Midnight Flame Read online

“Like hell you are!”

  “Try and stop me.”

  “You’re my wife, Laurel, no matter what has happened. I won’t allow you to leave Petit Coteau with my child growing inside of you. Promise me you won’t do that.”

  Laurel was ready to shriek that she would do what she damned well pleased, but a thought occurred to her, and she nodded much too quickly. “I promise I won’t leave Petit Coteau with your child growing inside of me. And that is the only promise you’ll get from me, Tony Duvalier. As far as I’m concerned, our marriage is over. We sleep in separate rooms from now on. You may take as many mistresses as you wish. I don’t care.”

  His dark eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe anything you just said.”

  “Believe it!” she shot back. “Do you remember the agreement we signed before our marriage? Well, now we make a new contract. I will stay here, Tony. You have my word on that. I want you to live up to the terms I just set forth about the sleeping arrangements, and the fact that I shall stay here because I’m carrying your baby. Do you agree?”

  Tony felt as if he had just been buffeted by a raging hurricane. He had never seen Laurel like this, so vindictive and hurt, but he would have done anything to appease her and perhaps win back her love. For the moment he wasn’t thinking straight, and he promised to abide by the new agreement.

  “Good,” she whispered through a voice filled with tears. “I truly have your word?”

  “For now, but you’re a passionate woman, Laurel. I doubt you’ll stay away from me for long.”

  “And you’re much too arrogant, Tony! I’ll honor our agreement to the letter, and I expect you to honor it, also. I’ll preside over Petit Coteau as mistress; I’ll see to the dinner parties, the running of the household. In front of people I’ll allow them to think that we’re happy, the perfect couple. But at night we sleep alone, or you may sleep with whomever you choose. I don’t care.” Tony winced, but Laurel continued on. “I’ll raise our child here and will love this baby with my whole heart. This child will be more mine than yours! I’ll see to that.”

  “Over my dead body!”

  He made a move toward her, but she held up a warning hand. To judge from the fire that flared in the depths of her eyes, he was wise to halt.

  “You promised me you’d abide by the terms. Are you going to renege and prove to me what a loathsome man you truly are?”

  She had him there, and he knew it. He wanted to make all up to her, but he knew it was too soon. Her hurt and ire must abate. Determination welled within him to win her and their child.

  “I’ll agree to any damned thing you want!”

  “Get out of my room, Tony. Leave me alone.”

  “Laurel?”

  “Get out!”

  Reluctantly he grabbed a shirt and stalked from the room. He was determined to make Laurel want him again and somehow make things right between them. However, the hard, unyielding woman he had just left presented a great challenge, and for the first time in his life he didn’t know if he could overcome this woman’s resistance.

  After Tony left, Laurel’s bravado disappeared, and she slumped onto the bed like a limp rag doll. The storm of tears she had managed to quell now spilled forth in a vicious assault upon the bedcovers.

  “I hate him,” she sobbed over and over, but she couldn’t convince her heart of that.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Carriage comin’ up the drive.”

  Gincie’s voice roused Laurel from a light doze as she sat on the gallery. The early summer heat became more intense with each passing day and, coupled with the fact that Laurel was farther along in her pregnancy, caused her to feel doubly miserable. Even dressed in a thin calico print dress of pink rosebuds on a cream background, she still felt perspiration beading on her forehead. Gincie stopped fanning them with the punkah that was attached to the ceiling.

  “Guess I’ll go make some more lemonade for your company,” Gincie said and picked up the empty glass pitcher and glasses from a small, round table. She went inside just as the carriage rolled to a halt before Laurel.

  A well-dressed Seth Renquist stepped hesitantly out. He wore a deep-blue frock coat over tan trousers and boots, and on his head was a tan wide-brimmed hat. He looked exceptionally dapper.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, but I was told this was Petit Coteau.”

  Laurel inclined her head. “It is, sir.”

  A flashing white grin streaked across his handsome face. “Then you must be Laurel Duvalier. I’m Seth Renquist, Arthur Delaney’s stepson. Lavinia told me you were charming but didn’t do justice to your beauty.”

  “How pleased I am to meet you!” Laurel flew from her chair and ran the short distance to embrace Seth. “I had no idea you were coming. Is Lavinia or Uncle Arthur with you?”

