Authors: Moonlight an Memories
She said the same to herself again when Nicholas leaned over the carriage to inform her he was riding on to the Howells. The sun glinted off the wild mane of his hair, and Eavin couldn't help but think that Jeremy's shy sister was likely to faint at the sight of him. She pointedly handed him his coat and waistcoat, and the grin he gave her was as good as a reprimand.
She wanted to smack him. Her mood had soured as his had escalated. Michael gave her an odd look when she coldly ignored his employer's gallant farewell, but he had sense enough to stay silent. He had borne the brunt of her temper in the past and knew when silence served best.
Settling against the uncomfortable seat, Eavin scowled at the trees rolling by. She knew Nicholas was making haste to see that Jeremy didn't repeat his mistaken overtures now that she had returned. He was only doing what she had asked. He didn't have to do it with such good humor. She was throwing away the opportunity of a lifetime, one even better than she had grabbed when she had married Dominic. Nicholas didn't have to be so damned happy about it.
Annie took the fussy infant from Eavin's arms and to her breast, leaving Eavin with nothing better to do than watch the passing countryside. The new green of the leaves colored the swampy forest. Birdsong dwindled as the wagons and horses passed by, but it lingered on the warm breeze, promising the joys of spring. Wildflowers sprang out of the moss and new fern fronds unfurled before her eyes, and Eavin couldn't retain her anger and suspicion for long under the influence of the countryside.
She loved it here, she realized. She had hated the noise and the filth and the closeness of the clapboard houses and crowds of the city. Out here she could almost imagine she had been reborn into a whole new world, a world she could shape as she wished, not one shaped by her parents before her. It was exciting and challenging, and for the first time since Dominic had died, she began to feel as if she might have some control over her life.
It had been her decision to reject Jeremy, and it was the right decision. She had been unhappy with Dominic, even though he had been gentler and probably more malleable than Jeremy. It was apparent she wasn't meant for marriage.
Not all the men in her mother's boardinghouse had been poor or cruel or unpleasant. Some had been promising lawyers. One had gone on to be elected to Congress. She hadn't found one of them attractive or interesting in the ways her friends found their husbands and boyfriends. Their attentions had horrified and revolted her until she had resorted to disguising herself in an attempt to divert their interest. So it was quite obvious that she would only be unhappy if she married.
In which case, finding a home and a child to raise was a lucky piece of work on her part. If her employer sometimes looked at her in the same way as her mother's boarders, Eavin had matured enough to understand that men did that but didn't necessarily mean anything by it. Nicholas had a rash temper, but she certainly knew how to deal with that. She didn't think he would ever harm her, and with Michael nearby, she could be quite certain of it. All was finally right in her world. It was up to her to see that it stayed that way.
So when the caravan arrived at the plantation to find Nicholas and Jeremy already waiting, Eavin managed a pleasant smile and left them to their own devices while she saw Jeannette settled in the nursery.
A month's worth of dust had accumulated on the furniture and floors upstairs, and Jeremy's lovely bouquet of daffodils had dried to pitiful skeletons. As soon as Jeannette was settled in her bed, Eavin set the servants to cleaning up the debris from the flood while she began on the upper floors.
Below, Nicholas watched Jeremy's nervous pacing as the sounds of activity sprang to life throughout the house. The click-click of a feminine step set the younger man turning toward the door, but the sound went by without stopping. He frowned at his friend's fidgeting and poured a glass of brandy.
"Drink this and stop pacing, for pity's sake," Nicholas said in disgust, passing the glass to Jeremy. "It's time you went into New Orleans and got some of this out of your system. I'll not let you make my daughter's aunt into your mistress, so you might as well start looking for another one."
Jeremy swished the liquid in his glass angrily, and Nicholas thought he might expect it in his face at any minute, but Howell had more control over his temper than Nicholas.
