Silver Sea (44 page)

"Ah. Were you not older than I am now when my sister Mouette was born?"

The elder Raveneau turned back, clearing his throat. "Possibly."

"And didn't Mouette's birth precede your wedding to our mother?" Nathan was right behind him, waiting for his reluctant nod. "You were even more debauched than I, Father! I rest my case."

Slowly Andre began to laugh. "I think that my happy marriage has blocked out the follies of my youth." His clear gray eyes held Nathan's then and he spoke with conviction. "I haven't been one to dispense a lot of advice since you've reached adulthood. However, now that you are married, I would tell you one thing..."

Nathan merely nodded, waiting respectfully.

"If you can maintain this one area of your life—your relationship with Adrienne—all the rest will settle into place. And if your marriage is fulfilling, you'll find that the pleasures of your bachelorhood will pale in comparison." Andre touched his son's arm for emphasis.

Nathan nodded. "I used to think I could never have a marriage as wonderful as my parents. So did Adrienne. And I begin to see now that I may not have recovered from losing Eloise as easily as I thought." Smiling, Nathan began to search the ballroom for his wife. "All things come in time, though. Adrienne and I formed this alliance for other reasons, expecting nothing, and I believe we are falling in love."

"Your mother is going to be ecstatic, you know."

"Yes. Oh, Father, there is another matter I must discuss with you... about the
Golden Eagle.
Can you visit us at home?" Nathan spoke absently, looking for Adrienne, and then he frowned. "I should have known better than to leave her—"

"What's wrong? Isn't she there?"

"Oh, yes," Nathan replied grimly, "and she is talking to Eloise!"

"Eloise Sinclair—Crowe?" Andre stared. "But I didn't know they were acquainted—"

"They were not, until I turned my back for a few minutes!" He started off through the crowd, and his father decided to remain behind. By the time Nathan reached his wife, Zachary Minter had joined the two women.

"Oh, Nathan!" Eloise cried, and her flush deepened. "I have met your charming bride."

"So I see." He was scowling.

"We didn't know," Adrienne said. "I mean, we began to talk, and we seemed to be getting along quite well, and then Zachary appeared—"

Eloise turned nervously to Minter. "I haven't said how nice it is to see you again, Zachary. It's been a long time."

He was bright red. "Yes, Miss Sinclair—I mean, Mrs. Crowe."

Before Nathan could interject, Eloise fixed him with her beautiful, brimming eyes. "I didn't know you were married." She tried to smile. "How fortunate you are to have found true love."

"Yes," he agreed without a hint of emotion. It was disconcerting to feel his heart sting in her presence. "Look, I don't think that your husband would want you to be chatting with us, so we'll bid you good evening."

"Of course," she whispered.

Adrienne put a hand on the other woman's gloved forearm. "Why can't we be friends? Aren't women supposed to be above the petty differences of their husbands?"

Eloise looked sadder than ever. "I just don't think, in this case—"

"No, I won't accept that. We shall have tea together. I will write to you." Adrienne paused, eyes flashing. "I am very fond of Lady Thomasina, your houseguest I should like to see her as well."

"She's here tonight... somewhere." Smiling vacantly, Eloise looked around. "Such a crush, isn't it? Yet so lovely. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Raveneau. Tea would be lovely, but my husband is temperamental about guests. Good evening."

Nathan was pale beneath his tan as he watched Eloise go, his emotions in conflict. There wasn't an opportunity for him to speak with Adrienne, because dinner was served, and everyone began to move toward the dining room. They were separated then and Nathan sat across a huge table from her, watching as his bride chatted animatedly with two rum-soaked planters, her beauty aglow in the dancing light of hundreds of candles. The food was rich and there was too much of it. The guests feasted on suckling pig, sugar-fed mutton, three kinds of fowl, and an abundance of shellfish. It was impossible to choose among the countless dishes, so Nathan contented himself with a slice of pork, yams, breadfruit with bay sauce, corn pudding, and warm bread with guava jelly. All of this was washed down with powerful madeira.

During the long meal, Nathan was drawn into a spirited debate over slavery, and he found himself arguing for abolition. "The slaves want it; they made that clear during the rebellion of 1816," he said. "We all know what is right. There's no point in making excuses any longer."

