grief: to feel their compassion for her suffering. To realize that she was the only person Beau Clay would have ever loved. She wanted to place a single rose on the lifeless body, to cry in private beside him.
She could not do so and so she did not go. She wept alone, convinced that joy would never enter her heart again.
âIâm taking Gussie to Al Hirtâs Club on Bourbon Street later this evening, sir,â Bradley said with the casual confidence that was an integral part of his personality. âThe show doesnât start till ten-thirty so it will be pretty late before I bring her home. I just wanted you to know Iâll take good care of her.â
âI see.â Charles Lafayette regarded Bradley Hampton over the broad expanse of his desk in the book-lined study. The jazz haunts of the city held no charm for him. He preferred the New Orleans Symphony Orchestra but despite taking Gussie several times, he had not been able to impart his love of classical music to his daughter. Normally, he would not have countenanced her going out to a jazz club until the early hours. However, Bradley Hampton wasnât just any young man. He was an extremely personable one, and if he could lift Gussie from the strange depression from which she had been suffering this last month, Charles would be more than grateful to him.
Gussieâs father rose from behind his desk and held out his hand to Bradley. âJust make sure you keep your word, my boy.â
Bradley clasped the hand firmly and grinned. Charles Lafayette would have his hide if he didnât keep his word. Besides, when it came to sex, it could be had easily and often any time of the day or night. He wanted something a little more from Gussie. Just what, he wasnât yet prepared to admit, even to himself. Early marriage had never been part of his schemes for the future. But then neither had Gussie.
âHow dare you speak to my father behind my back!â Gussie hissed. âI wouldnât go to Al Hirtâs with you if you were the last man on earth!â
âIâll pick you up at nine oâclock,â Bradley said calmly.
Gussie stamped a foot. âAre you deaf, Bradley Hampton? I said I wouldnât â¦â
He covered the distance between them in one stride and grasped her wrist so hard that she cried out in pain.
âI heard you, Gussie,â he said, and something hot flickered at the back of his eyes. âBe ready when I come, and put some lipstick on. I like my girls to look special, not like colourless rabbits.â
Gussie gasped and fell back against the wall. He grinned, letting go of her, and strode, whistling, from the house.
Colourless rabbit! How dare he? Trembling with rage, Gussie stalked to her bedroom and sat in front of her dressing-table mirror. Her hair no longer shimmered so that it was the envy of all her friends. It had begun to look lifeless, hanging unbrushed and uncared for. Her eyes, with their thick sweep of dark lashes, were blue-shadowed, her cheeks pale. She looked as plain as Mae. Furiously, she picked up her silver-backed hairbrush and began to brush her hair vigorously. She was Augusta Lafayette. The acknowledged belle of her friends. At Mardi Gras she had been Queen of the Carnival: and Bradley Hampton had the nerve to indicate he was doing her a favour by escorting her in public!
When Bradley arrived at the Lafayette home at nine oâclock that evening, Charles Lafayette had a companionable glass of bourbon with him and was suitably pleased when his daughter finally put in an appearance at nine-thirty.
She was wearing a deceptively simple dress with a cowl neckline that brought discreet attention to the perfection of her breasts. The skirt fell softly over her hips; she was stockingless, her sun-tanned legs gleaming, her toenails lacquered a pearly pink. Her hair hung silkily down her back, her lips glossed, her lashes mascara-ed. She smiled sweetly at her father and
She could not do so and so she did not go. She wept alone, convinced that joy would never enter her heart again.
âIâm taking Gussie to Al Hirtâs Club on Bourbon Street later this evening, sir,â Bradley said with the casual confidence that was an integral part of his personality. âThe show doesnât start till ten-thirty so it will be pretty late before I bring her home. I just wanted you to know Iâll take good care of her.â
âI see.â Charles Lafayette regarded Bradley Hampton over the broad expanse of his desk in the book-lined study. The jazz haunts of the city held no charm for him. He preferred the New Orleans Symphony Orchestra but despite taking Gussie several times, he had not been able to impart his love of classical music to his daughter. Normally, he would not have countenanced her going out to a jazz club until the early hours. However, Bradley Hampton wasnât just any young man. He was an extremely personable one, and if he could lift Gussie from the strange depression from which she had been suffering this last month, Charles would be more than grateful to him.
Gussieâs father rose from behind his desk and held out his hand to Bradley. âJust make sure you keep your word, my boy.â
Bradley clasped the hand firmly and grinned. Charles Lafayette would have his hide if he didnât keep his word. Besides, when it came to sex, it could be had easily and often any time of the day or night. He wanted something a little more from Gussie. Just what, he wasnât yet prepared to admit, even to himself. Early marriage had never been part of his schemes for the future. But then neither had Gussie.
âHow dare you speak to my father behind my back!â Gussie hissed. âI wouldnât go to Al Hirtâs with you if you were the last man on earth!â
âIâll pick you up at nine oâclock,â Bradley said calmly.
Gussie stamped a foot. âAre you deaf, Bradley Hampton? I said I wouldnât â¦â
He covered the distance between them in one stride and grasped her wrist so hard that she cried out in pain.
âI heard you, Gussie,â he said, and something hot flickered at the back of his eyes. âBe ready when I come, and put some lipstick on. I like my girls to look special, not like colourless rabbits.â
Gussie gasped and fell back against the wall. He grinned, letting go of her, and strode, whistling, from the house.
Colourless rabbit! How dare he? Trembling with rage, Gussie stalked to her bedroom and sat in front of her dressing-table mirror. Her hair no longer shimmered so that it was the envy of all her friends. It had begun to look lifeless, hanging unbrushed and uncared for. Her eyes, with their thick sweep of dark lashes, were blue-shadowed, her cheeks pale. She looked as plain as Mae. Furiously, she picked up her silver-backed hairbrush and began to brush her hair vigorously. She was Augusta Lafayette. The acknowledged belle of her friends. At Mardi Gras she had been Queen of the Carnival: and Bradley Hampton had the nerve to indicate he was doing her a favour by escorting her in public!
When Bradley arrived at the Lafayette home at nine oâclock that evening, Charles Lafayette had a companionable glass of bourbon with him and was suitably pleased when his daughter finally put in an appearance at nine-thirty.
She was wearing a deceptively simple dress with a cowl neckline that brought discreet attention to the perfection of her breasts. The skirt fell softly over her hips; she was stockingless, her sun-tanned legs gleaming, her toenails lacquered a pearly pink. Her hair hung silkily down her back, her lips glossed, her lashes mascara-ed. She smiled sweetly at her father and
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