  “No, sorry to disappoint you. I came alone.”

  “I’m sorry but I’m not the least bit disappointed to see you. When did you arrive?”

  “Yesterday,” Seth lied smoothly. “I’ve taken a room at the Garland Hotel. I just had to speak to you, Laurel. I hope you don’t mind my arriving so suddenly. Lavinia told me you were quite upset over Arthur, and I thought you should know about his condition.”

  “Uncle Arthur is worse?”

  “His illness is physical, but I believe it’s more of an emotional one. May we sit down somewhere to talk?”

  “Forgive me. Let’s sit on the porch. It’s quite the coolest place this time of day.” Taking his arm, she led him to the porch, but then remembered the carriage and the waiting driver. “You may send the driver back to Washington, Seth. You will stay at Petit Coteau and not the hotel.”

  “I couldn’t impose on you, Laurel.”

  “Nonsense. I’ll instruct the driver to return for your luggage.”

  As Laurel issued the instructions, she missed a wicked smile splitting Seth’s thin lips. She had fallen in with his plan, having no idea that his bags were packed and waiting in the lobby of the hotel, so certain was he that she would invite him to stay at Petit Coteau.

  Returning to her chair, Laurel sat, and Seth took the other seat. Gincie returned with the lemonade and poured a tall, cool glass for each of them.

  “So you’re the famous Gincie,” Seth said pleasantly. “My sister, Lavinia, told me all about you.”

  “Bet they weren’t pleasant things,” Gincie muttered.

  “Now that isn’t true, Gincie, and you know it,” Laurel playfully scolded. “Lavinia liked you a great deal.”

  “True,” Seth said and smiled ingratiatingly at the old woman.

  “Hmph!” Gincie muttered and went inside.

  “You must excuse Gincie sometimes. She speaks her mind and is quite vocal on her likes and dislikes.” Laurel took a sip of lemonade. Seth laughed pleasantly.

  “We should all be as honest as Gincie.” He grew pensive and tapped a fingernail on the side of his glass and gave Laurel a penetrating and serious look. “I came in person to see you, Laurel, to beg you to return to San Antonio with me. Arthur will never admit he feels remorse about the incident with your parents some years ago, and I’m not quite sure what happened. But he wants to make amends to you. Though he has never admitted anything to either Lavinia or myself, we believe he feels quite badly about not taking an interest in your life.”

  “Lavinia more or less told me that, and I was on my way to San Antonio, but as you can see I was sidetracked.”

  This time Seth laughed a not too friendly sound, but his words belied what he really felt. “I hope you’re quite happy. Will I get a chance to meet your husband tonight?”

  Laurel glanced down, something Seth immediately deduced as hesitation on her part. Simone had gotten wind of a rumor from a Petit Coteau servant via Flossie that happiness and joy weren’t brimming over at the Duvalier house. Apparently that was true. When Laurel glanced up, an unaccountable sadness was mirrored in her eyes.

  “My husband has been in Vermillionville for the last week. I’m not certain he’ll be home today.”


  “I’m sorry. I should like to meet him soon.”

  “I know he’ll be overjoyed to meet you, Seth. I do wish Lavinia had come with you, but I understand why she couldn’t. Indeed,” she said harshly, “I do understand.”

  Laurel’s thoughts drifted to Tony for a few seconds, and she wondered why he spent so much time in Vermillionville. But his presence made her uncomfortable, and she guessed he was tired of being ignored by her. Probably he had found a woman to take his mind off his troubles at home. This bothered Laurel a great deal, though she told herself over and over that she didn’t care.

  “Laurel, did you hear what I said? You seem to be a million miles away.” Seth’s voice brought her out of her reverie.

  “I’m sorry,” Laurel apologized. “What did you say?”

  Seth smiled indulgently and spoke to her as if she were a little child. “I said I hoped you’d give thought to returning with me to San Antonio.”

  “Oh, Seth, I don’t think I can. I’m having a child, and the traveling will be too much, I’m afraid.”

