Midnight Flame (26 page)

“Let’s just say that I have a stake in whether the Duvalier marriage lasts or not. Believe me, I would derive great satisfaction if it fails.”

Simone was beginning to catch on to this handsome man’s game. She had discerned that he had a motive in being in Washington in the first place. She had also realized he wasn’t too well off. His tip to the waiter at their lunch after he had introduced himself to her had been quite frugal. And his room was on the third floor of the hotel, almost the attic. Too bad he wasn’t rich enough for her. Still, Seth Renquist was a fine figure of a man and had made her forget Tony for an hour. In fact he was almost as good a lover, but not quite. Tony Duvalier excelled in love play.

A wicked smile played about her lips. “You wish the marriage to break up for your own ends, I see. I won’t ask you why, Seth, but I want more than anything for Tony to leave this woman.” Her fingers trailed lightly over the taut muscles of his chest. “Let’s just say that as of tomorrow night when the wedding ball is over, the marriage will be over. Our alliance promises fruitful results. You will just have to convince Laurel that she needs a strong shoulder on which to cry in her coming times of trouble.”

Seth laughed out loud and gathered the curvaceous Simone into his arms. “You’re a mighty fine woman, Simone.”

“And you are one delightful lover.”

He fitted her on top of him, and without preliminary, in a haze of savage passion, Seth slipped inside Simone and took her to a rapturous paradise.

Simone’s plan, so cleverly and subtly hatched, had already been set in motion, but this wouldn’t be the cause of the trouble that happened on the night of the ball. However, Tony and Laurel knew nothing of the events to come as they dressed.

Tony, dressed in a black frock coat with matching pants and boots, a white ruffled shirt covering his broad frame, was breathtakingly handsome. He waited in the parlor, after he had finished dressing, for Laurel to descend the marble staircase of Petit Coteau and greet their guests together, as husband and wife. Anticipation seeped through him, eager for the dancing to begin when he could take his beautiful and bewitching wife in his arms and waltz her across the floor. He felt like a schoolboy suddenly and laughed at this image. Even as a lad he had possessed an eye for beautiful women, and Laurel was the most beautiful of any woman he had ever known.

Shortly before the first carriage rolled up the drive to the house, he saw Laurel standing on the landing. Tony gasped, unable to draw adequate breath. Never had he beheld such a heart-stopping vision as Laurel dressed in an ivory satin gown in an off-the-shoulder style. As she descended the stairs, holding out a slender hand to him, the yards of silk, encrusted with seed pearls surrounded by chips of sparkling emeralds to match her eyes, billowed around her. The soft swish of the gown was the only sound heard in the foyer other than the hard pounding of Tony’s heart.

A gentle and loving smile beamed on her lovely face, framed by wisps of hair. Her long tresses were pulled away from her face and held in place by ivory combs. Curls cascaded down her back like a rippling waterfall of dark brown locks. In her right hand Laurel held a white rose bouquet and reminded Tony of a bride. His bride. Never had he felt such love for anyone.

“My, you’re a handsome one,” Laurel whispered and kissed him tenderly when she reached the bottom step. “I can’t wait until we’re alone tonight. You know Denise and I conjured up this ball to bring you to my bed. But as fate would have it—”

He didn’t allow her to finish the sentence as his lips sought hers again and plundered them in a greedy kiss that promised much. “I knew you were a witch,” he breathed against her hair. “But you didn’t need a ball to lure me into bed. I’d have crawled on my hands and knees if you’d wanted me to.”

“I prefer you in quite another position altogether.”

“Laurel Duvalier!” Tony exclaimed in mock shock. “I’ve created a wanton.”

They laughed together and walked into the double parlor that had been turned into a ballroom for the night. Roses and early summer flowers, plucked fresh from the garden and placed in large vases, graced the mantel and tabletops. Green garlands of ivy were entwined around the chandeliers and doorframes. Servants bustled about, placing platters of warm ham, chicken, turkey, salads, and such varied concoctions of rich and creamy sweets that the nearby dining room was turned into a cornucopia of mouth-watering scents.

The small orchestra Tony had hired began to tune up in one section of the parlor. Tony called to them to play a certain French tune, and he formally bowed to Laurel and offered her his arm for a dance.

In a swirl of ivory satin and black silk, they whirled around the room, having eyes and ears for no one but each other. Laurel felt that she was a princess in a fairy story, and Tony was her prince who had stolen her heart. How she loved him. The music drifted through the empty rooms, and they would have continued dancing if it hadn’t been for the sudden appearance of Jean and Denise.

“Go away,” Tony muttered and buried his face in Laurel’s luxurious hair. “Can’t you see we’re busy?”

“Tony, I’d like a word with you.” Jean’s voice broke the spell.

Laurel stood in Tony’s arms when they stopped dancing. “Later,” he whispered to her.

Laurel immediately welcomed Denise with a kiss, and the two women stood together. Jean beckoned Tony outside and met him on the veranda. Jean’s face was beet red, and he wiped his perspiring brow with his kerchief.

“I thought to never get here!” Jean burst out. “The carriage wheel broke, and that had to be fixed, but I wanted to arrive before anyone else.”

“Your timing is impeccable,” Tony groused good-naturedly. But he grew serious when he saw the worried look on his cousin’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Jean sighed. “I don’t know how to say this to you, Tony, but I must warn you before your guests start arriving. A terrible, horrible rumor is circulating among the slaves and has leaked to the plantation owners, to your friends. The rumor says that Laurel is pregnant with another man’s child. I don’t know how such a malicious rumor began, and I tried to track it down to the source. But you’re being made to look like a duped fool.”

