The Countess Misbehaves. Nan Ryan
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Colfax Sumner. “We heard about the terrible storm,” he said, embracing Madeleine, but addressing the captain. “The S. S. Starlight, did she make it?”
Madeleine’s heart hurt when the captain replied, “Afraid not, sir. The last we saw of her, she was swiftly going down. Those left on board most surely perished.”
“Such a tragedy,” said Colfax, then hugged his precious niece so tightly he almost crushed her ribs, unaware of his own strength. Against her ear, he said, “I never gave up hope. Thank the Almighty you’re safe!”
He released her and Madeleine stiffened slightly when the tall, blondly handsome Lord Enfield immediately took her in his arms. He hugged her, but made no attempt to kiss her and for that she was grateful. He was a well-mannered, blue-blooded nobleman who thought it common and vulgar to demonstrate affection in public. Thank heaven. She was not yet ready to kiss him. She needed a few days, or at least a few hours, before she kissed anyone again.
Holding her in a much gentler embrace than her spirited uncle, Lord Enfield said softly, “My dear, we were so worried.” He pulled back to look down at her. “Are you unharmed?”
“I’m fine,” she assured him, not feeling fine at all. Forcing a smile, she glanced at her uncle and added, “Now that I’m here with the two of you.”
The trio climbed into the waiting carriage and Colfax himself drove them directly to his Royal Street town house. The troubled Madeleine experienced a measure of well-being when the carriage passed through the mansion’s heavy iron gates and rolled through the porte cochere.
She loved this comfortable French Quarter home with its captivating gardens and private courtyard. A charming Creole town house, the structure consisted of a ground floor containing the kitchen and service rooms that opened onto the courtyard. Stairs to the living quarters were mounted outside the galleries in the courtyard. At the far back edge of the property, beyond the courtyard, were a couple of two-story garçonnières, carriage houses that had originally been built for male relatives or guests. Their only occupant was the indomitable black woman, Avalina, who single-handedly tended the Sumner house.
On the second floor of the main house were the entertaining rooms: drawing room, dining room, small ballroom, and Colfax’s book-lined study and spacious bedroom suite. On the third floor were a number of bedrooms, one of which belonged to Madeleine, even though she had stayed in it only two or three times in her life.
As she alighted from the carriage, Madeleine automatically inhaled deeply and sighed with satisfaction. The sweet scent of magnolias and azaleas and honeysuckle and japonica and Cherokee roses made her realize fully that she was back in the seductive semitropics of New Orleans.
That, and the damp, muggy heat that caused her hair to curl around her face and beads of perspiration to stand out on her forehead.
Eagerly climbing the stairs to the second floor gallery that was embellished with fancy iron lace, Madeleine hurried through the tall, fan-lighted double doors and stepped into the spacious entryway. She had taken but a few short steps before Avalina, her signature white tignon on her head, her broad black face radiating pleasure, was there to meet her.
“My stars above, Lady Madeleine, you had us all worried sick,” exclaimed the smiling woman who for the past thirty-one years had demonstrated unquestioned efficiency, style and undying loyalty to the man whose home she so capably ran.
“I know and I’m so sorry,” Madeleine replied, wrapping her arms around the stout woman.
Half embarrassed, as she always was, when the spirited young noblewoman embraced her—a mere servant—Avalina quickly pulled away, nodded to Lord Enfield and said to Colfax Sumner, “Welcoming celebrations and countless questions about her ordeal will have to wait until Lady Madeleine has fully recovered. She looks weak and pallid and she needs rest.”
Nodding, Colfax Sumner quickly agreed with the intuitive Avalina. Lord Enfield similarly demonstrated his caring and kindness, insisting, along with her concerned uncle, that she go directly up to bed and remain there for a least a week. She surely needed that long to recover from all she’d been through.
Madeleine put up no arguments. There was nothing she desired more than to escape the unsettling presence of her devoted fiancé, whom she could hardly face, so plagued was she with guilt.
“You go on now, dearest,” said Lord Enfield. “I’ll come up to say good-night once you’re settled in bed.” He glanced at Colfax Sumner. “That is, with your permission, sir.”
“Permission granted,” said Colfax, smiling.
The lord turned his attention back to Madeleine. “Dear?”
Madeleine inwardly cringed, but managed a smile as she said, “Yes, that would be nice.” She turned and hugged her uncle, then followed Avalina.
Upstairs, Madeleine released a soft sigh of relief and nodded gratefully when Avalina asked if she would like to take a nice, long bath.
Moments later Madeleine sank down into the depths of a tub filled to the brim with hot sudsy water. While Avalina gathered up her soiled clothing and laid out a clean white nightgown, Madeleine laid her head back against the tub’s rim, closed her eyes and began to unwind as she tried to fully relax.
But with her eyes closed she saw again the handsome face that had been just above her own when the Creole had made love to her during the storm. She was heartsick to think that Armand de Chevalier had drowned, but she knew that it was true. She was genuinely saddened by his death and at the same time filled with remorse for what she had done.
Madeleine opened her eyes and reached for a loofah and bar of sweet-scented soap. She began to anxiously lather her body and to scrub vigorously, determined to wash away any lingering traces of Armand de Chevalier.
As she avidly lathered every inch of her flesh with the soap and hot water, Madeleine told herself that this cleansing bath was exactly what she needed to put everything right. She would, she was determined, successfully wash away even the nagging memories of what she and Armand de Chevalier had impetuously done.
But when, fresh and clean from the bath, she lay in the big four-poster awaiting Lord Enfield, Armand de Chevalier was still very much in her thoughts. It was, she realized, going to take more than a hot bath to free her from the clutches of the Creole.
At the gentle knock on the door, Madeleine glanced at Avalina, half tempted to ask her to stay. “Please invite Desmond in,” she said to the housekeeper.
Avalina nodded, opened the door and left as Lord Enfield entered. When he quietly closed the door, Madeleine automatically stiffened. Smiling, he crossed to her, sat down on the edge of the bed facing her and held out his arms.
“Alone at last,” he said and reached for her.
He drew her up into his arms and Madeleine fought a perplexing desire to push him away, to order him out of her room, to tell him to leave her alone, that she wasn’t feeling well. She sat there in bed with her arms around his neck, her cheek pressed to his chest, feeling trapped and uneasy.
She felt his lips in her hair as he murmured, “How I yearn for the day when we’re married and I no longer have to leave you at bedtime.” He pulled back to look at her and said, “If only we were already man and wife. I could undress, get into bed with you and hold you all through the night.”
Madeleine swallowed convulsively. “Yes, that would be…wonderful.”
He read the anxiety in her expressive emerald eyes and felt her slender body tremble. He gave her a puzzled look. “What is it, my dear? You’re not yourself. Why, you’re trembling.”
“It’s just…well, I am very tired and I…”
“Oh, of course you are.” He was immediately contrite and sympathetic. “How thoughtless and selfish of me. I’ll run along now and let you get some rest.”
“Thank you, Desmond.”
“Good night, my dearest love,”