Southern Seduction Page 4

  Apparently, Mammy didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with chatter. When they reached the end of the hall, Mammy opened the door and announced, “Dis is your room. I t’ink you’ll enjoy dis room, yes.”

  Everything smelled clean and of fresh lemon wax. It was a refreshing change from the dampness of the ship and the musty odor of the taverns and coaches they’d used on their trip.

  Brooke glanced around the spacious room. The furniture was all dark mahogany. A large bed with a white lace canopy sat in the middle of the room, and a sofa and two rose-colored chairs faced the fireplace on the other side.

  The room had been decorated for a woman--possibly the fiancée. Just how close was Travis to his fiancée? Did he love what’s-her-name? He didn’t look like a man in love. Love softened a man. At least, the one’s Brook had made acquaintance with and those were few. There definitely wasn’t anything soft about Travis Montgomery. Cold was the first word that came to Brooke’s mind. Was there, perhaps, another motivation for the pending marriage?

  “Jus’ you set you’se’f dere, and I’ll have your trunks sent up, Miz Ha--.”

  Brooke touched Mammy’s arm. “I prefer that you call me Miss Brooke.” Brooke thought the woman might, at least, give her a small smile at the friendly overture, but she was wrong. All she received was a curt nod. However, she had no intention of giving up. “And what should I call you?” Brooke inquired.

  “Mig’t as well call me Mammy, yes. Ever’bod’ else does,” the plump woman said as she smoothed the coverlet on the bed with her dark, worn hand. “Will your lady’s maid be joinin’ you shortly, Miz Brooke?” The disapproval was clear in her voice.

  Brooke thought a moment before she answered. She realized that she was the intruder and she didn’t want to quarrel with everyone in this household. It would make life easier if she made friends with the one woman who could be an ally. “I’m afraid I didn’t bring my maid with me. She was young and did not wish to leave her family.”

  Mammy straightened and looked at her with wide eyes. “You traveled by you’se’f, unchaproned, yes?”

  “Not exactly. I had Mr. Jeffries and two of my friends with me, but we parted ways in New York.”

  “Well now,” she said, hands on her ample hips. “If you don’ want people to talk in Nawlins den you shouldn’t go out alone, you hear. Jus’ ain’t proper,” Mammy grumbled.

  Brooke nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you. Have you worked at Moss Grove long?”

  “Well now--dat’s a question. His Grace didn’t come here often, but de house has always been staffed, and I’ve always been in charge. Then Miz Margaret and Mr. Travis came, and once again, de house was lived in. We made some changes. Got rid o’ de sorry no accounts, yes,” Mammy said shaking her head. “We have good folks now.”

  “I see,” Brooke said, placing her reticule on the bed. She’d hoped that Mammy had helped raised Travis so the woman could tell her something about his personality. “Then I should think that you’d be a great help in choosing a lady’s maid for me. I’m certain you must have excellent taste.”

  Mammy actually smiled this time, showing her white teeth. Her brown eyes searched Brooke’s face, for what, Brooke wasn’t sure. “Jus’ leave it to Mammy. I’ll choose someone fo’ you while you here,” she said finally.

  “I expect to be here a long time, Mammy.” Brooke smiled. “You see I have inherited half of Moss Grove from His Grace.”

  “Oh, Lordy,” Mammy said, touching the sides of her face with her palms. “Lordy, Lordy.” Then she realized she’d let her thoughts show, and her face once again became a shuttered mask.

  “Don’t worry,” Brooke said. She reached out and touched the housekeeper’s arm. “You can always speak your mind around me. I promise I shall do the same. I know that you don’t trust me yet, and that’s understandable. But I’m hoping that someday you will. I don’t intend to make any changes in the household staff.” She looked around, appraising the spotless room. “I can see everything is running smoothly already.”

  Mammy’s brow furrowed. “What will Miz. Margaret and Miz Hesione have to say?” Mammy blurted out, then caught herself. She shook her head quickly. “Ain’t none o’ my business,” she seemed to be reminding herself. “I spoke too soon, yes.”

