The Charleston Chase (Phantom Knights Book 2) (12 page)

“You
are
late!” Charlotte cast him an angry look.

“I am early, your clock is late.” Levi grinned,
looking both young and mischievous. “I do believe this belongs to
you, Bess.”

An elegant woman stepped around Levi and into the
parlor. Her blue traveling gown was rumpled, and her hat sat at a
jaunty angle over black hair. Blue eyes shimmered with falling
tears.

Tears sprang to my own eyes as surprise hammered me
in the chest. “Mother!”

Dropping my quill on the desk, I rose and rushed
toward her. She met me in the middle of the room; the brim of her
hat bumping against my forehead before her arms encircled me in an
embrace that threatened my ability to breathe.

“How do you come to be here?”

She gripped my arms, pushing me back so she could
look me over.

“Is Jack with you?” I asked, wiping away my
tears.

“No, but I expect him to join us here before too
many weeks.” My mother touched my cheek. I could see the relief in
her expression. She and I had not parted on the best terms, with my
having refused to allow her to accompany me to Charleston. She may
have been our mother, but both Jack and I knew how to get her to
relent to our stronger wills.

She did not say why she was in Charleston, nor did I
ask. After I had made introductions to Rose, Charlotte, and Betsy,
my mother and Rose conversed, and Charlotte came up beside me.

“Your mother may use my chamber, Bess, as I will be
moving home to Sam’s for the duration of the race parties.”

“Is Sam home then?”

“Of course,” Mother said, “for he brought me to
Charleston.”

A strong desire to see him, to
know that he was well, that Guinevere had not harmed him in some
way, filled me. I wanted to run the distance that separated his
house from me to thank him for bringing my mother to me, for surely
he knew how much I missed her. Remembering him waving at me from
the ship caused my heart to fill with warm fluttering that
impressed upon me the significance of what he had done. He had
brought my mother to Charleston for me, but my head tempered the
feelings. Disappointment set in, as the realization struck me that
he was back, but had not come to see me—us. Then, why would he?
From the moment we had met here in Charleston, my words to him have
been less than complimentary, and my actions worse. That he allowed
my mother to sail on his ship did not mean some romantic
declaration, he would surely have done the same for any person
willing to pay their fare.

Charlotte announced that she was setting out, and
Levi was leaving with her. She said she would see us on Saturday.
Soon I was leading my mother up the stairs and into Charlotte’s
bedchamber.

Mrs. Beaumont joined us, and as she started to
unpack my mother’s trunk that Levi had brought up, Mother halted
her. “I will be here four days only before sailing for
Savannah.”

Mrs. Beaumont unpacked only the gowns my mother
wanted, and carried them from the room to be pressed.

“Why are you here truly, Mama? And why are you only
staying four days?”

She sat beside me on the bed, taking my hand and
holding it between hers. “The house in Philadelphia is being sold,
Bess. When your mission is through, we will make Savannah our
home.”

I felt like crying again, but the tears would not
come. There was only one reason my mother would have sold our
family home, and that was all my own fault. The scandal over my
broken betrothal must have been done insurmountable damage to our
family. There was a look of resignation on my mother’s face.

Changing the direction of our conversation, I asked
my mother for her help in training the women, for there was none
better than she to instruct them on society manners and
duplicity.

I had been a part of Philadelphia society for a
short time, but my mother had been a hostess in society for years.
No other person better knew how to squeeze information from the
people of society.

She had come up with a brilliant
idea to host a salon day every week at our house, so that the women
would have a place to go for a comfortable gossip with their
friends. That was where Mother did her spying. When she provided a
sympathetic ear without judging, women would unburden themselves
and their secrets to her, and she would then relay the more useful
ones to George Crawford.

She agreed, leaning back against the headboard and
folded her hands. “Now, tell me what you think of Samuel.”

Thankfully, years of being the
master of my emotions came into play and I was able to reply
without blushing like a young girl. “He is very kind for having
brought you to Charleston,” I replied vaguely. My mother was giving
me
the look
,
telling me without words that she expected a better response. “If I
am being candid...”

She nodded eagerly.

“He is the most infuriating man alive. He loves to
taunt me; not a day has gone by in his company that we have not
argued. He is haughty, disagreeable, a shocking rake, and
annoyingly handsome.”

My mother pursed her lips. She moved off the bed and
walked to the window for a moment. When she turned toward me, she
was smiling as if she had a secret. She told me to follow her as
she went out of the bedchamber and across the hall to the door that
led onto the portico.

“Look down there and tell me that you do not like
him,” Mother said, pointing toward the road.

After glancing at her quizzically, my gaze shifted
to the street, and I blinked, then a squeak fell from my lips as I
moved forward to the balustrade.

Abe was standing in the street, holding the reins to
my horse Pegasus. Turning toward my mother, she was smiling
grandly. She nodded her permission, and I walked to the door, but
once inside I ran down the stairs, across the foyer, and threw open
the front door.

Pegasus was a white stallion whose bloodlines
belonged to America’s finest horse racing family. He had been a
gift from my father and had been with me through many missions. As
I moved down the steps to Pegasus, he was neighing and stamping.
When I touched his head, he leaned into my touch, and we connected
again. It had been much too long, but it appeared that he had
forgiven me for the absence.

“How is this possible?”

Abe held the reins still as he said, “Sam had him
transported on his friend’s ship. Said no one who rides as well as
you should be without her own horse.”

Biting my lip, I nodded, unable to speak. My mother,
Rose, and Betsy joined me outside, exclaiming over my horse. When I
went into the house to change into my riding habit, my mother
accompanied me.

“Sam said to tell you that he apologizes that he
could not be here, but he was detained on business. He instructed
me to bring you to his party where you can thank him properly.”

