To Love a Scoundrel (30 page)

"I have a traveling suit. That will have to do," she said briskly as she began to walk away. "Excuse me, but I have to get back to my cabin. Harry will be along soon, and I want to be ready for him."

Brent's excitement at the thought of seeing Jewel meandering among the wisteria and grandeur of his childhood home was rapidly diminishing. He puckered his mouth and offered some sarcastic advice. "Don't forget to invite your dear old dad to Sumner Hall. Be a real shame to go all the way out there for nothing."

"Oh, don't worry," she called over her shoulder as she made her way along the deck. "You've actually come up with a pretty decent plan. I'll see to it that Harry accepts."

* * *

Not long after Jewel returned to her cabin, she heard the expected tapping on her door. Daddy had arrived. Was she ready for him this time? Ready to change his mind if he'd decided not to take her under his wing?

And what if he'd fallen for the bait and come prepared to give her her first lesson? How would she act? What would she call him? Again, knuckles rapped against the door.

"Be right there," she called out in as confident a voice as she could muster. Then she straightened her shoulders and marched across the tiny room.

"Do come in," she said as she opened the door and allowed her father into her private quarters.

"Thank you," he replied, tipping his hat as he crossed the threshold. After waiting until she'd closed the door behind him, Harry strolled into the center of her cramped cabin and slowly spun around.

Jewel raised her eyebrows. "Would you like to sit down?''

Harry furrowed his brow as he continued to peruse the room. Then he wrinkled his nose and said, "No, I don't think so. Why don't we get right down to business?"

"All right. What have you decided?"

Harry turned to her, squinting one eye as he studied her bawdy appearance. Then he cleared his throat and said, "The first thing we'll have to do, my dear partner, is get you a new wardrobe."

Chapter 14

Greenville, Mississippi

Jewel stole surreptitious glances at her companions as the trio bounced along in the carriage. Harry was engaged in animated conversation with Brent, running on and on about his exploits across Europe, carefully leaving out, of course, his various occupations and disguises during his extensive travels. The two men had become immediate allies after she'd introduced Harrison Poindexter as her father, and Brent had fallen into his role as her enormously touched suitor with great aplomb. Now the pair, each playing the part that would most benefit two distinctly separate causes, were beginning to make her sick.

Harry, she noticed, was still droning on. Shamelessly dropping names like a whore soliciting customers, he told of kings and queens, barons and lords, positively raved about the enormous castles and secluded lakefront homes he'd been privileged to visit on the Continent. Brent seemed utterly fascinated and thoroughly impressed. Jewel was ready to scream.

How had she, the author of this scheme, become a mere observer as the drama unfolded? When had she lost control? She stared at Harry's graying temples and frowned. What was going on in his head? she wondered. What did he really and ultimately intend to do with her, this daughter he insisted he'd been blissfully unaware of? The man had positively dogged her heels since they'd formed their new alliance. Every time she turned around, there was Harry Benton, the contrite, ubiquitous father of her nightmares. Was it part of his act? Or did Harry Benton actually hope to step into her life and try to control it?

He was certainly trying to do so now. Even the simple little detail of deciding how she would address him had to be done his way and with panache. He insisted that she call him, Faathah, not Father. So European, he'd said, so very distinguished.

So asinine, she grumbled to herself.

When he wasn't correcting her diction, he was showing her how to become a proper lady—a
lady,
for pity's sake, as if she didn't know the difference between a teaspoon and a soup spoon. When he finally decided her table manners would do, he began teaching her how to walk. Jewel Flannery, a woman capable of bringing the Royal Guard to its knees with one shake of her hips, had to be taught how to walk and by Harry Benton, of all people. If it hadn't been so laughable, she would have lost her mind over the last two days. Instead, it was beginning to look as if Brent had.

Where had he been during all Harry's careful tutoring? Hiding around corners, laughing when he got the chance, grinning when silence was the order of the day. Every time she tried to ambush him and work out a plan for actually pitting Brent's mother against Harry, he would change the subject or excuse himself and run off to the pilothouse. It was almost as if he had other reasons for bringing the "Poindexters" out to his family home—reasons she hadn't yet figured out.

Her frown deeper, more introspective, Jewel fanned her overheated skin and went back to work on her major objective: what to do when they arrived at Sumner Hall. Just let Mrs. Connors and her former lover bump into each other? Orchestrate an accident that would shake the truth from one of the most wanted criminals in America? Could the culmination of four years' work really be that easy? Not likely, she thought as the two men burst into another chorus of raucous laughter. Not likely at all.

Her discomfort increasing, Jewel smoothed the skirt of her gray serge traveling suit and wiped at her brow.

"Is the weather getting a bit too warm for you, ma'am?" Brent inquired, taking notice of her plight.

"It's more than warm, suh. It's hotter than hell."

Harry groaned, then scolded her. "Now, that's exactly what I was talking about just this morning, daughter. You'll never pass yourself off as a lady if you don't stop using vulgarisms."

"Pass herself off?" Brent inquired lightly, baiting him.

"Yes, sir," Harry said quickly, ever cool even near the hottest of fires. "Now that I have found this lovely lass, I intend to protect and harbor her until she meets a gentleman worthy of our family name."

After pausing as Brent choked on a sudden convulsive cough, Harry leaned across the carriage and took Jewel's free hand in his. "To that end, I have made it my responsibility to train this sweet young girl as my hostess until the happy event of matrimony descends upon her."

