“In truth, that is a good question. I think you go before so that will heighten the anticipation for my appearance, no?"
“Oh, of course,” Vanessa agreed dryly. She silently watched Leila arrange Paulette’s hair for a moment more, then took her sister’s arm and led her over to the bed. She sat down and urged Adeline to join her. Adeline looked at her inquiringly and sat down beside her.
“I have a favor to ask of you. I know you believe Mr. Danielson to be my suitor as well as Mr. Wilmot,” she said slowly, staring down at her tightly clasped hands. She failed to see the delicate pink blush begin to stain Adeline’s cheeks. “Unfortunately, Father has placed me in an untenable situation by inviting both gentlemen to this theater party. I like and admire both gentlemen well enough, though honestly, I cannot say whom I prefer as a suitor. I am thus left in the uncomfortable position of balancing my attentions to both.” She looked up at Adeline to see if she understood. Adeline nodded briefly, her color strangely high.
“At the Langley Ball, I virtually ignored Mr. Wilmot, and he is not a gentleman to take kindly to that. I fear he used you most abominably, dragging you along as he followed in my wake. It was highly flattering but very poorly done on my part. I have decided I must make amends this evening. That, however, will leave Mr. Danielson bereft.”
Color flared brighter in Adeline’s face, and she was moved to interrupt. “Oh, no, Vanessa, I don’t think . . .”
“Yes, it will.” She clasped Adeline’s hands in her own. “Calm down, please. I’m not asking you to do anything I wouldn’t do for you. All I ask is that you pay attention to Mr. Danielson, talk to him, and allow him to be your escort. He is a very charming man.”
“Yes, yes he is,” whispered Adeline miserably.
“I know you don’t like to put yourself forward, but please, do this for me.”
Her sister smiled wanly and nodded. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Vanessa.”
She patted Adeline’s hand and stood up. “Everything will be fine.”
“And I hope I know what I’m doing,” Adeline murmured ruefully, but Vanessa didn’t hear. She was already across the room, teasing Paulette on the length of time she was taking with her toilette.
Vanessa and Adeline paused at the head of the stairs, trading mute requests for courage. Each was preoccupied with uneasy feelings of trepidation, and both were annoyed that they agreed to Paulette’s plan to precede her down the stairs.
Vanessa’s glance swept the hall below. The gentlemen gathered there, under the light of the graceful crystal chandelier, presented an intriguing tableau. Mr. Wilmot, dark and swarthy, resplendent in black, exuded an aura of alertness and measured determination. Mr. Danielson, arrayed nattily in a coat of royal blue and tan pantaloons, displayed a boyish charm when he looked up and saw them on the stairs. Mr. Talverton, his broad shoulders filling a darker blue coat with a casual elegance seemingly at odds with his proportions, smiled lazily, his eyes so hooded he might have been asleep on his feet.
Instinctively, Vanessa bristled at Mr. Talverton’s inattention. Perhaps she and Adeline did not possess Paulette’s young, vivacious beauty, but they were ladies, more than passably attractive ladies, worthy of a gentleman’s attention. A slight frown wrinkled her forehead, and her lips set in a straight line as she descended the stairs with her sister. He was most likely again making odious comparisons to London's fashionable ladies, and in his arrogance, he found New Orleans ladies lacking. Paulette was welcome to this rude, insufferable Englishman. She wished her joy.
Her father’s wishes to the contrary, her attentions this evening were going to be directed at Mr. Wilmot. Guiltily, she realized she had not yet returned that gentleman’s steady regard. Her brow cleared, and she slid her gaze in his direction, warmly smiling just as they reached the point in the stairs where the chandelier’s glow bathed them in a halo of bright light.
