Luck of the Wolf (10 page)

She waved at the room around them. “Doesn't this cost a lot of money?”

His shoulders relaxed. “You need have no worry about the cost, Aria. It will be taken care of.”

“But the dress and all the other things you bought…” She fingered the cloak she'd laid over the back of the couch. “There's a lot I don't know about money—”

“That is clear,” Cort grumbled.

“—but I know the difference between a place like this and that nasty old boardinghouse.” She spread her
arms. “Why did you stay there? This is the kind of place a gentleman should live in, isn't it? Like the other Reniers?”

He was on his feet before she had a chance to blink. “Leave such matters to those who understand them.”

“I
want
to understand.” She caught his gaze again. “You said the other Reniers had a lot of money. Do
you?
”

“Aria,” he warned, “that is none of your—”

She followed her instincts. “I don't think you do. I…” She stiffened her resolve. “I don't want you to spend any more money on me if you don't have it.”

Muscles rigid, Cort walked back to the window. He gripped the curtains so hard that Aria thought he might tear them apart. “I earn what I need,” he said.

“How?” she asked. “What things do gentlemen do to get money?”

He ran his hand down the edge of the drapes. “Do you remember what I told you about the card game?”

“Of course.”

“That is how I earn my living,” he said. “I'm usually very good at such games, and men will bet a great deal of money if they think they have a chance at winning.”

“And you usually win?”

“Since you…” He stopped again. “Yes. Enough to cover any expenses related to getting you home.” There were so many different emotions on his face that Aria couldn't make heads or tails of them. “It's vulgar to talk about money, Aria. You'll have to learn to—”

“I'll pay you back,” she said.

“That isn't necessary.”

“I
want
to. And if my family is happy to see me, won't they want to give you what you—”

“I want
nothing
from them,” he snarled.

His anger didn't scare her. Not nearly as much as what his words might mean.

“You don't like them, do you?” she asked. “You said your family hardly ever met with mine. They aren't rich like the New Orleans Reniers, are they?”

“They—” He sucked in a deep breath. “They have what they need.” Maybe that
was
the truth, or at least part of it. But there was much more, and Aria was determined to discover it.

“What made you hate my family?” she asked.

Aria heard the curtains rip. He stared at the torn fabric in his hands as if he couldn't imagine how it had happened.

Aria sat up on her knees so she could watch his face. “What did they do, Cort?”

He smiled…lazily, the way he used to when they'd first met.

“You wouldn't find it an interesting subject,
chère
. It's long in the past.”

“Is that why you don't live in New Orleans anymore?”

The curtains fell with a clatter, rod and all. “That had nothing to do with it,” he said, breathing fast. “I preferred to explore the rest of the country rather than remain in Louisiana.”

Aria could smell the lie as she could smell a stranger passing in the hall. Her mind jumped wildly from one thought to another, drawing little strands of meaning together into an untidy knot of comprehension.

“You were looking for something,” she said. “Just like me.”

Cort walked away from the window with sharp, jerky
steps. “I came west to make my own life. And that is what I have done.”

Just like I will,
Aria thought.
But I'll be going east. Not into the future, like Cort, but into the past.

And that left her with the most important question of all. But her throat went dry, and once again she couldn't ask it. So much still lay unresolved between them.

The smell of meat and potatoes and a dozen other good things wafted through the door, interrupting any chance of further conversation. A man brought in a rolling table covered by plates heaped with food, and in spite of everything, Aria found that her appetite was undiminished. Cort picked at his meal and left most of it untouched. At midnight he went to the room he shared with Yuri, offering only a quiet good-night.

Aria put on the heavy nightgown Cort had bought her, lay down in the big bed and tried to sleep.

But the bed was too soft, the room itself too alien in its refinement. She almost longed for her plain little pallet in the cottage, or even the sprung mattress in the boardinghouse. At least
that
had smelled of Cort.

Far too restless to stay still, she got up and went to the door of the sitting room. No sound in the hallway, except for the scratching of a mouse and snores from nearby rooms. No voices. Even Cort and Yuri must be asleep.

She wandered back to the window, gathered up an armful of the abused curtains and breathed in deeply. Cort's scent still lingered in the fabric. She tore a piece free of the rest and curled up on the couch the way she used to do at the boardinghouse. Wadding the curtain under her head, she closed her eyes and pretended that Cort was still with her.

But he wasn't. In many ways she felt more alone now
than she had in the mountains, when she had truly believed she was the only one of her kind in the world.

Maybe Cort felt the same way. He hadn't only been angry when she'd asked him about his family and the other Reniers. She had seen something else on his face, too. Pain. Sadness. It was almost as if he had lost something dear to him when he'd left his family to seek his “own life.” Just as she had lost Franz.

Aria lifted her head and gazed at the moonlight streaming through the window. Cort kept his secrets as well as the moon. Or herself.

But not forever. When she found out why he was so angry and hurt, then she would know she could share everything with him. Maybe it wouldn't just be her needing him. Maybe
he
would need
her,
too.

 

“Y
OU ARE TOO
kind,
monsieur,
” the woman's voice said.

Aria sat up, suddenly aware that she must have slept far longer than she had intended. A path of sunlight lay stretched across the carpet where moonlight had been before, and the bare window glittered like crystal. She brushed her hair out of her face and listened again for the voice.

“My pleasure,
madame,
” Cort said on the other side of the door. Aria scarcely had time to jump to her feet and smooth her nightgown before the door opened, and Cort walked in with the stranger.

