Underground Captive (72 page)

             
"'Tis only because yer friends have nothing better to talk about.  Let them guess what is going on.  I assure ye no one will dare repeat the rumors to our faces.  They're not that stupid."

    
             
Charles glanced in Jared's direction, then got up from where he sat.  He walked to the balcony and looked out to the street below.  It was sometimes hard for him to accept the fact that Jared was nobility without feeling a little inferior, especially with the regal and forceful way Jared had conducted himself since that truth was revealed.

    
             
Yet, Jared's birthright made no difference to Charles where Ricard was concerned.  In that instant, he knew Jared to be ruth
less and unforgiving, for he couldn't get the man to listen.  How could his son-in-law be in such an ob
vious state of euphoria and still have murder on his mind?  Surely, Jared's happiness at loving and having Nicki for his bride must do something to soften his heart.

    
             
Damn it!  He couldn't get Ricard to elaborate any further than he had and he couldn't get Jared to listen to reason.  He'd had it.  One of them would listen.  Hopefully, it would be Jared.

    
             
Turning, Charles walked back into the room, and looked purposefully at Jared.

             
"What about my son?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

             
"I won't discuss Ricard with ye, Charles.  'Tis a thing between he and I--"

    
             
"He's innocent, Jared," Charles interrupted, anger in his tone, throwing his hands in the air in frustration.

    
             
"If that is true then everything will work out smoothly.  But I can't see how he could be innocent of two murders."

             
"Two?" Charles said on a strangled gasp.

             
"Aye, two.  But I suggest ye let it go," Jared answered, his voice smooth

and without rancor.  Yet the tone of it made the statement sound like a command.

             
Not knowing or even wishing to find out Jared's reaction if he pursued the

subject further, Charles let it go.  "Very well.  You will give me your answer about

the ball soon?"

             
"Aye, soon," Jared answered, watching Charles’ retreat through the parlor

door.  He sighed heavily, guilt and misery piercing him.  For there was a noticeable

slump in his father-in-law's shoulders.

52

    
             
After occupying Charles's bedchamber, and monopolizing his en
tire household for twenty-one days, then spending two weeks in the house by the ramparts, Jared took Nicki back to Highland Acres.

    
             
Since there had been no reference to Jared's plans for Ricard for nearly a fortnight, hope swelled within her.  She even thought she saw Jared nod to her brother the day they left Crescent Wood.  If she had imagined it, it still left her with a good feeling.  Perhaps, Jared had softened.  Her emotions always ranged between ecstasy and agony.  Jared's treatment of her was sheer bliss.  But her thoughts and fears for Ricard were agonizing.  Even now, as she burst with joy over her approaching ball, her heart constricted with apprehension for her husband and brother.  However, even with those problems, she insisted on helping, indeed
making
, all the plans for her ball, herself.

    
             
"Nay, Nicollette, I won't hear of it.  The only thing I will permit ye to do is select the menu and write out the invitations.  Ye'll not exert yerself beyond that."  Jared's tone held a note of finality to it.

    
             
They were preparing to go to the Duplantier house on Rue Dauphine, where Jared would leave Nicki with Blanche and An
toinette to discuss plans for the ball.

    
             
At her husband's determination that she not become more in
volved, Nicki stamped her foot, stubbornly refusing to budge un
less Jared promised to let her partake in more of the ball planning.

             
"My mind's set, Nicki," Jared growled.  "If ye defy me, 'twill be no

ball!"

    
             
"I love you, Jared Fleming, but truly you are the most stub
born man I have ever met!  What harm can--"

    
             
"Enough, Nicollette!  There will be no more talk on this subject."  Jared's stern interruption caused her to blanch.  He softened his tone.  "Sweetheart, have ye ever noticed that ye have a bit of a stubborn streak too?"  He smiled at her and kissed her lightly on the lips.  "Come, ye don't want yer
tante
and Antoinette waiting for ye."

             
For now, Nicollette resigned herself to Jared's wishes.  She knew if she

insisted enough, Jared would relent.  Perhaps she would make him think it was his idea to let her become more active in the planning.  After all, the ball was being given for her.  She smiled sweetly.  "You're right of course,
mon amour
."

    
             
Jared eyed her suspiciously, and knew she planned something.  She gave in too easily, too quickly.  The sly, little vixen.  He smiled, assisting her into her white and gold carriage.  He didn't want Nicki upset, but he'd be bloody damned if he'd let her get the best of him.

    
             
As usual, the beautiful coach drew a lot of attention.  Jared and Nicki were gawked at shamelessly.  Angus finally reined in the snow white horses to a stop at Charles' house in New Orleans.  While Angus untied King George from the back of the car
riage, Jared helped Nicki down from the carriage and escorted her inside.

    
             
"Master," Angus said when Jared returned.  "If ye be wantin' me, I willa be down by the ramparts."

             
"I won't need ye, Angus.  Not right away.  Lady Nicki will be busy for a

couple of hours.  So take yer time.  I'll see ye later."  Jared took over King George's reins from Angus, watching as his servant guided the horses and carriage away from him toward Canal Street.  He started to mount King George when Ricard, who came from the opposite direction, stopped him.

