Lily (Song of the River) (26 page)

Smothering the desire to wear something flattering instead of her shapeless brown gown, Tamar concentrated on her charges—collecting fans, smoothing gloves, and settling cotton lace shawls around their shoulders. She had no reason for the tears that sprang to her eyes as the two young ladies left the bedroom. Wishing for the impossible only made a body miserable. She was going to have to spend extra time on her knees this evening, asking God to root out the envy in her heart. She needed to concentrate on the blessing of having kind owners and a chance to see something of the world beyond the boundaries of Natchez and Les Fleurs plantation.

As soon as the bedroom was straightened up, Tamar went down the back stairs toward the kitchen, which was separated from the main house by a courtyard. She tarried in the cooler air, her fingers trailing across the wide leaves of a palm tree. Her gaze went to the sky, wonder filling her as she gazed at thousands of stars and the bright round globe of the moon.

“’Tis a lovely evening.”

She jerked in surprise. Her gaze traveled around the courtyard, searching for the person who’d spoken. “Jensen.” She recognized his voice, of course. It was the voice that entered her dreams, whispering of things she shouldn’t consider. Tempting her to reach out for a future that didn’t belong to her.

He stepped from the far corner of the courtyard, nearest the stable. “Stay a moment and talk to me.”

“I told you yesterday we don’t have a thing to talk about.”

“Of course we do, only you don’t want to listen.” Jensen moved closer.

Tamar’s heart beat so hard she thought he could probably hear it. She knew she should turn her back on him, but her legs wouldn’t move. “I’m listening.” Was that her trembling voice?

He reached out slowly, his hand traveling toward her face. Tamar’s breath caught, and her heart stopped beating altogether. His fingers gently smoothed her hair against her temple where it had escaped her cap. They left a trail of fire in their wake. She felt like she might die right there, right then. Then his whole hand cupped her cheek, warm and a little rough. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t step back, couldn’t do anything but look into his eyes. What she saw made her knees shake. Fierce emotion burned inside this man. But rather than frighten her, it kindled a flame inside of her.

His lids drooped and the corners of his mouth turned up. “I want to steal a kiss from you, Tamar. I want it more than I want to draw my next breath.” He moved even closer, his shoulders blocking out the rest of the world. “Please say yes.”

Tamar lifted her hands. She had to put a stop to this now or be lost forever. “No.” Forming fists with her hands, she pushed at his chest.

Pain entered his face as though she had struck him, but Jensen moved back. She felt like she had thrust a knife into the man’s heart. Or was it her own heart she had wounded? Tamar wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything except that she needed distance from the feelings Jensen stirred in her.

With a sound of equal parts pain, fear, and frustration, Tamar ran to the kitchen. She jerked open the heavy wooden door and slipped inside. Slamming the door behind her, she leaned against it and gasped for breath. The other slaves looked up in surprise but didn’t ask any questions. That was a good thing. She had no answers.

The Cartiers lived in a huge mansion in Lafayette Square, several miles south of the Thorntons’ town house. Lily enjoyed the carriage ride but wished Blake and Mr. Thornton could have joined them inside instead of riding alongside on horseback. But she and Camellia could barely fit their skirts on one bench of the carriage, so wide were their crinolines, and Mrs. Thornton had instructed the men to take horses rather than crowd them.

“Don’t leave the ballroom with any strangers, Camellia.” Lily had a list of instructions for her sister. “Don’t eat too much at the midnight supper. Don’t accept any invitations to dance; we are still in mourning. Keep your fan attached to your wrist or you will lose it.”

Mrs. Thornton leaned forward and patted her wrist. “It will be all right, Lily. Don’t be so worried. Your sister is a sensible young lady.”

“I know, but—”

“You’re giving me a headache.” Camellia touched her gloved hand to her forehead.

Lily sat back with a sigh. “Then perhaps we should turn the carriage around and go home.”

“No!” Both Camellia and Mrs. Thornton chorused their disagreement.

“This is my very first ball, Lily. Please don’t take away my pleasure.”

“I know the feelings you’re experiencing, Lily, my dear.” Mrs. Thornton’s voice hinted at amusement. “I felt the same way the first time I took Sarah to a party. But don’t worry. We will all look out for Camellia. As to dancing, I don’t see the harm since this is a family party. No one here knows you. They will assume you are my family, and they’ll be confused if I am not also in mourning.”

Lily found it difficult to argue with Mrs. Thornton’s pragmatic view. Besides, this was Camellia’s first dance. It should be a memory to treasure. If Camellia had to sit on the wall next to her sister and the other old maids, she would not enjoy herself very much. Pinning a smile on her face to cover her misgivings, Lily turned to Camellia. “If you promise to be circumspect—”

Camellia reached past the material of their skirts and hugged Lily close. “I promise to do whatever you say. I won’t lose my fan or my gloves. I won’t leave the ballroom with anyone, male or female. And I promise not to eat too much at supper.”

Lily returned her embrace and sent a prayer heavenward that she was making the right decision.

The carriage stopped, and they disembarked. Mr. Thornton offered his arm to his wife, while Blake escorted both Lily and Camellia up the shallow steps to the main entrance.

Dr. Cartier, a man some ten years older than Sarah, was fashionably dressed in white from chin to toe. He was much quieter than Sarah, but the love they felt for each other was obvious in the way their gazes locked and the little touches they managed to exchange while receiving their guests.