  “I hope I shall not be the strict taskmaster you expect, Mammy,” Brooke told her as she unpinned her hat and placed it on the small dressing table. “I wasn’t pampered and spoiled. I appreciate hard work and faithful service. Please, feel free to speak your mind when you’re with me.” Brooke looked Mammy directly in her dark, kind eyes. “Everything here is strange and unfamiliar to me, nothing like my home in England. I shall need all the assistance you can provide. I do hope you’ll help me,” Brooke paused then pressed on, hoping to find out what she needed to know from the woman. “Who are these people that you spoke of?”

  Mammy hesitated again. “Mebbe I shouldn’t be talkin’.”

  Brooke sat down on one of the two rose-colored chairs and motioned for Mammy to sit in the other.

  “Since I asked you a direct question,” Brooke gently prodded, “I would think it’s your duty to answer. I doubt that would be considered gossiping.”

  Mammy smiled, her eyes twinkling as she nodded. “Well now, Miz Margaret is Master Montgomery’s mama, as you mus’ already know.”

  “I didn’t know her name,” Brooke said.

  “I see.” Mammy nodded. Well, Miz Hesione, she is his fiancée. Dey is up north shoppin’, to be sure. Spendin’ lots o’ money, I guarantee.”

  “I see,” Brooke said, nodding. She wanted to ask what the women were like, but realized Mammy didn’t trust her enough yet to offer that kind of information. “Are they expected back soon?”

  Mammy rose from the chair. “Be back come November ‘cause Miz Margaret wants a Christmas weddin’, and she usually gets what she wants,” Mammy said as she started for the door. “Get your’se’f settled in, you hear. I’ll send a girl up fo’ your maid, to help you unpack.

  “Dinner be rig’t at eight, yes. Prosper, de cook, now he don’t tolerate no one bein’ late fo’ his table, you hear.” She paused when she reached the door, turned and gave Brooke a final smile. “Welcome to Nawlins.”

  Brooke stared at the closed door as she sank down into the chair, realizing just how tired she was. It had been a very long and tiring day. The intelligent thing to do would be to surrender since she was so vastly outnumbered, but then she was tired and couldn’t think intelligently. The trip, plus the confrontation with Travis had been more wearing than she’d expected.

  He wasn’t like anyone she’d ever known.

  Perhaps she’d just rest for a short while. She needed to have her wits about her on her next encounter with Travis Montgomery.

  And what kind of a cook made the rules anyway, she wondered vaguely as she slumped against the chair. She supposed she’d find out soon enough.

  This was, indeed, a strange household. The housekeeper spoke with an unusual French accent, and the cook made the rules when to eat. And she wouldn’t be at all surprised if a ghost popped out of the wall. He probably wouldn’t want her here either, she thought with a shudder.

  Would she ever fit in here?

  Mammy had offered one interesting tidbit. Travis’s mother and the fiancée wouldn’t be back until late November. That was, indeed, good news. At least, that gave Brooke a little time to work her wiles on Travis and establish herself as the mistress here before the other two women arrived.

  She and Travis only had to be married for a year and then they could go their separate ways. Then if he still wanted Miss Hesione, he would be welcome to her. Brooke would give him up freely. Or maybe it was more like, if Hesione wanted him. That thought made Brooke smile.

  At least for now it was one on one, but she would have to work fast. When Travis’s mama and his intended returned, the odds would change to three against one.

  And Brooke didn’t like those odds at all.


  Chapter Four

  Brooke slowly came awake as the sun’s first rays crept in through the window. Morning seemed to have come much too soon and she wasn’t ready to face the day. Slowly, she opened her eyes, blinked several times, and attempted to wake up. Snuggling under the covers, she tried to organize her thoughts before beginning the day.

  The first week had gone by quickly. She’d tried to settle into her new home, but that had proven to be a difficult task since she was considered an outsider in running the affairs of the plantation. Brooke had to remind herself several times to be patient. It would take time to win over not only the staff but also Travis.