Lord McGrath turned red and shouted, "My slaves didn't join in that revolt, and they wouldn't know what to do if they were free! They couldn't fend for themselves. They depend on me!"

"You are fooling yourself, my lord," Nathan replied. "We tell ourselves such things so that we can look ourselves in the mirror each morning—and step inside church on Sunday. But we all know in our hearts that they are people just as we are. If we want them to do our work, we should give them a choice, and if they agree, we should pay them."

Another planter chimed in, "We all know that the sugar industry's in decline on Barbados! The land is wearing out, and there's too much competition from other islands. If we free the slaves, or have to pay them wages, we'll lose our plantations!"

"I didn't say it would be easy. But it is the right course," Nathan replied.

Halfway down the table, Major Carrington rose, goblet in hand. "I perceive that an argument has broken out, and it is up to me to calm tempers." He smiled genially. "After all, I am your host, and I would see my guests laughing. We are here to celebrate the Crop Over, after all. Let us leave our cares outside these walls, shall we?"

"Here, here!" cried Xavier Crowe from the other end of the table.

Carrington looked a bit discomfited. Nathan guessed that the notorious Crowe had been invited only because of the other members of his household. Honoria Carrington, in particular, was noted for her kind heart and desire to make all newcomers to Barbados feel welcome.

"You have reminded me, Crowe," Major Carrington boomed, "that I must propose a toast to Lady Thomasina Harms and her son, Lord Huntsford Harms. They have come to Barbados from Hampshire, England."

Glasses were lifted all along the table, reflecting the candlelight, and good wishes were murmured by the countless guests. Far away from Nathan, Lady Thomasina managed to stand, supported by her fair-haired son. She wore a jewel-encrusted toque, too much rouge, and a stifling old gown, while Huntsford sported blue gloves. They smiled and nodded, and were toasted again.

Nathan leaned back in his chair, unwilling to seek eye contact with the Harmses just yet. Across from him, his wife looked as if it were just now sinking in that they really were all on the same island.

Lord Carrington raised his glass again and introduced the new Mrs. Nathan Raveneau and her father-in-law to his guests. More toasts followed.

As Nathan watched, smiling, he became aware that someone was looking at him. His hooded eyes touched the guests one by one until he reached Eloise, and their gazes met. It was disturbing, seeing her here tonight, and it came to him how little contact they'd had since her marriage.

It still hurt like the devil to look back on those weeks during 1814, when he'd fallen in love with the shy, elegant beauty and had striven to win her heart. It had been the first time that a woman hadn't wanted him more than he'd wanted her. He'd loved the thrill of the chase, and each word of hope, each kiss, each gaze from her luminous dark eyes had driven him mad with joy. Sweet and uncertain, Eloise had brought out all his protective instincts, and so when Xavier Crowe appeared on the scene and began to court her aggressively, Nathan had been furious.

How could she have wanted a brute like Crowe? Nathan still didn't know the answer. Even though his pride was battered by her farewell note and subsequent departure with Crowe, he had cared enough to worry that Eloise might not have gone of her own free will. Had he been foolish to go after her and offer rescue?

Now, as their eyes met and the memories flooded back, Nathan's pain rose to the surface. Her rejection on the deck of Crowe's ship, when he'd offered to fight for her if necessary, had gone to the core of his spirit. If a kind, delicate girl like Eloise Sinclair could be so false, what point was there in loving at all?

How much was she tangled up in his quest to bring Xavier Crowe to justice? Perhaps it was possible that a part of Nathan had hoped he might win Eloise in the end, after her husband was exposed as a criminal. Thank God for Adrienne. He knew now that he had needed a different sort of woman all along.

Clearly, Eloise Sinclair Crowe wasn't happy, but Nathan didn't take satisfaction in that knowledge. What should be done about her now? Should he encourage Adrienne to turn her back on Eloise, the way Eloise had turned her back on him?

The toasts were finished and, to his right, Honoria Carrington was eating a sugar cake. "Would you care to dance with your hostess?" she asked, eyes twinkling. "That will signal the others that they may return to the ballroom."

"I would be honored, my lady." He rose and offered her his arm. When they passed his wife, Nathan winked, winning a radiant smile in return.

Adrienne had settled back to wait for him when she noticed Lady Thomasina sitting alone, fanning herself. Within moments she had slipped into the chair next to her and put a hand on her arm.

