Part 16 (1/2)
”Too bad.” Obviously a man, and he would bet the farm that it was Marshall. ”You signed up for this. You took money for the job. It's not finished.”
”I'm finished. I've been to every mansion in three states. I can't go to one more party and spew that c.r.a.p about the book deal. Eventually someone will check it out.”
”That's not my problem. Set up a fake website. Put out a news release. You thought it was a great plan four months ago and you've certainly made enough from it.”
There was the sound of a door slamming. Brooks stepped to the side, trying to see down the hallway. A woman appeared, her long dark hair swinging from side to side and she stomped out of the shop.
”Is that who we're looking for?” Blanche whispered behind him.
He shook his head. That wasn't who he was looking for, but now that he'd seen her, it all made sense. ”I'm done here. We should head out.”
They exited the shop in a hurry, brus.h.i.+ng off the salesgirl's offers to take a card. Brooks unlooped Absalom's leash and quickly unlocked the car.
”We should stop for lunch. I need something to keep me going. Shoppin' can be such a drain on an elderly lady's reserves.”
”Elderly?” He shot her a glance. ”But you're right about the food. You choose. I'll take wherever you want to go.” He didn't have any appet.i.te. There was nothing left for him to feel but anger.
”I've a hankering for some pulled pork. Does that sound good to you?”
”Sure does.” Pulled pork, pork chops, dog biscuits. It all sounded the same.
All he wanted right now was a few minutes with Marshall in a secluded area where they could have a little talk, man to man.
There he was, among the standers-by, where he ought not to be; he ought to be dancing, - not cla.s.sing himself with the husbands, and fathers, and whist-players [...]so young as he looked! [...] His tall, firm, upright figure, among the bulky forms and stooping shoulders of the elderly men, was such as Emma felt must draw every body's eyes[...] He moved a few steps nearer, and those few steps were enough to prove in how gentlemanlike a manner, with what natural grace, he must have danced, would he but take the trouble. Whenever she caught his eye, she forced him to smile; but in general he was looking grave.-- Emma
Chapter Nineteen.
The old barn was opened, both doors pulled wide. Caroline stepped out of her car, drawing a deep breath of what must be freshly mown alfalfa. The frogs were calling to each other and a few crickets joined the chorus. It was a magical night, perfect in every way. The humidity had let up to a bearable level and she felt like she could inhale without drowning. The fine hairs moved on the back of her neck. Turning, she saw a man walking toward her across the gravel drive. His deep blue morning coat was perfectly cut and the breeches didn't show a single wrinkle, tapering into leather hunting boots. The vest and cravat glowed whitely in the dim light. Her eyes moved to his face and her mind worked to reconcile what she knew with what she was seeing. From the first glance, she'd known it was Brooks, simply by the familiar movements of his body. As well as she knew her own hand, she knew his walk, his bearing. And she knew that mathematical knot.
But his expression was not the Brooks she knew. His mouth was a thin line, as if he was steadying himself for something painful. They locked eyes and he nodded at her, jaw tight.
”There you are!” She waved enthusiastically and walked toward him, holding her long dress tucked in one hand. The curls from her elaborate hair-do blew into her eyes and she brushed them back with an impatient motion.
”Here I am,” he said. He held his arms out to the side and waited for a verdict.
”Where did you park?” She didn't see where he'd come from, it was just as if he'd popped out of the twilight.
He pointed to the edge of the field, his Brando-mobile leaned in the shadow of the barn. ”Wouldn't we have made a pair, riding through the streets of Th.o.r.n.y Hollow on a vintage triumph, in Regency gear?”
She giggled. ”All the old people would have rushed to the doctors for a tonic.” Holding up the edge of her skirt she said, ”Poor dress wouldn't have survived that kind of treatment, forget about my hair.”
He bent closer. A small smile touched his lips. ”Forget-me-nots. Fitting for a girl who loves a mud pie from Bravard's.”
”Right. The chili-slaw dog embroidered dresses were all sold out.”
He laughed out loud and she felt the breath catch in her throat. n.o.body could possibly look better in this costume than Brooks. It wasn't humanly possible. His gaze locked on hers and for a moment she saw a debate rage inside. And then it was gone. He straightened up, away from her. The laughter was gone and in its place was this new, solemn Brooks.