  Finally, yesterday she had begun to feel as though she was starting to win over the household staff. Several of the servants had stopped to consult with her instead of pretending that she didn’t exist. Brooke considered that a big step forward.

  She thought it might have helped when she’d volunteered to accompany several of the children to gather nuts from the pecan grove located behind the big house. It was something she’d never thought she would do since she had never been particularly fond of children, but she decided she needed to do something useful. So she assembled four boys and three girls and several wicker baskets and headed out.

  Much to her surprise, Brooke found she enjoyed spending the afternoon with the children. Having thought that she didn’t have anything in common them, Brooke was amazed they seemed to take to her. It was delightful to listen to their laughter and giggling.

  George, who looked to be about nine, announced that he was the shaker. Of course, Brooke had to ask what a shaker did.

  He informed her proudly, his little chest swelling with pride. “It’s the mos’ important person ‘cause I gets the nuts out of the tree.”

  “So how are you going to get the pecans?” Brooke asked. “That tree is very tall.”

  George grinned widely, his white teeth gleaming against his dark skin. “Here, you hold dis, Miz Brooke.” He handed her a cane pole. “Cause I’m goin’ to climb that there tree.”

  “It’s pretty tall,” she’d warned him.

  “Don’t matter none,” George answered with supreme confidence. He marched over to the huge tree where two of the other boys formed a step with their linked hands and gave him a lift up. After he’d successfully reached the second branch, he called for Brooke to hand him the pole.

  “You must be careful.”

  “Oh, Miz Brooke, I done dis a thousand times before.”

  She was sure he hadn’t climbed this tree a thousand times, but she’d give him credit, he was an expert climber, navigating the lofty branches as nimbly as a squirrel. Once he’d reached the upper-most branches, he began thrashing the limbs with the cane pole, and the pecans showered over everyone below like raindrops falling from the sky.

  Brooke set down the basket she was carrying. “Let’s see who can gather the most nuts. There will be a special treat for the winner.” All the children’s eyes grew wide at the prospect of a contest. “On your mark, get set, go,” she said and the children took off in all directions.

  She laughed at the children scampering around and making a big game out of the drudgery of gathering nuts. She couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed something trivial so much.

  She and her rowdy crew returned to the kitchen with several big baskets filled to the brim with nuts. Brooke asked Katie, one of the girls in the kitchen, to give all the children cookies and milk for their efforts, declaring they were all winners.

  Everyone in the kitchen had smiled at Brooke, making her wonder if kindness was something they weren’t accustomed to seeing from the mistress of the house.

  She supposed that the servants were slowly coming to the conclusion that she wasn’t such a bad person after all. It had felt wonderful to be doing something useful and productive.

  Thank goodness, Mammy ran the house, and Prosper ran the kitchen. So far Brooke hadn’t met the mysterious cook. He’d traveled to one of his relative’s homes, but would be back soon so she’d been told. Mammy seemed to be a little of everything to everyone, and that was fine with Brooke, who was still trying to win the housekeeper over. So far she’d had a little success, but not much.

  She could imagine the woman’s resentment. Brooke just needed time. She had to earn the staff’s respect and trust. It would have been one thing if she had come to them as Travis’s wife, but that wasn’t the case.

  Brooke remembered yesterday with a smile as she stretched, not yet wanting to give up the warmth of her covers. Even with all the problems she’d encountered since her arrival, Brooke was glad she’d traveled to America. Back in London, she had been readily welcomed at parties and had even set some of the latest fashion trends, but she’d never been completely accepted. There were always the few that whispered about her. Now she had a chance at living some kind of a normal life, even if she still had to work through a few problems here.

  But Brooke Hammond was nothing if not a survivor. She would figure out the solutions to her problems.

  As she slowly came awake, she looked around her room. She really couldn’t complain about her accommodations. They were at the far end of the hall so it was very quiet. At night, the only sounds she heard were the cries of night birds calling in the wind.

  The walls were painted a warm rose color. The four-poster mahogany bed was big and soft with a feather comforter and quilts of pink and cream colored silk. All in all, the room was quite lovely.

