The Countess Misbehaves. Nan Ryan
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he whispered, “and I’m so relieved that you came through that terrible disaster unharmed.”
Lord Enfield rose to his feet, smiled down at her, and said, “Dream of me tonight, darling.”
“I will,” she said.
But after he had gone and she’d put out the lamp and lowered the gauzy mosquito baire around the bed, it was not Desmond Chilton who filled her thoughts. Armand de Chevalier again intruded.
Madeleine impatiently kicked off the covering sheet, yanked her long nightgown up around her thighs in an effort to battle the sultry New Orleans heat, and closed her eyes.
Exhausted, she fell instantly asleep. But the man who tortured her waking hours followed her into her dreams to hold her and kiss her and make her misbehave.
“She’s sound asleep.” Avalina, having looked in on Madeleine after Lord Enfield left, announced to Colfax Sumner. “I expect she’ll sleep round the clock.”
“Yes, bless her heart. She needs the rest,” he said. Then he stated, pleased, “It sure is good to have her here.”
“It is,” Avalina agreed. “And the best part is, she’ll be right here at home with us for eight full months.”
“That’s right,” said Colfax. “The wedding is planned for April. We’ll have time to enjoy her before she marries and leaves us.”
“Indeed,” Avalina replied.
“Well, I think I’ll retire myself,” said Colfax. “It’s been an exciting day.” He turned, started down the hall toward his bedroom suite, but stopped after taking only a few steps. “Avalina, be sure all the doors have been locked before you go to bed.”
“I always do, sir.”
“I know you do.” He nodded, smiled and went on to his room.
There he disrobed, slipped into the nightshirt Avalina had laid out for him, and got into bed to read. But soon he was yawning sleepily, the words blurring on the pages. He laid the book aside, blew out the lamp, and stretched out on his back, folding his hands beneath his head. He sighed in the quiet darkness, content as he hadn’t been in a long time. His only niece was now in his house, safe and sound upstairs, sleeping the sleep of the innocent.
In minutes he, too, was sleeping soundly.
But in the middle of that hot dark night, Colfax Sumner was abruptly awakened by the sound of something hitting the streetside balcony just outside the open French doors. Heart hammering, he lunged up, grabbed his dressing gown and hurried out to investigate.
There on the balcony lay a small leather pouch. Colfax gingerly picked it up, took it inside, lit a lamp and examined the contents of the bag.
Several locks of human hair. Some nail parings. The skin of a reptile. A couple of chicken bones tied together to form a crude cross.
Colfax Sumner had learned enough about the practice of voodoo from Avalina to know that a bundle like this left in the dark of the moon was supposed to work incalculable harm on the occupant of the house.
An intelligent, logical man, Sumner did not believe in black magic. But he did believe that someone wanted to frighten or even harm him. Or someone in his house.
He decisively shook his head and told himself he was being foolish. He had no enemies that he knew of. No one who would wish harm on him or his. Most likely the sneaky person who had tossed the bundle of gris-gris onto his balcony had, in the darkness, gotten the wrong house.
Still, as Colfax threw the offensive pouch into the trash before he took off his dressing gown, he trembled.
And it was a long time before he fell back to sleep.
Seven
It was nearing ten the next morning when Lady Madeleine awakened to the sound of a feminine voice with a pronounced southern drawl excitedly calling her name. Madeleine struggled to open her eyes as a young, pretty woman with coal-black hair and pale-white skin stepped close to the bed and yanked up the mosquito baire.
“Lady Madeleine Cavendish!” the young woman happily exclaimed as she sank down onto the bed facing Madeleine.
“Melissa Ann Ledette!” replied Madeleine, lunging up, smiling broadly.
The two young women threw their arms around each other and hugged like long-lost sisters. Madeleine was genuinely delighted to see this raven-haired Creole belle with whom she had become close friends on her last visit to New Orleans. Full of vim, always animated and ready to gossip and laugh, Melissa was the pampered only daughter of prominent New Orleans physician, Dr. Jean Paul Ledette.
“Oh, Maddie, I couldn’t wait one second longer to see you,” exclaimed Melissa, finally releasing her friend.
“Well, I expected you last night,” Madeleine responded.
Melissa’s pale, pretty face immediately screwed up into a frown. “But I didn’t know you were here last night!”
“I know you didn’t,” Madeleine said. “I was teasing you.”
“Oh, of course.” The bright smile was back on Melissa’s face. Then, the questions began. Taking Madeleine’s hand in both of her own, Melissa said, “Now you must tell me all about the terrible sea disaster. Weren’t you absolutely terrified? Did you think you were going to die? Did you actually see people drown? Were there women and children who…who…” Melissa abruptly interrupted herself to say, with a sudden look of sorrow, “Oh, Maddie, the saddest thing…a New Orleans native was on that ill-fated vessel and he didn’t make it. He went down with the ship. He drowned.”
“I—I’m sorry to hear that,” said Madeleine, feeling suddenly as if a band had tightened around her chest.
“I just can’t believe he’s really gone. He was so handsome and charming and half the women in this city were hopelessly in love with him, including me.” Melissa bowed her head and tears welled up in her large, dark eyes. “New Orleans will never be the same without Armand de Chevalier.” She immediately raised her head and asked, “Maybe you met Armand on the ship and…”
“I don’t think so,” said Madeleine, “the name doesn’t ring a bell.”
Melissa nodded. “If you’d met Armand, you would remember him.”
Madeleine gave no reply.
“Forgive me for being so maudlin,” said Melissa. “From now on I’ll speak of only pleasant things. Want to hear all that’s happened in the year since you were here?”
Madeleine finally relaxed a little. “You know I do.”
“All right. Let’s see, oh yes, you remember Prudence Picard? That prissy girl with the frizzy blond hair and the high-pitched voice? Well, she up and married old Louis Jaubert. It’s scandalous, if you ask me. Prudence is barely eighteen and Jaubert is well into his seventies.” Melissa immediately burst into laughter and added, “He can’t hear and he can’t see too well, but apparently one part him still functions. Prudence is pregnant!”
“Oh, no!”
“Oh, yes!” Melissa bobbed her head for emphasis. “Let me see, what else? The youngest Le Blanc boy got killed in a duel last Thanksgiving. No one was surprised. He swaggered around asking for trouble all the time. Pierre Lemonnier’s widow ran off with a cabinetmaker from Mobile before her dear-departed was cold in the ground. Abigail Stuart called off her wedding at the last minute and…”
Melissa continued to talk, to inform her friend of all that had happened in the river city since they had last seen each other. Finally she paused, took a breath, and said, “I declare, what gets into me? Momma says I just never shut my mouth. Forgive me, Maddie. I really do want to hear about the shipwreck and all.”
Madeleine relayed, in the briefest terms, the events