“Good evening, Mother, Father.” Sarah was resplendent in a pale-yellow gown, her dark hair upswept and held in place with a diamond tiara. “I have a surprise for you.”

She turned around and grabbed a young man who’d been lurking in the shadows. “Look who got into town this afternoon.”

The first thing Lily noticed was the thatch of thick auburn hair on his head. Below that was a pair of eyes as green as grass. Something about him looked familiar, but she did not place him until Mrs. Thornton stepped forward with a glad cry.

“Jonah, why didn’t you come to the house to tell your mother you had arrived safely?”

So this was the youngest Thornton child. She glanced at Mr. Thornton and realized why Jonah looked familiar. He was a younger version of his father.

“I’m sorry, Mother. Sarah wanted to surprise you.” He hugged her close before turning to shake hands with his father. “I’m glad to see both of you looking so well. We have many things to talk about.”

“Yes, yes.” Sarah stepped between them. “But for tonight you are to forget all that and enjoy yourself.”

He shrugged and turned back to the receiving line. He smiled at Lily as they were introduced, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Camellia. She blushed and nodded when he asked for the first dance.

Lily’s glance met Blake’s, and they shared a moment. It was as if they didn’t need words to communicate. Her little sister was going to be a big hit in New Orleans.

Lily and Camellia, followed by a grinning Blake, trailed the Thorntons into the crowded ballroom. Over the next half hour they were introduced to so many of New Orleans’ elite that Lily soon lost count.

The musicians began playing, and couples started walking to the center of the room. Jonah came to claim Camellia for the promised dance. He was soon replaced by others, as many of the young men vied for her attention.

One or two of them turned to Lily as a second choice if Camellia was not available, but she refused them all, preferring her role as chaperone.

Between the crush of people and the candles all around the room, Lily grew rather warm and wished she could escape through some french doors that had been flung open in the hope of coaxing some of the cooler night air into the room. She was about to seek out a chair along the wall when a hand on her arm stopped her.

“Would you like to dance?” Blake’s drawl in her ear made gooseflesh pop up along her arms.

Lily shook her head resolutely. “I’m here as a chaperone for Camellia. This is her evening to dance.”

“It looks to me as though she’s had no shortage of partners.” Blake stepped in front of her. He looked every inch the gentleman. Her gaze wandered from the high points of his shirt collar to the intricate folds of his necktie. His broad shoulders were razor straight in his black frock coat, and his striped silk waistcoat, blood red in color, gleamed richly in the light of the Cartiers’ ballroom.

Lily realized something in that instant. He was as much a gentleman as Jean Luc Champney. More handsome in some respects than the polished Mr. Champney, although perhaps not as well traveled.

That thought led to another. Where was Blake from? Had he grown up in the lap of luxury? He certainly looked comfortable in the trappings of the privileged. But he’d never spoken of his home or childhood. She’d never really thought about it. She knew absolutely nothing about her business partner beyond his current lifestyle.

Perhaps if she accepted his invitation she could ask him about his past. “I believe you are right, Mr. Matthews.”

His smile rewarded her acquiescence. Blake held out a white-gloved hand, and she placed her own in it. As soon as they reached the edge of the dancers, he swept her into his arms and swung her into the rhythm of a waltz. “You look lovely this evening.”

“I’m afraid I owe Mrs. Thornton a substantial portion of our money in payment for the new dresses we bought for Jasmine, Camellia, and me.”

“The expenditure is well worth it.”

Had he actually complimented her? What a novel feeling. Lily’s hand tightened on his shoulder as she and Blake moved around the room. The other dancers disappeared from her consciousness until all that remained was the music and the look in his deep blue eyes. She felt as though she were floating away on a melody as seductive as the song of the river.

Forgotten were the questions about his background. Forgotten were the warnings she had given her sister. Lily allowed him to pull her a tiny bit closer until only inches separated them. Until his mouth was so close he could lean forward to brush his lips against hers.

Panic struck her. She pulled away to a more discreet distance, racking her brain for some subject to introduce. Anything to avoid falling under his hypnotic gaze again. “How is the work going on our boat?”

His smile widened, as though he knew the real reason for her question. “Don’t fret, Lily. We should be able to leave no later than Tuesday or Wednesday.”

“Have you found a captain yet?” She pursued the subject of business doggedly.

“I think I have.”

Didn’t he think she would want to know more about the man who would take them back to Natchez? “Tell me about him.”

“I haven’t quite decided which one to hire, but Mr. Thornton has sent me a couple of excellent candidates. As soon as I check out a few more things and make my final decision, you’ll be able to meet him.” He hesitated a moment. “But remember your promise. The man I choose will be the man we hire.”

She stiffened. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Good.”

Blake executed two more intricate turns, each in the opposite direction, a move that had her head spinning. Lily had to focus on her feet to avoid tripping. She was so overbalanced that she hardly noticed when he swept her through one of the open french doors and out onto the veranda. The sound of the music faded, and his steps slowed, winding down until they were standing still.

Lily pulled away from him and turned to face the manicured lawn. She took two steps forward, standing next to the low wall that ran along the outside of the dimly lit area. He didn’t follow her, and Lily was thankful he gave her time to catch her breath. She opened her fan and used it to cool her face. When she finally turned to face him, her breathing had returned to normal.

Blake was leaning against the wall next to the french doors, watching her like a panther stalking its prey.