"There's no knowing for certain that she can't have children," he said coldly, as if that had been the topic all along. "You know Doc Johnson is half blind and half senile. He's the one who pronounced Raphael dead, and you know as well as I do that the scoundrel's out there alive somewhere. If it's his word she's taking, there could be a mistake."
Nicholas shrugged this off as irrelevant. "There's every chance that he's right, but even so, you know Eavin isn't suitable. Dominic was a weakling alone for the first time in his life and no doubt scared half out of his wits. He married her because he couldn't have her any other way and he needed someone to cling to. As much as I admire Eavin, she's not our sort, and your family would agree if you tried to bring her home. You haven't seen her in the devil of a temper like I have, or you would agree."
"I daresay I've seen you in worse moods, and I haven't shot you yet," Jeremy replied angrily, slamming his glass down. "So she's Irish. What has that to say to anything?"
Patiently, Nicholas poured himself a glass. "From things that Eavin has said, I rather suspect that her family stayed one step ahead of the law. Her mother was a lady's maid in Ireland, Howell. And if my intuition is right, that cousin of hers is hiding behind her skirts from something neither of them is telling. I've made a few inquiries, but it will be a while before they're returned. Eavin asked me to tell you these things, Jeremy. It's not as if I'm talking out of turn. She knows you're not suited, but she wants to remain friends. Don't embarrass her by asking for more."
"Damnation!" Jeremy picked up the discarded glass and swallowed the contents with a gulp that nearly choked him. Recovering, he discovered Nicholas leaning one elbow against a bookcase and staring overhead where the sound of an Irish lullaby could be heard. Suspicion raised its ugly head. "You want her for yourself, don't you?"
Nicholas slanted him a look through half-closed eyes. "You will curb your tongue in my presence, Jeremy. Friend or not, I have sliced hastier tongues for less than that. Eavin is here because Francine wanted her to be and because Jeannette needs her."
Effectively chastised, Jeremy grimaced and wandered to the window, empty glass in hand. "Perhaps I will go into New Orleans. My father is thinking of building in the new quarter. I can look for a location and begin interviewing builders."
Nicholas nodded approvingly, but before he could speak, a knock interrupted him. Both men lifted their heads and turned as the door swung open.
"I don't mean to intrude. I just wanted to know if Jeremy would stay for dinner." Gleaming masses of black hair appeared around the comer of the door, crowning a lively face of purest porcelain. She didn't even enter the room, but the spring breeze coming through the doorway smelled a little sweeter.
Before Jeremy could answer, Nicholas shook his head. "His family is expecting him. I've kept him too long. I think a cold collation would suffice tonight."
Eavin nodded and disappeared. Nicholas watched with sympathy the torture plainly etched on his friend's face, but it was in everyone's best interest that the break be made now. He didn't bend to the naked plea in Jeremy's eyes.
Seeing the stubborn refusal in his friend's expression, Jeremy set his glass down and held out his hand. "You're probably right. She doesn't even know I exist. I'll be going now."
They shook and he departed, leaving Nicholas to contemplate the walls of his study with a certain amount of satisfaction. He had done nothing that she hadn't asked him to. His conscience was thoroughly clear on that point.
Chapter 15
"I would rather not go, Nicholas," Eavin said stiffly as she bent over the needlework in her lap. She was making a gown for Jeannette's first birthday, although the event was several months away. Sewing had never been one of her better skills, but she was learning.
The sun still illuminated the western sky, but the draperies were drawn against the damaging rays, and the lantern had already been lit on the table beside Eavin. Nicholas studied her bent head with curiosity before reaching for the book he had left on the mantel.
"Don't be foolish. The Howells are good friends, of yours as well as mine. They would be insulted if you did not go."
Eavin had studied the problem from every angle, and not attending was the only suitable conclusion she could draw. She didn't like having her decision questioned. Unsmiling, she looked up to meet his gaze. "I am a grown woman, Nicholas. You needn't remind me of my responsibilities. I am quite capable of speaking with Mrs. Howell on my own, so you needn't worry about explaining it to her. I just feel that it's no longer suitable for me to continue attending these occasions with you."
