set off. “Do you have any place in particular you would like to go?”

How nice of him to consider her wishes. Lily couldn’t help comparing the man beside her to the one her aunt and uncle were trying to foist on her. If they had chosen Mr. Champney, she would not have been forced to find her dire solution. Of course, she would also not be about to realize her dream of living on a riverboat like her mother. “I’d love to go to the water-front.”

He nodded. “I suppose you want to visit your boat.”

Lily could feel her cheeks heating. “Please don’t mention it to my family.”

“They don’t know you purchased the
Hattie Belle
?”

Lily shook her head. “I don’t want them to stop me. As soon as I make sure everything is ready, I plan to move my sisters and myself aboard. We’re going to live on the
Hattie Belle.
”

His hands jerked on the reins, and his horses swerved. For a moment he had to concentrate on the horses, but as soon as he had them under control, he turned to stare at Lily. “You can’t live on a riverboat.”

Lily stared at him. Wasn’t his family involved in shipping? “Why not? My parents did. My father was the captain of his own boat, and he and my mother often took trips together before th–the accident.”

“That’s precisely why you should abandon this idea. It’s far too dangerous for a lady.”

A wagon trundled toward them, its bed empty. Lily wondered what it had carried to the river. Cotton? Sugarcane? Corn? Or maybe some handmade goods? Whatever the cargo, it had likely been loaded onto a steamship destined for sale in some distant city. Her heartbeat accelerated. Maybe it was even now sitting on the
Hattie Belle
, waiting for her arrival before sailing off.

“You can’t say anything to change my mind.” Lily looked away. “I’m going to make a home for myself and my sisters. A place where we can make our own choices and live our lives the way we wish.”

Silence fell between them as they entered Natchez. The traffic was heavy, and Mr. Champney had to pay attention to their route. She could feel his disapproval like a wall between them, but it only made her more determined. No obstacle would stop her. Living on the
Hattie Belle
was a dream come true.

“Very well, I’ll take you to your boat.” His voice held a note of something she could not name. Amusement or resignation? “I only hope you won’t be too disappointed.”

He guided the carriage through town but did not take the road to Natchez Under-the-Hill.

“Where are we going?” Lily could not keep the suspicion out of her voice.

“To see your boat.”

“But I thought—”

“Miss Anderson, I have only your best interests at heart. I hope you will one day learn to trust me.”

His tone made her feel guilty. Abashed, she watched the road silently. Soon they came to a bend, and she caught sight of the brown water of the Mississippi River. She caught her breath as a pair of white smokestacks appeared. She turned to Mr. Champney and had to fight the impulse to hug him.

His dark gaze seemed to read her mind. His smile widened, giving it a wolfish quality she had not noticed before. Before she could react, a banging sound turned her attention back to the
Hattie Belle.
“What is that?”

“I would imagine that is Blake Matthews.” He brought the carriage to a standstill and waited for his footman to come to the horses’ heads. “My father said he was making some alterations to the boat.”

“Is he the captain?”

“Not exactly.”

Lily was beginning to lose her patience with Mr. Champney. What kind of game did he think this was? “Is he one of the crew?”

“I suppose you could say that.” Mr. Champney climbed down and came around to help her disembark, his hand outstretched.

Lily put her hand in his and leaned forward, trusting him to balance her weight until her feet could touch the ground. To her shock she found herself caught in his embrace. “What are you doing? Put me down!” She pushed at his chest to no avail.

“Hold still, Miss Anderson. The ground here is quite muddy.” With several long-legged strides he reached the boat and stepped aboard before setting her gently on her feet.

Not sure if she should be angry or thankful, Lily straightened her bonnet and stepped back. “You might have warned me.” His teasing look brought a smile as Lily realized how silly her complaint was. “Thank you.” She glanced back toward his carriage.

“Shall we begin our tour?”

“Tamar is still in the carriage awaiting help.”

The teasing look disappeared from his coal-black eyes. “You want me to assist a slave? She can make her own way to the boat.”

The disdain on his face brought her up short. Tamar was more than a slave. She had mothered Lily and her two sisters from the time they first came to live with their grandparents. She had wiped away their grief-stricken tears and bandaged their scrapes. “Tamar may be a slave, but she’s part of my family. She is also my chaperone, and I refuse to take one more step until she is standing beside me.”

His lips tightened, and he gave her the briefest of bows before returning to the carriage. He carried Tamar as though he held an armful of firewood. His attitude might not be uncommon in this part of the world, but he should have some consideration for Lily’s feelings.

“Who’s out there?” The gruff voice sounded vaguely familiar to her.

“It’s Jean Luc Champney. I’ve brought the new owner of the
Hattie Belle.
”

She liked the sound of that. The new owner. Before she could fully savor the introduction, her thoughts were cut short.

The man responded with a crude epithet.

Who did he think he was to speak so before checking to see if a lady was present? Lily’s ears burned. “Please mind your tongue. I am not accustomed …” Her words trailed off as he stepped onto the deck above them. The man who had accused her of being the mother of a thief. The man who had already given her the rough side of his tongue, although he had refrained from curses that day. The man whose strong arms had encircled her and held her protectively close when it had seemed someone might be shooting at them. Hot blood flushed her neck and cheeks as she remembered the feel of his muscular chest cushioning her fall.

“And I’m not used to idlers who interrupt my work with foolishness.” He stared down at them.

Lily’s gaze made note of his leather shoes before traveling up the length of his dark trousers. They might have been black, but she couldn’t tell because of the liberal coating of dirt or dust. His shirt, which she supposed had once been white, was now a dingy yellow from the same dusty substance. Her gaze halted for a brief instant on the open collar of his shirt, as it allowed more of his chest to show than she was accustomed to seeing. Raising her eyes to meet his gaze, Lily was mesmerized by the blue fire in them, a fire that set free a host of butterflies in her stomach. She gulped in some air to quiet the tickling sensation and reached for Mr. Champney’s arm, her fingers gripping with the strength of an eagle’s talons. “I don’t know what work you could possibly have on
my
boat.”