Trevor leaned against the balcony railing, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I’ve told Hugh I would start some discreet inquiries into Mr. Wilmot. There have been rumors of a connection with Laffite.”
Adeline paled but remained silent.
“Hugh and I have had doubts about Wilmot. Hugh has even volunteered to be cannon fodder to draw Vanessa’s attention away from Wilmot.”
Adeline smiled. “I don’t believe that will be difficult.”
Trevor cocked an eyebrow in inquiry.
“I think my sister is more than halfway in love with Mr. Talverton.”
Trevor’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, really. I feel the same interest in her from Hugh. Perhaps my continued show of interest in Vanessa may be just the trick to get him to appreciate his feelings.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because long ago he and I were both suitors for Julia’s hand, and Hugh has never been one to take defeat easily. This time he just might exert himself to be certain he doesn’t lose again.” He looked down at Adeline tenderly. “Oh, but I would like to declare myself for you.”
She smiled back. “Soon, my dearest love, soon,” she said, choking slightly.
Trevor pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
“I cannot find her anywhere!” proclaimed Paulette, sweeping into the parlor.
Trevor and Adeline sprang apart.
“Now, where is everyone?” demanded Paulette.
Adeline sighed with relief and looked ruefully at Trevor. “Mr. Danielson and I are out here.”
Paulette came to the door. “Oh, is she inle jardin!"
“No,” Adeline said, moving past her into the room, “we didn’t see her out there.” She sat down by the quilting frame and bent her head to set some more stitches.
“Mon Dieu,where can she be?” Paulette asked.
Trevor shrugged and sauntered over to stand by the fireplace. Just then, they heard voices from the hall, and Paulette turned expectantly toward the door.
Amanda Mannion was still chattering to Mr. Wilmot as they came into the room, chastising herself for her runaway tongue. She hastily rang for refreshments, sat down next to Adeline, and waved everyone else to dispose themselves at their leisure.
Paulette sat down, then bobbed up again. “But where is Mr. Talverton?”
“Right here, Miss Chaumonde,” he said from the doorway. He crossed the room to her side and sat down.
“It is unfortunate Miss Mannion will not make an appearance,” he said to the room at large, seemingly oblivious to the various tensions in the air. “I am quite interested to know how well the raw beef worked.”
Chapter 9
Late the next afternoon, Hugh Talverton sat slumped in a scarred wooden chair in the bar room at Maspero’s Exchange, absently contemplating the sawdust clinging to the toes of his boots. In another hour, the cavernous room would burgeon with merchants, town tulips, and swashbuckling filibusters. Then there would be raucous energy throughout the building as the rafters sang with loud voices filled with hilarity and anger or creaked with the whispered plans for some illegal or noble endeavor. Now it was quiet; the few who sat at scattered tables, far apart from others, talked in hushed tones.
Hugh sat there the better part of an hour, attempting to sort his thoughts into some semblance of logic. His frown deepened, and his eyebrows pulled together creating furrows across his broad forehead. Hugh didn’t like the strange maze he walked. There was an unseemliness to its twisted paths, an unseemliness relieved solely by the brightness of Vanessa Mannion. Her father did well to call her his bright star. There was a vibrancy about her that heightened Hugh’s senses and stirred a heretofore unknown protectiveness within him.
He sardonically grinned as he realized Shakespeare’sAll’s Well That Ends Wellmight be the source of Mannion’s phrase. He looked up at the ceiling and silently mouthed the lines:
'Twere all one That I should love a bright particular star And think to wed it, he is so far above me. . .’
He was certain Shakespeare would appreciate the irony, for those were the words the lowborn Helena said regarding the highborn young count she loved. Hugh felt those were his words; in these United States, he was the interloper without position.
The tenor of his thoughts stunned him. Love? Wed? What paths were his mind and heart taking? He shook his head and straightened in the chair, looking about to signal a waiter for another drink. His maudlin thoughts tricked his senses. He was not hanging out for a wife. To entertain himself in New Orleans with a dalliance was acceptable, but a wife? He shuddered convulsively. She was Trevor’s chosen, and they’d deal admirably, he told himself forcibly as he caught the attention of the waiter and conveyed his request. It was his duty to aid his friend in clearing the path, not clutter it as he had with Julia. Years in the military had taught him well the responsibilities of doing one’s duty.
