The Burning (2 page)

I am as smart as anyone in New Orleans.

I am determined to do anything it takes to be a success.

Taking a deep breath, Simon straightened his black cape with the purple satin lining and strode up to the gate, his eyes on the entrance.

I am sure that Mr. Henry Pierce and his charming daughter, Angelica, would have invited me to their debutante ball if they had known me, Simon told himself.

Well, tonight I will give them a chance to get to know me.

And I will take this opportunity to introduce myself to as many wealthy young ladies as I can. After tonight I will not have to sneak into parties. The invitations will pour in.

Simon stopped at the gate. From inside the open double doors he could hear laughter, the clink of glasses, and the soft music of a string quartet.

These sounds were being repeated all over the town. It was Mardi Gras, and all of New Orleans was celebrating with masked balls, debutante parties, and wild, noisy street parades.

The fancy-dress ball Henry Pierce was throwing for his daughter, Angelica, was the most exclusive
party of them all, which was why Simon had selected it.

But now, gazing at the line of servants that blocked his way to the entrance, Simon began to lose confidence.

Can I really get past them? he wondered, pulling nervously at his jacket cuffs. Have I come this far only to be turned away?

No. I cannot deprive the beautiful and wealthy young women of my company.

Without any further hesitation Simon swept his cape behind him and moved through the gate and up the wide stairs.

“I beg your pardon, sir.” A white-haired servant wearing a tailcoat over old-fashioned knee breeches and a red satin waistcoat stepped forward, his hand outstretched. “May I see your invitation?”

“My invitation?” Simon smiled at the servant, his dark eyes flashing in the bright gaslight. “Why, yes, of course,” he said, stalling for time.

Reaching into his coat pocket, Simon dipped his head and deliberately caused his black top hat to fall off. The hat bounced onto the wide porch.

Pretending to reach for it, Simon kicked it toward the door.

“Allow me to get that for you, sir,” the servant said, moving quickly toward the hat.

But Simon was quicker. He scooped up the hat by its brim, then threw his arm around the shoulders of a smartly dressed gentleman just entering the house.

“Why, George, old fellow! How good to see you
again!” Simon declared loudly, keeping his arm around the man's shoulders and entering the house with him.

“Do I
know
you?” the startled man cried.

“So sorry. My mistake,” Simon replied with a curt bow.

The servant stepped into the doorway to search for Simon. But he had already lost himself in the crowd.

He was breathing hard, excited by his daring entrance. His smile remained confident as he handed his cape and hat to a servant and moved into the ballroom.

Crystal chandeliers hung low from the ceiling, sending a blaze of yellow gaslight over the crowded room. The vast floor was an intricate pattern of dark and light inlaid wood. The walls were covered in brocade.

Simon studied the young women, such beautiful young women, with sausage curls framing the sides of their glowing faces. Their long hooped ball gowns swept across the shiny floor. Their voices chimed brightly. Their laughter tinkled like the clink of champagne glasses.

The men strutted about in their dark tailcoats and taper-legged trousers. Simon scoffed at their flowing white cravats and ruffled white shirts, scoffed and envied them at the same time.

It takes more than a ruffled shirt to make a gentleman, he reminded himself.

I am as much a gentleman as any of these peacocks. And some day I will have a wardrobe full
of ruffled shirts, shirts to put all of these dandies to shame.

In the far corner a string quartet played Haydn. Simon started to make his way toward the center of the room, but a servant lowered a silver tray in front of him. “Champagne, sir? It arrived from France only this morning.”

“No, thank you.” Simon stepped past the servant, his eyes on two young women in silk ball gowns against the wall. I have more serious business here than drinking champagne, he told himself.

Turning on his most charming smile, he slicked back his dark hair, tugged at his coat cuffs, and made his way to introduce himself to the two young women.

“Good evening,” he said with a polite nod of his head.

The two young women, pale and blond with sparkling blue eyes, turned briefly to stare at him. Then, without replying, they returned to their conversation.

“Wonderful party,” Simon offered, standing his ground, continuing to smile.

They ignored him.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said, refusing to give up.

They walked away without another glance at him.

Such snobs! Simon sneered. There are so few wealthy people in this town that they all know one another. They stick together and do not allow any
newcomers in. Especially newcomers with a northern accent.

The Haydn piece ended. After a brief pause the quartet began to play a reel. The room erupted excitedly as the young men and women quickly formed two long lines across the floor and began to dance.

Simon stepped into the line. He didn't know how to do this reel. But he was confident he could pick it up.

Confidence
. That was the key, Simon knew. That was the key to being accepted by these wealthy New Orleans snobs.

As he picked up the rhythm of the dance, Simon attempted to catch the attention of the dark-haired girl across from him. She glanced at him briefly, then deliberately avoided him, keeping her eyes to the floor until the dance had ended.

I will triumph here eventually, Simon reminded himself. Young women will be begging me for a dance!

He made his way across the crowded, noisy room toward the central hall—and then stopped short in the doorway. A wide stairway, its banister festooned with yellow and white daisies, stretched up to his right. And standing on the bottom step, facing him as she leaned over the flowers, was the most beautiful girl Simon had ever seen.

She had black hair, lustrous in the gaslight from the chandelier above her head. Curls tumbled beside her face with clusters of flowers holding them in place. Simon could see her flashing green
eyes, catlike eyes above a perfect, slender nose, dark full lips, high, aristocratic cheekbones, and the creamy white skin of her shoulders revealed above the lace-edged top of her blue ball gown.

