Southern Seduction (16 page)

“You cannot do this.” D’Aquin growled.
“Your grandfather owes me.”

Brooke had her hand on Travis’s back, and she felt every tense muscle as he spoke.
She listened with growing trepidation.

“I’m not sure what my grandfather owes you, nor do I care, but I can assure you that Hesione is a free woman,” Travis punctuated each word carefully, before adding, “I am not chattel to be used as money for paying debts. I’m marrying Mrs. Hammond in two weeks.
I’ll be sure to send your family an invitation.”

What?
Brooke nearly blurted out, but clamped a hand over her mouth before she could. Travis was going to marry her? She seemed to have missed a step here. Wasn’t she supposed to have convinced him to marry her? She didn’t remember convincing him yet.

D’Aquin lunged forward and swung at Travis, but Travis quickly stepped aside and caught the older man’s arm.

Brooke moved away from both men, fearing she’d get caught in their disagreement.

“I demand satisfaction for this insult to my family!”
Even in the dim light, she could see D’Aquin face had reddened.

Travis released the old man’s arm and
snarled through his teeth, “Name the time, place, and weapons.”

“Pistols at dawn.
Who is your second?”

“Jeremy Dubois.”

“The arrangements will be made,” D’Aquin told Travis, before storming off.

“Until tomorrow,” Travis said to D’Aquin’s back.

Brooke felt nailed to the spot. Travis whirled and glared at her as if everything had been her fault. His eyes were so stormy she couldn’t read them.

“What just happened?” she finally asked when it became evident he wasn’t going to speak.

“It seems that I’m going to duel under the Big Oaks tomorrow morning.”

“But you could get hurt.”

“I didn’t think you’d give a damn, my dear.” Then he added, “You have little faith.” Travis grasped her elbow firmly. “I could also be killed, and the plantation would be yours just that much faster.”

“I don’t want it that way,” Brooke admitted.

“I believe,” he paused, his tongue heavy with sarcasm, “You wanted me to leave the moment you first saw me.”

“Yes, but alive, not dead.”

Travis nudged her chin upward with his finger, mockery invading his eyes. “Your concern is touching. If I survive, I assure you I will be very much alive, and I’ll be forced to marry you in two weeks as I told D'Aquin.”

So Brooke had heard him correctly.
Now she had what she wanted, but somehow it wasn’t as satisfying as she'd imagined.

"What is this?
Silence from the condemned?" Travis taunted.

She really didn't care for his superior attitude.
“Are you asking me to marry you?”

“No.
I ask for nothing," he clarified. "I’m telling you that we will marry in two weeks. After all, it's what my father wanted. So Mr. Jeffries should be happy. We can look at it as a business arrangement. After a year, when the obligation is met, you’ll be free.”

It was a good thing she wasn't the sentimental sort who believed in love, because that was certainly not what she was getting.
Travis was making himself very clear on that topic.

“I thought you wanted to succeed on your own," she reminded him.

His mouth thinned with displeasure. “The storm destroyed most of our crop. We can't survive another year of just getting by, nor do I want to. There are many people who depend on this plantation for their livelihoods. My father’s money will save the place.”

Ignoring the mocking voice inside that wondered why she should care, she snapped, "It's always the plantation with you." Brooke twisted away from him.
“Is there nothing else?”

"And what else is there?" he asked her.
"If you don't have the land, then you have nothing."

“What if I don’t want to be free?”

“Oh, you’ll want your freedom to find someone who loves you," he told her when she looked up at him. Travis regarded her with impassive coldness. "For you see, Brooke, I’m incapable of loving anyone. You’re nothing more than an obstacle on my way toward getting what I really want.”

Strange, it was exactly what she’d thought of Travis more than once.
He was standing in her way of getting what she wanted. However, it didn’t sound that good when it was said to her.

Brooke knew what he really wanted, and it wasn’t her.

Each of Travis's words felt like a slap across her face. All these years, she’d been a calculating businesswoman, and now the tables were turned. Nonetheless, she wasn’t going to let him get away with his last remark. Even if he was giving her everything she'd wanted . . . a business arrangement.

She took a step closer to him, balancing on her toes so she could see into his cold, blue eyes.
She whispered, “I don’t think you really know what you want, Travis Montgomery.”

“That is where you are wrong, my dear.
I know exactly what I want,” he gritted out before turning away.

Brooke watched the arrogant bastard leave, but she was determined to have the last word.
“Travis Montgomery, you’ll regret those words one day.”

Someone woke Brooke by shaking her arm.
She opened her eyes to find that it was barely dawn.

"Look what time it is," Mammy said as she nudged her again.
"Wake up, Miz Brooke, you hear."

Brooke wasn't used to Mammy waking her.
When Brooke finally understood and was in some sort of conscious state, she shoved herself up with her elbows. "W--what's wrong?"

"Mr. Travis done and left fo' de Duelin' Oaks."

Everything that had happened last night came flooding back to Brooke. Her first thought was to wonder why she should care after the rotten way Travis had proposed marriage. She assumed that after a good night’s sleep everything would have cooled down between the two men.

Brooke flung back the covers.
"I thought maybe they wouldn't go through with the duel. It isn't as if anyone was hurt," Brooke said, slipping out of bed. She headed for the washstand. "I can't believe they are going to try and shoot each other. Dueling is outlawed in England."

I probably should let D’Aquin shoot Travis
, Brooke thought as she poured water into the washbasin. But then again, she needed him.

After splashing water on her face, she turned to Mammy, "Where is Millie Anne?
I need to get dressed so I can stop this foolishness."