For all his sleepy-eyed appearance, Hugh Talverton had been aware of Vanessa’s approach since she set her foot upon the first stair. He watched her slow, graceful descent with Adeline. As always, he found himself studying the play of emotions upon her features. He saw her coolly regarding him and watched as her expression changed from studied acknowledgment of the men gathered in the hall to the tiny frown aimed at him that marred her expressive countenance. She had seen him and in some way found him lacking. He repressed an urge to look down at himself or find a mirror to see what was so amiss with his appearance. He was relieved when her frown dissipated as quickly as it had come; however, an indefensible annoyance settled over him when he realized he was not the recipient of her dazzling smile. He looked over at Mr. Wilmot. The man’s face bore a raffish, rakehell expression. He’d run into his type before and did not trust him. Men of his ilk attracted women like bees to honey. He wondered at his interest in Vanessa Mannion, sure it stemmed from more than an appreciation for her womanly charms. Though a feisty, intelligent morsel of womanhood, Miss Mannion was not up to dealing with a man of Mr. Wilmot’s weight and could be heading for a nasty surprise.
He hung back a step when Trevor and Mr. Wilmot approached the women. He was a little surprised to see them both greet Vanessa first, though, in truth, Trevor turned quickly enough to greet Adeline. Uncertain of what was expected of him, he smiled a smile that failed to reach his eyes and gave them only polite, perfunctory greetings.
Inwardly, Vanessa fumed at Mr. Talverton’s standoffish manner, but she raised her chin haughtily and spared him no more than a polite glance and acknowledgment of his presence. Mr. Wilmot was offering her his arm, and she had no more time to consider the arrogant Englishman.
“Where’s Paulette?” demanded Mr. Mannion, striding into the hall from the library.
Vanessa started at the sound of his voice and looked up to see him pinning her with one of his piercing stares from under his iron-bar eyebrows.
“Ici,MonsieurMannion,” came Paulette’s clear tones from the top of the stairs. All eyes turned in her direction, and Vanessa was forced to admit she did make a grand entrance.
“It’s about time, and confound it, girl, speak English. Your father will be extremely displeased when he discovers you’re still lapsing into French.” He turned to address the gentlemen. “Paul Chaumonde’s the only Frog I know who knows what it means to be an American, but I certainly can’t say the same for his daughter. These Creoles have the most ramshackle upbringing.”
Adeline blushed. “Father, please!” she implored. “Paulette is our friend and guest.”
“Yes, and we’re supposed to be teaching her American ways.”
Paulette sniffed disdainfully in what Vanessa later remarked to her mother was a very theatrical manner. Born into a different family, she’d probably have trod the boards. Ignoring Mr. Mannion’s comment, she held her head high and gracefully descended the stairs, her attention, and smile directed toward Mr. Talverton. It was indeed a magnificent entrance. She regally glided down the stairs, exchanged gracious words of courtesy with Mr. Danielson and Mr. Wilmot, and then turned the full force of her regard on Mr. Talverton. Vanessa was nearly scandalized and hoped the sudden warmth rising to her face was not visible to the others.
“I’ve ordered two carriages to transport us to the theater,” Mr. Mannion bluffly interrupted. “I’ll leave you to sort yourselves out and decide on the seating while I collect Mrs. Mannion from her quilting frame. It seems every moment she has free she’s in there with it. Says she wants to get it done so she can begin something she calls aDouble Wedding Ringpatterned quilt. Now I wonder who that one’s for.” He smirked at his middle daughter, his iron brows twitching.
Feeling all eyes upon her, Vanessa blushed anew.
Chapter 6
When the carriage hit another rut in the road and swayed gently, Hugh Talverton repressed a smile. It was not the coach’s sway that amused him, however. He was quite impressed by the vehicle, principally because it was of American rather than British craftsmanship. It was well sprung, and only a modicum of effort was needed to maintain one’s upright position despite the dreadful condition of New Orleans roads. No, what aroused his humor was the use Miss Chaumonde made of each jolt and sway of the carriage. Every rut and curve in the road was an excuse to throw herself across his lap, then profess coquettish embarrassment with a breathy thank-you for catching her.
As Miss Chaumonde offered her latest pleas for forgiveness, he looked at Trevor seated across from him. The man was openly smiling, no doubt enjoying the charade. He surmised, too, that the gloved hand shielding the lower half of Adeline Mannion’s face was not to cover a cough.