A blue ball gown. Most of the other young women had selected pink and white and yellow. This one stood out boldly in satiny blue.

Simon moved closer, staring intently at this striking vision. He suddenly realized that his mouth was dry, his knees weak.

Is this what the poets call love at first sight? he wondered.

It was a feeling Simon had never experienced.

The young woman was still leaning against the banister, talking to another young woman, tall and frail looking in a gown of pink satin.

Look up. Look up. Please … look toward me,
Simon urged silently.

But the two kept chattering, seemingly unaware of Simon's existence.

I must speak to her, Simon decided.

“What is her name?” He was so smitten, so stunned by the feelings sweeping over him, that Simon didn't realize he had spoken the question aloud.

“That is Henry Pierce's daughter, Angelica,” an elderly man with a white mustache replied, eyeing Simon suspiciously. “Are you unfamiliar with our host and his family?”

“Angelica Pierce,” Simon muttered, ignoring the man's question. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Angelica Pierce, you do not know me, Simon
thought, dizzy with excitement, a kind of excitement he had never felt before. But you shall. You and I are meant for each other.

I shall introduce myself now, Simon decided, his heart pounding. He straightened his tailcoat and cleared his throat.

Continuing to stare intently at Angelica Pierce, he took two steps toward the staircase.

But he was stopped by firm hands on his shoulders.

Two grim-faced young servants had blocked Simon's path. “I am sorry, sir,” one of them said coldly, a sneer contradicting his polite words. “But if you haven't an invitation, we must ask you to leave.”

“P
resident Polk? He isn't here tonight—is he? You are teasing me, are you not, Angelica?” Liza Dupree gaped open-mouthed at her cousin.

Angelica laughed. “You are so gullible, Cousin Liza. What if I told you that the King of France were here? Would you believe that, too?”

Liza's cheeks reddened. “You are always teasing me, Angelica. You have such a cruel sense of humor.”

“I do,
don't
I!” Angelica exclaimed, toying with a shiny black curl.

“You should have known President Polk wasn't here,” Angelica told her cousin. “This party is much too exclusive. He would never get through the door!”

Both girls laughed.

“Did you see the gown Amanda Barton is wearing?” Angelica asked cattily.

“No. Is it charming and wonderful?” Liza asked.

“About as charming and wonderful as our window draperies,” Angelica said with a sneer. “In fact, I believe it is made of the same fabric!”

Both girls laughed again. “I think this is the most wonderful party,” Liza gushed. “I just adore—” She stopped when she saw she didn't have Angelica's attention. Angelica's gaze had flitted away for a second.

“Angelica, what did you see?”

“Who
is
that young man?” Angelica asked finally.

“Who?
Which
young man?” Liza asked.

“The one in the plain shirt and old-fashioned tailcoat,” Angelica replied. “Don't allow him to see you looking. He is staring hard this way with big dark eyes.”

Liza searched until she found him. “What an expression!” she declared, raising a hand to stifle her laughter. “Those brown eyes. He looks so sad and forlorn, like one of your father's hunting hounds!”

Liza expected Angelica to laugh, but she didn't. “Why is he staring at me like that?” Angelica demanded, stealing quick glances at him. “Do I know him?”

“I think I have seen his clothes on a scarecrow in one of my father's cotton fields!” Liza joked. “But I have never seen
him!”

“He … he is frightening me,” Angelica stammered. Her face suddenly appeared pale. The color faded from her eyes.

“Don't let him see us stare at him. He will surely come over here,” Liza warned. “Shall we go upstairs for a rest?” She knew that Angelica was fragile, not as robust as she appeared.

“No. I—
Look!”
Angelica cried.

Both girls peeked as two solemn-faced servants stepped up to the young man. There was a brief argument. Then each servant grabbed an arm and forcefully pulled the young man toward the door.

“Oh, my! Oh, my!” Angelica cried, raising her hands to her pale cheeks.

Liza placed a hand on her cousin's shoulder. “It's all right.”

A few girls cried out in alarm. Angelica heard a rush of murmured questions throughout the room. The string quartet stopped playing.

“He is leaving. It is all right,” Liza assured her cousin.

Angelica watched as the young man moved toward the door, taking long strides, not turning back. As soon as he had disappeared, the music started up again.

“Just an intruder,” Liza said. “I wonder how he got past the servants.”

Angelica's expression was thoughtful. Her emerald eyes began to sparkle again. “That young man was rather interesting,” she told her cousin. “There was something about him….” Her voice trailed off.

“Angelica Pierce, I am ashamed of you!” Liza protested. “How can you be so selfish?”

“Selfish?” Angelica asked, raising her long skirt as she stepped down to the carpet.

“You already have not one but
two
handsome young men eager for your attentions. James Daumier and Hamilton Scott are two of the best-looking, wealthiest young men in all of New Orleans. And they would both
die
if they knew you found that shabby intruder interesting.”

Angelica sighed. “Speak of the devil,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Here comes James. It must be his dance.”

“Well, go!” Liza urged, giving her cousin a gentle shove. “And
smile!
This is
your
party—remember?”

Angelica forced a smile and raised her eyes to James. James grinned at her, showing off about eight hundred teeth.

Does he have to grin at me like that? Angelica wondered unhappily. I am always afraid he is going to bite me!

Most girls would probably consider James Daumier good-looking, Angelica realized. He was tall and broad shouldered and had intense silver gray eyes beneath white blond hair.

If only he wouldn't grin like a dog that's just tucked away a juicy bone! Angelica thought.