With One Look (3 page)

His gaze rested on a small jade cross hanging from a thin gold chain around her neck, and in an apparent shift of subject he suddenly asked, "Tell me how you came to name your dog after Shakespeare's most famous tragic character?"

A faint smile played on her lips as she remembered finding Hamlet and choosing his name. "My mother was English, you see, and she did so love Shakespeare that she had me memorize all the major speeches long before I even knew a single psalm." She sensed rather than saw his smile. "Anyway, when Hamlet was first presented to me and I agonized over whether or not to keep him, the words of that famous speech flew to my mind: To be or not to be. I think it-quite determined my decision."

The brief sketch held a curious piece of information. "Your mother was English?" "Oh, yes." She nodded. "Born and raised in London."

He looked at her curiously. "Do you mind me asking why you were seated in the second

tier?"

The question appeared to surprise her. "Why, I am escorted by Monsieur Deubler. The

senior Deubler often invites me to join him and his family, knowing how very much I love operas. And those are his season billing seats."

More confused, Victor waited for her to clarify the point. The brief explanation gave no indication of her relationship to Monsieur Deubler except that she often joined him with his family. Was the man married or widowed? As liberal a society as New Orleans was, especially concerning a man's unmarried liaisons, surely if she was his mistress she would not be joining the family at the opera? The man must be widowed then....

Those eyes were green, her skin whiter than fresh-fallen snow. She could not be a person of color. Then how did she manage to sit there? How could, she be the man's mistress if she was white?

She offered nothing more. A thoughtful yet troubled expression came to her face and he asked: "Is it a very difficult decision?"

The stranger's sensitivity startled her. "Yes, as a matter of fact," she answered. "Perhaps the most difficult decision I will ever make." Determination had entered her voice. "And I believe I have finally reached it."

She would not take the holy vows. God forgive her but she couldn't. Not in good faith, which was the whole of the problem. Somehow she couldn't escape the doubts, the myriad of

doubts and unanswerable questions. She believed in God absolutely, and yet the older she became and the more she understood, not only about herself and the world, but also about the diversity of other religions and dogmas, the more she had come to realize 'twould be an irredeemable mistake to speak the holy vows, that she could not do so with honesty.

Father Nolte had said while hers was the most philosophically oriented mind he had ever had the pleasure of knowing in a woman, the question of the vows was a matter of heart. She must follow her heart. Somehow, in the deepest part of her soul, she felt, she hoped, there was another purpose for her....

From his position above her, Victor found himself contemplating a far more earthly matter. The girl's obliqueness, the intrigue she presented; proved almost as maddening as the innocent lure of her beauty.

He chuckled, pinching the bridge of his nose. If her age weren't warning enough, clearly she was already committed. The last thing he wanted was to end up in one of these ridiculous challenges or duels the men of New Orleans seemed ever anxious to initiate. He should return inside.

Still, just in case she was about to end a liaison, he could hardly resist the next question: "Tell me, Miss Devon, will you be breaking someone's heart?"

To his utter surprise she laughed at the question. "I certainly hope not!"

He gave up. Victor glanced at the dogs and saw that they had separated. "Call Hamlet now, Miss Devon. I believe he might come."

Jade straightened, appearing to look off in the general direction. "Ham," she called enthusiastically. "Here, boy! Come, Ham!"

The dog looked over, then back at his playmate, who had laid down, panting from her exertions. The sweet sound of his mistress's voice won. He bounded excitedly over to Jade Terese. Loving hands came over his head as she scolded him gently, slipping her hand around an unusually short lead tied to his neck. The dog sat nobly then, gazing longingly at his female friend. Victor knew the feeling, and he came around, bending over to pet the handsome dog.

"So, there you are!" Sebastian appeared with a servant in tow. One of Victor's servants had interrupted the performance with a message—and it was good news—but the words stopped on Sebastian's lips as he beheld the girl. His hands clasped over his heart and he almost dropped to his knees in appreciation. "I might have known you'd somehow single out the most beautiful young

lady in the theater for your attention. Oh, I do see! A thousand pardons, Madame. My judgment was rash. I should have said the most beautiful lady in all of Orleans. Who are you?"

Jade Terese suffered a moment's confusion. He could not be addressing her? She turned around as if to spot another lady, which made the two gentlemen laugh.