  A crackling sound caught Brooke’s attention, and she pushed herself up on her elbows to see. Apparently, one of the upstairs maids had crept in while she’d been sleeping and built a small fire in the marble fireplace. Good, Brooke thought, the nights had turned surprisingly cool, considering the balmy days, and the idea of the cold, wooden planks under her feet was not very appealing at the moment.

  She yawned and stretched and dared to stick one foot out of the warmth of the bed. The air in the room was tolerably warm now that the fire was going. She couldn’t solve her problems by lounging, so she tossed back the covers and slid out of bed.

  Today, Mr. Jeffries was leaving to attend to few matters before he returned to England. Last night, he’d explained that he had business with other clients that would require his attention for a couple of months in St. Louis. Then he had to make sure that Jocelyn was settled comfortably in her New York home.

  Mr. Jeffries pointed out that his departure would give Brooke and Travis time alone together, so they could get to know each other. Brooke had her doubts that ten years alone with Travis would help.

  He seemed to have little desire to know her at all. Since she’d arrived, he’d made himself scarce, so getting to know him had proven difficult. However, he had managed to grace them with his presence at dinner every night so far. Although the conversation continued to be strained, Brooke kept trying.

  Travis was proving to be a very stubborn man, and Brooke was slowly learning patience, not an easy task for someone who had none.

  If she didn’t find a way to get Travis talking to her soon, she’d never be able to win him over.

  Brooke splashed cool water on her face, remembering the scathing looks that Travis sent her way more than once every night at dinner. She often wondered what the exasperating man was thinking because he seemed to be studying her. Whatever it was, he hid his thoughts very well.

  Damned man.

  She sighed. Travis Montgomery was an ever changing mystery. Brooke wasn’t sure how she was ever going to break through Travis’s frosty outer shell, and he most definitely had one. She suspected he was trying to drive her away by being rude, but that wasn’t going to work.

  She was nothing if not persistent.

  Brooke had to do something to make herself indispensable, and today was the day to get started, she decided as she peered into her wardrobe. She needed just the perfect outfit, she thought, hoping she remembered how to flirt and seduce a man after being out of practice for so long.

  Perhaps it was like r
iding a horse, and one never forgot. She smiled, then sobered. It had been two years since she’d lived the other life. From the moment Jackson had taken her in, she’d not had to work her wiles to get what she needed. At the moment, she felt pretty much like a brand-new virgin – well, maybe a well-experienced virgin. She chuckled to herself.

  Her maid, Millie Anne, swung into the room, a bright smile on her face. “Good mornin', misses,” she said cheerfully. “I come to help you get dressed. I sees you are already thinkin’ on what to wear,” she said, standing behind Brooke. “You got so many pretty things to choose from. I reckon you turned every man’s head back home.”

  Brooke chuckled. “Perhaps a few,” she said modestly. She tapped her chin thoughtfully as she looked over her selection of garments. “I believe I shall go riding today,” she said, over her shoulder. “It’s about time that I inspected the rest of the plantation.”

  “Fresh air will do you good.”

  Brooke was glad to have Millie Anne. The young woman seemed to be the only cheerful person in the entire household. She was pert and sassy, perhaps sixteen, and usually wore a bright smile, and her dazzling black eyes snapped with intelligence and humor. It seemed Millie Anne was one of Mammy’s nieces, and like Mammy, she was a free-black woman. Brooke learned that many of the workers on the plantation had been freed and now earned wages for working.

  “Is it cold outside?” Brooke asked.

  “Oh, yes ma’am. Or rather cool. Fall is in the air, and it’s only the end o’ September. Sometimes, October can be mighty warm, and dat’s good for sugarcane. If’n we get an early frost dat won’t be good. I heard the foreman say we’s goin’ to start cuttin’ the cane today.”

  Brooke had gotten used to the fact that once Millie Anne started talking, she would likely rattle on and on about whatever she was talking about. But Brooke also realized that she learned quite a lot of useful information from Millie’s ramblings.