  His eyes hardened for a brief instant, but then he smiled. “Give it some thought. Arthur would be pleased.” And so would I, he thought, covertly eyeing Laurel’s beautiful, well-shaped body as she stood up. He sensed there was trouble in paradise, and he was going to do his damnedest to break up the Duvalier marriage. First, however, he had to discover what sort of trouble there was and the easiest way to bring Laurel to heel.

  “We’ll see,” Laurel told him. “Now let’s take you to your room where you can freshen up for supper. Essie is fixing a spicy meat pie, which is quite delicious, and a peach cobbler for dessert, Tony’s favorite,” she said and bit her lip as she remembered Tony probably wouldn’t even be home for his favorite meal.

  ~

  Laurel and Seth had just finished eating and were sitting in the parlor when Tony entered unexpectedly. Their laughter over a childhood incident when Lavinia had mounted a bronco after she had been commanded not to, and then had landed unceremoniously on a small cactus ended as Tony scowled from the doorway. Seth immediately stood up and extended his hand.

  Laurel rose and made the introductions. The pulse at the base of her throat beat hard to see Tony again. In the week he had been away she had almost forgotten how darkly handsome he was. Seeing Seth and Tony together, she had no doubt that Tony was far more handsome than Seth.

  “I arrived quite unexpectedly,” Seth explained. “I do appreciate your hospitality, Mr. Duvalier. Laurel has been a gracious hostess.”

  “Call me Tony.” Dark eyes, an amber spark in their black depths, fixed on Laurel in her gown of violet organza over a matching silk underdress. It was an almost expectant look, hoping for forgiveness to be bestowed upon the man who hid trembling hands in his pockets. But Laurel barely glanced in Tony’s direction as she poured coffee into a demitasse for Seth.

  “Seth has been regaling me with stories of Lavinia as a child.” Her tone was polite, civil, quite detached and unemotional.

  Tony threw himself into a chair, realizing he would receive no forgiveness from that quarter. “That should be quite interesting.”

  “Did you meet Lavinia?” Seth asked Tony and noticed Laurel tensed.

  “A few times.”

  “Is that all you have to say, Tony? Usually men praise her beauty to the extreme. Lavinia would be quite offended if she knew you weren’t taken with her beauty.”

  “I found her too wild for my liking,” Tony grated out from between clenched teeth.

  Folding his arms, Seth sensed the strained undercurrent between Laurel and Tony. Whatever was wrong between them involved Lavinia in some way. Had the tart thrown herself at Tony who had responded, only to have Laurel find them together? That would account for Lavinia’s arriving home without Laurel. But he dismissed the idea. Apparently Tony simply disliked Lavinia, but something must have happened to cause such silent friction between the Duvaliers.

  Seth cleared his throat and shot Laurel an appraising smile. “I agree with you there, Tony. Personally I prefer dark-haired women.”

  Tony didn’t miss Seth’s perusal of his wife. The man might be Arthur’s stepson, but he wasn’t Laurel’s blood relation. He realized Laurel might be quite vulnerable now and decided he would have to keep an eye on Seth Renquist.

  ~

  Laurel tossed and turned upon the sheets, hoping for a cool breeze to stir the curtains, but the night air hung heavy and black as a velvet cloak. Rising from the bed, she pulled at her chemise, which stuck to her body in the heat. Never had she felt so warm, and she wished for the cooler nights of Boston when she used to crawl beneath the blankets, wrapping herself into a warm cocoon. But if she had never left Boston, she would never have met Tony.

  She shook her head. “Maybe things would be better had I never laid eyes on him!” she mumbled and walked to the window where she drew back the lace curtain. “If it hadn’t been for Lavinia and her love affair with Auguste St. Julian…”

  Laurel stopped herself, realizing that nothing would change the past. She had a future ahead of her, no matter how dismal. Soon she would bear a child, someone she could love and who would love her in return, someone who wouldn’t cause her pain. A wish, unspoken, surfaced on her lips. She should never have extracted such a promise from Tony. Granted, he was going to leave her alone while she raised their child and presided over Petit Coteau as his wife. Yet was that what she truly wanted? The years ahead would be lonely and unfulfilled ones. An ache grew within her to realize she would never experience passion in Tony’s arms again. She tried to convince herself that she hated him, but her traitorous body gave her away. She lovingly stroked her abdomen. She wanted his baby so much.

