The quadroon woman threw back her head and laughed richly. “Run, mamzelle, run.”
“Adeline, what’s going on?” called Paulette from where she stood by the door, waiting for her package to be wrapped.
“Mr. Talverton’s in trouble,” she said as she pulled open the shop door.
“Hold that package. I shall return,” Paulette ordered the shopkeeper over her shoulder as she followed in Adeline’s wake.
The banquette was crowded and forced Vanessa to walk in places as she threaded her way through the people. Tears of frustration nearly blinding her, she finally lightly jumped off the walkway to the dirt street, moving faster among the carts and dray animals on the thoroughfare. At one point, she passed so near a horse that ends of her shawl, fluttering behind her, lightly flickered in the corner of the animal’s sight so it reared in its traces, causing his driver to ring down curses loudly and fluidly on Vanessa’s head. She ignored him, her concentration centered on her achieving the docks.
She turned down the Rue St. Pierre alongside the Place d’Armes, dismayed to find it busier than the street she’d left. However, her determination increased, for straight ahead of her, across the Chemin des Tchoupitoulas, lay the harbor.
Her heart pounded loudly in her head, drowning out the oaths and comments her undignified flight aroused from those she brushed past. She paused on the levee, looking frantically up and down the docks. There were so many ships and boats that for a moment, she despaired of going in the right direction until she spotted the tall chimneys of a riverboat. It was the only steamboat in the harbor. She inhaled deeply, her eyes frantically searching for Hugh Talverton. She couldn’t see him, but she knew that did not mean he wasn’t down there. It was just that the harbor was so crowded, and finding one man was difficult. She hoped it was as difficult for Mr. Wilmot’s henchmen.
She set off in the direction of the steamboat, her eyes darting about, searching out a location for a possible ambush or accident on the busy dock. Barrels of sugar were being loaded onto the steamboat when she approached. She passed men who stopped and stared rudely at her, some so close she was forced to brush against them as she passed. The impropriety of her presence, alone on the docks, did not escape her. She trembled slightly but bit firmly down on her lower lip and lifted her chin. Her eyes shown bluer than usual, her agitation evident in her expression. There were so many big, rough-looking men on the docks, any or all of whom might be willing to accept blood money. What could she do even if she found Hugh? She should have gone for help, but there just wasn’t any time! And where was Hugh?
She leaned against a stack of sugar barrels to rest, only to jump back hastily when one teetered precariously. Then she saw him striding confidently toward the steamboat. “Hugh!” she called, wildly waving her arm.
She turned to run toward him, panic seizing her when she also saw a gang of men in dirty leathers skulking nearby. “Hugh!” she cried louder as she tripped over a tangled rope. Her arms traced mad circles as she fought to keep her balance. She staggered backward, bumping into the sugar barrels again. The top barrel, already uneasy in its position, tumbled down the stack, sending another barrel sliding in its wake.
Vanessa screamed as the barrel crashed heavily onto the dock and began rolling on its side, headed straight for the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Hugh Talverton.
Hugh had stopped the first time he thought he heard Vanessa’s voice calling his name. He looked around, about to dismiss the sound as his wishful imagination when the call came again. This time there was no mistaking the voice. He turned in time to see Vanessa stumble backward into the sugar barrels. His heart leapt in his throat when he saw the top barrel fall, sure it would crush her slender figure. Miraculously it missed her. He saw it rolling toward him, but his mind only vaguely took it in as a threat—he was more concerned for Vanessa. Without conscious thought, he vaulted the barrel as it approached him and ran to her side.
Vanessa cringed and nearly hid her face in her hands when she saw the barrel hurtling toward Hugh. It was only tardiness and a slim hope that he would escape that kept her eyes from being covered. Nonetheless, she was astounded when he jumped the barrel, but her astonishment increased when, looking past Hugh as he ran toward her, she saw his would-be attackers mowed down like tenpins by the runaway barrel! As Hugh reached her and his arms went around her, near-hysterical laughter bubbled up within her.
“Vanessa, what are you doing here?” he cried, hugging her tighter as his heart raced at the memory of the falling barrel.
“Yo! Hugh!” called Trevor as he and a band of nine men came running, pounding down the docks.
“Trevor?” Hugh said, looking perplexed.
Vanessa hurriedly straightened and pulled herself out of Hugh’s arms. “Get those men!” she yelled, waving her hands in the direction of the keelboat ruffians.
“What?” Hugh asked, his eyes following the direction of her waving hands. When he turned, his eyes widened, and a broad smile split his face. He began to laugh, for there, picking themselves up off the ground and pulling a large sugar barrel off their leader, were the four would-be attackers of the previous week.
Trevor Danielson also recognized the men, and with a clear presence of mind, he and his companions quickly surrounded them, rapiers and pistols at the ready. The attackers' leader snarled ferally at them all, but he was helpless to fight his way out or encourage his gang to do so, for the rolling sugar barrel had landed squarely on his leg.
Hugh turned back toward Vanessa, who was now standing as calmly and elegantly as she could in a dirt-streaked frock with a bedraggled, broken hat feather swaying in front of her eyes. The only signs of her remaining agitation were the rapid pulse visibly throbbing in her neck and her over bright, feverish eyes. “What’s going on here? How did you know?"
"I was told Mr. Wilmot was displeased with your meddling in his affairs and intended to—intended to—” she gulped, the words catching in her dry throat
“Kill me?” Hugh asked incredulously.
She nodded miserably.
“I would not have thought that of him. It seems I greatly underestimated the man. But how did you find out?”
Vanessa looked down at her hands. “I’d rather not say,” she said softly. She looked up at him swiftly, entreaty evident in her eyes. “Let’s just be thankful I knew."
"But . . .”
“MonDieu,we have missed all the excitement!” Paulette’s voice was heard to lament to Adeline. Behind them trailed a couple of constables who, taking in the situation, passed them by to join Trevor and his group. “I should have left you to fetch Mr. Danielson and the constables yourself while I joined Vanessa,” she said petulantly as they approached Vanessa and Hugh.
“But then you didn’t know what was going on,” Adeline protested laughingly, then turned to face her sister, her face suddenly sober. “Are you all right? What happened?"
"I’m fine, I just tripped,” Vanessa assured her.
“And inadvertently stopped me from being attacked by knocking over a sugar barrel and sending it rolling into these men, knocking them over like so many wooden pins!”