From behind Harry's top hat, Jewel watched as Brent rolled his eyes and mouthed the words, "Oh, good Lord." Muffling a chuckle, she let out a long sigh and resumed fanning herself.

"So sorry for the vulgar outburst, Faathah dear, but I simply cannot abide this heat much longer."

"Yes, it is growing warm," Brent agreed, his southern accent increasing as the distance to his home decreased. "They say there's only one place more devastatin' to the body's cooling system than the lower M'sippi in July."

"And that place would be?" she asked, playing into his hands.

"The lower M'sippi in August."

"Oh, ha-ha," she tossed off. "In that case, I'll just have to make damn—oh, pardon me, Faathah—I'll just have to make dang sure I'm back up north in civilization before August, then, won't I?"

"Tsk-tsk." Harry folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. Speaking to Brent, but staring across the carriage at Jewel, he said, "You can see, Mr. Connors, that I have an awesome job ahead of me. My daughter is a bit flighty and quite headstrong, but I believe that, in time and with a considerable effort on my part, she'll be a woman even a grand duke would be proud to call his wife. Don't you agree?"

"My opinion is of no consequence," Brent answered, the words slow and deliberate. "But yes, I believe any man would be proud to call Miss Poindexter his wife." He added softly, his gaze centered on Jewel's mouth, "I know I most certainly would."

Her eyes trapped by his, her mind vacillating between accepting his statement as truth and laughing it off as yet another shot in their verbal war, Jewel hesitated for a long moment. Then she opted for sanity and viewed them as banter. "Before you seek any more of Mr. Connors's advice, Faathah, I feel you should know that his initials are B. S. I believe you'll find there's a very good reason for that."

Harry leaned back against the leather cushion and turned to Brent. "You see what I'm up against, my good man? The girl's mind is positively saturated with vulgarisms. I shall have my hands full wringing the filth out of her, yes, indeed, I shall. Perhaps a large bar of lye soap would help."

"
Faathah dear
,"
Jewel warned, tired of his paternal gestures, whether genuine or theatrical. "I agree with something Mr. Connors said earlier—what he thinks is of no consequence. Let us speak of other things."

"Yes," Brent agreed as the carriage rounded the final bend in the road. "We ought to speak of Sumner Hall. There she lies, dead ahead."

Then father and daughter gasped in unison at their first glimpse of Brent's plantation home. The carriage, drawn by a matched pair of Palominos, rolled lazily along a lane framed by gnarled live oak trees that stretched for nearly a quarter of a mile up to the mansion. The trees arched inward as they rose, then bowed, scattering filigree patterns of sun and shadow across the cropped grass bordering the road. The scene was pastoral, cooling, and offered welcome relief from the broiling midday sun.

"Oh, Brent," Jewel said with awe as she caught a glimpse of the mansion's four soaring columns. Appearing to soar upward from the fertile alluvial soil, they rose like huge alabaster candlesticks and stood like sentries before the impressive terra-cotta brick building. "Your home is absolutely gorgeous."

"Thank you," he said, pride coating the syllables. "It is impressive to a first-time visitor, I suppose, but nowhere near so grand as it was before the Yankees stormed it during the War between the States."

Jewel's eyes widened. "Battles were fought around here?"

"Not exactly. The siege of Vicksburg spilled on up this way a bit. The Yankees burned Greenville to the ground, then destroyed as many homes and plantations as got in their way. Sumner Hall was badly damaged, but Dad managed to save it. We've spent the last ten years trying to put the place back together again, but we still have a ways to go."

"Goodness gracious," Harry breathed as the carriage rolled to a halt and he got a closer look at the Grecian-style home. "Goodness me."

The Bentons seemed to be totally involved in indulging their senses, so Brent gave them a few moments of silence as he helped Jewel down from the carriage and escorted her toward the fan-shaped front steps. Harry quickly joined them, but just before the trio reached the immense beveled glass and walnut door, he halted in mid-stride.

"Goodness," he repeated, fingering one of the giant columns. "I haven't seen fluted columns the likes of these since my last visit to Greece."

"You have a good eye," Brent said as he rang the bell. "They are Corinthian, and as authentic as the other embellishments you'll find in our home."

Harry turned back to the columns, but before he could comment further, the door opened and a large black man greeted them.

"Mr. Connors, so good to have you home again."

"Afternoon, Maxwell." Brent gestured for Jewel and Harry to precede him. "This is Miss Poindexter and her father. They'll be stayin' with us until the
Dawn
resumes her journey."

"Yes, sir." The butler nodded, then led the guests into the foyer. "I'll prepare their rooms. The gentleman should be most comfortable in the teak room, and the lady?"

Brent's gaze slid to Jewel as she glided across the black and white checkerboard pattern of the marble floor, and he grinned. "I think the lady will enjoy the magnolia room. It should be a nice change for her to inhale the scent of something other than violets."

Jewel tore her attention away from the impressive entry- way long enough to make a face at Brent. Then she looked at the walls, trying to decide if the lush depictions of the Mississippi countryside were painted murals or wallpaper.

Maxwell clicked his heels together. "Will there be anything else, sir?"

"Where might I find the family?"

"The ladies are having their midday nap, and your father is resting on the veranda outside the library. I am not sure where your brother has run off to."