Tony felt as if he had been punched. Who would start such an ugly rumor? Then anger grew within him when he realized that Laurel might hear it and become upset. He must protect her in her pregnancy from any distress for the sake of her health and the child’s.

“I’ll kill the first man who utters such a profane rumor in my house!”

Jean patted him on the back. “Calm down, Tony. I told you not to upset you but to warn you. You have a right to know what everyone is gossiping about.”

“Say nothing to Laurel,” Tony commanded and turned on his heels as the first of his guests began arriving.

Tony joined Laurel in the foyer, and he introduced each guest to her. Laurel was charming, beautiful, and sweet, but Tony immediately sensed everyone’s unease and noticed the moving lips behind gaily colored fans and hands. Rumors directed at him, at his Laurel, at his child. As much as he had looked forward to this evening, he now wished the night would end. He had purposely shielded Laurel from the social life of Washington, afraid that someone would slip up and mention Auguste St. Julian to her, but he had agreed to the ball, feeling that Petit Coteau was the proper place for Laurel to meet his friends. He knew he could control a situation in his home and expel anyone who mentioned his poor uncle.

However, this situation might prove more than even he could handle. Everyone watched Laurel in fascination, mixed with open condemnation, and even lust-showed on the faces of some of the gentlemen present. He saw a look of bafflement settle on her face when he swept her onto the dance floor. Again, he blamed himself. If not for his plan to avenge himself on Lavinia, Laurel wouldn’t be in these circumstances now.

“Tony, why is everyone staring at me so oddly?” she whispered to him. “Is something wrong with me? Have I done anything offensive?”

“No,
chérie
, you’ve done nothing wrong. You’re imagining that.”

She shook her dark head. “I’m not, Tony. These people dislike me.”

The dance ended, and Laurel and Tony stood in the center of the room, alone. No one joined them on the floor when the music began to play anew, and Laurel realized they were being snubbed.

“Please, come dance,” Laurel invited everyone, but no one made a move to join them, except for Denise and Jean. Laurel’s cheeks grew red with embarrassment and humiliation, tears stung her eyes when Tony claimed her for the dance. Condemning faces twirled past her, but the only one she seemed to notice was Simone, who watched in malevolent glee from across the room. When the waltz stopped, the kindly Doctor Fusilier moved forward and asked Tony if he could have a dance with Laurel. Tony bowed and started to walk past, but Madame Fusilier’s voice blared through the ball room like the sound of a trumpet.

“Alphonse, if you dance with that wicked woman, I shall not speak to you again!”

Alphonse Fusilier’s face turned three shades of red, and he stood beside Laurel, poised in indecision. He motioned to his wife to be quiet, but she pushed past the guests who blocked her way. She was a small, thin woman, but she stared daggers into her husband.

“Don’t try to quiet me, you worm! You know very well why we’re here. You’re afraid that if you didn’t show up, you’d displease Monsieur Duvalier, and he’d take his aches and pains elsewhere. Well, let him.” She turned her flashing and condemning eyes on Laurel. “I don’t want my husband ministering to a whore, to a woman who bears a child that isn’t her husband’s. It’s a sin!”

“Oh!” Laurel’s gasp was audible throughout the room, and she would have fallen if Tony hadn’t caught her in his arms. But she stiffened her backbone and tried to stare down the woman and think of something to say in her own defense, but nothing came to her. She was guilty of everything Madame Fusilier said, of what everyone must think.

Some titters and jeers circulated through the room as Laurel opened her mouth to speak, but Tony’s voice cut through the air like a butcher’s knife.

“I am very shocked and surprised by you all,” he spoke with surprising calmness, but Laurel could feel him trembling. “You come to my home to be entertained by my wife and myself. You come here as hypocrites, people who, I thought, were my friends. Worst of all, you believe a malicious rumor, something so untrue as to be an abomination. My wife is carrying a child. My child, and I would swear to this on a stack of Bibles that the child is mine. However, I won’t give any of you the satisfaction.” He called to the butler. “Show my guests out,” he demanded.

Then in one fell swoop, he captured Laurel in his arms and carried her upstairs to her room. He sat in a chair, cradling her in his arms while the tears she had suppressed fell onto his shirtfront.

Denise knocked on the door and inquired if she was all right, but Tony assured her that Laurel was fine and that she and Jean should retire for the night.

With overflowing eyes, Laurel looked at Tony. “Denise planned for her to take your bed tonight. She said the house would be filled with guests. You could have your choice of any room now. I’m … sorry … Tony. I’ve caused you embarrassment, made a fool out of you.”

He stroked her head, wanting to tell her the truth, and he almost did except her next words stopped him. “You were so wonderful to stand up for me like that. I’ll never forget what you did tonight, Tony. Never.” She kissed his neck. He felt her stiffen in his arms, and anger washed over her face. “I wish to God that man in the cabin never existed! He’s the reason for all of this, and I hate him.”

Tony smothered a groan. Yes, you should hate me, he thought. Gincie tapped on the door then and entered the room.

“My baby will done feel better after she gets ready for bed, Mr. Tony. Just you wait when you see her in that pretty gown Mrs. Pratt made for her. You’ll both forget that nasty business that happened here tonight.”

Tony nodded and kissed Laurel on the head before leaving her to Gincie’s ministrations. As he left the room, he knew he would never forget this night. And later, he was proved correct.

~ ~ ~

Simone seethed as her carriage returned her to Clermont. Never had she been so upset. Her scheme had backfired. Instead of Tony becoming enraged and turning against Laurel, he had instead whisked her up the stairs to the seclusion of the bedroom. His attitude about the whole situation puzzled Simone. She couldn’t believe he had stood there and, with a straight face, proclaimed the child as his own. Such loyalty was unbelievable to Simone—unless the baby Laurel carried
was
Tony’s child.