”I know you didn't want to come. If it hadn't been for Debbie Mae-”
”I did. I did want to come.” He interrupted. ”I just didn't want to come as someone else.”
”But you make a perfect Mr. Knightley.” Caroline looked up at him, taking it all in once more. ”Really. It's almost like you've walked right out of that PBS movie. I haven't seen it yet, don't tell our hostess. She might roast me for the guests instead of the pork shoulder the caterers brought. No, you're perfect. Definitely taller, but just as handsome.”
Something in his face softened at her words. ”As long you think so.” He paused, shaking his head. ”You see what terrible manners I have? My Southern forebears are spinning in their graves. I haven't yet complimented you on your costume.”
Caroline laughed, twirling in a circle. ”It's not uncomfortable at all. When Debbie Mae hatched this plan, I thought we were going to be laced into corsets and be struggling with bustles.” She ran her hands down the length of her bodice. ”It's very soft. I think might wear this all the time.”
”You look beautiful.” It was a pat answer, but something in his voice made her glance up in surprise. The tightness in his face was back and his expression was serious.
”You don't have to do this, you know.” She moved forward, laying a hand on his arm. Maybe he had a phobia of costume parties. Maybe he was afraid of what Lauren would think of him.
His gaze fixed on her hand and he seemed to be choosing his words. ”What can it hurt?”
She nodded, feeling a deep down sureness that he was saying something quite the opposite. What was he dreading? Glancing back at the barn door, she could see the groups moving inside. Bright costumes whirled by and laughter echoed out into the drive. An image flashed in her mind, of Lauren and Brooks sitting on the wrought iron bench together in the botanical garden, admiring Badewood in all its beauty. Her heart squeezed in her chest. Had he asked her out and she refused him? But she seemed drawn to Brooks, just as much as every other woman in the universe.
”I'll protect you from all the pretty girls inside, okay?” She forced herself to laugh, but it came out sounding like a pale shadow.
”All of them? You promise?” He leaned toward her, eyes locked on hers.
”Promise.” She smiled, hoping it looked genuine. Her heart was tight, wondering how any woman could refuse a man like Brooks. A light breeze spring up, carrying the scent of jasmine and pus.h.i.+ng curls into her eyes again.
He stepped closer. ”There's only one I'm afraid of, honestly.”
She nodded. Lauren's bright white Regency dress was stunning in its simplicity, setting off her tan and enormous gray eyes. She had looked like a 19th century painting. Even a glimpse of Lauren must be torture if she doesn't love him back. ”I'll do my best.”
”If you said the word, everything would change.” He took a deep breath. ”Caroline-”
”But how?” She shook her head. ”I don't have that much influence over anybody. I know you think I do, but I don't.” And she certainly wouldn't tell Lauren to go out with him if she did have the power to change the girl's opinion.
He opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to think better if it. He smiled, shrugging. ”A man can always try.”
The sound of footsteps reached them right before Manning's voice called out. ”You two! Stop dilly-dallying around outside and come help me out. I've got more women than I can possibly partner.”
”Oh, joy.” Brooks sighed and threw a sharp look at Caroline as she laughed out loud.
”I thought you were resolved to be dancing tonight.”
”I only had one partner in mind.” He mumbled the words under his breath as he jammed the top hat on his head. Setting off for the door, looked grimly determined, he held out his arm.
She took it, holding the hem of her gown in one hand. They really should have been wearing gloves but it was so warm. She noticed the softness of his jacket, how the heavy material felt under her hands. No wonder he wasn't thrilled with this party. He must have been wearing a good five pounds of fabric compared to her loose and comfortable dress. The bodice was fitted but it only came to the top of her rib cage. Nothing like the long coat he wore.
The room was booming with sound and she gasped in happiness. The band was already playing a reel and couples were marching up and down a long line. Brooks pulled her to one side and they stood, watching the swirl of dresses and tails.
”Word must have gotten out,” he said into her ear. ”This party is definitely bigger than Debbie Mae intended.”
Caroline nodded, a huge smile spreading over her face. ”I bet it was Blanche. She can really pull the folks together when we need it.”