"I sent her t
’ have de carriage ready, figurin' you'd want t’ go t’ de Oaks. I’ll help you dress, but tell you de trut', you ain't goin' t’ stop de duel. And I intend t’ go wit' you. Got me too much time vested in raisin' dat boy t’ see holes shot in him, yes," Mammy said as she pulled out a black skirt and white blouse for Brooke.

"I hope Eliza isn't going."

"She is much too youn'. Millie Anne will stay wit’ her."

Brooke s
lipped the garment over her head and held it for Mammy to fasten. "Tell me about American duels. There were a few in England, but none that I was privy to. It was considered a crime back home. Are there very many duels fought in New Orleans?"

"
Oui.
Youn' men fight over de sli'dest affront fo' such absurd reasons as dere honor. Mos’ happen at soirees such as last nig’t. I hear tell a duel was foug’t fo' the honor of de Mississippi River, yes. In Nawlins ever’bod’ is hot-blooded, yes."

After Mammy had fastened the last hook, Brooke rushed over to her dresser and snatched a hairbrush and ribbon.
"I can brush my hair in the carriage. Let's hurry."

In no time, they were in the foyer.
Mammy handed Brooke a shawl as a servant opened the door. Brooke turned to Mammy, "You don't suppose Travis will get hurt, do you? Is he any good with a pistol?"

Mammy more or less nudged Brooke out the door, the concern evident in her face.
"He's better wit' swords, t’ be sure. Mebee why his opponent choose de pistols."

"A life is a big price to pay for honor," Brooke commented while she climbed into the carriage.

"Exactly, what are dey fightin' over?"

Brooke frowned.
She felt guilty and couldn't look Mammy in the eyes, but she had to answer the question. "Me," she whispered softly.

When Mammy said nothing, Brooke glanced up expecting to see a look of disapproval
. To her surprise, she saw none. Instead, Mammy asked, "Someone mus’ have insulted you, yes?"

The carriage began to move.
Brooke leaned back against the soft cushions and began to brush the knots out of her hair. "That was part of the reason."

"So I figured.
Mr. Travis would never take an insult lightly, you hear. But who’s he fightin’?"

"Hesione’s father."

"Lordy, Lordy," Mammy mumbled as she shook her head back and forth. The creases in her forehead seemed to have doubled. "What has gotten into dat boy?"

"Travis didn't issue the challenge, Mr. D’Aquin did."

"And why dat be?"

Brooke finished brushing her hair.
She tied the yellow ribbons she'd brought around her hair to keep it out of her face, then placed the hairbrush on the seat beside her. She really wasn't sure what Mammy's reaction was going to be, but Brooke had to tell her. She felt as though she and Mammy had reached a mutual trust, and she didn't want to destroy what they'd built.

"It probably had something to do with the fact that--” Brooke paused. “Travis told Mr. D’Aquin that he wasn't going to marry Hesione, but would marry me instead."

Mammy looked to heaven before saying. "Dere goin' t’ be a big ruckus when Miz Margaret and Miz Hesione return, t’ be sure. If Mr. Travis survives dis, his mother just may shoot him herse’f."

"Are you disappointed?"

Mammy clicked her tongue then said honestly, "Depends. What you marryin' him fo'?"

"Because it suits both our needs," Brooke finally said.
"We both own the plantation, so it makes sense. What other reason would there be?"

“Well now . . . dat’s a question.
Mebee cause you should love de man you are marryin'."

"I gave up on love a long time ago, Mammy,” Brooke told her.
“I'm not sure I even believe in it anymore."

Mammy shook her head but said nothing more.

Brooke gazed out the window, wondering what would happen when they arrived. And then it dawned on her that the person challenged usually chose the weapons, but that had not been the case last night. Why had Travis let the older man choose? Did he want to die? No, that wasn’t even a plausible thought. He had too much fight in him. Maybe it was out of respect for the man's age. Travis did have a strange sense of decency.

Fifteen minutes later they arrived at the edge of New Orleans.
The carriage rumbled down Decatur Street to Jackson Square where they turned. It was still very early and extremely foggy so it was hard to see, but Brooke could make out the streets where vendors were just beginning to emerge for a day’s work.

A steeple jutted heavenward though the fog like a beacon. Once they reached Saint Louis Cathedral in Saint Anthony’s Garden, the coach started to slow.
They went on around the church to a park like, grassy area with two large oak trees.

Brooke turned to Mammy, "I guess this is it."

Mammy nodded.

The driver opened the door and helped them out.
Through the fog, Brooke could see two groups of men separated by a few yards. She spotted Travis about the same time he saw her. He immediately headed toward them.

"I don't think Travis is glad to see us," Brooke whispered to Mammy.

"Tell you de trut’ . . . I t'ink you may be rig’t."

Chapter Ten

Like a menacing silence, the fog swirled around waiting for the unknown. The scene before Brooke seemed much to eerie -- the huge oak trees, their drooping arms covered in Spanish moss, jutting across the field.

Through the thick, gray haze Travis marched toward them, looking like the Devil coming up from the depths of hell to pounce on her, and there were times that she truly felt that way.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Travis snapped the minute he reached them. “This is no place for a woman.”

Brooke pulled her cream-colored shawl around her shoulders to ward off Travis’s frosty stare, but she stood her ground.
"We’re here to stop you. We don’t want you to go through with this madness."

"You're wasting your breath and my time," he informed her, “You have no say in the matter.”
Then he gave Brooke a peculiar look. “I see you’re dressed in black. How appropriate.”

Travis’s tone infuriated her.
She’d gotten up early to come here to try and stop this idiocy, and now she had a good mind to tell him to go to the devil. For a brief moment, she didn't give a damn if he were shot or not. It would solve her problem about ownership of Moss Grove. However, that wasn’t her only problem. For whatever reason, she really did care. Even if she didn’t want to. So she took a deep breath and tried again. "Can't you just apologize?"