"Oh, yes." Sebastian motioned toward the waiting servant, though his gaze remained fixed on the young lady, "Vic, I believe our ship has returned. Our good captain is waiting."

Victor chuckled at the news. "Send Carl with the carriage to take the ladies home after the opera," he told the waiting man. "And bring our horses round at once."

"Yes sir," the man said, and he departed. Sebastian still stared at the young lady.

"Mademoiselle Devon," Victor said, returning his attention to Jade Terese. "Allow me to introduce my friend, Lord Sebastian Van de Auxere."

A gentle hand came over hers, and the Austrian bowed as he lifted the delicate hand for a kiss. "No fairer maid has thy eyes ever beheld," Sebastian said, quoting Shakespeare.

Jade consulted her intuition, a considerable gift, and decided his flattery was a tease, his title a pretense but one she would humor. The sweet girlish sound of her laughter sang like musical wind chimes as she stroked Hamlet's head.

"Lord Sebastian, is it?" she questioned. "I'm afraid Louisiana does not often get to host titled nobility— indeed, much of any kind of nobility! You must tell me what brings a nobleman all the way to Orleans?"

"Ah, Mademoiselle, I ask myself that at least once a day. I can only say I came escaping an even worse fate than this swamp-infested town and its relentless heat."

"What he means," Victor supplied, "is that being the fourth and last son of the Van de Auxerre title, and with no fortune to recommend him, his parents had arranged a marriage to rectify these troubling circumstances." He leaned over, grinning as he confided, "This worse fate refers to the lady he left at the altar."

The lovely green eyes sparkled with mirth, but she pretended to be properly shocked. "You didn't leave a lady at the altar?"

"A lady?" Sebastian questioned. "No, not a lady. As I recall she resembled more of a cow and my own sweet grandmother looked like a bonny spring maid in comparison." The young lady's amusement encouraged him. "So I departed to take refuge in the lovely ladies of the English court,

and it was there in just such a lady's bedchambers that I met Victor and what seems to have become my fate."

"Pardon? A lady's bedchambers? What can you mean?"

Victor chuckled, but sighed. "The incident hardly bears repeating but I see you are imagining the worst. You see, that night I had been at some or another social function and after being introduced to my lovely hostess—some duke's daughter—" He stopped and looked to Sebastian. "What was her name again?"

"I believe it was Melissa," he supplied.

"Yes. Anyway, Melissa and I discovered a shared interest in great work of art. She invited me up to her rooms to examine her collection. No sooner did we arrive there than Sebastian, who I'd yet to meet, jumped out from nowhere and demanded to know what I was doing there. I merely explained that I had come to examine the lady's paintings—"

"He neglects to mention," Sebastian interjected, "that there were no paintings in the room." "Well!" Victor exclaimed. "The lady deliberately misled me to believe otherwise, to what

purpose ... well, one might only imagine."

Jade's laughter told him she was perfectly capable of imagining.

"Then the lady was at a loss to explain Sebastian's presence there," he continued. "Sebastian reminded her of an earlier arrangement. Since she seemed unable to recall it, I suggested he ought to take his leave. It was about then that Sebastian challenged me and demanded that I name my weapons."

"Oh, my goodness! And did you fight?"

"Victor told me he had no desire to kill or be killed over such a ridiculous situation." Sebastian grinned at his youthful idiocy. "I thought him a coward and told him so."

"Yes," Victor resumed, irritated as he remembered it. "And his insults grew louder and more passionate by the minute. Before I could back out, his shouts roused the house. The next thing I knew, the duke and two other gentlemen, along with a whole handful of footmen, broke through the door.

"And then for some reason, the lady suddenly thought Sebastian and I were a danger to her person. As soon as she saw her father, she started screaming, accusing us of ... ah, intentions better left unmentioned. Naturally, the duke became rather upset, demanding justice for the thwarted

attack on his daughter's virtue. Only to hear Sebastian tell him he was far too late, that his daughter had lost her virtue years before—"

"You didn't really say that?"

"I did have it on the best of authorities!"

"And so that's it," Victor finished. "We were thrown together in an effort to escape with our lives. I have been unable to shake him ever since...."