"Oh!" her ladyship cried out. "What do you want?"

"Don't you know me? I am Adrienne Beauvisage—Miss Beau!"

"Gadzooks, so you are...." Trembling with excitement, Lady Thomasina leaned forward to caress Adrienne's face, and musty powder from her wig sprinkled both their gowns. "Hunty will be so pleased. He's come to find you, you know. I've missed you, dear girl."

Affection and pity welled up in Adrienne. It seemed to her that Lady Thomasina's powers of concentration were erratic at best. "I have missed you too, my lady. How is your health?"

"Wretched. Some days I don't get out of bed at all. What's the point?" She stared off into the distance again, bleary-eyed. "That scoundrel should not have kidnapped you from Harms Castle."

"Nathan has been very good to me." She broke off when Lady Thomasina responded by sticking out her lip in a pout and turning the other way. "Did you know that we are taking care of Angus?"

This news made her brighten. "Are you, Miss Beau? Is my darling as charming as ever?"

Just then Huntsford Harms loomed over them. "Ah, Adrienne, you cannot imagine how I have dreamed of this moment. Ever since that lout carried you off through the window, I have worried for your safety—"

"I doubt that," she replied crisply.

"I've come a long way to prove it. Won't you dance with me?"

Adrienne agreed, wanting a chance to give Huntsford a piece of her mind without being overheard by Lady Thomasina. She rose and her ladyship beamed as they walked together toward the ballroom. From the shadows, Xavier Crowe stood with his wife, watching intently.

"I must tell you, Huntsford, that I was very surprised to hear that you and your mother had come to Barbados," Adrienne said as they began to waltz, his blue-gloved hand holding hers firmly. "Are you certain that her health can stand all this?"

He cocked his head to one side. "Well, who can say? She is very old, and death is inevitable, is it not? In any case, if you were so concerned for her health, you would have stayed with us rather than going off without a word of good-bye."

"I am not her child; you are."

"She thinks of you as a daughter." His gaze turned adoring. "You know that the greatest restorative for her health would be a union between you and me—"

"Oh, Huntsford, that isn't possible. Haven't you heard? Nathan and I are married." Firmly she added, "We've realized that we were in love all along. I am very happy."

The pace of the waltz picked up. Muscles twitched in Huntsford's boyish face, but he kept smiling, remembering Crowe's insistence that he had more than enough charm to win Adrienne away from Raveneau. "When did this wedding occur?"

"I don't see any point in discussing this with you. Clearly, you don't wish us well. Furthermore, I have a great many questions about the goings-on at Harms Castle. I believe that you were not my friend, as you insisted, but the friend of Walter Frakes-Hogg, who wanted to harm me! And now you are in league with Xavier Crowe, my husband's sworn enemy. How can you expect me to be civil to you?"

"Don't make a scene." He pouted. "I do care about you, I do! I saved your life! I told you how I felt, but—"

"I don't understand this preoccupation you have with me," Adrienne interjected. Suddenly it felt very warm in the ballroom, and they were spinning too fast for comfort. "I suggest that you turn your attention to your mother. She needs you."

Something flashed across his face that gave her goosebumps. Before either of them could speak again, Nathan tapped on Huntsford's shoulder and Adrienne stepped back out of his arms.

"I've come to fetch my wife," he said with a cool smile.

Adrienne was overjoyed to take his arm. Next to the sunburned Englishman, her husband looked more rakishly attractive than ever.

"It seems that you've won after all, Essex," Huntsford muttered as the dancers whirled all around them.

"Were you in a contest? How lonely you must have been. No wonder it didn't work out." Nathan arched a sardonic eyebrow. Before leading his wife away, he glanced back and added, "My name is Raveneau—but of course you knew that. Good night."

* * *

The beach lay ahead of them through the palms, iridescent in the moonlight. Water lapped gently at the edges of the sugary sand. The ocean was still, and the air was warm and scented with plants, flowers, and the sea.

"There are moments when I think that Barbados is a fairyland," Adrienne whispered. "I'm so glad that you brought me here tonight." Barefoot, she held her skirts in one hand while her other hand was linked with Nathan's. In the distance, the water twinkled with the reflections of a million stars.