That pulled a laugh from me. Thank him I would, but
on my own terms, for I had my own reasons for attending his
party.

“Now,
my
dear, what do you think of Samuel Mason?”

Turning slowly to face her, my face was full of
heat. “He is still infuriating, haughty, and disagreeable,” I said,
and she frowned, “and now I may add a shocking beguiler to the
list, but he missed his goal. My good opinion cannot be
bought.”

***

The afternoon of the race party, my mother had
gathered the girls in the parlor and was giving them some last
minute instructions. For the past two days, she had been training
them in society manners, tears, manipulation, and how to be the
perfect hostess.

“Tears can be your friend or your enemy; it is all
in the timing. Many was the time that I won Mr. Martin, God rest
his soul, over to my way of thinking by a bout of well-timed
tears.”

Rose and I exchanged smiles, as my mother paced
before the sofa like one would expect to see a military general
planning his next foray.

“You each know what to do. I expect success.” With
that said she nodded, and we were dismissed.

As I was dressing, my mother came in to oversee my
attire. She had brought the remainder of my belongings from
Philadelphia, and trunks had littered the hall until Mrs. Beaumont
could sort through them. My bedchamber was full to overflowing, but
it felt more like home.

My mother and I had spoken of Guinevere and what she
was doing aboard Sam’s ship. Mother said that Guinevere had come
back with them on the ship and that she had spoken with her at
length. Guinevere had apologized for her deception in Philadelphia,
and my mother had forgiven her. It was not that I faulted my
mother; it was that I knew Guinevere to be a cunning manipulator.
When I asked if Guinevere had spoken of Jack, my mother
frowned.

“She never once mentioned him, which I must admit
did surprise me, as close as they were.”

My mother did not know that they were betrothed. To
hear that Guinevere had not even asked about Jack proved that
Martha’s words had been a lie, and filled me with disgust. There
Jack was searching the country for Guinevere, and she was parading
around Charleston without a thought spared for him. She would soon
find that she had chosen the worst family to trifle with.

That evening when I entered Sam’s house with Rose
and my mother, it was teeming with elegant people. It was not a
ball, but an evening of conversation, to meet the racers, and to
wish them well before the race three days away. Since it was not a
formal gathering Sam, was not standing in the foyer greeting
guests.

He had not been to see us once since he returned.
When I had asked my mother about his relationship with Guinevere,
she assured me that they had been on terms of intimacy, but she did
not believe for a moment that she was his mistress. Mother begged
me to refrain from judging him until he had offered an
explanation.

Not seeing Sam, we found Levi standing in the foyer.
He was resplendent in his evening attire, and I took his arm, my
chest filling with pride. He was transforming from the wild boy I
had always known into a man of sophistication, though still
somewhat wild.

Levi led Mother and me, not into the drawing room,
but into the dining parlor. His smile slipped as he watched me
closely.

“Bess,” he whispered, “there is hot water afoot.”
Someone called my name from the foyer and Levi added, “Be
warned.”

Lucas Marx came toward us with a smile upon his
lips.

“Miss Martin, Mr. Martin, this is the most splendid
occasion. Never before have I attended a boat race such as this
promises to be.” He turned his attention to my mother who was
looking him over curiously.

“Please allow me to present our mother to you. Mama,
this is Mr. Lucas Marx.”

Lucas bowed over her hand, and they engaged in
conversation, but I was no longer attending what was being said. I
had caught sight of Sam. He was standing in the foyer, laughing at
something one of the boat captain’s had said to him. His curls were
tossed back in what was his fashion. When his eyes met mine, his
smile became genuine. It transformed his whole appearance,
replacing the sharp angles of his face with defined perfection. He
moved toward us, never looking away from me.

“Miss Martin, if possible you are more beautiful
than the last time we met.”

Considering that the last time we met I was dressed
as a man and we were arguing, I did not take that as high praise.
Unless he meant when I watched him sail away with Guinevere.
Neither were happy memories for me.

He was dressed in a black coat and
knee breeches with an elegant white cravat that Jack would have
greatly
appreciated.

“Mr. Marx, I am pleased that you accepted my
invitation.”

Lucas gushed with gratitude while I glanced around
at all the people whom I did not know, trying to appear as if Sam’s
nearness did not affect me at all.

“If you will excuse us, there is someone I would
like Miss Martin to meet.”

Sam held out his arm. Levi pressed my hand in
warning then released me.

As we moved from the dining parlor, I said, “Thank
you, Mr. Mason.” He looked quizzically at me. “For bringing both my
mother and my horse to me. You will never know how much your
generosity has meant to me.”

Instead of smiling, he frowned. He did not offer an
amusing rejoinder, or brush off my thanks. He only frowned, and
continued leading me toward the drawing room.

No thoughts of what to expect, what he was leading
me toward assailed me until we stepped into the room, and Sam said,
“Miss White, allow me to present Miss Martin.”

A small blonde turned to us,
beaming a radiant smile first at Sam, and then at me. I was certain
the house had shaken. A force of powerful heat shot through me from
my head to my toes. If anyone had touched me, I would have burned
them. Guinevere Clark was Sam’s inamorata Miss White.

It suddenly made sense why she had
been on Sam’s ship. A cloud of black edged my vision. I did not
know what she was playing at with Sam. She was still betrothed to
my brother—who was on his way to Charleston, who had been searching
for the woman before me for months and would be crushed when he
learned the truth.

Guinevere’s smile never wavered. “Unnecessary, for
Miss Martin and I are well acquainted.”

“One might say we are almost family,” I replied in
the same false tone of happiness Guinevere had used.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but her smile held.
Though we were smiling, the tension was palpable. Our gazes
remained locked on each other until someone called her attention
away. Marching toward the foyer without looking at Sam again, I
reached the front door when he caught my arm.