The first thing Aria noticed was that the woman had a flowery scent about her, though it was a pleasant fragrance, instead of the overwhelming stink humans called “perfume.” The second thing was that the strange female was wearing exactly the kind of fashionable clothing she'd seen in the magazines and in the courtyard: a
straight, snug skirt bedecked with flounces and ribbons, with a ridiculous bow of some sort right on the rear, and an equally tight bodice with a lacy panel down the front. Her hair was dark, and tucked under a hat covered with more bows, flowers and feathers, and she carried a frothy parasol in a dainty white-gloved hand. She wore the dress as if she had been born in it.

She was also beautiful. And when she smiled at Cort, Aria's heart fell straight down to her feet and through the floor underneath.

Cort smiled at the lady in return and looked at Aria. The good humor in his eyes faded along with his smile.

“Madame Martin,” he said, “this is Anna, your pupil. Anna, Madame Babette Martin.”

Babette Martin beamed at Aria.
“Que belle!”
she exclaimed. “How charming!”

Her voice was low and rich, like the deepest notes Franz had played on his fiddle, and it held an accent much stronger than Cort's. Aria thought of her own voice, and how coarse it must sound in comparison.

“Anna,” Cort said, “kindly go and dress.”

Had Aria been in wolf shape, she didn't know if she would have growled at Cort's bossy manner or slunk away with her tail between her legs. Half-afraid to leave Cort and Babette Martin alone together—though she really didn't know why—she rushed off to change. Her fingers trembled on the buttons of her bodice as she dressed. The skirt almost tripped her up when she raced back into the sitting room and skidded to a stop.

“Good morning,” she said, essaying a half curtsy and feeling very foolish as she made it. She comforted herself with the fact that Cort surely would have to approve of her attempt.

But he didn't. He merely regarded her with a frown, and looked her up and down.

“You can see that she needs considerable instruction,” he said, as if Aria were one of the prize rams Berthold the shepherd had brought to show her after he had won a competition in the village.

“You are too hard on the girl,
mon ami,
” Babette said with a throaty laugh. “Such a beautiful child will surely be a delight to teach.”

“I am
not
a child,” Aria said.

Cort ignored her. “If anyone can do it,
madame,
I believe you can.”

Aria detected something like sympathy in Babette's eyes. “We will need a little time to get acquainted. Perhaps you might leave us alone for a while?”

“I don't want to be left alone,” Aria said.

“Anna!” Cort snapped.

“It is nothing,” Babette said. “We shall grow to understand each other,
c'est ça?

“Are you certain you wish to do this?” Cort asked her.

“I would not refuse Yuri. We are old friends. And I do love a challenge.”

“You have my sincerest admiration,
madame,
” Cort said. He bowed over her hand and kissed her gloved fingers. “I will leave you, but should you require anything…”

“Tea, perhaps, if it is not too much trouble.”

“I will see to it immediately.” Cort cast Aria one last, assessing look and walked out the door.

Babette glanced around the room with obvious pleasure. “What a lovely room,” she said.

Aria plopped down on the sofa. “Is it?”

“Very fine indeed. Monsieur Renier must have great faith in you,
mademoiselle.
”

Her manner was so pleasant that Aria found it difficult to maintain her resentment. “Did he tell you everything?” she asked, sitting up a little straighter.

“You are fortunate enough to belong to one of the most influential families in New Orleans.”

“Is that where you come from?”

“I am originally from France, but I lived in New Orleans for many years.”

“Do you know
what
I am?”

“If you mean do I know you are
loup-garou,
like Cort and the other Reniers, then yes, I have that privilege. There are many such as you in New Orleans.”

That was something Cort hadn't told Aria. “You aren't afraid?”

“Why should I be? A woman is a woman and a man a man. I have never known your kind to be more dangerous than anyone else.”

Her calm acceptance didn't comfort Aria nearly as much as it should have. “Have you known Cort for a long time?”

“Only since I arrived. He is quite charming himself,
n'est-ce pas?
And so handsome.”

Aria fidgeted, not liking Babette's tone when she talked about Cort. “You are good friends with Yuri?” she asked.

“We knew each other in New Orleans.” For the first time since she had walked in the door, Babette lost her smile and the light went out of her eyes. “I have not seen him in a very long time.”

They way she spoke of Yuri intrigued Aria, but she had more important things on her mind. “Do you really want to teach me?” she asked.

The lady joined her on the sofa, folding her delicate hands neatly in her lap. “Of course I do,
ma petite
. I have never met a more promising student.”

“You have done this before?”

The other woman hesitated, though her smile never wavered. “In a manner of speaking,” she said.

Madame Martin was hiding something, Aria was sure of it. And she needed to know much more about the woman before she'd come anywhere close to trusting her as much as she had learned to trust Cort.

“What if I don't want your help?” she asked.

“I was under the impression that you were eager to return to your family.”

Her gentleness made Aria feel ashamed. “I'm sorry,” she mumbled. “It's just…since I don't remember, sometimes I am a little afraid. I didn't mean to seem ungrateful,
madame.
”

“Ce n'est rien.”
Babette laid her hand over Aria's. “You need not be formal with me, Anna. I believe we shall become good friends.”

Aria looked away. The door opened, and a uniformed man entered with a tray of steaming tea and biscuits. He laid the tray down on the table near the couch and left with a bow.

Babette rose to take charge of the tea things, pouring with an easy grace Aria couldn't help but admire.

Maybe it was possible that they would become friends after all. After spending so much time with Franz and Cort and Yuri, it might even be nice to have a female friend. Someone she might confide in. Someone who might “explain” the things Cort hadn't wanted to talk about.

And teach her how to make Cort really
notice
her, the way he had noticed Babette.

Aria took a teacup from Babette and thanked her. “When you lived in New Orleans,” she said, “did you know my family?”

“Certain members of it, on occasion,” Babette said. She sipped her tea, watching Aria over the rim of her cup.