Through her laughter, Jade Terese wondered out loud if she should believe such an outrageous tale, only to hear Sebastian, with characteristic drama, claim his veracity was a matter of honor, that he would be gravely wounded if she doubted a word said.

Listening to the benign banter, Victor twirled a straw in his mouth as he watched her. He was thinking he'd make inquiries about the lovely creature on the morrow when Sebastian, peering closer, waved a hand in front of her face.

A hand she did not see.

He looked to Victor for his reaction.

Victor glanced down at the dog, his short lead, and then back to the beautiful eyes and the mystery there. Could it be? She seemed so graceful and attuned to everything that went on around her. Victor was shocked he had not noticed, but as he grasped the nature of the game she played— concealing her blindness with carefully practiced manners—he felt a curious lurch of heart. A less sensitive man might assign simple pity to the feeling but he knew better. It was as if he were a patron of the arts, presented with a beautiful painting and lured into appreciation and admiration, only to abruptly discover the ruinous flaw and a poor attempt to conceal it.

Then inexplicably he felt a prick of anger. She might have carried a blind stick or mentioned that she could not see where her dog was, indeed see anything at all. To pretend she was normal all the time he talked to her seemed perverse, a folly only the youngest and most vain women might commit.

Jade Terese was trying to make sense of the sudden silence that had come over their happy party when Sebastian said, "Ah, our horses. We must leave you, Mademoiselle Devon. My gracious lady." And with a click of his boots, he bowed. "I do hope we meet again."

"Miss Devon, it has been a pleasure," Victor said next as he took her hand in his. With a last lingering look into the beautiful green eyes, he brought her hand to his lips for a kiss.

Jade felt a curious tingling lift through her midsection. She forgot to breathe. The brief press of his lips brought a sensual warmth flooding her, revealing itself in color to her cheeks. "Au revoir, Monsieur."

He turned and walked away.

Jade Terese listened to his boots move swiftly to the theater doors before turning toward the street. He called quick orders to the servants; she heard him ride off with young Lord Sebastian. Victor ... Who was he? Why, oh why, had she not asked his surname? And how did he affect her like that?

She smiled, hoping she encountered the new American again. If he had settled a land grant, he would be in town often, no doubt. She reached to pet Ham's furry head. "Was he handsome, Ham? Was he?" She sighed at the absurdity, realizing of course such a detail could hardly matter to a blind person.

Across the road, the two men who'd observed the entire episode exchanged relieved glances. They were glad to see Nolte and Sebastian depart. M. Deubler wouldn't pose much of a challenge, but those two young adventurers would have been another matter.

The last thing they wanted was a run-in with Nolte.

The woman watched from behind these men in a carriage, her gaze filled with intense emotions and her heart pounding with anticipation. She might have left Jade Terese Devon to go through her miserable life blind, except for the repeated nightmares plaguing her sleep. These nightmares revealed the young lady miraculously had her sight restored. She would take no chances.

The young lady, she suspected, would make a fine whore anyway—the thought kept making her smile. Charmane, an old friend, had strict instructions for Jade Terese. Charmane could use the girl's dead servant to force obedience and perhaps employ the potion to start. Don Bernardo himself would be her first patron. It would be many years before Jade Terese felt the sun on her face, and by then it would be too late.

Jade Terse Devon, New Orleans's finest whore ...

She felt a heady rush of sensation, a heightened sense of her powers. She had waited such a long time for this. The voices of the dead whispered to her, rushing to where the circle had been drawn, gathering in the spot.

Perhaps she should do something for Mother Francesca as well. Something that would tease her fears and form her nightmares. She deserved it! A hanging present ...

The old maid might be just the thing.

Monsieur Deubler and Jade Terese strolled through Vieux Carre, passing the old Spanish Barracks, recently converted into a well-frequented cabaret that served both white and colored. The crowd was thick along the bar, then broken into clusters around wooden tables where cards shuffled back and forth among players. Gay piano and violin music sounded in the din of laughter, shouts, and conversation. The sounds poured out from the open doors, where men gathered too, squatting on their haunches, playing games of dice. The air filled with the scents of tobacco smoke, spirits and fried shrimp. From these telling signs, Jade Terese knew the exact number of steps to her front door behind the convent on Basin Street.