    
             
"Well, I do believe I am in the presence of nobility," Ricard sneered sarcastically when he reached Jared's side.

    
             
Jared glared scornfully at him. 

             
The fierceness of Jared's gaze was intimidating, murderous.  Ricard hesitated a moment.  But only for a moment.  He was determined to have it out with Lord Fleming.  "Jared, I refuse to be intimidated by you any longer.  If there is something you have to settle with me, do it, and get it over with."  Ricard's demanding voice was cold and edged with steel.

    
             
"Have ye been sweating, Ricard?  Ye can just keep on sweating.  I will settle with ye when I am bloody well ready," Jared snarled, his eyes smoldering with hatred.  "And ye will abide by that decision.  I will not have ye upsetting my wife!"

    
             
"Your wife is my sister!" Ricard spat through clenched teeth.  "You've mesmerized my entire family.  Even my father cowers to you.  I won't be left out of any more family functions, Jared.  You will settle with me, this day," he demanded in a no nonsense tone.

    
             
"As anxious as ye are to die, ye'll just have to postpone it a while longer.  Nicki's well-being comes first.  Now, run along, Ricard.  Ye bother me," Jared said, a ruthless note entering his accented speech.

    
             
"You arrogant bastard!" Ricard shouted, barely controlled violence in his voice. "Unless you're a coward who makes empty threats, you'll meet me at Allard Plantation.  Now!" he roared, nearly strangling on his fury.  He punched Jared across his face, barely moving the man, who was rigid with his own black fury.

    
             
Jared retaliated with the back of his fist.  Ricard went sprawling to the banquette.  "I'll be waiting," he sneered and mounted King George.

    
             
Big Luke, one of the Duplantier city slaves, stood nervously in the courtyard.  It wasn't his place, by no means, to interfere with Master Ricard's and Master Jared's affairs, but somebody had to talk some sense into the two of them.  Going in search of Odessa, who told Miz Nicki whatever was on her mind, Big Luke decided that his young mistress was the only one with the power to prevent her brother's or her husband's death.

     *  *  *

             
Jared didn't have to wait long.  Ricard trotted Omri up to where he sat astride King George between the dueling oaks at Al
lard Plantation.

    
             
As skilled as Ricard had become with the sword and dueling pistols, he knew he would be no match for the Scottish lord when he looked into Jared's face, glowering with rage.

    
             
"Ye challenged me, Ricard, and I chose pistols," Jared said, his voice deceptively calm and deadly smooth.  "Ye needn't get down, this won't take long," he said as Ricard began to dis
mount.

    
             
Ricard stopped momentarily before finally dismounting.  "I see that you mean to kill me, Jared.  Or I'll kill you.  So be it.  But by God you will listen to me first."

    
             
"There is nothing to listen to," Jared said in the same calm manner, dismounting also.  "Ye killed my wife and my friend.  Patricia was a sweet,

gentlewoman, undeserving of so savage a death.  For that ye must pay!"

    
             
Ricard marveled at the man's composure.  He knew Jared only contained his temper by sheer will alone.  He still had the look in his hazel eyes of a man ready and willing to commit murder.

    
             
"I don't know how you came to the conclusion that I killed your Patricia, Jared, but you're wrong!" Ricard said vehemently, walking around Omri to stand next to King George.

             
"I found the proof in the cabin that night!"

    
             
"I did not kill her, Jared.  The man with her in the cabin killed her." Ricard's thunderous tone softened when he saw Jared's body go rigid with shock.  And though Jared's face was a mask of cold disbelief, he moved not a muscle.

             
"I didn't kill her," Ricard repeated and took a sharp intake of breath.  "I

was in love with a mulatto girl, whom my father owned.  That night, I brought Yvonne to the cabin to escape.  I was going to meet her up North.  From Baltimore, we were going to France to be married, which later we were.  I was taking her away because I knew my father wouldn't have approved of her.

    
             
"When Yvonne and I came to the cabin, I heard a woman scream.  I pushed the door open and there was this man straddling her as he stabbed her.  When he saw me, he got up and came after me.

    
             
"I shot that man in self-defense.  I checked the woman but she appeared dead.  Her eyes were open, but unmoving.  When I thought I heard dogs barking in the distance I got Yvonne out of there as quickly as possible.  I killed that man, Jared.  But I swear by all that is holy I didn't kill Patricia!"

    
             
Ricard's impassioned confession pierced Jared's stunned senses, long ago memories slowly uncoiling from the place he'd buried them.  He walked to the gnarled trunk of the huge oak and leaned heavily against it, still not wanting to believe Ricard.

    
             
Knowing he must continue explaining the details, Ricard followed.   "I didn't know where I lost my snuffbox.  That is, until your housemaid said you, as she put it, had the proof.  My snuffbox.  I lost it running away from the patrollers or what I thought were the patrollers.  Not because I murdered your wife," he said quietly.

    
             
Jared drew a harsh breath, a searing recollection of Robert and himself in Scotland burning into his brain.  But he had to be sure.  "The knife, Ricard, with yer initials on it.  Can ye explain away that?"

             
"The knife didn't belong to me.  I swear to you, I didn't have a knife that