  The sky held no glittering stars tonight. Outside was pitch black. In the distance she thought she discerned a firefly, but the distance was too great and the golden light threaded through the darkness, coming closer. It was a torch, illuminating the way. The sound of a horse’s hoofs grew louder, and she saw Tony ride into the yard and go to the stable. Drawing slightly away from the window, she watched him walk toward the house, then she heard his feet coming up the stairs and down the hall.

  Her breath stopped in her throat. The sound of his boots ceased by her door. Was he going to open it and come inside? Did she want him to? As much as she thought she hated him, Tony could still make her body uncomfortably aware of his nearness. And damn, she found herself silently swearing, she would probably melt into his powerful arms if he touched her.

  But whatever her response might have been, Tony continued on to his room. She heard his door close and let out a long breath of relief or disappointment or a combination of the two. He definitely was keeping to their agreement. Had he gone to Simone’s tonight or some other woman who found favor in his eyes and satisfaction in his perfect male body?

  She hated to think about Tony with another woman. Such thoughts plagued her until she wondered if she was going mad.

  Laurel started to move away from the window, but a flicker of movement across the yard caught her attention. Then she heard the muffled sound of running feet across the grass. She looked but saw nothing and was about to forget it when the discernible creak of the barn door sliced through the quiet night like a knife.

  Someone was in the barn. None of the servants slept there, so who would be sneaking into the barn at this time of night?

  The flicker of a candle in the tack room caught her eye, then wavering shadows on the wall. She wondered if she should get Tony but changed her mind when she saw the barn door being opened again. Though the night was dark, she made out the figure of Hippolyte Dauzet by the slight limp in his walk. What was Hippolyte up to, and why was he not at home?

  She traced his outline to the kitchen at the back of the house where she watched him stealthily slip inside, then after a few minutes, he came out and made his way to the barn, carrying a bucket in his hand.

  Laurel’s curiosity got the best of her. Though she knew she should summon Tony
to look into the matter, she didn’t want the Dauzets embarrassed if Hippolyte was up to mischief. Tony would make certain they knew their son was sneaking around at night as a way of keeping him out of trouble. She didn’t think that Hippolyte was a bad sort of young man and guessed that he might not look kindly upon Tony’s speaking to his parents and could think it interference.

  She threw on her robe and quietly descended the stairs at the back of the house, then made her way across the yard to the window where the candle burned.

  As luck would have it, the window was open. Voices drifted to her. She discerned Hippolyte’s voice and that of a young woman’s. Clutching her robe around her, she peered into the room. On a pallet sat Hippolyte with Roselle Jeanfreau. Tears streamed down the girl’s face, and even in the dimly lit room Laurel could tell that her cheek was red and swollen and that her lip was cut and bleeding. Hippolyte dipped a white cloth into a bucket containing water and held it to her mouth.

  “I’ll kill that filthy swine, Roselle. I’ll cut out his heart for doing this to you!”

  “No, please, don’t do anything you’ll regret, Hippolyte,” Roselle begged. “Denis is very strong.”

  “He’s an old man, and I am young.”

  Roselle’s gentle laughter drifted through the window to Laurel. “Oui, chéri, but Denis is a bull of a man still. He is far from weak.”

  “I don’t want you living with him. Leave him and marry me. The child you carry is mine—”

  Roselle silenced him with a finger on his lips. “Never say that aloud, for if Denis learns of it, he shall kill you. I couldn’t bear for you to be hurt. I love you so much. You know I only married Denis to keep a roof over Maman’s and the little ones’ heads. We had no place to go after Papa died, and Denis wanted to marry me. Your parents would never have agreed to us marrying, and you know it. My family is beneath yours.”

  Roselle grew quiet a moment, then glanced up at Hippolyte with fearful eyes.

  “Jacques suspects this child is not his brother’s. I think sometimes that I fear Jacques more than Denis. His cruelty is not with fists but his mind. He pretends to be stupid, but he is not. He is cunning. How else would he get you to steal Monsieur Duvalier’s cattle and turn them over to him? Monsieur Duvalier has no idea that you’re the one who is actually committing the thefts. And I don’t think he’d care that you’re doing it to protect me and my mother and brothers and sisters.”