Read Online The Seven Sapphires of Mardi Gras by Vickie Britton - Free Book Online
Authors: Vickie Britton
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of the useless, yet terribly impressive ornamentations that the older house had once boasted. Toward the bayou I could still make out the charred ruin of Evangeline, a silent, watchful ghost that cast a wary shadow from where it stood at the water’s edge. I shivered. Though Edward’s Royal Oaks was no small house, it appeared somehow dwarfed by the ominous, skeletal remains of its sister.
A short while later, I followed Nicholas up the wide steps of the lower gallery, which someone was still in the process of painting. Rough, splintered boards showed through near the doorway where the painter still had not reached. A trail of glowing white led to a brush and several empty buckets off to the side, but the workman was nowhere in sight.
Nicholas stepped forward and pounded upon the massive oak door. As it swung open, I caught sight of a pale, slender woman. Her wide green eyes seemed to grow even larger as her gaze swept from me to Nicholas.
“This is Lydia Dereux, Edward’s wife. Lydia, Miss Louise Moreland,” Nick introduced me, undaunted by her reaction. She was still staring at him, her face drained of color, as if she had just seen a ghost.
“So pleased to meet you.” The startled eyes showed no such pleasure as she reached out a hand that was as soft and delicate as a sparrow’s wing. Her complexion, too, was lily-white, making the deep green of her eyes all the more vivid. Perfectly styled, red-bronze curls capped the delicate chiseled marble of her fine features to fall in waves over the rose pattern of her high-waisted silk dress. I tried to conceal my surprise. Why, she couldn’t be much over thirty. I had not expected Edward’s wife to be so young.
“Please—come into the parlor,” she said in a breathless voice, her eyes once more drifting from me back to Nicholas. As she spoke, she leaned momentarily against the carved doorframe as if her frail body needed its support. I wondered if she were suffering from some malady. The pale lips trembled as she said, “I’ll go find Edward.”
A short time later she returned. At her side walked a stout and sturdy man who I would have recognized, with no introduction, as my uncle Edward. A golden watch chain dangled from the pocket of his waistcoat, catching the light as he stepped over to take my hand in a firm, strong grip. He was just as my mother had described him; a striking man, rather than handsome. His brown hair was barely touched with silver at the temples. Sharp, steely-gray eyes raked over Nicholas. Then he turned to me, studying me unblinkingly, as if the sight of me both pleased and disturbed him.
I watched thin lips beneath the pencil mustache pull into an oddly familiar smile. A sad, haunting sensation tugged at my heart. Just for a moment, I saw something of my mother in this stranger’s face. “Louise. We’ve been so worried about you.”
“Then you did receive my wire?”
“ Yes.We sent one of our men out after you last night, but he couldn’t get past the bridge. He had to travel miles out of his way. By the time he got to the dock, you were gone.” His hand still held mine in a tight grip.
“‘Nicholas came to my rescue soon after the storm began,” I explained.
Edward’s brow raised. He eyed Nicholas with suspicion. “Then where—”
“No need for you to worry, Edward.” Nicholas’s laugh was dry and cold. “Louise spent the night with Cassa, in her cabin.”
“I didn’t mean to imply—“ Edward faltered, turning his attention back to me.
“I’ve been anxious to meet you and the rest of Mother’s family,” I said, hastily changing the subject. I glanced over at Lydia, who still stood silently at Edward’s side. An unlikely pair, those two, I could not help thinking. Lydia was still a young woman, while Edward, for all his strength and vitality, was old enough to be her father.
“And then there’s the matter of my inheritance to settle. I’ve seen Evangeline,” I confessed, struggling not to let my
A short while later, I followed Nicholas up the wide steps of the lower gallery, which someone was still in the process of painting. Rough, splintered boards showed through near the doorway where the painter still had not reached. A trail of glowing white led to a brush and several empty buckets off to the side, but the workman was nowhere in sight.
Nicholas stepped forward and pounded upon the massive oak door. As it swung open, I caught sight of a pale, slender woman. Her wide green eyes seemed to grow even larger as her gaze swept from me to Nicholas.
“This is Lydia Dereux, Edward’s wife. Lydia, Miss Louise Moreland,” Nick introduced me, undaunted by her reaction. She was still staring at him, her face drained of color, as if she had just seen a ghost.
“So pleased to meet you.” The startled eyes showed no such pleasure as she reached out a hand that was as soft and delicate as a sparrow’s wing. Her complexion, too, was lily-white, making the deep green of her eyes all the more vivid. Perfectly styled, red-bronze curls capped the delicate chiseled marble of her fine features to fall in waves over the rose pattern of her high-waisted silk dress. I tried to conceal my surprise. Why, she couldn’t be much over thirty. I had not expected Edward’s wife to be so young.
“Please—come into the parlor,” she said in a breathless voice, her eyes once more drifting from me back to Nicholas. As she spoke, she leaned momentarily against the carved doorframe as if her frail body needed its support. I wondered if she were suffering from some malady. The pale lips trembled as she said, “I’ll go find Edward.”
A short time later she returned. At her side walked a stout and sturdy man who I would have recognized, with no introduction, as my uncle Edward. A golden watch chain dangled from the pocket of his waistcoat, catching the light as he stepped over to take my hand in a firm, strong grip. He was just as my mother had described him; a striking man, rather than handsome. His brown hair was barely touched with silver at the temples. Sharp, steely-gray eyes raked over Nicholas. Then he turned to me, studying me unblinkingly, as if the sight of me both pleased and disturbed him.
I watched thin lips beneath the pencil mustache pull into an oddly familiar smile. A sad, haunting sensation tugged at my heart. Just for a moment, I saw something of my mother in this stranger’s face. “Louise. We’ve been so worried about you.”
“Then you did receive my wire?”
“ Yes.We sent one of our men out after you last night, but he couldn’t get past the bridge. He had to travel miles out of his way. By the time he got to the dock, you were gone.” His hand still held mine in a tight grip.
“‘Nicholas came to my rescue soon after the storm began,” I explained.
Edward’s brow raised. He eyed Nicholas with suspicion. “Then where—”
“No need for you to worry, Edward.” Nicholas’s laugh was dry and cold. “Louise spent the night with Cassa, in her cabin.”
“I didn’t mean to imply—“ Edward faltered, turning his attention back to me.
“I’ve been anxious to meet you and the rest of Mother’s family,” I said, hastily changing the subject. I glanced over at Lydia, who still stood silently at Edward’s side. An unlikely pair, those two, I could not help thinking. Lydia was still a young woman, while Edward, for all his strength and vitality, was old enough to be her father.
“And then there’s the matter of my inheritance to settle. I’ve seen Evangeline,” I confessed, struggling not to let my
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