A dangerous scowl formed along Nicholas's brow. "I see. My reputation has become such that you no longer wish to associate with me."
Eavin looked at him with surprise. "That thought never occurred to me. I don't think I've ever heard anything so foolish."
Nicholas scowled more ferociously, but when she did not retreat, a sliver of a smile appeared. "You've a damned wicked mind, Mrs. Dupré. You are supposed to dither anxiously and wring your hands and swear you didn't mean a word of it and say of course you will do whatever I say."
Eavin flung her sewing aside and rose to cross the room to the desk, where she produced a sheaf of papers from beneath the blotter. "If you wish dithering, then I shall bring you one of the hens from the yard. And any woman who agrees to do whatever you say is a goose of the worst sort. Is that how you make your conquests, by scowling at them?"
Nicholas leaned against the mantel and watched as she sorted through the papers. Was it his imagination, or did she look thinner than he remembered? Perhaps it was those damned corsets. She didn't need one. The gown she was wearing was high-waisted and emphasized the lovely curve of her breasts, although the chemise beneath it covered all the more interesting aspects. Why she should bother restricting the natural softness of her body wasn't a subject he ought to dwell on.
"I've never considered seducing a woman with terror. Remind me to try it sometime; it sounds most amusing. Are you going to tell me just exactly what you are doing in my desk?"
"Organizing a rebuttal. I am not very good at arguing with you. I don't think quick enough and I get angry too easily. So I've put my arguments down on paper so you can peruse them at will. I find I can be very effective with pen in hand."
Satisfied that everything was where it should be, Eavin crossed the room and handed him the sheaf of papers. When she turned to leave, Nicholas held the papers aside and watched her quizzically. "Where are you going?"
"To my room. I can sew just as well there as here."
He pointed at the chair she had deserted. "Sit. I don't like one-sided arguments. I demand equal time."
Nervously, Eavin considered the chair. "I think it would be better if we left the discussion to another time. Neither of us is very sensible when in a temper."
Nicholas resisted a grin and kept his face stern. "Good. Then you wouldn't wish to put me in a temper, would you? Sit."
Eavin reluctantly took the chair and picked up her sewing as he read over her papers. She thought her arguments were compelling, but she could tell by his frown that he might be of a different opinion. Restlessly she set the sewing aside and rose to push back the draperies. She wished to open the window and drink deeply of the evening air, but she had already learned that the punishment for that was a thousand mosquito bites up her arms. She let her mind wander over anything but the reaction of the man behind her to her declaration of independence.
She heard the rustle of the papers and what she suspected was a chuckle, followed by a sound that was most definitely an irritated grumble. She knew precisely when Nicholas was done. He slammed his hand on the mantel with a thud that could have been heard outside.
"If I want a nursemaid for Jeannette, I will hire one."
Eavin was relieved that he came no closer. She continued staring out at the growing darkness. Now that the trees were covered with leaves, she could no longer see the river. But she could almost see Nicholas's reflection.
"If you need someone to attend social functions with you, hire Mignon Dubois," she retorted.
"It is just such escort service that I wish to avoid. If Mignon and her ilk know that you will be attending with me, they will not press me into service."
Eavin swung around and glared at him, letting the drapery drop. "Do you tell me that the great Nicholas Saint-Just needs a woman to shield him?"
He crumpled one of the papers in his hand as he stepped closer. "I am saying that I appreciate the convenience of your presence."
"Even at the cost of pain to myself and others?" she demanded, not backing away from his advance.
Nicholas flung the paper aside. "You said you had no feeling for Jeremy. You told me to send him away. Are you telling me now that you regret it?"
"I am telling you that I will come to regret it. I am telling you that I am not suitable to the life you would have me lead. I am telling you that it hurts me to know that I cannot be what men expect me to be. Why won't you listen to my side of the story for a change?"